Eternal: Chapter Nine, Part 9

“You no longer need me,” Drei said, gazing down at me. “I do love you, Abriel. Please do not think I will ever stop loving you. But right now, I need something for myself, something to do, some reason to continue on.”

“But I need you,” I persisted, a twinge of whining slipping into my voice.

He opened his mouth to protest again but I put a finger to his lips to stop him.

“It’s why I didn’t give you another job,” I said, hoping it wasn’t too late. If it was, I deserved everything that came of it. “Because I need you with me. This whole vampire thing is still new to me, Drei. I still need you to take care of me, to make sure I stay healthy because you and Caroline both know I have a nasty tendency to overestimate myself—Ian, too,” I admitted, though it was hard to do. Tears started filling my eyes, though I pushed them back. I didn’t want him to stay because he didn’t want to see me cry; I wanted him to stay because he felt needed here; because he could find what would make him happy here. “I can’t afford to overestimate myself now,” I whispered, swallowing, hoping my throat would clear and my voice would stop wavering. “Everything…everyone is relying on me. I would die if I let them down.”

“Do you—”

“Every word,” I promised, holding his gaze steadily, even if my voice was no longer so. I took his hands and put them on my hips. “I need you to take care of me, Drei—because I’m really, really bad at that.”

A slight smile crossed his lips as he nodded. “I agree with that.”

Wrapping my arms around his neck, his hands slipped from my hips so his arms were around my waist. “Will you stay?” I asked, having to look away before I really did start crying. This could go one of two ways: he could let go, apologizing and walk out the door anyway, or he could hold me tighter and say he’d stay. Though I knew there were two options, the longer I waited, the more it seemed like there only was one. My mind even started playing through how I would be if he left, suggesting I would start crying and no one could make me feel better and everything would fall apart.

“I love you…so much,” he said into my hair.

This was it, I found myself thinking. I dreaded hearing the apology because that would mean I was right, and I couldn’t argue with him because I would have received my just desserts. After three fourths of a year, more than that even, I still hadn’t talked to him as I had said I would.

“I shall stay with you.”

Despite his answer, I buried my face in his chest and cried as he held me closer with one arm, the other smoothing my hair.

“Why are you crying?” he asked, pulling slightly away, smiling kindly down at me.

Wiping tears out of my eyes with one hand, I answered, “Because I was so scared you would leave, and it would be my fault.”

Kissing my forehead, he assured me, “While it would have been partially your fault if I had left, it would have been the hardest thing I had done in years.”

“Then why were you going to leave?”

“Because hard things are still things that should be done.” Wiping a tear from my cheek, he tapped my nose. “But you have convinced me this is one thing I should not do.”

Smiling at him, my eyes probably watery, I asked if he needed help unpacking. He declined, saying I should sleep instead.

“Can’t I work a little longer?” I pleaded with him, having hoped to catch up with at least the old topics. Yes, the forums were a great source of feedback, but I also really enjoyed reading the varying responses.

“If I am to stay, you should listen to me,” he said, leaning closer to me.

“But there’s no fun in that,” I teased, bending backwards, smiling as he bent over to follow me.

“I never said there would be;” he caught my lips with his, both of us bent practically in half and slowly righting ourselves as we kissed. Drei pulled me closer to him, suddenly stopping. “You really should sleep now.”

“You’re evil,” I breathed, my lips barely brushing against his as I spoke. “If there’s more of this, I could listen better.”

“That is not you speaking,” he said, pulling a little further away. “That is your vampire’s lust.”

“My vampire is me, though.”

“When you can control her,” he countered, giving me a small kiss before sweeping me into his arms and heading toward the bedroom. He stopped any protestations I might have given by saying, in a very final tone, “You are to sleep now.”

When he set me down on the bed, exhaustion washed over me. I hadn’t realized I was tired, but then I was a specialist at denying it.

“Always pushing your limits,” Drei mused, crouching by the bed and smoothing the hair out of my face.

 I smiled sheepishly at him, my eyes closing. “That’s why I need you; so you can push back.”

“If you listen to me,” he mocked, pressing his forehead to mine.

“You’re not going to run off while I sleep, are you?” I asked before yawning and closing my eyes.

“No,” he promised, holding my hand now. “I have a purpose now.”

