6. PREDICAMENTS

I rolled over in my bed and stretched. The sun beat down on me through my window. The warmth felt amazing. I opened my eyes. My room was bright with the beginning of a new day. I rolled back over and looked at my clock. 7:24 AM. I had turned my alarm off last night before going to bed, so I hadn’t had the usually 6:00 AM wake up call. But I was surprised I hadn’t woken up sooner. And in a cold sweat, both of which had become a regular thing the past three days. But not today. Today, everything felt right, calm. I felt as if a heavy weight had been lifted off my back. I felt good. I didn’t even feel tired; I felt rejuvenated. I wonder why that is, I thought to myself.

I got up and walked over to my window facing the street and the tree. The tree. Ryan. Today was the last day of transformation. Ryan had come last night to complete the process. That must be why I felt better; because it was over. I opened my window, letting the cool breeze rush through, enjoying every second of it. I leaned out, inhaling the fresh winter air. I looked all around—at houses, at trees, at birds. I watched one little blackbird flit from the tree to the lawn, then walk toward the house. I heard it start chirping. Suddenly, more birds came swooping down, following the call of the first blackbird. I leaned out my window some more and looked down at where the birds had gathered. I nearly had a stroke when I saw what they were chattering about, what had drawn their attention. There was a person lying face down in the snow, curled up as if they were sleeping—or dead.

I rushed out of my room as fast I could without tripping or making too much noise that would cause my dad to wake up. I ran down the stairs and out the front door, hastily pulling my boots on, and not bothering to close the door behind me. I ran through the snow, over to the person lying at the bottom of the tree. The birds flew away at my clumsy entrance. I studied the person closely before reaching out to touch him. I shook his shoulder, trying to wake him. When he awoke, he awoke with a start. He quickly turned over, sat up halfway and faced me. A breeze whooshed by and his dark mahogany hair fluttered around his face. I just stared at him, and he stared back, with his piercing jade-green eyes. I stood there, looking down at him for a couple of minutes until his breathing eventually slowed.

“Are you okay?” I asked Ryan.

“What happened?” he asked me, ignoring my question.

“Well, I looked out my window, saw you down here, then rushed out to see, well, why you were down here. At the bottom of my tree. Sleeping.”

“Oh my god!” he exclaimed. “Emma, this is bad. Really, really bad.”

“What’s wrong?” I asked, starting to get worried.

His head drooped. Despite his urgency, he still seemed kind of tired.

“Ryan?”

“Mmm?” he jerked his head up.

“What’s wrong?” I repeated.

He still looked kind of dazed.

“I fell asleep,” he said, sounding appalled, and more to himself than to me.

“Doing what?” I asked.

“Climbing up your tree.” His head drooped again.

“Ryan, you’re exhausted,” I said unnecessarily.

“I need more rest,” he explained.

“Okay,” I began. I wasn’t sure how he was going to accomplish that, since he couldn’t stay here on the lawn, but he was barely able to keep his head up to have a conversation. I supposed I could haul him up to my room and let him sleep there for a while. But that would run the risk of my dad finding him.

Then I had a brilliant-beyond brilliant idea.

“Can you walk?” I asked him.

“Hmm?” he had dozed off again.

“I’m going to take you somewhere so you can sleep. I need to get you to the car first, though,” I explained. He tried to get up. He seemed so exhausted. It broke my heart to see him this weak.

“Actually, hold on a sec,” I said. Then I ran inside and got my car keys off the table by the door. I ran back outside and down the driveway to my car. It hadn’t started on Thursday. I hoped desperately that my usually faithful Accord wouldn’t choose today to act up again. I pushed the keys into the ignition and turned.

Cccchhhhkk.

I turned the key again.

Cccchhhhkk.

I turned the key one last time and the engine finally roared to life. “Thank you,” I whispered.

I ran back over to Ryan. I went behind him (he was still sitting up, even though he had fallen asleep again) and shook him a little before reaching under his arms to help lift him. He woke up, still drowsy, and struggled onto his feet with my help. Never letting go of him, I put his arm over my shoulder and wrapped my left arm around his waist.

