Sam’s eyes changed, narrowed with thought, then he stood up and dumped his napkin on his beef and gravy.
“Sam, where are you going?” Vicki asked.
“I just realised I didn’t do my essay,” he called from the stairway before we all heard his bedroom door close.
Dad grinned and patted Mike on the shoulder.
Then, the conversation went on without me, while I pushed the food around on my plate. I just wanted to go upstairs and wait for David to come. Despite enjoying watching movies with Mike, I found myself checking the length of the shadows outside his window for most of the day—just waiting for night to fall.
“You okay, baby?” Mike asked quietly, leaning closer.
“Mm-hm.” I nodded, forcing a smile. “I’m just tired.”
“Maybe you should get an early night.” He pushed my fringe off my face.
Vicki held back a smile, watching us, then quickly looked at Dad.
“You do look a little tired,” Mike added after a lengthy silence.
I stared into his face with narrowed eyes. I wasn’t really tired at all. I just said that so I could excuse myself early to be with David. “Well, I feel tired,” I said, wondering if “you look tired” was guy-speak for “you look hideously haggard. Go see a beautician.”
“Well, why don’t you head up now and take a shower?” He nodded toward the archway. “Doesn’t look like you’re getting any closer to consuming your dinner by transforming it into a plate.”
I looked down at my canvas of mash and gravy. “Can’t yet. Gotta do the dishes first.”
“Ara—” Mike’s brows lifted, sarcasm hovering in his tone. “I’ll do the dishes for you. Just go get some rest.”
I shook my head. “No way. You’re a guest. Guests don’t do dishes, right, Dad?”
Dad looked at Mike, then shrugged. “I don’t see why not—if he’s offering.”
“Dad! You never side with me!”
“I’m sorry, Ara, but Mike’s not really a guest, is he?”
“Then what is he?”
“He’s practically family.”
My mouth hung open, allowing only a breathy scoff to show my disapproval.
“Besides, Ar, you always made me do the dishes at your old house,” Mike added with a cheeky grin.
“That’s different.” I bit my teeth together.
“Why?”
“I don’t know. ‘Cause it…it just is.”
“Ara?” Mike scratched his eyelid and sighed. “Go to bed.”
“Make me.” I folded my arms; he merely glared at me with one brow arched and a look of intent behind his half smile. “Argh, fine!” I stood up, slapping my napkin on the placemat. “You’re all traitors.”
As I reached the stairs, Mike’s laugh echoed out in response to some comment of Dad’s—probably about my mood swings.
Stuff it. As if I cared. They could have their little laugh—maybe they’d annoy me just enough to make me accept the offer to run away from all of them forever.
That’d show ‘em.
My room greeted me with the crisp scent of fresh linen under a diluted waft of coconut soap and strawberry shampoo. “David? You in here?” My gaze subconsciously flicked to the window; closed.
Maybe it was too early.
I took a shower, changed into some pyjamas and curled up in bed with a book. But I couldn’t focus. That dream I had last night—the ruby slippers, the bouquet, the look of acceptance on David’s face as he backed away—kept playing in my thoughts. And a gooey filling of dread burned a giant hole in my heart with its acid.
What if he wasn’t coming back? What if he took me literally—what if he thought I agreed with Fate’s decision?
The book landed on its side between my bed and the wall as I jumped up and, with rather quick steps, walked to the window and threw open the curtains.
No. No way. He promised he’d never leave without saying goodbye. He was just late, that was all.
In one sweep, I sent my orderly homework into a spread of disarray over my laundry-rug, then climbed over the wood top and tucked myself into a ball against the cold glass of the window.
Pale blue light filtered in from the world outside and lit the edges of my desk and bed, casting soft shadows across my floor. The streetlight below seemed to sing loneliness down onto the vacant sidewalk, and clouds hijacked the stars from the sky. There was nothing out there that resembled life tonight, and strangely, though my heart was beating, there was nothing here that much resembled it either.
With a long, dejected sigh, I lowered my head onto my knees and closed my eyes.
A loud chime set my heart ablaze with a start; I looked up from my knees, instantly regretting having moved my stiff neck. I rubbed the top of my spine and looked around my room, then down into the street below, counting the chimes I heard in my head.
One, tw—There were only two. There should’ve been more than that. I came to bed at seven. It couldn’t be two in the morning.
My window was still shut fast into place, no sign of any vampire having entered, and as I rubbed the tingle of pins away from my toes, realisation sunk right into my heart. It really was two in the morning. David never came. He just left me here to fall asleep in the windowsill—by myself, cold and alone.
I buried my head in my arms, holding back the tears. What did I do to him? Why didn’t he come back to see me?
A tear rolled down past the tip of my nose and fell onto my thigh, trickling down into a salty pool on the windowsill.
It was the dream. It had to be. But that dream didn’t mean anything, and he didn’t even give me a chance to explain.
The gentle sobs of my heart breaking stopped abruptly when the door handle twisted and light spilled into my room, creeping in a yellow line along my floor, up my desk and over my toes. I rubbed my nose and eyes into my knees to dry the tears, feigning sleep.
The deep, husky voice of my best friend reached me with a breath of concern. “Baby girl, what’re you doing asleep here?” he whispered to no one in particular.
His wide, broad arms fixed a hold under my knees and around my back, then swept me off the windowsill, over the desk and into his body like he was some kind of ultra hot fireman rescuing me. I stayed floppy in his arms, breathing long and deep as if I were asleep, and the softness of my bed—much warmer than the cold glass my elbow was leaning on—cocooned my body safely, Mike tucking my feet under my quilt, bringing it up around my shoulders as I rolled away.