Say Yes To Forever

Chapter Six

Shower taken, hair blown dry, makeup on, I give myself a once over in the full-length mirror on the back of my closet door. After torturing myself all week on what to wear, I landed on a black t-shirt maxi dress, with a high neck and long sleeves. Luckily, I had gotten a new b*a that’s actually my size, 32B from Victoria’s Secret, with a matching seamless panty. I need my black, heeled Oxford booties ‘cause the skirt is a little too long, but dinner really doesn’t suggest too much walking around. Finished off with a black choker and my favorite perfume, my nerves are starting to settle.

Across my room, I check my phone for any messages and find a new text from Cyrus saying that he’d left and will be here about six-fifteen. Double-checking my purse in a rush, I have my wallet, cell phone, keys, comb, and lip gloss. Glancing over the stack of new books on my nightstand, I pick The Subtle Knife and slide it into my purse, which has just enough room.

Thankfully, Mama is still out grocery shopping when I make it downstairs. To be fair, I had told her I had plans tonight but didn’t correct her when she assumed they are with Nikki. She’s been over-protective ever since Dad left us for a coastal Nymph… always wanting to know the who, what, when, where, and why. The poor boys I dated in high school went through a thorough screening process to which Mama was in contact with their parents more than I was. The only saving grace of all that was she’d known those boys as long as I had, most of them being born and raised in Stars Hallow.

But this whole thing with Cyrus…? I can only imagine her negativity. ‘Oh, they just moved to town. Oh, we don’t know anything about them. Oh, we’re still not sure they aren’t Subs. Oh, he’s older than you. Oh, he’s your teacher…’ so on and so forth.

Saved by the doorbell, there’s a tall shadow through the frosted glass. Really, truly excited, with the warmest, softest kind of butterflies, I open the door to find Cyrus looking as handsome as ever. Looking like a model in his black turtleneck and straight-legged jeans. The honey tone of his skin is even warmer under the porch lamp, his hair looking more gold than sandy. And then his eyes… how his eyes make me swoon. It’s hard to pull away from them as I step outside and lock the door.

I brush my bangs off my temple and cannot help but smile up at him. “Hi.”

“Hey,” he gives me another once over then throws his thumb over his shoulder. “My car’s just down the way.”

I follow him down our long driveway and don’t blame him for staying near the street. The evening sky is still bright, still a ceiling of blue contrasting greatly to the newly orange and crimson forests. The chilled breeze is soft, the rustling of leaves comforting, with the only other sound being our steps along the gravel. We’re walking closely now, close enough I’ve accidentally bumped into him twice. I’m tempted to reach out and take his hand but decide it’s too soon for that.

“So, how are you liking Vermont?”

This causes him to slow and look around. “It’s gorgeous.”

“It is, isn’t it? I can’t imagine living in a city.”

He nods thoughtfully, “A city is very, very different. Sure, there is a lot to do… museums, shows, restaurants, shopping, where you’re able to do or get anything you could want or need.”

He gestures out, “But this…? At first, I didn’t like it – maybe just culture shock, but now I love it. It’s so… peaceful. Don’t you think?”

“Yeah, totally! I’ve always thought that.”

We’re at his car now, and though I may not know a lot about cars I can tell this shiny, black, town car’s expensive and fancy. He opens the passenger door and I lower into the leather seat. Inside, it definitely is so, so much nicer than my old, beat-up, with a broken AC, Honda Accord.

Car on, AC going… something happens, though, with Cyrus, that’s extremely noticeable. He’s careful to sit practically against the door, his hands firmly on ten and two. As we get on the road and he drives, he doesn’t even so much as glance at me, his jaw tight. I try to ignore it… maybe he’s a nervous driver? But when I lean on the center console, there’s a noticeable twitch that ripples through his muscles.

I try looking out the window, trying to figure out where we might be going to distract myself. But every turn of the car, every time I shift in my seat, I notice how tense and downright uncomfortable Cyrus is. Finally, at the restaurant, La Campagne, we park and he’s fast to get out.

As he holds the door open for me, I adjust my bag and say, “Thank you,” to break the silence.

“Of course,” yet his voice is neither cold nor friendly.

Double-checking my makeup in my compact and running my fingers through my hair, I feel so utter self-conscious. In through the double doors, guided by the hostess to a little booth in the corner, finally – finally, Cyrus seems to relax, having the table between us a relief. Trying not to frown, I hold my menu up… does he even want to be here? I wonder.

---

Standing out on the patio of La Campagne with Valarie, we lean against the railing and look across the stunning countryside of Vermont during twilight. Things had started off bumpy, with the ride here being extremely tough on me… in such a close, confined space with her and the AC blowing her scent all over me. The pressure from my fangs had all but brought a migraine and the way her vanilla perfume mixed with her blood was intoxicating. (Legitimately intoxicating, as if I was driving drunk.)

Then! After a rather flirty moment in the booth where she touched my arm across the table, I was so overwhelmed I had to excuse myself to the bathroom. Where I actually went to my car to extend my fangs and drink from my emergency blood stash. It’d been just enough to take the edge off and let me feel more man than Vampire back at the table.