Eternal: Chapter Nine, Part 8

After three months touring and speaking with Nick, I was relieved to be home. Though most days went much like the first, some were more difficult in different ways. I had been felt up at least four times by guys who were chosen to check for wires, but I couldn’t say anything to them until after I was done—and I always did so with a smile. Nick wasn’t always so nice, though. Usually after they left the immediate area, he stopped them and slapped them around a little. I couldn’t agree with his methods, but I wasn’t going to stop him. If I hadn’t been personally against performing actual acts of violence, I would have done it myself.

Because I was revealing who I was and what I could do, it made it harder to be safe. People knew, the government knew, and bounty hunters were out in force. They couldn’t do anything when we were in the middle of the oration, and they typically refrained from trying afterwards given Nick was at my side—the bounty hunters didn't seem to recognize him as formerly one of their own. The point was to make me ‘disappear’ and that didn’t work if there were witnesses. So we manipulated our advantage the best we could and otherwise took every precaution of which we could think.

But after everything, it was great to be able to relax at home and see Drei again. Nick had even chilled out about the Drei-biting-me-because-I-almost-died thing by the time we returned. I think it was mostly because we were both exhausted.

Now we could sleep a little better until it was time for the next tour—this one also three months, though we had three months to prepare. The three months before we began planning the march would be spent on guest visits to anywhere that requested us via e-mail or a form on the site. I was glad to see, when I went online, Mikael and Xenia had successfully added a forum and much of the discussion concerned our speaking engagements. Some of the users also posted videos they had taken for those unable to attend an event. Caroline had been successful with her tour, as well, though it sounded as though people better connected with me—it was the little things.

A few weeks after Nick and I had returned, I was finally done visiting with everyone and catching up with what had happened in my absence. Returning to the apartment after my update with the Council, I sat on the couch, opening the laptop Caroline had bought for me so I could keep up with the website. I navigated to the site and started reading through the comments on the speaking engagements, looking to make improvements, if needed.

The door to the bedroom opened, but I didn’t pay any mind. Nick was out clubbing with Lily—a vampire whom he had been with for a while now; she was visiting for a week. Lily was also from the camp; she had left before Drei and I, but it hadn’t been until a few years ago that I'd learned where she had gone.

I figured Drei was waking up from a nap or something; it was quite late—I'd had to wait hours to see the Council because they were backed up with vampires who had used the holidays as a reason to “splurge,” as Tudor had so delicately explained. It wasn’t until I heard a heavy thump on the floor by the door I looked up. Drei stood there, slowly slipping into his shoes, kneeling to tie them. At his feet was a single bag. A bag I had only seen once before: when we had moved in.

“Where are you going?” I asked worriedly, setting the laptop on the couch next to me.

Without looking my way, he straightened again, taking a moment before he reached for his jacket. “I do not know,” he replied, shrugging into his coat, staring at the wall when he finished.

I was standing before him in a moment, feeling small compared to him, and shrinking. “Then why are you leaving?” One of my hands found his cheek, brushing his shaggy hair to the side.

“Because I am useless here,” he said softly, still refusing to even glance at me. “I need something to do. I cannot sit idly by while everyone has something to contribute.”

“But you’re wrong,” I insisted, needing him to look at me. “You aren’t useless.”

“Not even you need me,” Drei whispered, gently grabbing my hand and lowering it from his face. “Your campaign will be a wonderful success.”

I couldn’t believe what he was saying. He was the one who hadn’t wanted to come with me. If Nick hadn’t been there, I would have failed miserably. I wouldn’t have been able to stumble through the script Caroline and I had written. But if I had had my way, it would have been him there, not Nick.

“I still need—”

“I know when I am needed.” He almost never interrupted me; the only times I remembered him doing so were when things were awful, and I mean so horrendous he didn’t see another option.

Mentally I was kicking myself. I should have seen this coming. He had been distant for a while, strict for the short period after my breakdown but otherwise quiet and somber. I felt colder than I had in some time, responsible for what was happening. If I had talked to him about why he wasn’t an ambassador or in charge of something else, this wouldn’t be happening. But it was because I had forgotten, distracted by other people and things and myself. I couldn’t help thinking that if he left, despite my pleas, it would be my own fault and I would deserve it.

Eternal: Chapter Nine, Part 7

I waited, glancing from one person to the next, especially watching the doubters, hoping someone would speak up. My eyes wouldn’t beg anyone for a question, but I knew they were out there; just watching their faces, there were questions.

“How do we know you’re not making this all up?” Nick asked, filling the silence that no one else would breach, ending the anxiety and annoyance it had begun to instill in me. A good deal of attention was shifted to him for a moment before returning to me, many mumbles consenting with this question.

