7. Emily
7
EMILY
A week had passed since the date.
I couldn’t get Alex out of my thoughts, no matter how hard I tried. The only time I didn’t think about him was when I had the journal open in front of me. Reading it made me feel weirdly connected to him, probably because we’d talked about it during our walk through the cemetery.
When I’d told Morgan about that, she’d swooned at the sheer creepiness of it and called Alex, the best kind of “walking red flag” ever.
But then again, Morgan was just being … Morgan. Over the top, fun, and a good friend. She was due back any second, and we’d settle in with dinner and a movie.
I sat on our sofa, the book open in my lap, and a notepad beside me for my translation. I figured that if I translated the book then I could return it and the constant feeling of guilt I had over having it would be gone.
I so didn’t like doing the wrong thing, but there was just … something about the book. And not just because it reminded me of Alex. It fe lt like the man who’d written the journal, Jacques, believed what he’d written down.
I reread the page I’d just translated.
Of all the creatures of the night, those in possession of magics new and old, the creature that feeds on the nectar of human life is to be feared above them all.
Not wolves that were once men, or those Hunters who search for the cursed among the innocent.
A vampire, in its truest form, seeks only the destruction of life. For life is abhorrent to a thing that has nothing in its soul. A void that it will fill with abandon, with a wanton disregard for anything but the thirst which possesses it.
You will know it by its movements and by instinct.
I tapped the nib of my pen beside the words, irritated by the fact that the ink kept blotching or going dry even though it was new. By its movements? What did that mean?
On the day I had the sheerest displeasure of encountering one, it was this instinct that saved me. If you feel that you cannot trust your thoughts, that your desire to be near it is consuming you, then you are under its spell.
Beware your thoughts and the beating of your heart.
The predator seeks only to ensnare you.
The door opened, and I jerked my head upward. Morgan sailed into the kitchen, humming under her breath as she bobbed her head in time to the music blaring through her head phones. “What?” she yelled.
“You scared me.” I placed my notepad inside the book and then shut it.
“Huh?” Morgan whipped her headphones off and let them rest around her neck.
“Nothing.”
“Good, because it’s almost time for movie night!” Morgan held up a six pack of beers. “Did you order the pizza yet? I’m going to get started on the popcorn.”
“No, Mike’s bringing the pizza. ”
Morgan groaned. “You’re kidding me. He’s coming over?”
“He’s our friend, Morgan.”
“He’s your friend,” Morgan said. “I find him super annoying. I mean, he’s a nice guy and all, but he’s too nice. I get the feeling he’s only being nice because he wants to get into your pants.”
“Morgan!”
“I’m serious. He never talks to me unless you’re around,” Morgan said.
“Okay, well I’ll bear that in mind next time. I just thought it would be nice for the three of us to hang out. You might wind up liking him if?—”
“Aren’t you dating the mysterious Mr. Knight?” Morgan said. “Why spend time with Mike at all.”
“You heard the part where I said we’re just friends, right?”
“And you heard the part where I said he wants your?—”
I raised a hand. “Popcorn.”
“Finnneeee. But don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Morgan said. “Homie is gagging for it.”
“Ew.”
“My thoughts exactly.” Morgan grinned.
I took my book to my bedroom and placed it on my white sheets before moving to my bedroom window to peer out at the sky. It was inky blue, dotted with stars, the moon hanging gibbous and yellow.
Where was Alex?
Was he on the other side of the world right now? Doing whatever it was he did? Stock trading or … buying property?
I barely knew the guy, but I couldn’t stop thinking about him.
If you feel that you cannot trust your thoughts, that your desire to be near it is consuming you, then you are under its spell.
I glanced back at the book then scoffed at myself. Ridiculous. This was a cool journal written by a very inspired Frenchman, but that didn’t mean it was real, no matter how much I wanted it to be.
Maybe that made me weird, but the thought of being swept up in a world that wasn’t mine … Yeah, it was the reason I wrote books in the first place.
I stared out of the window for a while longer, at the apartment building opposite, the lights on in some of the windows, off in others. Strange how you could live in a city bustling with people and still feel so alone.
A knock rattled the front door, and I entered the living room to find Michael stepping into our apartment. He sent me an enigmatic grin, lifting two boxes of pizza. “Guess who came bearing gifts?”
“Well, you certainly ain’t Santa Claus,” Morgan said, her tone flat.
“Mike,” I said. “Glad you could make it. So, we’ve got some choices tonight. Mainly horror and like … fantasy, I guess?”
“Name ‘em,” he said, kicking the door shut and depositing the pizzas on the counter. His gaze was fixed on me, and he barely gave Morgan any attention.
Was she right?
I hesitated. “Morgan can tell you.”
“Oh.”
