“Hey,” she said casually. She seemed self-conscious, as if he had surprised her, just caught her in the middle of something.
She brushed past him and walked into the house.
He turned and walked after her, puzzled. He wondered if he had done something wrong. Or maybe if he wasn’t good enough. If she wanted him to go.
He started to feel self-conscious as he walked after her.
He heard the sound of running water. She was standing over the sink, washing her hands and pouring water over her face. She was probably just waking up, maybe out for a morning walk.
“You’re up early,” he said, smiling, as he watched her rinsing her face yet again.
She rested, taking her time, then reached over and took a towel, and wiped her face. She brushed some of the hair out of her face, and took a deep breath.
“Yeah,” she said, exhaling, “morning jog. I’m an early riser.”
“Without any shoes?” he asked.
Samantha looked down and realized she was barefoot. She felt her face redden. This boy was perceptive.
“It’s better for the feet,” she said, and quickly turned and walked into the other room.
Surprised at her abrupt departure, Sam wondered if she were avoiding him. Maybe she’d changed her mind. He’d probably screwed it up somehow. Figured. Whenever he found something great, he always screwed it up.
Sam followed her into the living room. He figured he needed to clear the air, talk to her.
As he entered, she was pulling her long, red hair out of her face, tying it in a ponytail. Her cheeks were flushed, and seemed to be getting more filled with color, right in front of him. She must’ve had a really hard run, he thought.
“Samantha,” he began hesitantly, “last night was amazing.”
She turned and looked at him, and her features softened a bit. She walked slowly to him, placed one hand on his cheek, and kissed him, slowly.
Sam’s heart welled up. She wasn’t sick of him. He hadn’t screwed it up. He started to fill with optimism again. He wanted her.
But before he could embrace her, she backed away, went to the couch, and threw on her black leather coat.
“I’m antsy,” she reported. “Let’s get out of here.” She looked at him. “Want to go for a drive?” she asked.
“A drive?” he asked, looking at his watch. “So early?”
“I hate sitting around,” she said. “I want to get out of here. Let’s get some fresh air. You game?” she asked, locking her green eyes right onto his.
When her eyes met his, he felt his thoughts changing. Almost as if he were under a spell. He found himself suddenly liking her plan: it made all the sense in the world. She was right. Why stick around this house? It was boring. He suddenly really wanted to get out there out of there, too, and in fact, couldn’t stand to be there another second.
“Yeah, I do,” he heard himself saying, “but where?”
“Email your Dad,” she said. “Tell him we’re coming to visit.”
Sam felt his brows lift in surprise. “My Dad? You mean, like, now?”
“Why not? You guys wanted to get together. Now’s as good a time as any. He’s in Connecticut right? That’d be a nice drive.”
Sam struggled to think. It all felt so sudden.
“Well, like, I don’t know if he’d be ready on, like, such short notice—”
“Sam,” she said, firmly, “he emails you a lot. He’s dying to see you. Just email and ask him. And either way, let’s just go. If he’s not into it, at least we’ll have a cool drive.”
As he thought about it, he found his mind changing once again, and realized that she was entirely right. Of course. Why hadn’t he thought of that? A long drive. Connecticut. E-mailing his Dad. Yes, it was perfect.
He whipped out his cell, logged onto Facebook, and started typing: Dad. I want to come see you now. I’m actually heading out the door. A couple hours away. Please let me know your address. I hope it’s not too short notice. Love, Sam.
Sam shoved the phone into his pocket, then grabbed his keys and hurried to the front door. She was already waiting outside.
As they crossed the lawn, heading for the BMW, Sam said, “I like your ride.”
She smiled as she held up the keys.
“Thanks,” she said. “I’ve been saving a long time.”
SIXTEEN
As Caitlin and Caleb stood by the railing, looking out at the ocean, the ferry to Martha’s Vineyard blew its horn and began to depart. Caitlin looked down and saw the moving water, and was excited. She loved boats. She felt happy, and free. As she watched the waves rising beneath her, she realized that right now she’d probably be sitting in some stupid class, listening to a teacher drone on. She felt like an adult. Independent. The whole world was hers.
She looked over at Caleb, expecting to see him also happy, and was surprised to see him looking so nervous. She had never seen him like this.
He looked more pale than usual. She wondered if he didn’t like boats, or if maybe he didn’t know how to swim.
She reached over and lay a reassuring hand on his. “You okay?”
He nodded, and swallowed. He clutched the railing, and looked down at the water as if it were his enemy.
“What is it?” she asked.
He swallowed.
“Water,” he said simply. He gripped the railing harder. “Our kind does not like water. Especially crossing it. Most won’t even try.”
Caitlin checked in with herself, and noticed that she felt fine. She wondered if it was because she were not a true vampire.
“Why?” she asked.
“Water acts as a form of psychic protection,” he said. “When you cross a major body of water, you are crossing an energy field. It also strips our senses. It weakens them. It’s harder for us to tell what others are thinking, harder to influence them, harder to sense things. It is like a fresh start. You lose the power and protection you had on the mainland.”
Rose suddenly retreated further inside Caitlin’s jacket. Caitlin could feel her trembling, and it seemed that she, too, was afraid. She reached in and rubbed her head.
She looked away and saw that there were only a few others on the large ferry. There were hardly any people on deck either; it was practically empty. They were lucky it was running at all, given the time of year. The cold March air, along with the mist off the waves, hardly made for the warmest ride.