“Because I’m an air elemental. I grew up without my mother, another air elemental who was found and taken away by the governmental detail we refer to as bounty hunters. Because this is not something I would joke about.”

“Prove it,” a woman shouted from one of the picnic blankets.

I had spent the night thinking about what I would do and had determined a few ways, starting with the less showy. The woman who asked was named Dolores, which I found out from her friend who was somewhat embarrassed she had spoken up. Dolores—a tall brunette, curvy, and middle-aged—was thinking about her kids and the teenaged babysitter she left them with, whom she didn’t trust not to invite over her boyfriend or friends.

“Dolores, would you tell your friend with you…” I was saying, a trick to make her think her friend’s name for me, “…Joanie, that she shouldn’t be embarrassed you spoke up. This is an open forum because I don’t want any of you to believe me just because I say you should.” The women exchanged a confused look and there was some murmuring from the people gathered. “Because I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable,” I added, one hand on my chest, one hand reaching out toward her as if I could pat her hand, which I did do with the air, “I won’t ask for your address, but I think you should trust your babysitter. She probably has the kids playing a game or something.”

Dolores started talking excitedly to Joanie, first demanding if she had spoken to me at all and how I could know all of that. I withheld a smile, proud of myself, though I knew most people wouldn’t believe either of them.

“So how long have you known Dolores and Joanie?” a guy, standing relatively close to Nick, demanded, crossing his arms.

“I’ve never met them before,” I replied, “but you won’t believe me. And that’s okay.”

“Do something else?” a little black haired boy requested, his mother quickly shushing him though he waved her off.

“What do you want me to do?” I asked him, crouching down as he was in one of the lawn chairs near the gazebo steps.

He leaned forward excitedly, his rich brown eyes wide and glistening. “Can you fly?” he half-whispered.

Smiling, I stood again. “I can do something like flying,” I admitted, facing the skeptic near Nick.

“You probably know him, too,” he quipped, sneering. Some people just had no manners.

“She doesn’t,” the boy’s mother insisted, holding his head to her chest before he pushed her away, waiting eagerly to see his request fulfilled.

“Then you wanted someone to say that. There’s probably wires,” he reasoned, and while a few people agreed with him, more of them were tired of his doubting, even if they still weren’t convinced.

“So choose someone, anyone here, to check for wires,” I invited, opening my arms to encompass the entire company. “I won’t object.”

Thus, everyone started talking, automatically eliminating anyone who said they believed me and ruling out the skeptic for being too skeptical. Dolores, Joanie, and the boy and his family were also ruled out. Eventually they decided on a farmer type who was torn between believing God would allow a phenomena like this to happen and that elementals were spawns of the devil and therefore unnatural. He was, however, hesitant to do much more than swipe his hand above my head and arms should the latter be the truth. When other men in the crowd cheered him to check elsewhere on my person, he was very respectful and his cheeks burned red.

When he cleared me as wire-free, I asked him to step to the side, starting up my cycle of moving strings where he had been standing. Stepping onto my strings, it took me a moment to find my balance, not having done this for a while. Once I found it, though, I was good to go, slowly weaving through the crowd where there was enough space, eventually flying to the top of the gazebo and sitting down on a now solid block of air. The little boy was out of his seat staring open-mouthed up at me. Everyone was staring open-mouthed, even Nick who—I had forgotten—had never seen me do anything but little tricks.

As I sat above them, I properly read the crowd. For the most part, they were convinced. Quite a few had questions, but I could take those individually. Floating slowly back down, I felt it was time to improvise an ending since I had pretty much improvised everything else.

“Elementals exist,” I started, smiling at how many people were nodding in consent, in belief. Even the gentleman who had checked for wires. “Through us, small miracles still happen, our existence becomes less of a burden on the environment, and people are helped. But it won’t last if we let the government have its way. We exist; we’re people, human; we deserve our rights, too. But it’s the efforts of everyone together that’s going to make a change possible,” I finished, looking around again. I couldn’t seem to remember why I had ever been nervous to begin with. “I’ll be here for a while yet, so feel free to ask questions.”

Nick was the last one I looked at before thanking the crowd and going to sit on one of the benches in the gazebo. He had been smiling, silently clapping for me. Seeing that made me feel so warm inside.

And the feeling didn’t stop there, either. Most of the people who came up to talk to me introduced themselves and commented on how I had been, or how amazing it was to see me fly, or tell me how they wanted to help in any way they could. Every time they asked my name, I answered with “Leirba,” staying true to Drei’s instructions.

