Chapter 30
The next day, I wake up to the aroma of Liv’s French roast, which must mean I actually managed to fall asleep at some point. I rub my eyes and try to focus, but soon enough, I realize it’s not just morning bleariness that’s clouding my vision.
What with all the crying last night, things got so swollen and irritated that I had to remove my contacts. I’ll pop in a fresh pair in a bit, after I get some caffeine in me. Then I’ll be able to see clearly.
If only I’d been able to see clearly before. Before Jenn put all those stupid doubts in my head about Nick. Before my inability to talk straight to him basically pushed him away. Before I went and freaking ruined everything.
As I throw back the covers and swing my legs out of bed, I swallow down the lump in my throat that’s already starting to rise again, blink back the tears that are already starting to well. Getting to my feet, I tell myself I should look on the bright side. At least I don’t have a band of vampires out for my blood anymore. I can stop worrying about death threats and get on with my life. Only a life without Nick? Right now, that barely even seems like a life worth living.
I stagger out of the bedroom, putting one foot in front of the other. That’s what I’ll have to do now, I guess. Just keep putting one foot in front of the other. Then maybe I’ll get to a place where it won’t be so hard. Maybe one day, my whole body won’t ache with emptiness because Nick isn’t walking beside me.
“Hey,” I say glumly to Liv. She’s in her usual seat at our kitchen island, drinking her usual morning brew.
Hearing me, she puts down her mug. “Heyyy!” she says, her voice full of warm-and-fuzzy, whatever-you-need-I’m-here-for-you vibes as she turns to me. “How are…” She lets that sentence trail off, and her jaw goes slack. “… you? ” she finally finishes.
Wow. I guess I must look every bit as bad as I feel. Maybe even worse.
“Sorry you have to see this first thing in the morning,” I say, attempting a weak smile. “I’m still recovering from last night’s ugly cry.”
“It’s not just that,” says Liv softly.
“Yeah, I know,” I say, rubbing at my eyes again. “I didn’t sleep very well either.”
I stumble past Liv, over to the Keurig. But as I grab a hazelnut pod and place it into the brewer, I feel my roommate’s eyes on my back.
“Carrie,” she says, “you’re… not ripped.”
I stop what I’m doing. Turn. “What?”
“Your muscles,” says Liv. “They’re gone.”
“ What? ” I demand.
Liv pushes her glasses farther up on the bridge of her nose and smiles uncertainly at me. “I don’t think you’re a vampire slayer anymore.”
For a moment, I can’t move. I can’t breathe. I can’t even think.
I look down at myself, but without my contacts, all that’s in focus is my feet. Heart pounding, I hurry past Liv, back into my bedroom. I head for the full-length mirror in the far corner of the room, but then I remember that I need my glasses.
Backtracking to the nightstand, I grab the black cat’s-eye frames out of the top drawer. I put on them on as I skitter to a stop in front of the glass.
I stare at my reflection.
I barely recognize what I see from the neck up. My fair complexion is red and splotchy. My eyes are bloodshot and swollen and rimmed with red. My dark circles have dark circles. And my hair is matted and clumped together, sticking up and out at odd angles—the product of too many salty tears streaming into it followed by too much tossing and turning.
But from the neck down? I’m… me . Or the me I used to be anyway. No more massive shoulders or wildly buff arms. No more bodybuilder-caliber calves and thighs sticking out from my pink-striped boxers. And my white tank top, stretched out by my formerly overdeveloped lats and delts, now hangs loosely around my narrow torso.
Liv comes up behind me, and my eyes find hers in the mirror.
“How did this happen?” I ask. Even though I know how. We both do.
“You love him,” says Liv with a smile. “You love Nick.”
If a slayer falls in love with a vampire, the slayer loses their power.
“So it was true,” I whisper. Tears are streaming down my face, but I don’t bother wiping them away. “What Jenn told me was true.”
“It sure looks that way.”
“I’m not a slayer anymore,” I say. “Because I love Nick.”
Well, of course I love Nick. I’ve been falling for him all along—and not just over this past week. But I didn’t fully realize it until last night, until I lost him for good. Once again, when it comes to the two of us, the timing is complete and utter shit.
“So what are you going to do about it?” asks Liv.
I shrug my bony little shoulders that now reveal the deepest secrets of my heart to the world. Or to everyone who knows the secrets of that other world. “I don’t know,” I say. “What can I do about it?”
“Well,” says Liv, “I guess you can pretend it didn’t happen. You can get Heather to dress you in layers that make you look a little bigger. And you can keep this from Nick just like you kept your encounters with Jenn from him. Just like you thought he was keeping things from you. Or,” continues Liv, “you can dig in and fight. You can be honest with Nick, and you can fight for what you guys had. You can fight for love. Just because you’re not a slayer anymore doesn’t mean you can’t fight.”
