Velvet

by Temple West

  She shrugged, and I could tell she was upset.

  “Hey,” I said, standing, “you’ve gotta try at least one dress on.”

  “There’s nothing I like,” she said simply.

  I grabbed her by the arms and made her sit. “Let me pick something out. I guarantee you’ll like it.”

  She rolled her eyes but didn’t protest. I darted through the clothing racks, not entirely sure what I was looking for other than something in a deep, rich color. Jenny was too pale for pastel. And then—

  “Get in there,” I said, hauling her into an empty stall and handing the dress in after. I stood there for a good five minutes while Jenny muttered what might have been obscenities, but it was Jenny, so I couldn’t hear her half the time anyway. By now, everyone else had changed back into their regular clothes and was waiting for the big reveal. Finally, the little metal door handle squealed and swung open.

  I raised my hand, which Trish immediately slapped in a slo-mo high five. “I win.”

  Jenny scowled, clearly uncomfortable being the center of attention. I pulled her into the hall and stood her in front of the three-way mirror.

  Damn. I was good.

  Remembering how amazing her New Year’s Eve dress had looked on her, I’d chosen a deep blue, floor-length dress. In place of sleeves, it had a dozen thin straps on either shoulder that met at the waist in the back.

  “Oh, Jenny, you look gorgeous,” Stephanie said, the last to step out of her dressing room.

  Jenny stared at the mirror. “I look naked.”

  “There’s plenty of material in the front,” Trish scoffed. “All in favor of Jenny buying this dress, say ‘aye.’ It counts for two votes if you say it like a pirate.”

  There were three normal ayes and two pirate ayes (I was one of the pirate ayes), so I guess that counted as seven votes against her. She smiled in an excruciatingly shy way, and stared at the floor.

  “Fine,” she said, giving in. Trish and Meghan cheered in victory. Everyone made their purchases and we piled into Stephanie’s mom’s Suburban and drove back to Stony Creek in high spirits. I sat down next to Jenny as Meghan blasted pop music from the stereo.

  Afraid I’d overwhelmed her, I asked Jenny, “How’s it going?”

  Oddly enough, she blushed. “Good.”

  I raised my eyebrows.

  “Really good,” she amended. “There’s this boy. And he sent me this for my birthday.” She held up her wrist and I saw a delicate silver band around her wrist with a single deep blue stone set in the middle. “He said it matched my eyes.”

  That would’ve sounded cheesy if it weren’t for the fact that Mark (I assumed it was Mark) was right—they were almost the exact same shade. I grinned at her and she covered it back up with her sleeve. We got sucked back into the general conversation and the ride back passed quickly. When I got home, I could smell dinner cooking and realized I hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast at Adrian’s.

  “Hi,” Rachel smiled tentatively as I came through the front door. “Did you find a dress?”

  “Yeah—I left it at Trish’s.”

  It was a weird excuse, but since I was still working on my real dress, and that dress was at Adrian’s, I couldn’t have Rachel ask to see what I’d bought.

  Before Rachel could question why I’d left my dress at Trish’s, I was saved by Joe dragging Norah in through the front door, smelling strongly of horses.

  “Five more minutes!”

  “You’ve been out there since dawn.”

  “And it’s still dusk!”

  I glanced out the window. It was pitch-black.

  “You’ve still got a week to practice for the semifinals,” he said, setting her down as he closed the door, “but dinner is now.”

  * * *

  Since it was already a habit of mine to go over to Trish’s three or four times a week, it wasn’t difficult to trick Rachel and Joe. It was actually so easy that I almost felt bad about it—almost. I’d go home with Trish after school and she’d tell her parents we were going out to study, or to Jenny’s or Laura’s or Meghan’s or Stephanie’s. Then she’d drop me off at Adrian’s and I’d get in several hours of work on the dress. Adrian drove me back over to Trish’s, who drove me home. It was ridiculous and convoluted, but I slowly made progress. If I totally ignored homework for the next week (which, to be fair, I couldn’t concentrate on anyway with the sleep deprivation), I’d get the dress done in time for the dance. I knew my priorities were totally backward on that one, but, well, I was literally not thinking straight.

