I can’t help it. I really can’t. I burst out giggling at the mental image of her trying to keep a straight face while going at it with Steve. That gets Rachel going.
“I’m sorry,” I say, “we shouldn’t laugh at you.”
“It’s Ok,” Kate says. “I mean, it is kind of funny now that I think about it.”
We all collapse into another fit of giggles. When we stop to catch our breath, Rachel asks, “Was it good, though?”
Kate bites her lower lip and grins like you wouldn’t believe. “A-plus-plus-plus. Eleven of ten stars. Did bang again.”
“You did it twice this morning?” I ask.
She nods, bright-eyed, kicking her feet in the air above her.
“You guys were careful, though, right?” Rachel asks.
“Steve is a perfect gentleman on that count,” Kate says, then sighs. I know that she hates being the center of attention, so I’m not surprised when she deflects the conversation. “How about you, Ivy? I never suspected I’d give up the V-card before you.”
“Oh, you know,” I say, shaking my head. “I haven’t found my Steve yet.”
“What about Carl? You’ve been texting him all night, haven’t you?”
I suddenly become very aware that my phone is laying on the floor right in the middle of the three of us. I am so thankful for my habit of always clearing back to the home screen before I set it down. “You realize that Carl thinks of my Grandpa as his.”
“Yeah, but he certainly doesn’t think of you that way,” Kate says.
“Well,” I say, wincing a little bit. Ever since Grandpa got home the other night, Carl has somehow kept his attraction for me out of sight, and I’ve really liked it that way. The last thing I need right now is for Kate and Rachel to be bringing it up again. “He just doesn’t light that particular fire for me.”
“For as much of a hard time as we give him, he really is a good guy,” Rachel says.
“Well,” I say. “He’s available.”
“I don’t light that particular fire for him,” she says.
*****
The next morning, I drive Kate to school, following Rachel in her car. Part of life in Stokers Mill is that you always keep an outfit or two at your best friends’ houses, because you never know when the weather is going to keep you there overnight.
Ben is on my mind – has been on my mind nonstop since the night before, and the night before that, and the night before that. Pretty much back to when I read that poem he left me in my locker. Hearing Kate tell us about her first time with Steve, I’m definitely feeling a particular fire I’ve never felt before. The one that Carl doesn’t light for me, the one that no other boy has ever kindled. Not even the couple that I’ve made out with. I guess that’s why Kate got to be the first of us to go all the way. It’s only in the past twenty four hours that I’ve felt that delicious urgency inside of me attached to a particular name.
Ben Wake, what have you done to me?
As if thinking his name summoned him, I hear the rumble of his bike. I look into my rear view mirror and see him behind me, approaching at a much more respectful rate than on our first encounter on the road. I also notice that we’re at almost the exact same place, just a couple of curves shy of the passing zone where he’d almost gotten himself killed.
“Hey!” Kate says. “What’s on your mind?”
“Sorry,” I say, taking another glance into my mirror at what’s on my mind. “Nothing much.”
Kate side-eyes me and shakes her head ever so slightly. Her way of telling me she knows I’m lying since we were in elementary school.
“Romance,” I say.
She smiles and nods.
“Just wondering why I’ve never met anybody that moves me the way Steve moves you.”
“Probably because he doesn’t live in Stokers Mill,” she says. “Five months from now, you’ll be at college in San Diego. A lot more options there than here.”
I look into my mirror again. Ben gives me his little twisty salute. “Maybe,” I say.
I am so relieved that Kate doesn’t look behind us to see who is back there. When we arrive at school, Steve wastes no time intercepting Kate. Rachel and I try give him that look that lets him know we know, but he never notices. He only has eyes for Kate. The way he takes one finger and tenderly brushes a stray lock of hair from her cheek as he goes in for the kiss gives my heart a little flutter.
