My dreams at night were invaded by horrifying visions of vampires and death. Bloody and violent murders which woke me, shaking and soaked with sweat. The visions were so heinous I buried my questions about vampires and witches broiling through my mind. It felt like I was perched on the cusp of a black hole and if I fell into it, I’d never get out.
I spent a large portion of time daydreaming about Karson. I couldn’t stop thinking about him. My core stirred whenever he appeared in my mind’s eye. As if the mere sight of him awakened a primal sexual charge I hadn’t thought I’d ever fell again, not after Tom. I had heard nothing from him, and the truth was, for some inexplicable reason, I missed him.
I wouldn’t contact him. No way. I sat on my bed, legs crossed and bored. I looked at my phone sitting on the bedside table.
I reached across, picked up my phone and I found myself typing a message:
‘Any news?’
I hit send.
I stared at the blank screen, willing it to light up, barely breathing. Was this too obvious, too random, would it make him I think I’d been thinking of him? No, it was just a simple inquiry, it didn’t mean anything. The phone vibrated and flashed bright. My heart pulsed.
‘Not yet. Am I to take it you’re not enjoying your time stuck with Ethan?’
He must be wondering why I suddenly messaged him. Was he fishing for the answer or making simple conversation? I pondered my response then I wrote:
‘Ethan has been considerate, however I am concerned he may get withdrawals from playing Eeny Meeny, and I’m the only girl here. It may not end well. For him.’
I re-read my message before I pressed send. That wasn’t saying I couldn’t stop thinking about him. Not at all. But it opened up an opportunity, like a job notice pinned to a board. Benign in itself, he could see it, sure, but the notice wasn’t aimed specifically for him. He could decide for himself if he wanted to take the little slip and open up the channels of possibility.
‘Do you need rescuing, Miss Williams?’
Yes, yes, yes, come and get me now. My heart beating like a humping rabbit, I wrote:
‘Do you know any knights in shining armor capable of fulfilling that duty?’
‘Yes, I do actually. He’s tall, dark-haired, and extraordinarily handsome.’
I smiled. So conceited. A rush of adrenaline bubbled inside me.
‘He sounds captivating. You must introduce me to him sometime.’
‘Funny, Amelia. I must go, my line of inquiry has just turned up. Talk soon x’
I couldn’t help feeling disappointed at the abrupt end. Without thinking I tapped straight back:
‘Try to leave their heads on, people struggle to talk without them.’
I hit send and then immediately regretted the comment. He’d killed one of his own to save me and a few short days later I was making jokes about it. Would he be angry? I bit my lip and stared at the phone, it stared back blankly. Shit. I should have written okay, sent a kiss face right back at him. He’d said talk soon, that sounded like a promise, but I just had to try and be what? Not funny, it wasn’t funny. On the scale of wit it wouldn’t get past the first rung. I was such an idiot. I threw the phone on the bed, groaned and flopped back on the bed.
I picked up a book off the bed side table and read one page. At the end of the page, I couldn’t tell anyone what I’d read, nothing had absorbed into my head. I checked the phone. Nothing. I stood up and roamed the room like a restless prisoner.
The phone buzzed. I nearly leaped onto the bed and with a hesitant breath I picked it up. Cringing, I read his response.
‘I will keep that in mind.’
Okay, he didn’t seem upset then. Not exactly laughing faces but not angry. No kiss on the end either though . . .
The days whizzed by, and the night of the ball arrived before I knew it. Ethan had also secured an invite to the party. His invite was as much to do with keeping me by his side as it was with knowing Jefferson would have his laptop in the house. He’d mentioned that if he saw me move toward his office. He’d haul me over his shoulder in front of everyone and out the doors. He would too, if the look he gave me was any indication.
We walked up the stairs of Jefferson’s house a little after eight. Jodie linked her arm through mine as if we were on a proper date. Ethan walked on my left. I held up the bottom of the dress Jodie had brought for me to wear. It was fitted, with a low-scooped sweetheart neckline. When she’d pulled it out of the bag I’d nearly died. It was red.
“What’s wrong, don’t you like it?” she had asked.
“No, it’s beautiful, Jodie,” I reassured her. “I just don’t like to stand out.” I could hardly tell her why red was the last color I’d choose.
“By the time I’m finished with you every man in the ball will want to dance with you,” she’d gloated.