  A bizarre event happened a few days before winter formal as I was working in my studio. Lucian had just run out to tell Adrian something, a story or an idea, I can’t remember, and I thought he had come back, but when I looked up, it wasn’t Lucian standing there, and it wasn’t Adrian—

  It was Julian.

  He stopped just inside the doorway, hands in the pockets of his thousand-dollar jeans, shirt loose and open at the chest. I remembered my first impression of him that day in the library—he’d seemed confidant and chiselled, but not as beautiful as Adrian. Adrian was simpler, adapted to Stony Creek, content with blending in—as much as he could, at least. Julian expected attention.

  I sat paused with two pieces of velvet in my hands, waiting for him to speak. He didn’t look friendly, but he didn’t look angry. More … perturbed. Puzzled, maybe.

  “Are we going to stare at each other, or can I get back to work?”

  He gave me a brief, wry smile. “Mind if I come in?”

  I hesitated—he and Adrian were still not on good speaking terms (although I wasn’t sure if they’d ever been on good speaking terms), and I didn’t want to add to it. At the same time, I didn’t know much about Julian.

  Curiosity won.

  “Sure,” I said, and pointed at one of the many padded stools around the worktable. He took a seat and rested his chin on his hand. I wondered if he knew it looked like he was posing.

  “Is there something I can help you with?” I asked, since he didn’t seem to feel the need to speak.

  Now that he was closer, I could see that his eyes were that strange, celestial mix of deep blue and amber. It reminded me of a compass for some reason, or a globe. He stared at me a moment longer, a small crease marring his forehead as he frowned in thought.

  “Your boyfriend hates me.”

  I was a little startled, both by what he said and the fact that I had begun to get a little lost in the colors of his eyes. “You mean your brother?” I deflected.

  He shrugged dismissively. “Same thing.”

  I snorted. “Um, no. He’s actually your brother. He’s pretending to be my boyfriend.”

  He looked amused, glancing around the state-of-the-art studio. “This is pretend?”

  I blushed. “Adrian has an overdeveloped sense of guilt, for whatever reason, and tries to pay it off by buying me expensive things he thinks I need.” I didn’t want to talk about that anymore. “And he doesn’t hate you.”

  “Perhaps,” Julian conceded. “But he doesn’t think very highly of me, does he?”

  I couldn’t really argue with that one. “Why is that?”

  Julian cocked his head to the side and stared at me as though trying to work out a puzzle. “Adrian isn’t like the rest of us,” he said finally. “He tends to want too much.”

  I scowled. “You’re being intentionally cryptic.”

  He snorted. “Couldn’t properly call myself a vampire if I wasn’t.”

  I looked at him—I mean really looked at him, probably for the first time. He was incredibly beautiful, but there was a blankness to him. Less than Mariana and Dominic, but it was there. Like he was fading right before my eyes. “Why are you really here?” I asked finally. “I have things to do—and I was under the impression you didn’t like me all that much.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself. I don’t care about you enough to dislike you.”

  I laughed, too tired to be offended. “Someday you ar
e actually going to care about something, and you won’t have any idea what to do about it. I should get you a puppy,” I mused. “I can’t see you being mean to a cute little puppy.”

  “Don’t you know?” he asked, leaning back with a dry smile. “I drink the blood of innocent puppies for breakfast. Right after my corn flakes.”

  “Nice try.” I turned back to my sewing machine. “I already know you guys only drink people juice.”

  “Ah,” he sighed, “the secret’s out.”

  Was it weird that I wasn’t hating this conversation? Regardless, I only had another twenty minutes to work on the dress before Adrian had to take me back to Trish’s, so I ignored Julian and examined the edge I was about to sew. Before I could put my foot back to the pedal, I thought I heard him mutter, “Why you?”

  I frowned at him. “Why me, what?”

