by A. M. Hudson
“Hello.” David’s melodious voice filled the room.
I froze; David’s talking to Mike. This is not good.
“Yes, she’s getting dressed.”
Oh, God, don’t tell him that! He’ll freak out thinking you’re watching me or something.
I pulled my dress down and tripped all over myself to get out of the wardrobe.
David grinned, holding his index finger in front of me as I reached for the phone. “No, no,
nothing like that.”
With my flat palm held out, I huffed impatiently.
“Yes. It’s all she’s talked about for the last couple of weeks,” he said, then laughed.
“Okay, okay. That’s enough.” I snatched t he phone from hi s hand, and, as suming I knew
who he was talking to said, “Hi, Mike.”
“Hey, baby girl. How’s things?”
“Great. You at the airport?”
“Yeah, just thought I’d make sure you hadn’t forgotten me.”
“Yeah right. It’s all I’ve talked about, isn’t it?” I poked my tongue out at David.
Mike laughed. “Well, I ’ve been looking forward to it too. And I expect t he biggest hug
you’ve got tucked into those skinny little arms tomorrow, Ara.”
“Oh, trust me, I’ve been practicing my squeezing,” I said.
“With David?” he teased.
“Uh-hu, but you get a different kind of squeezing.”
“Oh, fine then, I know where I stand.” I could hear the amusement behind his feigned insult.
“Still in exactly the same place as always,” I added.
“Okay, well, have fun today, and…I’ll see ya tomorrow.”
“Yep, bye.” I had to dig my heels into the carpet to st op myself from bouncing like a little
girl. As the phone disconnected, severing the lines of communication to my best friend, an empty
feeling swallowed my soul for a second until I looked at David; he looked troubled—leaning back
in my chair, drumming his fingers on the desk, his thoughts a million miles away. “David?”
He looked up at me—snapping out of his stare.
“What is it?” I asked.
“You’re right.” A very cheeky gr in lit his eyes. “He did not appr ove of my being here whil e
you were getting dressed.”
“So?”
“So, he’s overprotective. I know the sort, Ara, he will ask questions about me.”
“Can you read his thoughts over the phone?” I said as I walked toward him.
David shook his head. “No. I can only read certain electrical wave-lengths—which don’t
communicate over the phone. But I’ve been ar ound humans and been subj ect to their thought-
patterns long enough to make conclusions from very little detail.”
“Like one of those cool detectives on those crime shows?”
David laughed and rested his chin on his hand. “Yeah, something like that.”
The scent of David’s orange- chocolate sweetness warmed my heart as I leaned my butt
against the desk in front of him. “And you think you’ve summed Mike up, huh?”
He scratched the corner of his brow, taking a deep breath. “All I know is it’s a good thing I
won’t be here during the day. I can’t be around you if he is.”
“Why?”
“I might be tempted to kill him,” he muttered with a certain amount of animosity; my mouth
fell open a little. “He thinks he has some claim to you.”
“Really?” My cheek tightened on one side with a half-smile. “You know, you’re cute when
you’re jealous.”
“Ara, be serious.” David leaned his elbows against his knees and looked at the floor between
his legs. “I don’t know, maybe I should leave now. It’s just too risky. If he gets wind there’s a guy
in your room every night, you know what he’ll do.”
“Look.” I sank back on the des k. “I get it. I know you think he’ s got some weird spidey
sense that can track the scent of another male like a mother to cigarettes on her son’s breath, but I’m
not sure I really care if he finds out I have a vampire in my room at night—not right now I don’t.”
He looked up at me. “Ara, if he finds me in your room and we’re forced to meet in person, it
will only be a matter of time before he starts asking all the wrong questions.”
“And I’ll give all the wrong answers. I won’t tell him the truth about what you are.”
“It’s not the questions he asks you that I worry about—it’s the ones he asks himself.”
“Well, will it be that bad if he figures out what you are?”
“You mean aside from the fact that he’d steal you away from me, take you across the
country, lock you in a closet, then fly back here and start a pitchfork rally against me?”
I dropped my arms to my sides and winced at the feel of tepid water dripping down the back
of my neck from my wet hair. “You know, the chances are he’ll figure something’s not right,
anyway. I mean, especially when I refuse to laze around and watch movies with him at night.”
“I know. But—” He r eached up and stroked his thumb over a drop of water drippi ng down
my shoulder. “Well, I suppose it’s only for two weeks, right? Maybe we’ll be lucky to fly under the
radar.”
“Maybe.”
“And my being away during the day will be good practice for you.”
“Practice? You mean for being without you for forever?”
“Yes.”
Shaking my head, I folded my arms around my body and walked across to stand in front of
my dresser. “Don’t try to justify it, David. You working for two weeks before you leave has no
bright side.”
“Everything has a bright side.”
