“Dad just called Aiden and me. He’ll probably call you soon; I just want to give you a heads up.”
“Why will he be calling me? What is it Adam? Tell me?” I said becoming frantic.
“Kelly and dad got engaged! Okay? Damn it! I can’t believe I told you,” He said badgering himself.
I put my hand to my mouth. I pictured Adam in his and Aiden’s apartment holding his cell phone with his right hand to his right ear running his left hand roughly through his thick, dark, too long, curly hair.
“When did it happen?” I choked out trying to hold back tears.
“Last night, I think. After he said ‘engaged’ I kind of tuned him out, not wanting to hear.”
“How can he do this to us? To mom? She’ll be devastated.” I said even though my mom probably didn’t love him anymore and would rather eat him. I shuddered at the thought.
“I don’t know Kylie. I don’t know.”
“Thanks for telling me. I’d rather hear it from you than from him.” I said him like it was the dirtiest word known to man.
“I figured you would. I’ve gotta go, I love you little sis.”
“Love you too Adam.” I said hanging up. I stuck my cell phone in my peacock Coach Purse.
Jonathon closed the door behind Amelia.
I stood up and put my purse on my shoulder, still looking down at the floor so Jonathon couldn’t see my face. Finally I raised my head. I was mad at my dad and I didn’t want Jonathon to see so I quickly composed my features. But I knew I still looked sad.
“Oh! Principessa what happened?” He asked. I took a deep breath. I would not cry.
“My dad is going to marry that . . . that slut!” I screamed, my form of retribution. Jonathon was at my side in an instant. Wrapping his arms around me in a second, too fast for a human.
“I’m sorry, love.” He said.
“I hate him!” I screamed again. If I wouldn’t cry, I’d scream.
“No, you don’t. You just feel like you do right now.” He said playing with my curly hair.
“I don’t know if I’ll ever love him like I used to or look up to him. He has put my mom, my brothers, and me through so much pain and he doesn’t care.”
“I know love, I know. But I’m sure he still cares about you. He probably doesn’t know he is hurting you all so much. He’s only human.”
“He knows he’s hurting us. Let’s go now,” I said starting to pull away.
“Are you sure?” he asked, letting go of me, his eyes showed so much concern for me.
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
“Amelia told you all she knows right now so she decided to go ahead and leave.” Jonathon said.
“That’s what I figured.” I said. He opened the front door for me and I walked outside.
The air smelt clean, no smog. It was about nine o’clock in the morning. The sky was a bright blue, with a scattering of white puffy clouds, they looked like cotton balls. There was coolness to the air. I was happy I had worn the sweater.
Looking over at my mom’s house I reflexively put my hand to the key at my neck. I would always have her close to my heart. Jonathon finished shutting and locking the door. We started down the steps.
We turned right when we got off the stairs, heading towards the driveway.
Jonathon led me to the passenger door, opening it for me.
“Why thank you sir.” I said feigning disbelief.
“You’re most kindly welcome, mademoiselle.” He said with a bow. We both laughed and he closed the door. He was in the car in an instant, demonstrating his incredible speed yet again.
I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to how easy it is to be with Jonathon. He makes me happy, happier than any other person. I’ve smiled more and laughed more in the short time I’ve known Jonathon than I have in the past seventeen years of my life.
He pulled away insanely fast, the tires screeching. In seconds we were out on the main highway zooming along. The other cars were a blur; they looked as if they were standing still. I looked at the speedometer. We were going an alarming speed of 120mph.
“Jonathon why are you going so fast?” I squealed. The speed didn’t bother me but the thought of getting caught by the police scared me. He looked at the speedometer a smile playing across his fine features.
“Don’t worry I’ll know when to slow down. Plus, I’m a vampire we do everything fast. Well, except Amelia.”
“What about Amelia?” I asked.
“Don’t get me wrong, she can run fast and has extremely quick reflexes but when it comes to driving, well to put it nicely she drives like a grandma, slow. For example, one day we were all at the track racing, you know, top speed and Amelia well . . . Amelia, she was going approximately 10mph.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” I exclaimed a giggle escaping my lips.