A week ago, that moment of tenderness would have made me wonder what was wrong with me, that I’d never yet wanted that with someone else. This morning, it makes me turn my head to look for Ben. I catch sight of him just walking away from his bike. I had always considered black leather gear to be the ultimate biker uniform, the epitome of masculinity. It always conjures up images of a man’s man, tall, broad-shouldered and muscular with graying goatees.
Ben is dressed in an oxblood leather jacket and medium brown chaps, with a maroon stocking cap and matching scarf to keep his head and face warm. The earthier brown paired with those deep and rich reddish shades gives him a certain elegance that is still fundamentally male. It makes the Hells Angel tough guy look almost seem like a parody of itself. I take a moment to imagine what that leather would smell like up close.
Carl, appearing in my peripheral vision, breaks me out of my budding little fantasy.
“This punk got busted yesterday,” Carl says, pointing at Steve as he walks up to us, “and now I have cover for him tonight instead of raiding.” Carl and Steve both worked at the local mom and pop hardware store.
“Sorry, Dawg. I told you, I really overslept,” Steve says.
“Up too late the night before chatting with this one, huh?”
“Something like that.”
“You owe me,” Carl says, just as the first bell rings.
At lunch, I finally get caught with my eyes on Ben. My mind is wandering, and apparently there’s no doubt where it’s gone. “Ivy! No,” Rachel says.
“What?” Kate asks.
“She’s seriously checking out Ben.”
“I am not!” I say.
“I think Rachel’s right,” Kate says. “It’s all over your face.”
“Look,” I say, exasperated. “He’s got a nice body. Just the right amount of muscle, and he moves well.”
Kate shakes her head in disgust.
“Don’t even!” I tell her. “He’s not that different than Steve.”
“Yes, but inside Steve’s hot body is a great guy. Not some dude like Ben.”
“He’s not a good guy, Ivy.”
“How do you know?” I ask. “Nobody here has given him any sort of chance or ever tried to know him. Have either of you actually tried to talk to him?”
“Yes,” they both say. “When he first showed up,” Rachel says. “I thought he was kind of cute, too, but talking to him. It’s not easy. His head is always off somewhere, and he just thinks about things in weird ways.”
“He was really curious about me, but never opened up about himself. Whenever I asked about him, it was weird, like five minutes later, we’re on a completely different subject, and I realize he never actually answered me. I know his name and that’s the only thing he’s told me about himself in three months.”
“But now we know he’s a maniac driver, complete loner, he has no idea about any modern culture. I don’t think he listens to any music or reads any books that are less than a hundred years old. He’s so separated from everything.”
“So, he’s interested in different things than you are?” I ask them. “That isn’t a crime.”
“I don’t want him arrested,” Kate says. “I just don’t want him around me.”
“Or you, for that matter,” Rachel says. “He’s got eyes for you, too, and I don’t trust him.”
“Maybe give him another chance,” I say.
“Maybe find a boyfriend that’s human,” Kate says.
“That’s completely not fair!” I say. I’ve had enough, and I walk away from the two of them and my
lunch.
Unfortunately, things are no better at home. The entire time during dinner, I know Grandpa’s got something on his mind. Just before we finish up, he finally spits it out.
“I’ve done a little checking up on that Ben guy.”
I put my fork down and frown at Grandpa.
“Did Carl put you up to this?”
“Ben’s parents seem to own their house fair and square, and their last address checks out, and the one before that. But they don’t seem to work, and they don’t seem to come from money, so I’m wondering how they bought it.”
“You did your own little background check on his family?” For the second time today, I get up to walk away from a good meal ruined by a bad conversation.
“Sit!” Grandpa says.
I do. I don’t want to, but I do.
“Carl’s got good judgement, he’s a good measure of character. He may be rash and impatient and sometimes too much of a dumb boy, but he can sniff out a bad person pretty well, and he says this Ben stinks.”
I almost blurt out that Carl just smells somebody that’s got an actual chance of getting in my pants, but I manage to bite my tongue. Instead, I say, “Carl’s just jealous.”
