The Knight Of The Rose (27 page)

“Send her up,” I called back and glared at Mike.

“Okay.” With his palms up, he walked backward and laughed at my ‘nose in the air’ stance,

then turned around, but didn’t leave. “Maybe I’ll take Sam to another movie.”

“You two are getting pretty close.”

“Yeah. He’s a good kid,” he said, looking down as I pulled my jeans on.

“He’ll be sad when you go.”

“Maybe I just won’t go, then?” I could hear the question in his suggestion. He wanted me to

ask him to stay, but I j ust couldn’t promise him my heart—not while it was still trying to hold on to

David. I shrugged instead. “I’m not having this conversation with you, right now, Mike. I have too

much on my mind.”

He went quiet, nodding his head, then wedged both hands into his pockets and t ook one last

long look at me, leaving with a cheeky grin on his face.

After a less than success ful shopping trip, Em ily and I sat empty ha nded at the café and

ordered a burger. “Mike seems nice.” Her eyelids fluttered as she spoke. “You were definitely right

about his cuteness.”

I nodded and swallowed my mouthful of burger. “He feels r eally bad for practically shaking

you the other day.”

“It’s okay. Really. I get it. He was worried.” He r smile subsided to a frown. “Really worried,

actually.”

I nodded, feeling pretty awkward.

“So, how’s David?” she asked. “Have you two run up a huge phone bill yet?”

“Em—” I placed my burger down. “I uh...I haven’t spoken to David since he left.”

“What?” she scr eeched; everyone in the café turned to look at us. “What do you mean?

Why?”

“It’s just that—” My lips presse d together to hide the quivering. “You remember when I said

I never planned to marry him?”

“Yes...”

“Well, I wasn’t joking.”

She looked confused. “Okay, I get that, but, I thought you were just having a dull moment.”

I shook my head. “David wasn’t going on holiday. He...he was moving away—permanently.

We...we’re kinda broken up.”

Emily’s face contorted into an illustration of her thoughts. “No. That can’t be. I don’t believe

you—he
loves
you. Why would he just go?”

“It was for the best. He and I, we’re too different; we want different things.” I shrugged, and

with a barely steadier voice said, “He didn’t want me to miss out on my chance to fall in love and

have a life.”

“Fall in love? A life? But, you loved
David
, right?”

“Ye—”

“So what couldn’t he give y ou that s omeone else can?” Em ily cut in, leaving her burger

abandoned on her plate.

There was no way to explain this to another teenager without telling the whole trut h. She’d

never understand the desire to have a... “A family.” I pulled one shoulder up to my ear.

“Ara? You’re seventeen. Why would you want that now?”

“I don’t. I mean, not now, anyway. But one day,” I said. “David—he just can’t do that.”

“Is he—” her eyes narrowed, “infertile?”

“I guess you could say that.” I laughed aloud.

“Oh, wow. Well, he must love you then, to leav e just because of that. I mean, couldn’t you

adopt?”

“It’s complicated.” And this is very defeating. “I just really wanna have my own children. I

want to know what it’s like to be pregnant one day and have little babies that look like me,” and then

there’s the eternity, the blood drinking and ageing thing—but I can’t tell
her
that. Set rules.

“Well, what does it matter if you adopt? Aren’t kids all the same, anyway?”

I shrugged. “It’s just how I feel. It’s more complicated than that.”

“Then tell me what it is.” She stared me down. “Ara, I’m you r
best
friend. You can tell me

anything.”

I smiled softly at her. Funny t hing is, she was right. She had bec ome my best friend, and I

knew I could tell her about David—and she’d underst and. After all, she was ‘team Damon’; she’d

totally kill for love. “He’s a…well…he’s a v…” I swallowed. “He’s a very goal- oriented guy. He

wants to become a high-ranking member of ….” The Set council, “parliament, one day.” Well, at

least that’s a half-truth. “He just can’t have distractions.” Like food he’s in love with.

Emily nodded thoughtfully. “Well, damn. I was expecting a wedding invitation.”