“Don’t sound so thrilled,” Morgan said, as she shoved a bag of popcorn into our microwave.
“No way,” Michael said, “I’m all ears. Fire away.”
“We have Twilight, Underworld, and Queen of the Damned. ”
“I’m sensing a theme,” Michael said.
“You’re quick on the uptake,” Morgan said.
“I’m doing research for my book, and Morgan was kind enough to suggest we watch vampire movies.”
“Kind enough? You can’t keep me away from horror. Throw in some romance?” Morgan shimmied on the spot. “I’m all about it.” The microwave dinged, and he removed the bag. “And now, we’re set. Let’s do this!”
We piled onto the sofa, me between Morgan and Mike, and tucked into our pizza while we watched the first of the movies.
Mike was quiet, almost withdrawn, only talking to remark on how ridiculous it was that anyone might fall for a vampire. “I mean, the guy’s basically a murderer, and she’s just like ‘hell yeah, sign me up’?”
“It’s unrequited love,” Morgan said, “with a guy who’s, like, big and strong and… Oof, it’s so hot.”
“I agree with Morgan,” I replied. “It’s a fantasy, Mike. That’s the whole point.”
“Dumb fantasy if you ask me.”
“You just don’t want to be swept off your feet,” I said. “I like the idea that I might be.”
“Might be?” Morgan asked, pausing the movie to grab another beer. “Try have been swept off your feet.”
“Huh?” Mike frowned.
Morgan grinned like she’d just been handed the keys to a brand new car. “Emily went on a hot date with Alex the other night.”
Mike’s head swiveled toward me. “Alex? Wait, the guy who you met the other night?”
“Met?” Morgan asked. “I don’t think you can classify him saving her life as them ‘meeting’. He pretty much kicked a mugger’s ass to save her.”
“And you went on a date with him?” Mike asked. “You don’t even know him.”
“That’s how you get to know people,” Morgan replied. “By going out with them. You know, talking to them.”
Mike shifted over a little on the sofa, away from me, and angled his body so he could face me full-on. “You went on an actual date with the guy?”
“Yeah,” I said. “It was great. We ate out and went for a walk.”
“A walk in the cemetery.” Morgan clasped her hands together in front of herself. “So romantic.”
“I’m concerned about your sanity if you think walking in a cemetery is romantic,” Mike retorted.
“You’re, so, like … what’s the word for it?”
“Sensible,” Mike said .
“Boring.”
“Really, that’s the word you were struggling to find? I have a dictionary at my place if you want me to get it for you,” Mike said.
“Guys, stop arguing,” I said. “This is getting out of hand.”
Mike waved off my words and focused on my face again. “You’re not going to see him again, are you?”
“Why wouldn’t I? He’s handsome, a nice guy, he saved me, he—He’s interesting.”
“Interesting. What does he do for a living?”
“He’s an investor,” I said.
“That’s not a real job,” Mike replied.
“He’s rich,” Morgan put in as she flopped back down on the sofa. “He’s got a Porsche and everything. All I’m saying, Mike, is that he’s got something to offer.”
I didn’t care about what Alex had to offer. I was intrigued by him, that was the main thing. I wanted to understand why he had that effect over me—almost like when he was close by, I couldn’t look away.
The words from the book returned to me again. I sighed. “Anyway, can we stop discussing my love life?”
“Did you kiss him?” Mike asked.
“Yeah, did you kiss him?” Morgan asked, with a completely different energy.
“I am not telling either of you anything,” I said. “Can we please just focus on watching the movie?”
Morgan hit play and glugged down some more beer. Mike settled back, his arms folded.
The scene played out on the TV, and I tried to focus on it, but Mike kept huffing beside me. After the end of our first movie, he said goodnight and left.
“See what I mean?” Morgan asked. “He’s only pretending to be your friend because he wants to get with you. He’s a typical nice guy. Or a ‘pick me.’ Or both. Yeah, definitely both of those things.”
“Morgan.” But she had a point. Mike was acting weird. I’d made it clear that we were just friends though. The funny thing was, before I’d met Alex, if Mike had asked me out, I might have given him a shot. But my gut said that it wouldn’t have gone anywhere.
He was nice, but that was just it. He was nice. I didn’t want nice. I wanted exciting.
Morgan nodded off halfway through our second movie, so I covered her with a blanket, muted the TV, and went to my bedroom. The book was where I’d left it on the bed, and I fell down beside it, then rolled onto my back and stared up at the ceiling.
Where was Alex right now?
Was he staring at a ceiling somewhere, thinking about me? And why hadn’t he at least given me his contact details?
Thoughts of him set my blood racing, and I trailed my fingers over my pj top down to the waistband of my bottoms, thinking back to that night and the tension between us, the moment in the cemetery when I’d been sure he was about to kiss me.