I raised a br ow at him, then looked away, scoffing internally. “It’s getting harder to accept
this. I’m playing the quiet role of acceptance, but inside…” I lowered my head and dropped my
arms, “I’m screaming.”
“You will be happy again, one day.” David’s voice softened as he whispered in m y ear,
suddenly beside me. I spun into his arms and let my head fall against his chest.
“I wish you could stay for just a few more years.”
His arms tightened ever so slightly around my shoulders. “I do too, my love, but, even if I
could stay with you, why would I? So I can watch you fall in love with someone else, or so I can see
you miss your chance?” I looked up to see his jaw stiffen and his eyes narrow. “I don’t know which
is worse.”
“Well, then I guess I wish we could change your laws—change them so you and I could be
together and I could stay human.”
“But you don’t want the lif e of a vampire, and if I wer e to stay with you, eventually you’d
change your mind—become like me.”
“Wouldn’t that be a good thing?” I laughed.
“No, Ara. That would be hear tbreaking. Don’t you see? You must choose life. If not for the
want of it so bad, things would be different. But you want it like you need air—I can see it in your
soul.” The pain of certai nty in his eyes forced me to look down at my feet. “You want to see your
family again one day, and with me, you never will. You will miss out on so much of life, my love—
you will always be incomplete.”
I nodded and stroked his collar with my thumb. “I still won’t promise you goodbye, David.”
“You will—” he nodded, “—becau se you can’t promise me eternity. And one day, I know
there’ll be some boy who’ll come along and sweep you off your feet, just as I have—�
��
“No.” I shook my head. “I won’t let that happen.”
“And I will not let you los e your chance at love , at l ife, Ara.” His voice rose an octave.
“When you feel it—that pull toward love, I want you to take it. I want you to go with it.”
“But I’ll never truly love another—not the way I love you.”
“But it will be enough,” he said. “And you can have your life; you can watch your babies
grow, become an old lady and get arthritis.” He laughed and kissed my forehead.
“Somehow that all seems kinda silly, now.” I rolled my eyes.
“But it’s not silly, my love. It’s not silly at all.”
I rested both palms fl at on his chest and look ed up at him. “What’s the point of loving
someone forever if you can never hold them?”
“Because, sometimes, you have to let someone go in order to love them fully.” His eyes
softened and he stroked his thumb over the side of my face. “Our love is a gift; it is exceptional and
powerful, and it will always be a part of us.”
“Just not a physical part,” I said solemnly.
“Love is stronger than the physical bei ng, Ara. I don’t need to feel your lips, your touch, or
to hear your words to know you will always love me. And you know that, too, deep inside.” He
rested his hand over my heart, letting his fingertip fall against the skin above my dress.
“But, if I can’t bear the thought of your lips or your hands—“ I touched mine over his, “—
on someone else, how can you possibly stand to think of me that way?”
He laughed and looked away for a breath. “It makes me feel hollowed out in the pit of my
stomach. But what choice do I have? I am a mourner without tears, a singer without a voice, a wild
stallion locked in a stable—powerless to change my position.”
“I’m sorry, David.” I looked down.
“I know you are, Ara.” He hooked his finger under my chin and rolled my face upward. “But
you should not have to apologise for the desires of your heart.”
“Do you…do you think we’ll ever stop missing each other, or that maybe, one day, you’ll be
able to forget me?”
“Forget you?” His green eyes searched mine for comprehension. “Do you not understand?
My love, I won’t just miss you. I will exist as if I were a rose without the grace of rain. There will
be no peace for me—ever.”
“Then why?” I pushed away from him and t ook a step back. “Why did fat e bring us
together? Why did we find each other only to be forced apart?”
“We found each other, my love, but maybe fate had nothing to do with it. What if we just
weren’t meant to be?”
“So we were a mistake?”
“Perhaps, but, if so, you are the one mistake I will never regret.”
So, I’m somebody’s mistake. But, sadly, I know exactly what he means, because I feel the
same way. Neither of us will recover from this, but, it’s been worth all the pain. I knew a love more
perfect and more devastating than any other feeling I’ve ever had in my life, and I ow e that to this
man, who has very unfortunate timing.
Our eyes met in a standstill of anguish and indecision. Neither of us could find the words to
make everything okay—it would never be okay.
The school bell ringing in the distance broke the silence in my room. It seemed so stupid to
me then; school, life, everything in the wake of the thought that I’d lose David forever. Going t o
school, living life like normal was an empty, silly idea.
“You better call the school and tell them you’re sick today.” David, now leaning against the
window frame with his ar ms folded and his thoughts beyond the gl ass, adopted a s ombre tone of
reasoning. “Roll call will start soon. They’ll alert your dad if you’re not there.”
“Okay.” I nodded, letting my words fall out in a breath. But I stayed motionl ess, watching
David where he stood by the win dow, while my thoughts consumed the empty space around us. I
didn’t care that he could hear them, and I didn’t care that if Vicki came home early from shopping
she’d find David and I ditching school.