Now, with making it through the meal, and this serene moment where I can stand far enough to the side and the wind carries her scent away from me, well, things feel back on track. We had chatted more about Vermont, some about Montreal, about movies, and literature. I tried not to bombard her with questions, as much as I wanted to know everything about her. I did my best, as well, to word things about myself to not lie but not tell the exact truth.

Feeling stable enough, I gently place my hand on Valarie’s lower back. She tenses at first, then takes a step closer to me. Her rosy smile is coy, and she tucks some hair behind her ear. “So, I’ve been meaning to ask, how old are you, anyway?”

Dad’s words ring through my mind, “Twenty-three. Is… is that all right?”

“I turned nineteen in July.” She smirks, “Is that okay?”

Two hundred, seventy-eight, twenty-three, nineteen… none of it mattered to me. I rub my hand up and down the soft material slowly, “Of course.” This pleases her and she turns back to the sunset.

---

I excused myself to the bathroom just before we leave to pull out my cell phone to text Nikki. ‘Throwin myself @ him, stil no kis, WTF?’

Sighing, I look in the mirror. I fluff out my hair and check that I’m not too bloated. My mascara still looks good, I dab a little powder on my chin, swipe a new coat of lip gloss. If I ever was trying my hardest to make something happen, this was it.

A new text pings. ‘Mayb hes waitin 2 drop u of? Kis u @ the door?’

I close my eyes; I hadn’t even thought of that. He’s such a gentleman… that’s probably it. It would be perfectly romantic, too. And, as Mama had texted me earlier, she’s out since I’m out and not to expect her till late, so we’d be all alone.

Meeting Cyrus just outside the front door, we walk down the lantern-lit path to the parking lot. I take a chance and hold out my right hand for him to grab and am relieved when he does. My little fingers weave between his and fit without awkwardness or discomfort.

The wind picks up when we’re free from the trees and I take a step closer to him. The scent of his cologne carries on the wind and all I can imagine is curling up in one of his sweatshirts. To be surrounded by his dark and heavy sent of oak, amber, and spice. I hope it rubs off on me as we walk closely now, and maybe, even more, when we hug and kiss goodnight.

---

Somehow the car ride back is ten times worse than the car ride there. Maybe because I am full of blood and food, maybe because we had flirted and held hands, maybe because I still am not used to her beauty and intelligence. But here I am, shoved against the door, having to keep the AC low, and my body as still as possible. I have been so careful not to read Valarie’s mind out of respect the whole night, but I can still tell by her body language and sighs that she is confused and possibly upset but my reaction.

Quick to open her door, but slow to walk her back, I take her hand. She smiles up at me for this and just before the house, leads us off the side of the path to a swinging bench. We sit, somewhat in the middle, but not exactly touching. Leaning forward on her knees it is clear that there is something she wants to say but doesn’t know how. Thinking I must have screwed everything up, I swallow hard.

Instead, she looks over with the kindest of eyes and sweetest of smiles with an air of nervousness. “You can kiss me, you know.”

An explosion of warmth spreads through my chest and I must readjust my position, crossing one leg with an ankle over my knee and stretching my arm across the wood backing. “All right.”

She tucks some hair behind her ear, “I mean… if you want.”

“I do,” I reply without hesitance.

She straightens and leans back, her shoulders resting against my arm. I drop my elbow slightly to start playing with her hair. Silky against my skin, I twirl it softly. “I just want to do this right,” I confess.

Her expression is of bemusement when she peeks over at me, “Right…?”

I stare into her icy blue eyes, “Yes.”

After a long moment, she turns back to the night and leans against my torso. I do not know how long we stay like this… slowly rocking on the swinging bench. The weight of her on my chest produces an overwhelming sense of comfort. Any anxiety, twitches, jitters – it all dissipates under the pressure. Weirdly, I finally feel like I can breathe, full and deep breaths, and that I can focus, my thoughts completely coherent.

Truth be told, I do not know that I have ever felt this sense of calm. In my childhood things had been hard, then I was shipped off to fight in The Great War. Before being able to go home, I tranziție, and then, well, I couldn’t go home – not like this. Left to wander France after my Sire died, sure Claude and Caroline saved me, but even then, learning to be a Vampire, having to always hide, to stay on the move, stay in the shadows?

Maybe I had come close to it in Montreal, but so many of the Vampires there are old. Old like Tori, old like Willow and Alex, old like Dad and Mom. I always felt out of place, like an imposter. Imposter as a man, imposter as a Vampire, stuck between two worlds.

And here those worlds are fluid, or even better, non-existent. Here I sit and I can imagine a future with purpose, a future I want to plan, (instead of figuring it out as I go along). Here I sit with a beautiful, intelligent, funny woman that I want to love. Here I sit, seeking comfort in her affection and she seeks comfort in my arms. Not knowing if I’ll get the courage at her door, I squeeze her closer and kiss the top of her head. This is the first of many nights, I reason, and there is simply no need to rush.