Is it fair to say I love her for who she is while simultaneously being addicted to what she is?
Donovan was also right about Gina. I have to move on. No more making feeding choices just to piss her off. No more flirting with everyone I can just to piss her off. No more using any of my energy to find ways just to piss her off. My petty attempts at vengeance have hurt me far more than they have hurt her, and I’m done. I hate her way too much to let her have this much control over me. It’s time to live my life for me, and it starts with repairing my relationship with Callie. I’m pretty sure I’ve royally fucked up my prospects of dating her—not that I’m in any position to date anyone at the moment—but hopefully I can salvage our friendship.
The best place to start is at the beginning.
After unintentionally charming my way out of class early—my vampire abilities are so close to the surface these days that I have to be more conscious ofnotusing them than the other way around—I now wait outside of Callie’s AP Psychology classroom so I can walk with her to lunch. My hands fidget with the collar of my ribbed turtleneck, the waist of my slacks, and the buttons of my coat. No matter how warm it is indoors, it seems like I’m always freezing.
However, today it wasn’t simply about dressing for the cold, no matter how much I try to convince myself otherwise. Every decision I made in my appearance was carefully chosen to appeal to her, from the way my hair is artfully tousled to my cologne and how soft my woolen coat is to the touch. Embarrassed how she saw me that afternoon—covered in grease and half insane—I want her to see me like she used to, as a playful flirt who has his shit together. Someone worth her time.
When the lunch bell rings, it takes a while for Callie to come out. In the interim, I’m accosted by several of her amorous classmates. While they have grown bolder, I’ve grown testier. Whereas the predator inside of me is pleased about all this easy prey offering themselves up to my whims, I’m tired of being touched by uninvited hands. My tolerance has run dry, and a cold rage builds in its absence.
With inhuman speed, I grab one hand that reaches for my chest and squeeze hard, her delicate bones flexing under my grip. She gasps, her brown eyes wide with surprise, but she’s not put off by the pain. Instead, she’s aroused by the violence in my gaze, licking her thin lips and quivering for more.
Disgusted, I growl, “Never touch me.”
Her eyes glaze over, along with every other person surrounding me, and in unison, they pull away, leaving me with a good two feet of space. I’ve done the impossible and charmed an entire group of people with one command. What is happening to me?
Officially freaked the fuck out, I whisper to the crowd, “Go to lunch. Act normal.”
Instantly, they are chatting with each other as if nothing happened as they make their way down the hall. When I’m sure they are gone, I look back to the open door and find Callie watching me, her eyes laden with concern and her hands worrying the cuffs of her red hoodie. All of my plans to go back to our normal are dashed in an instant.
“Callie…” I murmur, unsure what to say or do with myself. All I know is I can’t stop shaking, and I’m ashamed that she’s found me out of control again.
At the sound of her name, she drops her backpack next to the door and rushes toward me, then she stops abruptly, offering more space between us than I want. “Nolan, are you okay?”
I want to lie and tell her I’m fine. I want to hide from whatever is happening to me. I want her to go back to smiling when she sees me. But I’m too far gone for any of it.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur, hunching my shoulders and stuffing my hands into my coat pockets. My eyes flick to hers and away, unable to face her judgment for long. “What I said in the garage. How I’ve acted since. I know I don’t deserve it, but I’m hoping you will forgive me anyway.” I pause and take a deep breath before admitting the simple truth that plagues me. “I miss you all the time… Please, can we go back to being friends?”
“We never stopped being friends,” she answers gently and takes a small step toward me. “I’m not mad. I’m worried.” Her lips purse as she shakes her head minutely side to side. “Okay, that’s not a hundred percent true. I was a little mad, but I got over it.” She sighs and flaps her hands in a helpless gesture. “I’ve been giving you space because you said you were scared of me. The last thing I ever want to do is hurt you.”
“I don’t want to hurt you either,” I admit, holding out my hand while I take a step closer to her. “Love, you mean… everything to me.”
A beautiful smile blooms on her face and her eyes become tear bright. She takes my hand between hers, and the warmth of her soft skin eases a deep-seated ache inside me. Her thumbs run tenderly along my knuckles as if she can still see the wounds that have since healed.
I never want her to stop touching me. Where so many have made me feel dirty, her hands make me clean. She is my light, and I want to submit to it, let it burn bright within me and chase all of my darkness away. Without thought, I draw her hands to my face and lean into her palms. I close my eyes and savor the feeling of her warmth.
“Nolan,” she whispers my name with a depth of love that humbles me. “You know how I feel about you. That hasn’t changed.”
Donovan’s words echo in my head.The only thing standing in the way is you.
The truth of all that I feel collides on the tip of my tongue. My feelings are overwhelming, desperate to be made into words, but as I stand here, relishing her warmth, my hunger for her claws to the surface. She wears her magic like perfume, and I can’t help but breathe it in.
Shuddering under its intensity, I take her hands from my face—her wrists too close for comfort—and hold them tightly within mine. I open my eyes and stare longingly into hers. She stares back with wounded confusion.
“Talk to me,” she implores, closing the final distance between us until our bodies are nearly touching. “I know there’s something wrong, something you’re not telling me. Please don’t push me away.”
After releasing a deep breath, I bow my head and quietly confess, “I’m afraid.”
“Of me?” she asks, turning her face toward mine while her fine blonde brows knit together.
“No. It’s not you…” I insist, the words trailing off as they get stuck in my throat. The urge to kiss her, to use actions where words always seem to fail me, is painfully strong.
“My magic?” she supplies, her expression falling into one of resigned misery.
Shaking my head in denial, I pull her into a hug. Holding her to me, as usual, is the sweetest of tortures, my love in a constant battle with my addiction, but I can’t bear to see her blame herself in any way.
“My… issues with magic aren’t about you, and it’s something I’m working on,” I answer, running one hand down the silky waves of her long hair. A smile pulls at my lips when she shivers and leans farther into me. “Honestly, I want to be with you in every way.”