Though all I wanted was to run away and cry, I casually laughed off Emily’s comment, then

bit my burger—swallowing the urge to cry with each mouthful. I couldn’t taste the f ood, and

everything Emily asked after was met with a generic response; nodding and smiling became my new

best friend. I felt bad about it, yeah, but my hear t seemed to control every action I took since I met

David. I wished we’d never mentioned him; I wished we’d just found a dress and gone home.

“Well, who needs a man anyway, Ar a? Forget David.” Emily shrugged as we were leaving.

“I’m sure you’ll find another really nice guy someday that’ll make you just as happy as David did.”

“Thanks, Em.” I sighed. “Now, about your dress? We only have five shopping days left—are

you sure you didn’t like any of them?”

Emily grimaced. “No. None of them really felt right. I don’t know, maybe I’ll just go in

jeans.”

“Yeah, it might be a bit tricky for Spence to co-ordinate his tux with denim.”

“Well, it’s no big deal, really. If I don’t find a dress—I just won’t go. I mean, the world won’t

end if I stay home instead.”

I smiled at her. She was right. Again. And she was completely oblivious to how much s he

just helped me.

There’s going to the ball, and there’s not going to the ball, but my mind was so focused on

the only options being to f ind a dress or wear so mething from the back of the cl oset, it never

occurred to me that she had other options.

Which made me realise…I have options, too—just like everyone else.

Maybe I’ve been going about this whole immortal-love-or-eternal-sadness thing all wrong.

I’ve been feeling trapped by th e choice between two paths—David or Mike—but it’s only t

he

confines of my own mind narrowing those choices.

I walked a little taller as we reached the car

park, thankful that Emily was distant and

distracted herself, allowing me to escape to my thoughts.

Fate had stepped in and offered me an alternative to eternal blood. But maybe I don’t have to

choose either of them; maybe I can choose to be on my own—to go in a different direction altogether

and forget love.

Since Mum died, I’ve spent so long blaming myself and living with guilt and anguish; I’ve

forgotten that I’m a girl of my own rights and there is such a thing as
choosing
how to feel.

Like when Dorothy made it home from OZ, she learned that she was never really gone in the

first place—that all the fear and loneliness she felt in that world was in her own mind.

I have control over my own life, and I get to choose what it is that breaks me...

‘
Dear diary,

Power of choice sounds great in the light, except, stupidly, in my room, alone, I keep waiting

by my window, thinking David’s going to come. For some reason, my heart won’t believe he left me,

and I’m always surprised, as I fall asleep by myself, that he hasn’t come back.’

I lifted my head from the reverie of writing and became still in the quietness of the night.

There was no wind, no cars down in the street, and the moon was hidden behind a dense rain cloud.

The familiar eerie feeling of being watched trickled into my personal space again.

I stared out past my refl ection in the wi ndow—wishing it were true—wi shing I was being

watched...by David.

But a part of me was deathly afraid it may be something else—or no one at all.

‘
I never even leave my window open, anymore’,
I continued,
‘I don’t want the fresh air, and I

know David isn’t going to come. I’m also a little afraid his creepy brother Jason might come to visit

me in my sleep again.

That freaks me out beyond words.’

A loud crack startled me—followed by a flash of light outside. Oh no. With my pen bending

in my grip, I froze—sitting in front of the slightly open window, unsure if I should run or si t quietly

so the menacing storm wouldn’t notice me here.

The thunder r icocheted off the distant hor izon in a sharp snap which receded to a dense

growl. I suddenly felt like I was standing on a rope-bridge in the middle of a mountain gorge,

holding on while it rocked violently under my feet.

When the rain burst through the cloud, distracting the thunder, I bolted for my bed and dived

into the covers—concealing my head and shoulders under the cotton fortress.

I hate this! I hate storms. I’m calling Mike.

I grabbed my phone and dialled three digits before stopping mid-stupidity.

What are you doing, you idiot? Mike’s right across the hall.

Mustering every ounce of bravery in my li mbs, I sat up and hugged my pillow, sending my

gaze across the carpet to my door.

