Without saying anything, Jareth starts walking down the dirt road, taking long strides, as if he's trying to get some distance between himself and me. Not that I blame him. I'd be mad at me, too. Still, we're stuck in this together and hold-ing a grudge is not going to help matters. I scramble to keep up, all the while keeping my head down to avoid being blinded by the rain.
A few minutes later we come to a small, withered barn sit-ting a few yards back from the road. It's run-down and weather-beaten, but to me at this moment it looks like a five-star hotel. Jareth motions to me to follow him as he pushes open the door and heads inside.
I blink a few times, my eyes adjusting to the darkness as Jareth closes and bolts the barn door behind us. There're a few empty stalls, a loft filled with musty-smelling hay. Some unidentifiable farm instruments lined up against one wall. I hope there aren't any mice or rats that hang out here.
"Well, it's not the Ritz, but it's dry," Jareth says with a shrug. "Should tide us over 'til morning when the limo comes back to retrieve us."
He breaks apart a bale of hay and fashions a small straw bed out of it. Then he shrugs out of his jacket and hangs it on one of the lower rafters. Next he takes off his shirt. God, he looks good with no shirt on.
Such washboard abs. I wish he wasn't pissed at me. I'd so go over and run my fingers up and down them if I thought I could get away with it.
"Here," he says stiffly, holding out the shirt. "It's a lot dryer than what you've got on."
He's right. I hadn't the foresight to wear a coat and my sweater is dripping wet. "But what about you?
Won't you freeze?"
He shrugs. "Once you're a vampire for over a thousand years you get used to different climates. Better you take it."
I almost believe him. That is until I catch him suppressing a shiver when he thinks I'm not watching. How sweet is that? He literally gave me the shirt off his back. Even though he's mad at me.
He turns his back and I slip off my sweater and out of my bra, then pull on the Batman shirt. It's amazing how easy it is to become a fashion victim when you're freezing to death.
Jareth collapses on the hay bed and curls into a fetal posi-tion. Seeing my opening, I scamper over to join him and lie down, trying to cuddle against him. Unfortunately a stiff plank would be more giving than my boyfriend at the mo-ment. And a moment later he rolls over, giving me the cold shoulder.
I scowl at his back. So it's like that, is it? Shirt charity aside, he's still mad.
"Wow, I never thought I'd spend my first night in England in a barn," I say, giving it one more attempt.
Maybe I can talk him out of being mad at me. It's worked before. "Pretty crazy."
"Especially when you consider we could have lain on a four-thousand-dollar bed with Egyptian cotton sheets tonight," Jareth remarks with more than a bitter note in his voice. Not exactly the reaction I'd hoped for.
"Geez, give it a rest," I grumble, annoyed he can't just move on. This could be a romantic adventure and all he can do is complain. "So I made a mistake. Do I have to be reminded every five seconds?"
Jareth shifts, pulling away from my hold. He stands up, paces the barn a few times, then turns to me.
"You know, it's awfully funny," he says, and I can tell by his tone that I'm not going to find what he says next the least bit amusing. "Here you were so worried about me embarrass-ing you."
I groan and give up. He's obviously not going to do the whole sun setting on your anger thing, so why should I bother?
"Whatever," I say, rolling my eyes and turning my back to him. "I still think your shirt is stupid."
+++
When I wake up the next morning at first I'm not quite sure where I am. Then I smell the hay and see the pitchforks and it all comes back to me. By the light of day the whole thing seems so dumb. Why had I opened my big mouth and told the vampires I was a slayer? I mean, sure, they were rude, but I was used to rudeness, right? Pretty much everyone I know has been rude to me at one time or another.
Including Jareth.
I sit up and scan the barn, finally locating my boyfriend on the polar opposite end of the barn. As far away from me as humanly (vampirely?) possible. Sigh. I wonder if he'll for-give me anytime soon or spend the day holding a grudge. I can't believe we're in yet another fight. Lately that seems all we ever do. And I can't break up with him. He's my blood mate for eternity. Not that I want to. I love him. I just don't know why we can't seem to get along anymore. It sucks.
The rain has ended and I can hear birds chirping outside. I walk over to the barn door and push it open, squinting in the early morning sunshine. The air is crisp, cool. I wrap my arms around my chest, hugging myself for warmth, wishing I had my luggage and access to my wool coat.
I couldn't see much last night but today I realize the barn is sitting on miles and miles of wild English countryside. Rolling green, grassy hills, stone fences, blossoming wild-flowers, and wandering sheep. It looks like something out of a postcard. Down the road I see a beautiful lake, the sun catching the water and making it sparkle.
"Ialways thought England was the most beautiful coun-try in the world," Jareth says, coming up behind me.
"I'm glad I'm getting to see it," I say, turning around, ready to kiss and make up. But Jareth doesn't look very interested. He sidesteps me and walks out into the open air. I sigh. This is going to be a long day.