“Let’s go,” I said. I led him to the car and around into the street where I opened the side door, behind the driver’s seat. I helped him in. Once he got all the way in, he leaned his head back and fell asleep again. I sighed and shut the door.

I went back inside, took off my boots, ran up to my room and quickly got dressed—sweats and a t-shirt. I grabbed my small messenger bag purse and flung my cell phone in it. I also grabbed another pair of shoes. The whole time, I was thinking of excuses that would let me be gone all day. I checked in my dad’s room; he was still sleeping. He probably wouldn’t wake up for another few hours, so that was good.

I ran down the stairs again and into the kitchen. I quickly got Oscar some more food and water, then hurried to the door, put on my snow boots once again and tried to take my time as I wrote on the whiteboard:

Dad,

Went to Laina’s house for the day. I’ll be back later this evening. I have my phone. Love you.

-Emma

Then I rushed out the door, quietly closing it behind me, carefully walked down the slippery driveway, and hopped into my car, throwing my bag and shoes into the passenger’s seat. I looked back at Ryan. He looked so peaceful when he slept. And so beautiful. I still couldn’t help but be amazed at his overwhelming beauty. And I couldn’t help but be amazed at the fact that he was in the backseat of my car, sleeping. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t slightly pleased about it. I turned around and put the car into reverse. I backed up into the driveway, put it in drive, then pulled out and turned left.

It only took five minutes, driving, to get where I was going. I pulled around to the backside of the old theater and parked as close to the building as possible, so no one would see the car and get suspicious. I turned off the engine, put my keys and extra pair of shoes in my bag, put the bag over my shoulder, and hopped out, closing the door behind me.

I opened Ryan’s door, and shook him awake again. He opened his eyes and turned his head to look at me.

“We’re here,” I informed him. I reached in and put my arm around his waist. He put his arm around my shoulders and I pulled him out. I kicked the door shut and towed him over to the opening in the window of the theater—the opening that he had created. This was going to be difficult. Keeping a hold on his waist with my right arm, I attempted to rip off some more boards with my left. It was surprisingly easy to do, thank goodness.

“You’re going to have to go in first,” I told him. This would be interesting.

I helped him hop up into the window (thank goodness they weren’t too high up), then hopped up after him, and sat next to him. I looked him over making sure he wasn’t going to fall asleep again, then hopped down, into the main hallway. I held my hands out and he took them, then jumped down as well, landing next to me. I grabbed his waist again and we walked down the hallway into the auditorium. I pressed the button for the lights and the room lit up. I walked him down the aisle and sat him down in a chair at the end. I left him there and opened the doors to backstage.

I searched one of the prop rooms and found a lacey, old-fashioned looking pillow and a couple of sheets, which I shook the dust off of. I carried them back out and laid them down in the aisle, then pulled Ryan out of the chair and set him down on the floor. He laid on his back, not moving, heavy with exhaustion. I sat down in the chair he had just been in, and took off my snow boots, setting them on my right, with Ryan on my left. I put on my red Converse that I had brought along, then glanced at Ryan. He seemed to be sleeping again.

I turned my head around and faced the stage. I pulled out my cell phone. It was 8:12. I set an alarm for eleven o’clock, just in case I fell asleep too. I put my phone back in my bag, set it down next to my snow boots and leaned my head back. I sat there relaxing, thinking of what I would do while I waited for Ryan to wake up. I wanted to stay with him, so I couldn’t go wandering around the theater. I turned my head back towards Ryan. Even though he was lying on the dusty floor of an old theater, with dusty sheets and pillows, he still looked like a god. The light glinted off his mahogany hair, which was falling over his eyes, contrasting perfectly with his light skin. He was wearing a white t-shirt under a black hoodie that had been left unzipped. He had on dark blue jeans and the same black Converse he had been wearing at the teahouse when I had seen him for the first time.