Though the original speech was meant to awe and inspire and be longer and better organized, among other things, I felt I had found my niche. Caroline worked well with a prepared script; she liked to talk at people and have them listen. Me? Well, it seemed improvising with facts readily available afterwards was more my speed. I liked to talk to people, and connect in that fashion. If the feedback was any indication, that was how I was going to succeed.

Eternal: Chapter Nine, Part 6

Drei had chosen the exact location for this speech to be the gazebo where, on sunnier days, local musicians would showcase their talent and school bands would hold fundraisers. It was a huge, well-kept, white gazebo with intricate lattice work and was in a well shaded area. Nick and I arrived an hour before it was scheduled to begin. I had left behind my notebook and notes, not wanting to carry them with me. Though I had it memorized, I was beginning to feel nervous again, wishing I had brought it along after all.

“You’ll be great,” Nick insisted, squeezing my shoulder. “Remember, I’ll be in the audience, by that tree,” he added, pointing to a tall oak tree straight out from one of the entrances to the gazebo.

Touching his hand, soaking in the comfort it was trying to offer, I nodded, knowing he had to leave and show up after other people had, if anyone did. He would stay nearby should I need him, but we wanted to limit the number of faces directly related to our campaign for the time being.

He walked away, looking back once as if to assure me he would be under that tree before I started speaking. That I wasn’t some puppy he was going to leave by the side of the road and never return to. Not that I had been thinking that. Really. All right, maybe a little.

I sat, concentrating on breathing, relaxing until Nick’s cell phone alarm went off in my pocket—doubling as a reminder he had to return. As I breathed, I tried not to think if I was dressed appropriately in my blue jeans, long, loose-fitting blouse, and sweater jacket; I attempted to stop my brain from going through opinions whoever showed might already have of me, how I would work around that, and if I could at all. I wasn’t succeeding very well.

Slowly, my silence was infiltrated as the park started filling with people, some of them stopping to stare at me while others just stood around chatting. Focusing on the first words of my speech, I tried droning them out, forcing myself not to be concerned with their words

There was a soft buzzing in my back pocket. Pulling out the cell phone, I turned it off, exhaling slowly until there was no air in my lungs.

Show time.

Standing up, I faced the oak tree Nick had pointed out, surprised to see a good sized group of people before me. Some sat on picnic blankets, relaxing with friends; some had brought lawn chairs; others were standing under or leaning against trees. A shush fell across them like dominoes as the people closest to the gazebo noticed me there.

Part of me, the part scared senseless right then, wanted to walk down the steps and pretend I had just been waiting in the gazebo for the speaker. To let it end here with all of them disappointed, never to be bothered again.

Glancing around, my eyes caught Nick’s, and I knew I couldn’t let them down. Most of them had probably been avid listeners and followers of Caroline’s revolution when it had ended—indirectly my fault. They had been waiting for a change, craving one. I couldn’t reward their patience and devotion with more disappointment.

Swallowing, I stepped forward, forcing myself to calm down, at least on the surface. I wasn’t Caroline; I could draw attention, but I didn’t know how to command it as she did. The beginning she had written was what worked for her, but standing before all of these expectant people now, I knew it wasn’t what was going to work for me.

“Welcome,” I greeted, opening my arms to all of them. “That you’re here today means you’ve seen the commercials; you’ve visited the site; now you want to know more,” I started, risking looking around at everyone. My nerves were still going crazy but at least it wasn’t showing in my voice. Nick gave me a thumbs up. “For anyone who hasn’t read the literature on the site, allow me to summarize. There are people who look normal, have regular jobs, lead average lives, but are different. They can control one of the four elements: water, fire, earth, air.” I had thought I might do something to emphasize this point, but decided to leave the theatrics until someone asked. Right now, the message was the important part.

“As I said, they are regular people, just like everyone here, but a little different. Not different in a bad way,” I added, still on guard but starting to relax. It was hard reading just their expressions and I didn’t want to distract myself with reading their impressions just yet. The general feeling was patience, calm, and interest; doubt was only in a few spots. I’d see how that changed in a moment when I went into the heavy stuff. “Instead of treating people like this, like me, with the same respect as everyone one else, though, our government chooses to hunt us. To gather a special detail of people to search for us, find us, and take us into captivity for research to use our gifts, against our will, as a weapon. Gifts that are meant to be given to everyone to improve life, to assist us in coexisting with our environment; gifts that have been at work silently bringing change into our lives for centuries.