“Carl’s a good man,” Grandpa says.
“You told me he’s a dumb boy.”
“Sometimes. Most of the time, he’s one of the most solid and dependable people I know. And you know it, too, Ivy.”
I sigh hard. The unfortunate part of all of this is that Grandpa’s right on that count. Carl has never failed me when I’ve needed him. There have been times when Carl’s gotten me out of trouble I didn’t even know I was in yet.
The truth is, I have always loved Carl deeply. But not in any romantic way. We’re so close, we could be blood, and I’ve never seen him as anything else.
“That’s fine, Grandpa. But that doesn’t mean I have to be his girlfriend. He will always be my best friend, but never my boyfriend.”
Grandpa shrugs his shoulders. “He still cares a lot about you, Ivy. And when he says somebody is not right for you, you should trust him. He’s probably right.”
I stand up again. “I’m sorry, Grandpa. I’m willing to trust Carl on a lot of things. But not this. Because if he keeps me away from Ben, he’s going to try to keep me away from the next guy, and the next guy after that. He’ll just keep going until he’s the only guy left in the world, and you’re going to help him.”
“That’s not what this is about. It’s not just Ben’s family I’ve checked up on—”
“Check up on this,” I yell. “I’m eighteen, I’m my own woman now, I’ve lived my entire life to your satisfaction right up until now. Straight As in school, all the right extracurricular to get scholarships to the right college, a good job, never had any trouble with anybody. So you and Carl both need to trust me to live my own life for myself from here on out, and stop interfering in it.” I push my chair up to the table with a bang and stomp up the stairs to my room.
I unlock my phone and open my email.
I type [email protected] into the address line.
I read over the email I wrote him yesterday, telling him how much I wanted to know more about him, how I knew there was more to him than anybody else was willing to give him credit for. That same email that I kept failing to send last night while Kate and Rachel were over. At the end, I add, “I want to see you tonight. Call me.”
Not five minutes pass when my phone rings. I don’t recognize the number, but I answer it right away.
“Hello?”
“Hi. Ivy?”
“Ben!” I say, suddenly happy and now ten times more nervous than I was when I had hit the send button.
“It turns out I am free tonight. What would you like to do?”
“Anything that gets me out of this house,” I say.
There’s a little pause from the other end. “Do you trust me and my cycle enough yet to go for a ride together?”
Now it’s my turn to hesitate and think. Most of me wants absolutely nothing to do with that thing, yet, remembering how he’d ridden my tail before swerving around me and forcing me to get out of his way to protect him from his own stupidity. A part of me, though, remembers the times I’ve seen him riding since, much more responsible, putting what looks like a good degree of skill to proper use.
That second part wins out, and I finally say, “I do.”
“Good.” I can hear his smile over the line. I tell him my address, and warn him about how one of his turns is on a blind corner and really easy to miss.
“Got it,” he says. “Shall I drive right up to the house, or will you meet me a little ways away?”
I immediately say, “At the house,” then find myself impressed that he’s picked up on my frustration right now, and correctly guessed that I might prefer to keep our meeting under wraps. But I’m an adult now, eighteen. Grandpa can be mad at me all he wants for going out with Ben, but there’s nothing he can do to stop me.
“It’s still cool out. I’ve got some spare gear that will fit you, but if you’ve got some long underwear and a tight fleece jacket or pullover, that will help,” Ben says. “Looks like I can be to your place in about a half hour.”
I bundle up with a couple extra, close-fitting layers and then fret until I hear a motorcycle come up the driveway. I walk down to the foot of the stairs, and wait for him to ring the bell.
“That’s Ben,” I call out to living room.
Grandpa and I meet in the hallway. I shoot him a look to let him know I need him to be civil, and open the door. Ben is standing there in the dim light of late evening, a respectful step back from the threshold.
“Good evening, sir. I am Ben Wake. Is it Mr. Stars, or are you from Ivy’s mother’s family?”
