All of them were also full of unsolicited advice.
“You can split the cost of dinner or the play,” said Julia. “Not both. He needs to pick up the whole bill on one of them.”
“Better if he pays for everything, though,” said Kristin.
“Still order something, even if you don’t want to eat it,” added Jill. “If he’s buying dinner, you don’t want to let him off cheap. He’s gotta work for you.”
“Where are you guys getting all of this?” I asked. “What does it matter if I—oh, come on.”
We’d reached the lobby and found Eddie and Micah sitting on a bench together. They at least had the decency to look embarrassed.
“Not you guys too,” I said.
“I was just here to see Jill,” said Micah unconvincingly.
“And I was here to, um…” Eddie faltered, and I held up a hand to stop him.
“Don’t bother. Honestly, I’m surprised Trey isn’t here with a camera or something. I figured he’d want to immortalize every moment of this debacle of a—oh. Hey, over here.” I put on a smile as Brayden stepped into the lobby. Apparently I wasn’t the only one who liked to be early.
Brayden seemed a little surprised that I had an entourage. I couldn’t blame him since I was kind of surprised I had one too.
“It’s nice to meet all of you,” said Brayden, friendly, even if a little bewildered.
Eddie, while uncomfortable with Angeline’s advances, could be perfectly outgoing in less bizarre social situations. He played up the brotherly role and shook Brayden’s hand. “I hear you guys are seeing a play tonight.”
“Yes,” said Brayden. “Although, I prefer the term drama. I’ve actually already seen this production, but I’d like to watch it again with an eye toward alternative forms of dramatic analysis. The standard Freytag method can get a little clichéd after a while.”
This left everyone speechless. Or maybe they were just trying to figure out what he’d said. Eddie glanced at me then back to Brayden. “Well. Something tells me you guys are going to have a great time together.”
Once we were able to extract ourselves from my well-wishers Brayden said, “You have very… devoted family and friends.”
“Oh,” I said. “That. They just, uh, happened to all be going out together at the same time we were. To study.”
Brayden glanced at his watch. “Not too late for that, I suppose. If I can, I always do my homework right after school because—”
“If you put it off, you never know if something unexpected might happen?”
“Exactly,” he said.
He smiled at me. I smiled back.
I followed him to visitor parking, over to a shiny, silver Ford Mustang. I nearly swooned. Immediately, I reached out and ran my hand along the car’s smooth surface. “Nice,” I said. “Brand new, next model year. These new ones will never quite have the character of the classics, but they certainly make up for it in fuel economy and safety.”
Brayden looked pleasantly surprised. “You know your cars.”
“It’s a hobby,” I admitted. “My mom is really into them.” When I’d first met Rose Hathaway, I’d had the incredible experience of driving a 1972 Citroën. Now I owned a Subaru named Latte. I loved it, but it wasn’t exactly glamorous. “They’re works of art and engineering.”
I noticed then that Brayden had come with me to the passenger side. For half a second, I thought he expected me to drive. Maybe because I liked cars so much? But then, he opened the door and I realized he was waiting for me to get in. I did, trying to remember the last time a guy had opened a car door for me. My conclusion: never.
Dinner wasn’t fast food, but it wasn’t anything fancy either. I wondered what Julia and Kristin’s opinion would be on that. We ate at a very California type of café, that served all organic sandwiches and salads. Every menu item seemed to feature avocado.
“I would’ve taken you somewhere nicer,” he told me. “But I didn’t want to risk being late. The park’s a few blocks away, so we should be able to get a good spot. I… I hope that’s okay?” He suddenly looked nervous. It was such a contrast to the confidence he had shown when talking about Shakespeare. I had to admit, it was kind of reassuring. I found myself relaxing a little bit. “If it’s not, I’ll find a better place—”
“No, this is great,” I told him, glancing around the café’s brightly lit dining room. It was one of those places where we ordered at a counter and then brought a number to our table. “I’d rather be early, anyway.” He’d paid for all of our food. I tried to make sense of the dating rules my friends had bombarded me with. “What do I owe you for my ticket?” I asked tentatively.