“But these gifts won’t be around forever,” I stated, feeling stronger, feeling empowered by finally saying what no one else would. There was no turning back after this moment; no one could erase spoken words, even if they managed to erase those written. “The elements endow us to benefit as many as possible, but that’s their only purpose. They won’t stand for being used as a weapon, or being misused in any way.” Saying this, I thought of Mom and knew she would be proud if she could be here—this was one of her lessons to me, after all. But I also sensed the increasing doubt among my listeners. This was the abstract part now, the part I’d have to back soon with proof. “Some of you may remember another revolution, aimed at the government. Everything that was the case then, is still the case now,” I said, beginning to talk more with my hands. “But this is a case of civil rights, one of many faults in a structure that is failing. Another omission in an ever growing list.”

No one had left yet, and no one had completely lost interest; even the doubters were still listening, still staring at me. Even as they grew more skeptical, something about whatever I was saying was rooting them here. I wasn’t sure what exactly, but I figured it didn’t matter so long as they kept listening.

“This blatant disregard of our rights as citizens—as human beings—breaks apart families, ruins relationships, forces all of us into hiding…until now. We refuse to stay silent any longer. We want to live peacefully and help where we can. To do that, we need all the help you can give.”

Eternal: Chapter Nine, Part 5

Smoothing the hair out of his face, I realized how much he had grown up from two years ago. His eyes and facial structure hadn’t changed at all, but the set of his jaw seemed more serious than playful. His skin was dark as if he had spent a lot of time outside, or maybe it was dark in comparison to my paling skin. He was already starting to show crow’s feet though, and laugh lines from smiling so much. It was almost like he was aging faster than most people did, or perhaps that was just in comparison to me.

“You’re the only one who hasn’t told me I’ve changed,” I said softly, sitting back. My fingers were still running through his damp hair—it was really soft and I found the repetition of movement soothing.

“I didn’t know if you’d want to hear it,” he admitted, closing his eyes. “That feels really good, by the way.”

Smirking, I asked, “So do I look different?”

One of his jade gems flashed up at me before he answered, “You’re paler, you seem more serious, and you’re cool to the touch, even when other people are hot and sweaty.”

Nodding, I thanked him. No one else had said how I was different, just that I was, and hearing how actually made me feel less worried. For a while I was wondering if I had a huge sign painted on my forehead saying “different” and I was the only one who didn’t know.

“You and Drei are closer,” he said, starting to fully relax, one of his hands dangling off the side of the couch now. At least one of us could relax. “Does that have anything to do with you changing?” When I didn’t say anything, he asked, “Aren’t you two worried about being found out?”

After a moment I knew I had to say something, even if it meant he would know both answers. “Things are different now.”

His eyes flew open and I felt his muscles tense. “What do you mean?”

“Just that,” I said, holding his eyes steadily. “Things are different now.”

He sat and spun to face me. “A—”

“Leirba,” I interrupted before he could screw everything up. To most of the public, Abriel had died more than a year ago, mysteriously disappearing from the hospital where they attempted a surgery to save her life after she had been admitted for a gunshot wound. Not to mention Abriel was supposed to have died before that, at the docks, after having successfully escaped one of the secret government “research labs” that conveniently doubled as an elemental prison. Leirba was safe from both death and the government—for a short while anyway.

Nick bit his bottom lip, holding back his frustration; he wanted to be straightforward about this and using an alternate name felt like a game. He was too easy to read when he was upset.

Before he could say anything else, I sighed and suggested, “We should go back to the room if we’re going to have this discussion.”

“Why? I thought things were different now?” he snipped childishly, his eyes watery. He even looked younger as his lips pouted—unintentionally.

“Because if this is going where I think it is,” I replied, grabbing my notebook and pulling him behind me, “then it still has to stay a secret.”

“Oh, so it’s a secret that he—”

Whipping my head around, I glared at him. He might have been taller than me, but I was more powerful and he knew that; I’d pushed him across a room once when he wasn’t listening to me. Nick shushed immediately and didn’t say a word until the door was closed behind us.

“He bit you.” It wasn’t a question.

“There were circumstances,” I said, staring out the window at the wintry sky. Halloween wasn’t too far off but it may as well have been the middle of February.

“What circumstances excuse him turning you into a…”

“I was dying,” I murmured under him. It took him a moment to realize I had said anything, thus his voice trailing off. He moved to stand before me at the window, one hand on my shoulder.

“What?” He forced himself to be calmer now so he would hear me.

“I was dying,” I repeated, my eyes following a few late birds through the sky. “The doctors had done what they could…so Drei did what he could.”