“Mister Stars will suffice for now,” Grandpa says, offering his hand, but not approaching the doorway. Ben makes just the smallest hesitation before he looks at me and asks, “Would you like me to come in for a minute, or shall we head out?”
I scowl at Grandpa. Just standing there three steps inside the house instead of coming up to greet Ben properly. “Let’s go,” I say.
“Have a good evening, sir,” Ben says to Grandpa, offering me his arm. I take it and turn away from Grandpa. I see there is a helmet on the motorcycle, sitting on the side mirror, and roll of leather attached to the saddle by an elastic net.
My heart leaps inside my chest, but I’m not sure whether it’s more anxious about getting on a motorcycle for the first time in my life, or excited that I’m about to put my arms around Ben.
Chapter 5
Ben Wake
Ivy’s grandfather’s behavior puzzles me. Why did he stand, well out of my reach inside the house, offering his hand but not inviting me in? There’s no way he could know I’m a vampire. One thing all of the clans have always agreed on is that we keep our existence secret to only the most select few. Even many of the claimed never know that their lover is immortal. My clan, the Negre, keep very meticulous records on which of the warm know about us, whether they learned from us or from another clan. I checked the records in the clan archives before moving to Stokers Mill, and saw that there were no known warm in the area aware of us. Once my eyes settled on Ivy, and I learned her surname was Stars, I certainly would have recalled anybody else with that name I had come across in the archives.
The fact that a thrope is practically part of the family is even more disconcerting. Have they abandoned their own ancient tradition of secrecy as well? Has Carl told Ivy’s grandfather not only about the thropes, but about the vampires as well? How else would the old man know about my inability to enter a dwelling unless invited?
Of course, I could just be paranoid, and it could have just been his way trying to intimidate me in front of Ivy – put me in a place where I could either brush past her, uninvited to shake his hand, or just walk away in defeat. In my time, I’ve met no shortage of overprotective men who’ve made any number of silly macho attempts to scare me off.
All of that is distraction, though. Whatever he knows, if he knows it today, he’ll still know it tomorrow. Tonight, though, right now, Ivy’s hand is in the crook of my arm, and she’s looking at me, expectantly. We’re at the motorcycle, and I’m just standing there.
“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” I ask her, smiling.
“Yes,” she says.
I unclip the bungee net holding my spare gear to the saddle and offer it to her. “I’m sorry that I don’t have an extra pair of leather pants in your size,” I say, unrolling the gear and offering her the overpants. “The textile is much more adjustable for different sizes. Just unzip those two long zippers along either leg, and step in.”
I can’t help but watch as Ivy dons the pants, wiggling and bouncing a bit this way and that to get them on and close the long zippers up either outseam. In a way, it’s like a strip tease in reverse, where putting clothes on is where the thrill is at. Next comes the leather jacket, which requires no explanation, and also a lot less movement of her body. Once she’s got it zipped up, though, I must admit that she wears it well. Even with the extra layers for warmth, underneath a man’s heavy jacket, she still manages to look deliciously feminine.
“OK. Helmet next.” I show her how to get it on and fasten the chin strap properly. “Now, lean your head back,” I say, both so I can make sure she’s got it on and adjusted correctly, but also because it gives me one more look at her lovely, pale neck. I see just the slightest hint of her pulse running through the vein beneath the skin.
It reminds me that I took a couple rabbits over the past few days, but it’s been a long time since I’ve fed to the point I was truly satisfied. I need that distraction now even less than I needed my pondering of her grandfather’s actions, and turn away from her delicately exposed throat to grab a pair of gloves for her.
Once she’s got them on, I show her how to lift and close the visor on the helmet.
“You’ll want it down as soon as we start moving. Keep the bugs out of your face and eyes, and cut the wind noise. That noise can actually fatigue you surprisingly fast,” I tell her while I zip my jacket back up and put on my own helmet and gloves.
Blood Of A Vampire (Negre Clan Book 1) Page 4