“Nope, the owner told her if she wasn’t going to go over 100mph she had to leave. So, she left.” He chuckled at the memory. I laughed so hard I cried. I clutched my stomach; it hurt so badly from all the laughing I was doing.
I had a mental image of all the Pulmer’s zooming around a race track going 200 plus mph and then Amelia going at a turtles pace. I let out another giggle.
“The art show doesn’t open for a while and the poetry readings starts after that, so what do you want to do till then?” Jonathon asked.
I took my gaze away from the scenes zooming by me to look at him. I can’t talk to people without looking at them.
“I guess we could just walk around. Is that okay with you?”
“Anything sounds good as long as I can do it with you.” Jonathon said.
“Awww, how cheesy Jonathon and romantic at the same time.” I said.
“That’s me. Cheesy and romantic. I’m the perfect combo,” He said grinning and pulling over to the curb.
“Don’t get to cocky on me,” I said.
“I won’t. I promessa,” He said.
“Jonathon you’re so sexy when you speak to me in Italian.”
“ I’m hurt. Aren’t I sexy all the time?” Jonathon asked jokingly.
“Yes, you are, but don’t flatter yourself. A wounded ego isn’t going to kill you.” I said jokingly hitting him in the arm.
“Let’s go.” He said getting out of the car. I opened my door to the street and crossed over to the sidewalk where Jonathon was waiting, hands in his jean pockets. His hair blew softly in the slight wind. He looked like he was posing for a magazine cover.
The wind ruffled my hair tickling my neck.
Jonathon grabbed my hand his eyes twinkling like a small child’s. I was so amazed at how well Jonathon has adjusted to acting like a twenty first century boyfriend. I thought it would take him a while but it hadn’t. He was so open to showing small amounts of affection in public, holding hands and maybe a quick kiss. Where as in the time period he grew up in any type of affection shown in public was looked down upon.
“Let’s start by walking down this street. There are some unique shops here.”
“Okay,” I said enjoying the feel of his hand in mine. I traced the contours of his hand with my thumb. He was rubbing my hand with his thumb gently, so very gently. For, I am so breakable.
I looked down at our hands entwined and then up at his face. He was watching me. I blushed and looked away, he smiled a small smile. His smile was so beautiful; he looked like a small mischievous boy when he smiled.
We walked hand in hand for a good fifteen minutes when I began to smell the delicious scent of freshly brewed coffee. Yum.
“I’d like to get some coffee. Do you mind?” I said motioning to the terra cotta colored store front with three tables out front. Who would want to sit outside now? But then again I think sixty degrees is cold.
“No, I do not mind at all.” Jonathon said, his buttery voice melting in my ears. We entered the coffee shop to the sound of computers clicking, people talking and coffee being poured.
Some walls were painted a dark brown and others a light cre
am color.
I looked up at the menu to decide what I wanted. Of course everything was in Italian.
Two people were in line in front of me. I dug around in my purse for my Italian dictionary. I thought I had put it in there this morning but apparently with my haste I had forgotten it. I’d just have to ask Jonathon.
“Jonathon, do they have a caramel latte?” I asked. He studied the menu less than ten seconds, his eyes roamed over it faster than I would have ever been able to do.
“Yes, they do.”
“Can I get an extra shot of espresso?” I asked looking into his warm silvery eyes. He studied the menu momentarily.
“Yes, I believe you can. Would you like me to order for you?”
“Yes, please. I don’t think either one speaks English.” I said relief clouding my face and voice.
He laughed. “Probably not.”
I dug around in my purse for my wallet this time. I found it at the bottom and pulled it out. When I looked back up Jonathon was giving me a funny look.
“What? Is there something on my face?”
“No principessa. Put your wallet away.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ll buy your coffee.”
“Jonathon I don’t expect you to buy me everything.”
“I know you don’t.” He said putting his hand on my mine. I looked in his eyes, floating in them, drowning in them. Looking into his eyes I got confused, forgetting what we had been talking about.