“You asked for this?” Nick asked, his voice soft with a note of betrayal.

“No;” his eyes were still watery but more from hurt than anything else. And it wasn’t hurt for himself. “I thought I was dead.”

“That’s why you’re going—”

“By Leirba, and it’s very important we stick to it.” I held his gaze a second longer before concentrating outside again. “It makes things complicated, but time is time.”

“You have more than time,” he said as though I hadn’t thought about it. “You have eternity.”

“So now you know.” When he didn’t move, as if waiting for me to say something else, I told him, “You handled it better than Mitchell and Valetta.”

Another silence enveloped us and I hated it. I wasn’t sure why, but more and more lately, I felt the compulsion to fill any silence in conversations. When I was alone, it was perfectly fine; but when I was with someone else, the silence only aggravated me and I had no explanation for it.

“Ready for tomorrow?” I wondered if he really knew that’s what I had switched to thinking about or if he was just trying to change the subject.

“No,” I confessed, still not looking at him. Some part of me felt like looking at him would reveal something he wasn’t saying. And if that was true, I was certain it wouldn’t be something helpful to my nerves or situation.

Pulling me into his strong arms as he had done before when I was scared or crying or both, I started feeling better. It wasn’t as effective as Drei saying a few words and touching my cheek or hand, but it still worked.

“If you start to get nervous, just remember I’ll be standing out in the audience,” he whispered into my hair. “I’m here for you.”

Wrapping my arms around him, too, I let him comfort me, allowing his confidence to sink into and fill me. Tomorrow would be great. I just had to breathe, stay calm and optimistic, and remember most of the people who would be there were already partially on my side. And Nick would be there if I started to panic.

How did I end up so lucky?

Eternal: Chapter Nine, Part 4

By October, the commercials were done and available on the site, everyone was back in school, and Caroline and I had worked out the first speech. We would be delivering the same speech in separate locations—her idea since we didn’t have time for me to do all of it alone. Half a year was already gone and in a year’s time, we needed to begin planning the march. I think the main inspiration of a march came from her never leading her own. Personally, I could have lived without one, but it made for a great way to bring everyone together and finish out two years. If enough people showed up, there was my proof I had made significant impact.

Drei had opted not to travel with me, though his reasoning was ambiguous. The day before I left, Valetta and Mitchell had returned, exhausted but smiling. Everyone had trusted them and had agreed if they felt threatened by what we were doing, they would contact the Council who would contact me directly and handle the problem—meaning there wouldn’t be a problem.

I wasn’t sure what Drei was doing while I was traveling across the northeast—Caroline had insisted on taking the south, probably because she wasn’t fond of the cold. He wasn’t fighting with Nick, though. Nick, when Drei declined to accompany me, asked if he might. There wasn’t much for him to do as we wouldn’t need a security detail until the march. Having one at the casual speeches would give us the wrong image, even if everyone except Caroline and Ian disagreed. Even Justin and Angeline said I should take few muscles with me, warning against rioting and government intervention. But that would only provide a reason for there to be intervention and that was something I wanted to avoid.

Drei, of course, had no opinion on this. If he had, he would have sounded a bit hypocritical by not wanting to come. But I wasn’t going to think about that because I couldn’t risk being bitter.

Having Nick along wasn’t so bad, though. It gave me a chance to show him I hadn’t changed much. The way he had acted since that first night staying with us made me uncomfortable, though he probably felt doubly so. He was the only one not to mention I looked different—not that I would know I looked different for obvious reasons. Maybe some one-on-one time was all we really needed.

“Are you sure you don’t want a separate room?” Nick asked as we rode the elevator to the fourth floor and our hotel room. “Drei won’t mind or anything?”

“Nick, I trust you,” I assured him for the third time since he had seen the reservations. “Unless there’s some reason why I shouldn’t, in which case you should tell me now.”

“No reason you shouldn’t trust me; I was just thinking—”

“If Drei cared, he’d be here,” I said somewhat bitterly. I hadn’t meant for it come out that way. There wasn’t anything I could think of to say to him to make it better.

Opening the door to the room and dropping our bags on the beds—mine farthest from the window—he announced he was taking a shower. I sat on the edge of my bed and tried to figure out what I was going to do. I didn’t want to be outside, but I didn’t want to stay in the room, either. Part of me was anxious about the speech in the morning at the park. Drei had helped me choose the locations for all of the orations—most of which were in parks, though a few he arranged to be at college campuses.

Grabbing my notebook, I headed to find a quiet corner in the lounge downstairs.