  He leaned close, as if inspecting a funny little bug. “Why you? There’s nothing special about you. All this fuss,” he murmured. “The Council is in such an uproar over a passing vision about tiny, insignificant Caitlin Holte. You’re not intelligent, you’re not clever, you’re not beautiful. You’re not going to change the world. You’re going to grow up and live a tired little life, and then you’re going to die. That’s what people like you do. That’s what people like you are good for. Filling space.”

  His words stung so sharply I couldn’t breathe.

  “And yet,” he continued, “the world—for now—revolves around you. A dull, common star in a bright, massive galaxy. You hypnotized my brother. You terrify my sister. And I’m the only one who’s sane enough to wonder why.”

  My heart hammered up into my throat, a heady mixture of fear and rage, but the rage, as usual, won out. “You’re right,” I whispered finally. “I’m not special. I know that. And I admit I’ve had a rough year. I have not been at my best. I’ve been vindictive and petty and immature and angry, but I still care.”

  I laughed, suddenly, as I realized that Julian didn’t scare me anymore. Julian didn’t scare me and Mariana didn’t scare me and the Council didn’t scare me, because I was worn out and they were all so blind.

  “I love your brother,” I admitted for the first time out loud. “I love him. You deign to exist, Julian. You don’t love anyone or anything, and that makes your life pointless. It’s so sad—and you don’t even know. So wonder away, poison Adrian against me, do your worst. I’ve already lost everything I ever cared about, and I’m still here. I haven’t given up. So fight me, or get the hell out of my face because I’ve got shit to do.”

  Julian sat still for a long, long moment. Finally, he stood, looming over me. “Very brave. I will give you that. But my eternity isn’t the one you should be concerned about. Remember—Adrian is going to live forever, too. Think about that. Think about what that means.”

  And he walked out of the room.

  I sat very still. Outside, the snow fell in the soft afternoon light. It would be dark in an hour. I laid my head on my arms. I felt like crying. I felt tired. I felt confused. A small hand touched my back. I lifted my head and saw Lucian standing there, looking concerned.

  “What are you doing?” he whispered.

  I tried to smile and couldn’t. “I’m crying. Again.”

  He tilted his head. “What’s that?”

  “It’s something people do when they’re very sad.”

  “Why are you sad?”

  I managed a weak smile. “I don’t understand your brothers.” But he still looked confused. “You know how you get rid of tears?” I asked. He shook his head. “You find somebody you love and you hug them.”

  “Love?”

  “Yeah. Somebody you care about.”

  He nodded. “Who do you want me to find?”

  “I think you’ll do.”

  His eyes widened. “You love me?”

  “I sure do, kid.”

  He thought about it a moment. “I love you, too. I think.”

  I smiled a big, watery smile; on the verge of tears again because in the midst of all of this, he was so great.

  “You’re still crying,” he pointed out.

  I laughed and wiped a few tears off my face. “That’s because you haven’t hugged me yet.”

  Lucian immediately wrapped his arms around my neck. A few moments later he leaned back to peer at my face.

  “They’re still there,” he whispered.

  I smiled. “Sometimes it takes a while for them to stop.”

  “Lucian,” I heard Adrian call from the doorway, “leave Caitlin alone.”

  Lucian immediately pulled away from me and scampered into the hall.

  I glared at Adrian, my emotions on their last frayed rope. “Why did you do that?”

  He stared at me impassively, arms crossed over his chest. “I told you we aren’t allowed to love humans. You know that.”

  Rage bubbled up through my stomach. “He’s a kid, Adrian.”

  “He’s one of us.”

  “Since when are you ‘one of them’?”

  He smiled, but it was cruel. “Since the day I was born.”

  I was so angry I couldn’t speak for a moment. “Funny. I thought I heard you say that you weren’t anything like them. My mistake.”

  His face tightened. “What do you want from me?”

  “I don’t want anything!” I cried, eyes brimming with frustrated tears. “The sewing machine, the studio, your protection, I never asked for any of it. I didn’t ask you to save me, you just did. You did that on your own. You made me love”—I caught myself just in time—“Lucian. You made me love Lucian.” My voice faltered. “How could I not love him?”

  He stared at me. I concentrated on keeping my voice level.