I smiled to myself, thinking back to that day. I’d been so overwhelmed by the “mysterious customer’s” appearance that I’d nearly started hyperventilating. I remembered being drawn in by his eyes, unable to look away. I bet that was exactly when the connection had gotten stronger. I remembered how disappointed I’d been after searching the parking lot for him and coming up empty. I thought about my walk home. I’d heard those cracking noises in the bush. I’d been so paranoid the rest of the day; I had felt like I was being watched. And, now, as I sat here in the old theater, watching Ryan, I realized (or finally admitted, really) that it was he who had been watching me all day. It made perfect sense now, after everything he had said a couple of days ago. Wow. It didn’t seem like I’d only known Ryan for a few days. I felt like I’d known him years, already.

I leaned my head back again, content with where I was. Though, I had a feeling I would be content anywhere as long as Ryan was there with me. I sighed. Once Ryan regains consciousness—I thought—he won’t be very happy about this. That made me sad. Why did Ryan have to be so stubbornly persistent about the no-contact rule? Personally, I thought the whole rule had gone out the window as soon as Ryan had touched me the first time. I remembered every detail about that day. It was the second day of my transformation (though I hadn’t know it at the time), and I had insisted that Ryan come through my window and go out the front door; he had been in the tree. I remember stumbling backward, and him catching me, and holding me. I knew, then, that I was done for. I didn’t even know of my Vampirism or of the connection, but I knew that I had become attached to Ryan, the mysterious stranger.

I closed my eyes and, for the first time in a while, nodded off to sleep, completely at peace with myself and my surroundings.

Beep-beep. Brrrrnngg. Beep-beep. Brrrrnngg.

I fumbled for my phone in my bag. When I found it, I turned off the alarm. I stood up and stretched. I turned and looked at Ryan, still lying, content and exhausted, on the floor. He had turned over onto his side and curled up a little. I wondered if he was cold. I bent down to touch his face. His skin was freezing. But, I wondered if that was a Vampire quality. Every time I’d touched him—from the visits he made at night to progress my transformation and I felt him on top of me, to the time when he held my hair back during my first purge and I felt his cold hand on my neck, to all the times he had held me—his body had always been cold.

I walked back to the prop room and found a blanket, which I shook yet more dust off of, and brought it back out to cover Ryan. Just in case I was wrong, and he really was uncomfortably cold. I had to admit, it was a bit chilly in the abandoned theater. With no heating and all, the only way to trap in the warmth was through the insulation. I went back into the prop room, grabbed another blanket, once again shook two years worth of dust out of it, and brought it back out into the auditorium for myself. Instead of sitting in the chair, I sat with my back against the wall, right at Ryan’s feet, next to the door to backstage. I covered myself with the blanket and pulled my legs up, resting my chin on my knees. I just watched Ryan for a while, not really thinking, not really doing anything, except for watching him breathe.

After what seemed like a short while, but had really been a couple of hours, Ryan turned over onto his back. He opened his jade-green eyes, sat up, and looked at me, still curled up at his feet.

“Emma,” he breathed. I just stared at him.

“What time is it?” he asked. I looked at my phone, which I had set next to me.

“One o’clock,” I answered.

“In the afternoon?” he asked, shocked.

I nodded.

His eyes widened in horror.

“It’s fine,” I soothed him. “No one knows we’re here.”

“Exactly how long have we been here?” he asked shyly. I didn’t think he wanted to admit that he was the helpless one for a change.

“Since about eight o’clock,” I informed him.

A shaky sigh escaped his lips. “Thank you,” he said. And I could hear it in his voice, and see it in his eyes, that he was truly thankful.

“You’re welcome.”

He looked down. “I can’t believe I did this,” he said.

“Did what?” I asked, confused.

“Emma, I fell asleep. I caused you hassle.” He hesitated. “I might have cost you your life.”

“What?” I asked, shocked. What was he talking about?

“When you found me this morning, I was at the base of your tree, correct?”

I nodded.