“Uh . . . o . . . okay.” I said putting my wallet away.
When our eye contact had been broken my thoughts began to refocus.
“You shouldn’t do that.” I stated looking into his smug face. Instantly he frowned.
“What?” He asked.
“Dazzle me to get your way. That’s not right.” He began to smile again but didn’t say anything.
I pouted. It was so unfair of him to overpower me like that. I’m useless when he does that. It’s like he hypnotizes me, or something. I crossed my arms over my chest in full sulk mode now. I held my chin out and did not look at him.
“I’m sorry.” He whispered in my ear, sounding truly regretful of his actions.
I whipped around to face him.
“You should be. It is totally and completely unfair for you to influence me like that.”
“I know. I shouldn’t have done that. But you are so defiant. I wasn’t going to talk you out of buying your coffee so using my other powers is the only thing I could do.” He whispered back.
“No, it’s not. You could let me buy it for myself. And that’s another thing; I can’t believe we’re arguing about coffee! Of all the things we could argue about.” I whispered to him.
“I don’t want you to feel like I’m not going to take care of you. . .” He said even quieter than a whisper. He looked down ashamed. I put my hand to his cheek.
“Jonathon, I know you’re going to take care of me . . . no matter what. Nobody else is. But I’m not some damsel in distress,” I said stroking his face, tracing the curvatures of his stunning jaw line.
His face brightened. “You do?”
“Yes, so stop worrying.” I said softly.
The lady in front of us finished giving her order and stepped aside. Breaking our reverie, it had seemed as if it was just the two of us, but now the sounds around me sharpened and everything came into focus.
Jonathon and I stepped up to the cashier.
“Do you still want to buy it?” He asked.
“Jonathon just go ahead, it isn’t a big deal.” I muttered. We were both so hard headed we didn’t want to give up.
The boy was about to ask us something, probably what we wanted, when he was rudely shoved away by his female co – worker.
She looked at Jonathon giving him a flirtatious smile. He did not return the smile.
The girl then looked at me. She was pretty but not beautiful. She had a soft round face framed by long straight black hair, her eyes were electric blue. She reminded me of Isaac. Her name tag read Isobel. She gave me a look that made me feel like a speck of dirt she had scraped off the bottom of her shoe. I quickly looked away, but before I did I noticed the flirtatious smile disappear.
She took our order, well my order, and Jonathon and I moved to wait for my coffee.
My coffee arrived in a large yellow mug.
I looked at it dumbfounded.
“Um. . . Where’s the to go cup?” I asked.
“In Europe they don’t serve to go cups. You’re supposed to sit down and drink it,” He said grabbing the steaming mug.
“Oh, I didn’t know,” I said.
“Well, you are American so how would you know?”
We picked a table in a slightly dark, secluded corner, made for two.
Jonathon pulled the chair out for me. I sat and he pushed me towards the table. The yellow mug was in front of me.
Up close the mug was not only yellow. It had been hand painted and throughout the mostly yellow mug were tints of green and purple. The mug was chipped and cracked but I loved it.
Jonathon sat across from me.
I blew the coffee slightly so it would begin to cool down to drinking temperature. I wrapped my fingers around the mug warming them.
“So any interesting stories to tell me?” I asked looking into his silver eyes.
“Um. . . I’ve lived through pretty much everything. What do you want to hear about? The time I met William Shakespeare? The time I was commissioned to paint a picture of King Henry the VIII? When I fought in World War II? There are plenty of stories I can tell.”
“Okay, okay I get it. Start with the one about William Shakespeare.”
“Well first off in my opinion he is a squirrel of a man with beady black eyes. He was quite rude and scatter brained. He kept muttering non sense about butterflies. And I think he may have, how do you Americans say it? Hit on me?”
“William Shakespeare hit on you?” I asked flabbergasted and trying desperately not to laugh.
“Yes, you do know he was gay?”
