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“I’d go. One hundred percent. My ex-girlfriend made me watch the movie. It wasn’t half bad. There are books too, you know.”
“Yes,” she says. “I read them. I love to read.”
“What do you read?” I ask.
“Romance,” she says with another giggle. “Icky, yucky, turn-a-Savage’s-stomach romance.”
“Who doesn’t love love?” Alfie says. “And the head vampire, he kinda reminded me of one of us.”
“You too?” she asks.
“He wasn’t letting another man even look at his girl. And if someone tried something, he’d take ‘em out.”
“Sit down, Alfie,” I say.
“Just saying. Real men like romance,” he quips back. I give the redhead a look that finally has him plopping down in his seat. “Sorry, boss.”
Paisley offers him a parting smile. “Thanks for the back-up, Alfie. And I agree.” She looks at me. “That’s why I liked the movie so much. They remind me of our family.”
“Go to sleep. Both of you.” Ignoring them, I dive into my computer.
Paisley quickly falls asleep beside me. Doing some of that “relaxed, lady-like breathing” her mom mentioned. I’m chuckling at the sound as I pull up my family messaging app, seeing if Lindy, a very organized human being, is available.
Hey Lindy — need to plan a vampire romance tour in Oregon — you in?
She replies immediately.
My all-time favorite book!! OMG YASSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I’d love to! Doesn’t that fam just remind you of Bachmans???
The next hour we message back and forth, me kicking around ideas and security concerns, her doing the actual booking for our tour group of twenty-six. Well, fourteen during the day for the actual touring but sleeping arrangements for all of us. I ping Rowan, three rows back from me, and draw him into the messenger app to help me pin down security details.
Lindy insists we hike the Silver Falls State Park. I agree only after it’s planned to be cleared and closed for a five-hour window just for us. The tree-lined waterfall is apparently the place where the girl rode on the vampire’s back for the first time.
Strange.
We’ll drive across the Columbia River, on the Bridge of the Gods, the bridge that was used as the small town’s bridge in the film. There’s a small inn where they filmed a prom scene. Don’t think Paisley went to a proper prom after touring her schoolhouse yesterday. Lindy thinks Paisley would probably like to go to the gazebo there where they filmed part of the prom scene.
She makes a call, pinging me back five minutes later to let me know she found a small hotel that—miraculously, in the middle of nowhere—was slow this time of year, and has plenty of room for us.
I check out the size of the town where the inn is located. The place looks kinda like a dump. Shocking, considering there’s nothing out there to go see but a couple of spots an old, very cheesy (I assume), vampire teen romance was filmed.
Rowan and I message back and forth about safety issues that could arise if we tour Ecola State Park, but it looks pretty isolated, so we have Lindy book vans and lunchtime caterers for our outing.
We’ll drive by a modest house as well as the couple of high schools where there was filming, and even have lunch at a café in Portland that was in the film. Satisfied we’ve filled three full days with romance lover goodies, I hop off with Lindy.
I glance over at sleeping beauty. Still out like a light. Still doing some of that loud Beauty “heavy breathing.” I surprise myself when I find myself muttering, “Poor thing.” I guess it’s not easy being a princess. Her head hangs at a weird angle. It looks uncomfortable, though she sleeps soundly. I hold myself back from wrapping my arm around her shoulders.
I grab a pillow from the seatback in front of me, gently lifting her chin and wedge the pillow between her head and shoulder. I stare at my handiwork. She nestles further down into the pillow, a small, dreamy smile spreading on her face.
Then she starts snoring again.
It’s fucking adorable, coming from such a pretty little thing.
I look away.
She’s using me. I know that now. To process her feelings? Or to forget her feelings? When she’s with me, when I’m punishing her, she’s able to let go of the fear or doubt or whatever it is that’s overwhelming her.
Maybe she’s wishing she was marrying one of her own.