I stared at the first words of my speech. “Elementals are a miracle, a blessing, the chance to help the environment and ourselves; our government wants to take that away, to misuse our gifts. And they don’t expect any consequences for their actions.” It seemed more than an hour I stared at them, unsure how I had ever agreed to do this alone. How it was Drei wouldn’t be there, at least for the first one. I could already guess whoever showed up tomorrow would want some excellent show of power—which I wasn’t prepared for—and probably demand how I knew what I did about the abusive process of breaking elementals. Could I prove that homes were broken by this? Could I prove anything?

Cradling my head in my hands, I forced myself to breath, hoping the old pastime of slow breathing would calm my nerves and make the threat of hyperventilating dissipate. If he was here, he’d probably say it was all right and I’d instantly feel better. Especially if he added something about how wonderful I was going to be. And worse come to worse, he would be in the audience for me to look at if things started to go awry.

He wasn’t going to be there, though. And he wasn’t going to pop up out of nowhere to tell me I had a brilliant speech, I had something important to say, and even if some left tomorrow feeling cheated, a lot more would leave even more devoted to our cause.

“You don’t look too good,” Nick observed, leaning over the back of the couch. For a split second I almost let my mind lie to me and say it was Drei. But I knew better, and lying to myself now wouldn’t help anything.

“You’re dripping on me,” I complained, swiping at the wet spots on the back of my blouse.

“Oh, really?” he wondered aloud. If I had turned around to look at him, I probably would have seen a mischievous curve to his lips and known what was coming next. As I opened my mouth to say something else, Nick bent further over and started shaking his head like a wet dog, splattering me in water.

“Oh, stop that,” I said, angrily, not in the mood for silliness. Maybe one-on-one time was exactly the opposite of what we needed.

Nick stopped shaking his head, a smile on his lips. His hair was curly now that it was partially dried. One particularly long curl fell into his jade eyes, but he didn’t move it. “I’m not dripping on you anymore,” he pointed out.

Smiling was inevitable; it was Nick, after all, and I had always found his happiness infectious. Closing my notebook, I sat it next to me on the open cushion. Nick jumped over the back of the couch and laid down, his legs dangling over the armrest and his head now resting in my lap. So much for being dry.

“If you didn’t like being wet, you shouldn’t have said anything,” he commented, staring up at me with his bright gems.

Eternal: Chapter Nine, Part 3

“How so?” I leaned forward, resting my chin on the heels of my palms. Finally, I would have an answer and, this time, it wasn’t to my own problem. Though I was certain this wasn’t a good thing he was about to tell me, I was grateful for the distraction.

“I remember when Caroline first told me she was a fire elemental, though, then, we didn’t know that was the name for it. It wasn’t long after I came into my own powers; I think we were 13 or 14. But I told her because it was really crazy what had happened—I mean, it wasn’t anything huge or particularly obvious, but suddenly I was hearing conversations and animals and the like when they weren’t even nearby,” he explained, leaning forward on his elbows. “It wasn’t spectacular, but it was like my hearing had improved 10 fold. And she was the first person I told.

“When I did, she told me I shouldn’t tell people about it because it made me look crazy and no one wanted to associate with a loony. So I asked her what right she had to say that, thinking she was just jealous. Then she explained it was what her parents told her.” Shaking his head, he tapped his fingers on the counter top. When he met my gaze again, he continued, “I didn’t believe her at first and then she lit a fire in her palm. Well, lit isn’t the right word, but you understand what I mean.”

I nodded, remembering when she had done the same to me upon our first encounter. That memory brought a smirk to my lips; her little fire didn’t last long after I pulled the air around it away. It was our exchange of secrets and the whole reason she took me on in the first place. “What did you do?”

“I told her we couldn’t both be crazy and then had to go home. When I told my grandmother she explained what was happening and told me it didn’t make me crazy; it just meant I had to be more careful about where and when I did things. She told me I was free to experiment in my room if I kept the curtains and the door closed, but nowhere else. I also asked if she could teach me things, but that’s when I found out it was her mother, not her, who had been an air elemental before me. She told me not even my father had it; she also said it made me special.”

“Well, it does. What about Caroline?”

“When I told her what my grandmother had said, she didn’t believe me. Instead, she put more stock into what her parents had said, fighting me for well over an hour before storming off to go home. The next day she didn’t show up at school, so I went to the soda shop on the square, her favorite one. Sure enough, she was there with a root beer float, crying in a corner. She tried acting like she hadn’t been crying, but she gave up when I sat down and told her I wasn’t leaving. That’s when she told me she had been fighting with her parents the night before about what I’d told her. She admitted she had liked the sound of not being crazy for being different, but her parents insisted whoever had put the thoughts in her head was out of line and she should stay away from him.