“I didn’t know. I’d heard about William Shakespeare possibly being gay in English class, but I didn’t know it was confirmed!” I said still in shock.
“Well, yes, he was. Historians probably don’t know for sure because there is nothing on record but trust me he was gay.” Jonathon chuckled.
“So, you painted a picture of King Henry the VIII? Is that the King of England who started his own church so he could get a divorce and killed several of his wives?”
“Yeah, he’s the one who created his own church for a divorce and beheaded several wives. You know your history,” He stated.
“I’ve always liked history. Come on tell me about him,” I pressed.
“Well, he was a complete pompous jerk. He treated me like scum. He said I did not capture his ‘true’ image. If I were to have captured his ‘true’ image he would have looked like the devil. He tried to get me beheaded. That was quite funny. You should have seen his face when I barred my fangs and said ‘You just try your highness. It won’t work. I’ll just reconnect myself and come after you.’ Poor guy wet himself and went running from the room screaming like a mad man proclaiming that the great artist Pulmer from Italia was a vampire.” He laughed at the memory.
“Wait maybe you can see it. Close your eyes and empty your mind. I’m going to try to project my memory to you.”
I put my coffee cup back down. The black liquid sloshed in the mug like lava.
“Alright,” I said. I closed my eyes and tried to think of nothing. It was harder than it sounded.
Suddenly I felt a prodding at my conscious. It was the strangest feeling. Like a slight nudge to my thoughts. I took a deep breath and then was engulfed by the scene of Henry the VIII squabbling with Jonathon. I saw everything from Jonathon’s point of view and the scene was very interesting.
King Henry was short and stout with a red face which was made even redder by his anger. His face was puffed up like a puffer fish tryi
ng to make it seem more intimidating and deadly. Jonathon was standing in front of a canvas that was half painted. The two were arguing.
“You fix my painting right now. You are supposedly the best artist in the world yet you make me look horrendous. Now fix it or I will have you beheaded of treason!” The king said spit flying.
“That’s a lie. You can’t do that!” Jonathon declared.
The King chuckled. “Well, yes young man. It just so happens as King that I can.”
A low growl escaped Jonathon’s lips, it sounded like an animal. The King flinched away. Suddenly Jonathon’s teeth extended like small, sharp, daggers. In my mind I could feel his jaw ache as his teeth came out.
“You just try your highness. It won’t work. I’ll just reconnect myself and come after you,” Jonathon declared.
The King shook. A dark wet spot collected on the crotch area of his trousers. He ran from the room screaming. I could hear down the hall his high pitched squeal saying, “The . . .the artist . . . Pulmer. . .is . . . is. . . a .. . Vampire!” I could hear giggles and laughs all over the castle.
Then the memory was over.
“That was awesome!” I declared.
“I know.” He said smirking. A blond curl fell into his eye and he flicked it away.
“That has to be the funniest thing I’ve ever seen!” I exclaimed.
“I’m glad,” He said.
“So, how about World War II? I’ve always loved learning about World War II,” I added.
“Well at the time I was living in the United States. So I fought on their side. I have plenty of time on my hands not to mention a photographic memory so I have every language known to man memorized not to mention the dead ones. So, I can live anywhere and get along fine. Now for the story. We were stationed in Germany. I was the elected translator. No one knew what I was, a vampire, although they could not figure out why I never seemed to get injured, or why I never ate with them and yet I was the strongest and sturdiest of all of us. They thought I was just extremely lucky. One day I was out by myself trying to sneak into a concentration camp I didn’t want to endanger my fellow comrades, it was the middle of winter and snow covered the ground. I was easy pickings. A German soldier found me. He shot me five times. But I did not fall. But my uniform became stained with my blue blood. Scared the wits out of him, so he shot three more times. I took off my jacket and shirt in front of him. Then I stuck my fingers into the wounds and pulled all of the bullets out dropping them into the snow. The pale white snow became stained blue where the bullets had hit. Once the bullets were out my skin healed itself in less than a minute. The German soldier stood mesmerized.
Fallen (Fallen Series Book 1) Page 13
