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One look at his face when I came out of the changing room was all it took for me to want the dress. I thought it was nice when he held it up, but I like that he likes it on me more. It's got a cool swirly black and green pattern of leaves and there is a subtle sheen to it when I move. The straps are thin, so my shoulders are pretty naked. Although, my boobs look fantastic, so there is that.
I try to forget that I'd been wearing a green dress that night at Bolero when my parents had shattered my world forever. That night had led to meeting Peter. And my mother would still be sick if they had told me or not.
I have absolutely no place to wear the dress. It's more of a formal dance kind of thing, what with the sparkles and all, but I don't think I'll be going to prom this year. The point of prom is to spend it with a big group of people. I just have Jamie and Tex and I can't bring the person I want to bring, so it would be lame. I might have to go anyway, to make my mother happy. Maybe I could smuggle him in. He's stealthy enough. I'd only have to dance with him once to make it worth it. But prom was a long way off. I couldn't see past this week yet.
After the thrift store I took Peter to the local equivalent of a department store so he could buy unmentionables. There was no way I was going with him to buy underwear, so I wrote him out a check and signed it.
First of all, I'm not his mother and second, I would spend the whole time picturing him in said underwear and he'd know and that would be super awkward for me. Especially if he could sort of read my mind.
I can't even go into the store with him, it's that bad. I feel a serious case of the giggles coming on so I stand outside and stare at the window displays and hoping he can shop in a store without me needing to rescue him.
He comes out a few minutes later with a bag. Phew. I don't ask to see what's in it and he doesn't offer to show me. Instead he shoves the bag in the back of my car along with the thrift shop bags. I really wish I was a fly on the wall to watch him check out, but alas. I was not.
“So where are we procuring this car from?” I have to change the subject so I'll stop thinking about whether he got boxers or briefs. Or those things that are in between.
Shut up, Ava.
His stupid hair's in his face again, but I don't push it back. “A dealership.”
“You're going to take a car from a dealership?” Is he insane? Of course they're going to notice a missing car. There's also the little problem of security cameras. I doubt even Peter's noctalis powers would work on those.
“If you take them from the back of the lot, most people don't notice.” Oh, he's definitely done this before. I don't know how I feel about that. I'm going to cover all my bases to make sure he knows what he's doing.
“What about license plates?”
“I take the temporary ones from the dealership.”
“What if you get pulled over?” I'm trying to poke holes in this plan because I really don't like it.
“I never get pulled over.” He's super confident. I've never seen Peter cocky, but I can hear it in his tone.
“Yeah, I bet you don't. So which dealership?” I'll steer him away from the one where my parents bought their cars.
“It doesn't matter.” I really feel uncomfortable about this. We have to drive a little ways before we even get to one dealership, and I go right past the first one.
“What about there?” Peter says as I drive by.
“My mom bought a car there once. The guy is really nice. I couldn't steal from him.”
“We are not stealing. Simply borrowing.” Yeah, sure, it's just semantics.
“Without permission.” I try to give him my best glare.
He is undeterred. “They loan out their cars frequently, but they will not loan one without identification.” He's patched all the holes I'd tried to make. And I was out of ideas.
“You're right. You're right.” I know he's right. And I know that he needs a car to pick me up in. Dad would never believe that he wouldn't, going to a swanky school like Galdon. God, I hope he doesn't want to go to the BMW dealership.
“What about there?” He points to another dealership. I've seen the owner on tv, jumping up and down wearing various ridiculous costumes. He seems too nice. I can't take from him, either.
“Uh uh.” I keep driving until I get to the mega lot a half-hour away from Sussex. They've got everything from trucks to sedans to minvans. I pull in and go to the back of the lot. Bingo. There's a black Prius. Sure, it's not a very masculine car, but it's good for the environment. He wouldn't have to put gas in it.
“That one,” I say, pointing.
“What is it?”
“A Toyota Prius. It's energy efficient.” I shut the car off, but I'm too scared to get out. My eyes travel to the lights, looking for the red flash of a camera.
“I will find the keys.”
“Wait a second,” I say, looking around. “There are probably cameras all over the place. They're going to catch you.” God, why does he have to do these things that stress me out?
“I will disable the cameras. Viktor taught me how.” Well, he's just full of surprises.
I really don't want to be around for that part. “I think I'm going to leave. I'll park over there.” I point to a church across the road. “When you get the car meet me.” I'm freaking out and trying not to show it. I was not cut out for this life of crime. The sooner I get out of here the better. How do I get myself into these things?
It was easy. I'd gone to a cemetery and met a noctalis. And hadn't run in the other direction. Because I was an idiot.
“You should probably wait a few minutes after I leave. So I should go now. So I'm going to do that. Right now.” He blinks and I get in the car and drive to the church. The irony that I'm waiting in a church parking lot for my vampire angel boyfriend to steal a car so he can impress my father, is not lost on me.
A few lifetimes and gray hairs later, the Prius pulls up beside me. He looks pretty good in it.
“All good?” I say, holding the steering wheel in a vise grip.
“Yes,” says Mr. Cool-as-a-cucumber.
“Here are your clothes,” I say, handing the bags out the window, including the underwear bag. “I guess I'll see you later then?”
“It will be fine. I have a car now.” He runs his hands down the steering wheel as if he really likes the feel of it. The black color doesn't hold a candle to the color of his wings.
“How do you like it?”
“I'd rather I were riding in the passenger seat of yours.”
“Yeah, me too.” With that I swing out of the parking lot of the church and head back home. I don't see where Peter goes, but I'll see him later. He'll probably just drive the car around for fun. I'm sure he prefers flying. I would too, if I had wings.