Brayden looked surprised. “Nothing. It’s on me.” He smiled tentatively back.
“Thank you,” I said. So, he was paying. That would make Kristin happy, although it made me a little uneasy—through no fault of his. With the Alchemists, I was always the one picking up the bills and handling the paperwork. I wasn’t used to someone else doing it. I guess I just had trouble shaking that feeling that I had to take care of everything because no one else could do it right.
Academics had always been a breeze for me. But at Amberwood, learning how to hang out with people my own age in a normal way had been a much more difficult task. I’d gotten better, but it was still a struggle trying to figure out the proper things to say to my peers. With Brayden, there were no such problems. We had an endless supply of topics, both of us eager to put forth all we knew on anything and everything. Most of the meal was spent discussing the intricacies of the organic certification process. It was pretty awesome.
Trouble came when, as we were finishing up, Brayden asked if I wanted to get dessert before we left. I froze, suddenly in a dilemma. Jill had said to make sure I ordered enough to not come across as a cheap date. Without even thinking about it, I’d ordered an inexpensive salad—simply because it sounded good. Was I now on the hook to order more so I’d seem like someone Brayden had to work for? Was this worth breaking all my own rules about sugar and dessert? And honestly, what did Jill know about dating etiquette anyway? Her last boyfriend had been homicidal, and her current one was oblivious to the fact that she was a vampire.
“Uh, no thank you,” I said at last. “I’d rather make sure we get to the park on time.”
He nodded as he rose from the table and gave me another smile. “I was thinking the same thing. Most people don’t seem to think punctuality is that important.”
“Important? It’s essential,” I said. “I’m always at least ten minutes early.”
Brayden’s grin widened. “I aim for fifteen. To tell you the truth… I really didn’t want dessert anyway.” He held the door open for me as we stepped outside. “I try to avoid getting too much sugar.”
I nearly came to a standstill in astonishment. “I totally agree—but my friends always give me a hard time about it.”
Brayden nodded. “There are all sorts of reasons. People just don’t get it, though.”
I walked to the park, stunned. No one had ever understood me so quickly and easily. It was like he had read my mind.
Palm Springs was a desert city, filled with long stretches of sandy vistas and stark, rocky mountain faces. But it was also a city that mankind had been shaping for a long time, and many places—Amberwood, for example—had been given lush, green makeovers in defiance of the natural climate. This park was no exception. It was a huge expanse of green lawn, ringed with leafy deciduous trees instead of the usual palms. A stage had been set up at one end, and people were already seeking out the best spots. We chose one in the shade that had a great view of the stage. Brayden took out a blanket to sit on from his backpack, along with a worn copy of Antony and Cleopatra. It was marked up with notes and sticky tabs.
“Did you bring your own?” he asked me.
“No,” I said. I couldn’t help but be impressed. “I didn’t bring many books from home when I moved here.”
He hesitated, as though unsure he
should say what he was thinking. “Do you want to read along with mine?”
I’d honestly figured I would just watch the play, but the scholar in me could certainly see the perks of having the original text along. I was also curious about what kind of notes he’d made. It was only after I’d said yes that I realized why he was nervous. Reading along with him meant we had to sit very, very close together.
“I won’t bite,” he said, smiling when I didn’t move right away.
That broke the tension, and we managed to move into positions that allowed us both to see the book with almost no touching. There was no avoiding our knees brushing one another, but we both had jeans on, and it didn’t make me feel like my virtue was at stake. Also, I couldn’t help but notice he smelled like coffee—my favorite vice. That wasn’t a bad thing. Not bad at all.
Still, I was very conscious of being so close to someone. I didn’t think I was getting any romantic vibes. My pulse didn’t race; my heart didn’t flutter. Mostly I was aware that this was the closest I’d sat to anyone, maybe in my life. I wasn’t used to sharing my personal space so much.