Nothing mattered to me in the same way it used to. It all just seemed inconsequential with
the idea that the gentle glow of the morning, highlighting the contours of David’s face, were the last
touches of light I would ever see on his skin. I would never know the summer sun glistening behind
his emerald eyes again, never see it kiss his hair with tones of gold, and never again feel it warm his
fingers while he played my guitar, sitting in front of me in a world of childhood dreams, as innocent
as a sweet smile.
All we had was one last day, where we would watch the sun se t before our eyes, and bring
with it the darkness of eternal nights.
There will be no way to prevent it; it wi ll come, and even the nights wil l disappear in a
countdown around us until he’s gone.
But I will forever be David’s girl. I know I’ll look for him in the face of every man I pass for
the rest of my days, and though my physical existence on Earth will end on e day, I know in my
heart that I will love him, too—for eternity.
The morning dissolved into afternoon quickly. David made me breakfast, and with each sip
of his glorious coffee, t he salty taste of tears dripped into my mouth. I ne ver let him see me cry,
though—he didn’t need to see that.
“I want to teach you a song.” David grinned, sinking down on my bed.
“Okay. Guitar?” I asked, lifting it off the stand; it clunked softly as it hit my bedside drawer.
“Yeah, thanks, pretty girl.” David’s s trong, elongated fingers took the instrument, and he
held it out from his body, smiling at me as he patted his lap. “Come sit with me.”
As I fel l into the space of mattress between his legs, he wrapped his arms around me,
positioning the guitar in front of us, on my lap. The heat of his chest, pressing against my spine, felt
like the midday sun on an almost-summer day.
He snuck out to eat while I was in the bathroom, I was sure, because his scent was stronger
than it was earlier. “Hope it wasn’t anyone I know?” I joked.
“That’s really distasteful, Ara.” He sho ok his head, though I could tell he was smil ing.
“Now—I’ll show you the chords.” He took my fingers in his.
“Did you write this song?” I asked, losing my voi ce to the mys tical trail of a whis per as a
kind of tingling magic filled the air.
“Yes.”
“What’s it about?”
He paused, seeming agitated. “You.”
“About leaving me?”
“No. It’s not a goodbye so ng; it’s a love song…” his t one softened away to near silence. “It
was just written with the tears of farewell.”
“Somehow, that makes it hurt more.”
David smiled against the side of my face, then took my hand. “Place your fingers here.”
“Here?” I looked down at the strings.
“Yes.” The way his breath filtered down over my neck and the side of my face as he spoke
made my fingers dr op from the strings for a second . With a tiny huff of frustration, he lifted them
back in place. “Can I let go now?” he asked. “Or are you going to drop them again?”
“Mm-hm.” I nodded, holding my fingers firmly to the strings.
“Okay. So, you keep your fingers there,
and I’ll place mine here.”
A deep, shaky breath drew th rough my nose as David pulle d me cl oser to his chest—
reaching his right hand around to pluck the strings on the guitar. I watched as his thumb and fingers
danced over t he strings i n an el aborate pattern. He pl ayed with such capabilit y; never missi ng a
note, never hitting the wrong string.
Like an ornate and nameless masterpiece or a choir of angels praising the creator, the song
we played filled every corner of the darkness i n my heart, and I could’ve sworn the room
illuminated with bright, white light.
His was an intriguing melody, one you might hear on a Gondola along a river in Venice—an
untouchable, yet somehow physical spirit.
David whispered the chords in my ear each time he moved his fingers, and mine followed;
though they moved to the notes, I was barely in control—lost t o the soft tickle of his breath, the
velvety tone of his voice, and his arms wrapped so tightly around me.
Two weeks. Two weeks, and I will never feel his breath on my skin again, never look int o
those emerald eyes, never kiss his soft, dark-pink lips.
He says it’s not a goodbye song, but it has all the sadness of parting in the flow of its notes.
How can I not cry, how can I not fall to my knees right now and beg the universe for one chance.
Just one little piece of hope that there will be a happy ending for us. I’ll give anything. Anything for
that. But I will not kill.
David, after he brought the song to an end, lifted the guitar from my tightly clenched fingers,
and soft, tickly tears, warm and salty, streamed down my cheeks and onto my lips.
We shuffled back and David sat against the pillows, keeping me tucked in his arms. “Why
do you cry, sweet girl?”
“I just—I can’t believe how beautiful that song was.”
“I call it The Knight of the Rose,” he whispered into my hair. “Named so, for you, my love,
are a flawless white rose—and I am your knight.”
The last of my strength diss olved with the sadness that lost hope left. “Then save me from
eternal longing.”
“If it were within my power…” He let his words hang.
Calm, but exultant, my eyes closed again, and I rested my head against his chest, all owing
myself to dream for a moment that things were different; that David and I could be together forever,