Fight?
I’ve never been much of a fighter. Yet as I think back on the last week, I’ve certainly had my share of battles and confrontations and difficult conversations. I’ve found the strength to stand up for myself in ways I never could have imagined.
And Liv’s right. Just because I’ve lost my slayer power, that doesn’t mean I have to give up my power.
Still…
“What if I fight and I don’t win?”
My roomie reaches a hand out and turns me away from the mirror so she can look at me face-to-face. “Can you really live with not knowing?”
It’s a fair thing to ask. Especially since lately, I’ve been beyond frustrated with all the not knowing. I guess the final-round, all-in, big-money bonus question is would it be worse to know for sure that Nick doesn’t love me? Or to never know that he does?
“What would happen in Bar Wars ?” I ask.
“Oh please. You know what would happen in Bar Wars ,” says Liv. “But Bar Wars is my story. This is your story.” She gives me a tough look. “So you tell me. What happens tonight at Pete’s on Melrose?”
***
I realize it’s Thursday. 9:00 a.m. here. Noon back east. Time for the Adams family weekly touch base on Zoom, but that is so not happening today. No way am I dialing in to that . I’m still way too angry about the other night’s ambush. I mean, I love my parents and all, but I really don’t like them very much right now, and I don’t want to get into another fight. I need to save my fight for something bigger. Something more important.
Because of course I need to know if Nick loves me. I have to know if the two of us have a chance. Which means I’ve got to talk to Nick. Tonight.
So instead of logging on for the latest inquisition, I decide to go for a run. I figure I’ll use the time to sort things out in my head and start to think through what I want to say to him.
I stretch out my muscles—or lack of muscles, I should say—in my usual spot down by the beach, near the border of Santa Monica and Venice. I’m about to go right, into Santa Monica, but no. After last night, I need to go left, down along the Venice beachfront walk.
There are a lot of things I don’t miss about my slayer. I don’t miss the hate in my head all the time, the violent antivampire urges. I don’t miss the fear that I might accidentally set something—or someone—on fire. And I sure don’t miss the wrestling matches for control of my own mind. But as I take off down the path at what’s become the normal pace for me, I do kind of miss the physical stamina. By the time I reach the outdoor gym at Muscle Beach, I’m tired, drenched with sweat, and practically wheezing.
Grabbing the top of the gate with both hands, I lean over and try to catch my breath. After a few moments, someone approaches, blocking out the sun.
“I see you’re in love,” says a familiar female voice.
I lift my head and peer up to see Jenn on the other side of the gate, standing there, her well-muscled vampire slayer physique silhouetted against the horizon. Since I’m still panting and puffing, I just nod in response.
“You fell in love with one of them .” Maybe it’s just wishful thinking, but the way she says “them” doesn’t sound quite as contemptuous as it used to.
“Nick,” I huff out. “His name is Nick.”
“I hope he doesn’t break your heart,” she says.
“I hope so too,” I say, lungs still struggling.
She watches me trying to recover. “Looks like you need a trainer.”
I look sharply at her.
“A fitness trainer,” she clarifies.
I shake my head. “Like I said before, I can’t afford a gym membership.”
“Well,” she says, “maybe we could arrange a trade.”
Now that my breathing has become a little more regulated, I stand up straight to look across the barrier at her. “What kind of trade are you proposing?” I ask.
“I could help you build back some muscle,” she says. “And…maybe you could help me learn to control my slayer?”
My eyebrows shoot up. “You’ll let me train you ?” I ask. “Really?”
After a beat, she nods.
“What changed your mind?”
She takes a deep breath and looks up at the sky, thinking. Then she levels her blue-eyed gaze back at me. “When Tom first broke up with me, I was miserable. I thought I’d never be happy again. But once I became a slayer, well…I thought getting vengeance would make me happy.”
“But it didn’t.”
“No,” she says. “It didn’t. I kept telling myself that it did, that I was serving some greater purpose, but…” She shakes her head and lets her voice trail off.
“That wasn’t you talking,” I say. “That was your slayer.”
She lets out a small rueful laugh. “Before you came along, I didn’t know there was a difference,” she says. “Maybe I didn’t want to know. But if I really do have a choice—”
“You always have a choice.”
“Then I choose to fight this,” she says. “I choose to see if maybe there’s a way to be happy again.”
I smile. “It’s hard work.”
She smiles back. “Please. I’m not afraid of a little hard work.” Her icy blue eyes take in my slight frame. “Are you?”
I laugh. “Definitely not.” I reach into the side pocket of my leggings for my phone, unlock it, and hand it over. “Give me your number,” I say. “We’ll make a plan.”