I soon forgot about that as the play started. Brayden might not like Shakespeare performed in modern clothing, but I thought they did an admirable job. Following along with the text, we caught a couple of spots where the actors messed up a line. We shot each other secret, triumphant looks, gleeful that we were in on something others didn’t know about. I kept up with Brayden’s annotations too, nodding at some and shaking my head at others. I couldn’t wait until we discussed this on the ride home.
We were all leaning forward intently during Cleopatra’s dramatic death scene, intensely focused on her last lines. Off to my side, I heard the crinkling of paper. I ignored it and leaned forward further. The paper crinkled again, this time much louder. Looking over, I saw a group of guys sitting nearby who appeared to be about college-aged. Most of them were watching the performance, but one was holding an item wrapped in a brown paper bag. The bag was too big for the object and had been rolled down several times. He glanced around nervously, trying to be discreet and unroll the paper in small batches. It was obvious that was actually making more noise than if he’d just gone for it and unrolled it all at once.
This went on for another minute, and by then, a few others nearby were glancing over at him. He finally managed to open the bag and then, still in slow motion, carefully lowered his hand inside. I heard the pop of a cap and the guy’s face lit up in triumph. Still keeping the object concealed, he lifted the bag to his mouth and drank out of what was very obviously a bottle of beer or some other alcohol. It had been pretty apparent right away from the bag shape.
I clapped a hand over my mouth, in an attempt to smother my laughter. He reminded me so much of Adrian. I could absolutely see Adrian smuggling in alcohol to an event like this and then going to all sorts of pains to be covert, thinking that if he just did everything slowly enough, no one would catch on to him. Adrian, too, would probably have the misfortune of opening the bottle right in the middle of the play’s most tense scene. I could even picture a similarly delighted look on his face, one that said, No one knows what I’m doing! When, of course, we all knew. I didn’t know why it made me laugh, but it did.
Brayden was too focused on the play to notice. “Ooh,” he whispered to me. “This is a good part—where her handmaidens kill themselves.”
The two of us had plenty to debate and analyze on the way back to Amberwood. I was almost disappointed when his car pulled up to my dorm. As we sat there, I realized we’d come to another critical dating milestone. What was the correct procedure here? Was he supposed to kiss me? Was I supposed to let him? Had that been the real price of my salad?
Brayden seemed nervous too, and I braced myself for the worst. When I looked down at my hands in my lap, I noticed they were shaking. You can do this, I told myself. It’s a rite of passage. I started to close my eyes, but when Brayden spoke, I opened them quickly.
As it turned out, Brayden’s buildup of courage wasn’t for a kiss, so much as a question.
“Would you… would you like to go out again?” he asked, giving me a shy smile.
I was surprised at the mix of emotions this triggered. Relief was foremost, of course. I’d now have time to research books on kissing too. At the same time, I was kind of disappointed that the swagger and confidence he’d shown in dramatic analysis didn’t carry through here. Some part of me thought his line should’ve been more like, “Well, after that night of perfection, I guess we have no choice but to go out again.” Immediately, I felt stupid for such a sentiment. I had no business expecting him to be more at ease with this when I was sitting there with my hands shaking.
“Sure,” I blurted out.
He breathed a sigh of relief. “Cool,” he said. “I’ll e-mail you.”
“That’d be great.” I smiled. More awkward silence fell, and suddenly, I wondered if the kiss might be coming after all.
“Do you… do you want me to walk you to the door?” he asked.
“What? Oh, no. Thank you. It’s right there. I’ll be fine. Thank you.” I realized I was on the verge of sounding like Jill.
“Well, then,” said Brayden. “I had a really nice night. Looking forward to next time.”
“Me too.”
He held out his hand. I shook it. Then I left the car and went inside.