  “I don’t know what you feel. I can’t. And I don’t understand what you’re doing. Why things are different than they were before. But I will not sit here and let you forbid me from loving anybody. You’re a vampire, not a god.” I stood up. “Now either get out or I’m calling my uncle to tell him that you’re scaring me.”

  He closed his eyes but didn’t move. I’d never been this angry at him before. Actually, I’d never been angry at him before. Not really.

  “Adrian, I swear to God I will call Joe if you don’t leave right now.”

  He turned around and walked out the door, closing it quietly.

  I stared at it for a moment, then sank to the floor and sobbed.

  18

  CINDERELLA MOMENT

  I hated this part.

  It wasn’t so much the act of primping, it was the waiting; the time it took to get ready. I was wrapped in an old bathrobe feeling awkward and hot in the cramped bathroom. Norah was painting my toes, which were separated by those uncomfortable pink foam things, and Rachel was pinning my curled hair into an elaborate Pride and Prejudice–esque updo with an armada of black bobby pins. My makeup was done (courtesy of Rachel), my dress was hanging in my room along with the stilettos (which were getting their money’s worth of use this year), and I’d already vigorously brushed my teeth—twice.

  I was beyond amazed that Joe and Rachel were letting Adrian pick me up for the dance. It had been almost a month since the Incident in the Bedroom, and they seemed to have cooled off somewhat. Maybe the fact that I hadn’t argued about being grounded swayed them in my favor. I’d brought the dance up to Rachel, Rachel and Joe had discussed it, and they’d decided I was allowed to go—although I still wasn’t allowed to have Adrian over for anything but homework sessions. The past few days I’d barely seen Adrian at all when I went over to use the studio. The fight had been pretty bad.

  “Stop fidgeting,” Norah warned from her place on the floor. My foot was propped up on her knee and she had the concentration of a surgeon as she applied the pale gold gloss. Five minutes later, she was done. Ten minutes later, Rachel finished, my nails were dry, and I was running out of time. I ran into my bedroom, threw off my robe, and very carefully slid into my dress, trying not to smudge my makeup or catch any of the pins in my hair
on the fabric. I slid my shoes on and opened the wardrobe to look at the mirror hanging on the inside of the door.

  Rachel was a miracle worker. I don’t know how she did it, but I looked complete down to the last detail. I had on dangly earrings, but with this particular dress, a necklace would have been too much, so I spritzed on some body spray and threw on Rachel’s borrowed wool coat, buttoning it all the way down so only the hem peaked out underneath—there was no way I was letting my aunt and uncle see the back of this dress before I left the house. Or the front, for that matter.

  “Adrian’s here!” Norah yelled, her voice muffled by the heavy wood door.

  I breathed in and out, suddenly nervous.

  It was just a dance. Get it together.

  I opened my door and headed carefully down the stairs, concentrating on not breaking my ankle in the shoes. For the first time in a long time, Adrian was smiling that slow, warm smile that always made me happy for a reason I couldn’t quite put into words. I reached him and he took my hand and slipped the corsage on—a grouping of perfectly white snowdrops. It was elegant and lovely and different.

  A flash went off and I looked up to see Rachel holding a camera. Norah handed me Adrian’s boutonniere and I put every ounce of concentration into not poking him while I pinned it to his lapel. More flashes. I felt my cheeks burning—if we were at Adrian’s, no one would be taking pictures.

  Finally, I had it pinned so that it at least wouldn’t fall off. Norah clapped sarcastically.

  “Eleven p.m.,” Joe warned, looking very unhappy and scary as hell. “I’ll be waiting.”

  Adrian didn’t say anything, just shook Joe’s hand like a man, nodded at Rachel, and then we were out the door.

  “Sorry—” I began saying, and then stopped dead. For a second, I was terrified I was stuck in a nightmare and everything was about to go horribly wrong because what I was seeing shouldn’t be where it was.

  Adrian took my arm and walked me to the passenger side of a silver Aston Martin.

  “1961,” he explained. “Dominic restores classic cars, remember?”

  Holding on to his arm, I folded down into the black leather interior and buckled myself in automatically.