“Well, see, the thing is, I never made it up your tree.” He had a look on his face that was a cross between guilt and fear.

“So you mean, you never…” I trailed off. I didn’t know what to say.

“I’m so sorry, Emma. I knew I shouldn’t have gone so long without sleep. But, I couldn’t help it. I was worrying for weeks about the transformation I would be performing, and then, when I started, I couldn’t sleep because I had to keep an eye on you. Last night, I just—I just, couldn’t go on. I just collapsed, unconscious, exhausted.”

I continued staring at him, listening intently to his story, becoming more worried as it went on. But, I had pretty much expected something like this. It was too weird waking up this morning all peaceful-like. I knew something had gone wrong.

“I never completed your transformation, Emma. I didn’t inject you with more venom last night, as I should have. And I don’t know how that will mess things up.”

I noticed he didn’t say, “if that will mess things up”, just, “how that will mess things up.”

“It’s not your fault, Ryan,” I told him. “You couldn’t help it.”

“Uh, but I could have! That’s just it!” he was getting really angry with himself, and I didn’t like it. “I could have prevented this all from happening if I’d just gotten some goddamn sleep! But, no! I could do it! I could stay up all month. I was Ryan! I could do anything!” He was mocking himself.

“I can’t believe I was such an IDIOT! What the hell kind of Vampire am I if I can’t even change one human without completely screwing things up?”

“Stop it!” I screamed at him before he had the chance to continue, and he stopped and looked at me, stunned. Now he was pissing me off.

“You can’t beat up on yourself like this!” I hollered at him. “What’s done is done. There’s not a damn thing you can do to change what’s happened! Just let it go! We’ll figure out someway to fix this.”

He glared at me with a disbelieving look on his face. He opened his mouth to protest, but I cut him off.

“Just have some trust, will you!” I glared back at him, infuriated now, as it seemed he couldn’t trust me, or himself, to do anything right.

The look of anger and disbelief vanished from his face. He put his knees up and leaned forward, resting an elbow on each of them, gripping his hair with his hands, his head hanging between his arms. The hair that he didn’t have a hold of fell down over his face, hiding it. I didn’t know what I should do.

I sighed and settled for getting up and walking over to him, staying on his left, near the wall. I got down on my knees next to him, my body perpendicular to his.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

He didn’t say anything.

I reached out to touch him, to comfort him, thought twice about it, and did it anyway, placing my fingers lightly on the back of his neck. My pulse sped up. His skin, partially covered by his hair, was cold as ever. We sat there like that for a minute or so. I carefully moved my hand from his neck, to his hair, and back again, tracing my fingertips soothingly over his skin.

Finally, he released his hair and moved his arms away from his face, pressing them into the floor on either side of him. He sat up a bit straighter and turned slightly in my direction. He flipped his hair so it no longer hid his face. My right hand was still on his neck. I looked deep into his eyes, which betrayed nothing but sorrow and a hint of something else I couldn’t quite identify. I looked at his face, noticing there was something different about it: it was shiny and…wet.

“You were crying,” I whispered, my eyes and voice full of compassion.

Ryan gazed back at me. My heart beat faster. I reached up with my left hand and brushed my thumb across his cheek, wiping away the moisture there. I left my hand on his face. I was frozen.

“I may not have my blood, Emma,” he whispered. “But I still have my tears.”

Then, I couldn’t take it any longer. I leaned forward slightly, hesitantly, not breaking eye contact with Ryan. Now it was his turn to be frozen. The closer my face got to his, the more butterflies erupted in my stomach. I knew I shouldn’t be doing this, but I couldn’t help it. I was being drawn in again. And this time, I was pretty sure it wasn’t because of the creator-created connection. I kept getting closer, but Ryan still didn’t move. Closer, closer. I could feel his breath on my face, taste it on my tongue. I inhaled the sweet aroma, relishing in every moment of what was happening.

I was about an inch away, now. It’s now or never, I thought. I leaned in once more, closed my eyes, and pressed my lips gently to Ryan’s.