I shook his hand? I replayed the moment in my head, feeling dumber and dumber. What is wrong with me?
As I walked through the lobby, kind of dazed, I took out my cell phone to see if I had any messages. I’d turned it off tonight, figuring if ever there was a time I’d earned peace, this was it. To my astonishment, no one had needed anything in my absence, though there was one text message from Jill, sent about fifteen minutes ago: How was your date with Brandon? What’s he like?
I unlocked my dorm door and stepped inside. His name is Brayden, I texted back. I pondered the rest of her question and took a long time in trying to decide how to respond.
He’s just like me.
CHAPTER 6
“YOU SHOOK HIS HAND?” Adrian asked incredulously.
I shot an accusing look at Eddie and Angeline. “Is nothing private around here?”
“No,” said Angeline, as bluntly honest as ever. Eddie actually chuckled. It was a rare moment of camaraderie between them.
“Was it supposed to be a secret?” he asked. We were over at Clarence Donahue’s house for Jill and Adrian’s biweekly blood feedings. Jill was off right now with Clarence’s human housekeeper, Dorothy, who doubled as his feeder. I could take a lot of Moroi things in stride now, but drinking blood—human blood—made me shudder every time. My best coping mechanism was trying to forget why we were here.
“No,” I admitted. Julia and Kristin had grilled me for date details a couple of days ago, so I’d given them some. I supposed I had to accept that once I told them anything, it would inevitably get back to everyone in the world. No doubt my Amberwood family had then passed it on to Adrian.
“Really?” Adrian was still hung up on the end of my date. “His hand?”
I sighed and sank back into a sleek leather sofa. Clarence’s house always reminded me of some stereotypical haunted manor from the outside—but inside it was modern and well furnished. “Look, it just happened—okay, you know what? Never mind. This is none of your business. Just let it go.” But something in Adrian’s expression told me he would not, in fact, be letting it go anytime soon.
“With all that red-hot passion, it’s a wonder you guys can stay away from each other,” said Adrian, deadpan. “Is there going to be a second date?”
Eddie and Angeline looked at me expectantly. I hesitated. This was information I hadn’t given up to Julia and Kristin, largely because it had only just been arranged. “Yes,” I said at last. “We’re going on a, um, windmill tour later this week.”
If I’d wanted to shut them all up, I’d definitely succeeded. They all looked stunned.
Adrian
spoke first. “I’m going to assume that means he’s flying you to Amsterdam on his private jet. If so, I’d like to come along. But not for the windmills.”
“There’s a huge windmill farm north of Palm Springs,” I explained. “It’s one of the only ones in the world that does public tours.”
More blank looks.
“Wind energy is a powerful renewable resource that could have a huge impact on our country’s future!” I said in exasperation. “This is a cool thing.”
“‘Cool,’” said Adrian. “‘Wind.’ I see what you did there, Sage. Pretty clever.”
“It wasn’t meant to be a—”
The sitting room’s stained glass French doors opened, and Dimitri and Sonya entered with our host Clarence in tow. I hadn’t seen him since I arrived and gave him a polite smile, glad for the distraction from my so-called love life.
“Hello, Mr. Donahue,” I said. “It’s nice to see you again.”
“Eh?” The elderly Moroi man squinted in my direction, and after a few moments, recognition lit his features. He had white hair and always dressed as though he were at a formal dinner party from about fifty years ago. “There you are. Glad you could stop by, my dear. What brings you over?”
“Jill’s feeding, sir.” We did this two times every week, but Clarence’s mind wasn’t quite what it used to be. He’d been pretty scattered since we first met, but the death of his son, Lee, had seemed to push the old man even farther over the edge—particularly since he didn’t seem to believe it. We’d told him gently—a number of times—that Lee had died, leaving out the Strigoi part. Each time we did, Clarence insisted Lee was just “away right now” and would be back. Scattered or not, Clarence was always kind and relatively harmless—for a vampire, of course.
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