Like last night crossed some sort of line.
“Since Hanover was on theofficiallist of field trips,” says Tiffany, pulling out her phone, “I researched it before coming here and made a list of interesting places to check out. There’s a cafécalled the Chocolate Bar that’s one of the oldest chocolatiers in the country. It’s supposed to be pretty romantic, so it’s a good date spot.”
She looks at the vampire. “William, you should take Lore there.”
My heart stalls.
Tiffany just used the wordsromanticanddateandLore.She’s never called me by my nickname before.
“For my finder’s fee,” she goes on, her gaze swinging to Trevor like she’s implying he should take Salma there, too, “I want one of their signature black-and-white chocolate bunnies.”
“Lorena and I are nottogether.”
William’s declaration is like a blast of cold air chilling our table.
My friends look from him to me, like they’re waiting on an explanation of some kind, and I don’t know what to say.
“There is nothing remotely romantic between us,” he goes on, “and I wouldnevercourt her.”
The last part was so unnecessary, it’s cruel.
“O-kay,” says Tiffany. “We heard you.”
I can barely feel Salma’s hand on my leg, gripping me like she’s loaning me her strength. William’sneveris a blade stuck in my torso. It hurts more than his fangs ever could.
“I’d be happy to get you a bunny, Tiff,” says Zach, clearly trying to keep the peace.
I don’t understand why this hurts so much.Of courseWilliam and I wouldn’t date—he’s a fucking vampire. Being his Familiar is a sacrifice, not an honor. So what is this piercing pain in my chest?
I’ve done everything he’s asked—fed him, kept his secrets, helped him adapt—and he repays me by mortifying me in front of my friends?
The bell can’t ring soon enough, and I’m glad I don’t share any morning classes with William. I’m even more glad when the vampire doesn’t show up to lunch. None of my friends asks about him, but his empty chair makes his absence feel pronounced, and I can’t stop looking at it.
After everything I’ve done for him, the lies I’ve told, the blood I’ve given, he still has no respect for me.
By the time English class comes around, I’m livid. At first it seems like he’s going to skip, but when he shows up right at the final bell, everything takes on a reddish tinge.
She certainly did not hate him. No; hatred had vanished long ago, and she had almost as long been ashamed of ever feeling a dislike against him…
It’s my third time ever readingPride and Prejudice,and when I get to these lines, my eyes keep straying to the back of William’s head. Why did he humiliate me like that? Especially when he seemed so…tenderwith me Sunday night.
I thought things were changing between us for the better, but clearly it’s for the worse.
“Books down,” says Minaro when our forty-five minutes of reading are up. “What do you make of Pemberley and the scenes set there?”
“I see it as a turning point,” says William, who’s usually the first to speak. “Before Pemberley, Elizabeth underwent her trials—Collins, Wickham, Darcy—and now it is Darcy’s turn to be tested. His challenge is to open up and dare to be seen, vulnerabilities and all. That is why he writes Elizabeth a letter, and he helps Lydia when—”
“Mr. Pride,” says Minaro in a warning tone, “how many times must I ask you not to spoil the upcoming scenes for your classmates?”
“Screw Pemberley and screw Darcy,” I say.
One of the girls in the front row gasps, and Salma whispers, “Lore!”
“Miss Navarro, language,please,” says the director. “Explain yourself.”
“It’s a timeless tale,” I say, burning a hole into the back of William’s head. “Darcy gets forgiven for his bad manners and general disdain of others just because he’s rich and powerful and white and male and cisgender and straight—”
“Once again,” says Minaro, “I have to ask you not to spoil anything—”