To run or not to run? Mike will make it all okay, but he won’t always be here. I have to learn

to live without him sooner or later...

Or do I?

I leaned my back against the wall and let thought consume my facial muscles for a moment.

Maybe I should just go back to Per th with him. Maybe...argh! I buried my face in my hands

and ignored the call of the storm outside. I could be happy with Mike. I love him as deep as I know

my own heart—but I’ll never let go of David. Never.

When the lightning flashed again, my heart skipped at the sight of a boy sitting perched on

my windowsill, the white glow outlining his silhouette. But with the next flash—he was gone, and

the hope of his appearance left me soulless; I looked down.

One day, pain or none, I’ll have to move on from David. Am I willing to let Mike slip away,

only to realise I made a mistake—when it’s too late?

The next crack of thunder shattered my thou ght-journey. I ditched my pillow and ran. A

something’s-going-to-grab-my-ankle kind of fear moved my feet, and my he art jumped a beat of

relief when I looked across the dark, empty corridor to see Mike’s door open. I leaped towar d his

bed—without touching his floor, and fell into him.

“Hey. There you ar e.” He wrappe d his ar m around me as I fell saf ely into the fold of his

embrace, snuggling up to his bare chest as close as physically possible. “I was wondering how long

it’d take you to come in here.” His voice sounded so light. I coul d tell he was laughing at me. But I

didn’t care; I was shaking, and just needed to feel his arms around me—needed to feel
him
.

“I’m sorry, Mike. I—”

“Shh, don’t be sorry, baby. You’re okay.”

“Okay,” I said, calming as the sound of his st eady, beating heart un-der my ear soothed the

muscle tensing anxiety. I listened to each beat come as reliably as the next, letting my shoulders drop

as Mike stroked my head, easing away the knot in my stomach. “Thanks, Mike.”

“Any time.”

And I knew that was truth, more than an automated statement. Just like every moment in the

past, Mike had and would always be there to comfort me through the storm.

The feel of his thick fingers, so warm, so human, gently tingling across my brow, was so

familiar to me. Once, it was the soft, almost silky touch of my mother, stroking away the nightmares,

keeping the fears at bay as she’d sit by my

bed, exhausted beyond sl eepless, but wi lling,

nevertheless, to comfort her daugh ter. When I woke one morning to find her asleep on the edge of

my pillow, cold and worn, I told her I was too old to be afraid of storms anymore. Mike knew

the truth though, and he s eemed to take on her r oll, coming to my window every time there was a

storm—scaring the hell out of me when he’d tap lightly on the glass.

I closed my eyes and let myself feel the love radiating through his gentle touch. “Mike?” I

whispered.

“Yeah?”

“I—I.”

Mike laughed and kissed the top of my head. “I know, baby. I know you’re scared.”

“No—”
that’s not it.

“Ara, baby, we’ll talk in the morning. It’s after midnight—go to sleep.”

I swallowed my cour age and stuffed the words
I love you
back down where I’ d stored them

all these years, then closed my eyes and let the tingle of Mike’s touch take me away to the peace and

silence of dreamland.

An irritating blue jay outside the window imitated an alarm clock; I inched one eye open, but

couldn’t see my room through the glare of sunlight streaming in. I could feel its soft yellow glow all

around me, and smiled because the rain was gone.

If I could sleep like that every night, I’d make it my occupation to go to bed. I was having a

really good dream, too, thanks Mister Blue Jay, for waking me up! Not.

The bed moved under me, r ising softly before warm, moist l ips touched my brow. I pushed

off the surface of my fleshy pillow and sat bolt-upright. “Mike!”

“Hey, princess. You slept well,” he noted.

He didn’t put me back in my room. What was he thinking?

“You okay, baby?”

I blinked a few extra times to focus properly on the way the morning seemed to make his skin

look like honey and his eyes as warm as hot-cocoa. “Um, yeah.” I rubbed my face with my hands,

secretly checking his door; shut. Thank God. Maybe Dad wouldn’t have noticed I was in here. “I’m