“Caroline, being Caroline, told them she wouldn’t listen to them anymore and when they tried to control her—which she didn’t say how—her skin superheated and blistered her father’s hands. She didn’t want to come to me because, she said, that would mean saying I was right;” he chuckled to himself and a smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. “Instead, she waited in her tree house until the soda shop had opened and went there.”

“What happened after that? Did they ever accept that they couldn’t change her?”

His head shook sadly, his lips pressed into a pale line. “We went to see my grandmother, who assured Caroline she wasn’t a freak or crazy or anything else. She stayed with us for the day and then went home that night. After that, she became even more hardheaded, but it was because she was fighting her parents at home almost every night. No one at school knew anything outside she had become a royal pain—well, more of one. But whenever she was too flustered to go home and speak reasonably for even a short period of time, she stayed over with me.

“After about a year, her parents asked me why I was still hanging around her when she was so ‘uncontrollable’ and ‘obviously unwell.’ She never did tell them I’m the one who told her she wasn’t a freak or crazy. When I told them because we were friends and she seemed fine to me, they insisted I either wasn’t well or too good to be true. That’s when, to add insult to injury, they began insisting we date and eventually wed.”

“I bet Caroline didn’t like that.”

“You’ve got that right,” Ian said, his eyes wide as he recalled the blowup that had led to. “About a year after that she came out to her parents. They thought it was to spite them—which it was in a way. She had been interested in only girls for a few years at that point, but she had never told them before. When they wouldn’t take no for answer, she told them and that was just—it just wasn’t good. They were not a happy family by any means. Caroline would use her gifts around the house and started bringing girlfriends home to annoy them. She figured it was only fair because they annoyed her. Really, it was just an ugly circle of events.

“Then when we went to college,” he continued, “she started getting better. She was calmer and typically more open to varying opinions. Then, after hearing everyone else talk about how wonderful a relationship they had with their parents, she decided she wanted that for herself and called home.”

“Not good?” I guessed, grimacing. I could only imagine how it had turned out, and it didn’t look pretty in my mind.

Shaking his head, he elaborated, “The first phone call wasn’t bad. But after that, they started insisting if she wanted to talk, she had to come home. So she did; and when she came back at the end of that weekend, she was worse than she had ever been in high school. It was a constant case of PMS and worsened by the fact she either had to go home semi-regularly or they would begin visiting campus, with the threat of them recommending mental guidance and anger management for her.

“The rest is pretty much downhill from there. They set up a schedule of times she’s required to visit, and then, occasionally, they drop in for a visit—those are typically unannounced. She obliges and the tradeoff is she can live on their dime on her terms.”

“But she still has to listen to their opinions on her life,” I added, having heard that bit before.

“And their complaining about her element.”

I nodded, better understanding her earlier behavior and her motivation to make this work within my timeline. The sooner we were in the open, the sooner she could prove her parents wrong. Though, from the sound of it, they weren’t the type to admit fault. That’s probably where Caroline learned it.

Neither of us said anything for a long time. I didn’t have anything I could say to him without facing some sort of consequence and that was the topic that most interested him.

“Did you want to stay for dinner?” I offered, regardless how random it seemed—I needed to break the silence somehow.

Just as I asked, Nick walked through the door, dinner rolls in hand. He handed them to me, saying to Ian, “You should. We’ll have enough food.”

“Nick, was it?” Ian inquired, not because he didn’t remember but because he was stalling.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” I said, preheating the oven.

“I don’t see why not,” Ian said after a moment. “Caroline shouldn’t need anything tonight.”

“And she can call if she does,” I finished for him, pulling an extra table setting from the cupboard. Drei had bought new dishes and such to replace the ones I’d broken; these were sturdier than the other ones had been—probably in anticipation of another meltdown.

Dinner was fabulous and Ian left contented after Drei and Nick had both assured him I was doing fine. It helped to have two people vouch for me; after he had asked each of them, he let it go.

The next day I spoke with Mikael and Xenia about the website and adding videos. They said it’d be a cinch and would start the formatting for it now while they could work together over the layout; they seemed excited to start when they left. When Nick came home that night, he brought the sketched story board for the next commercial for my approval.

I went with him the next day to give suggestions—all minor because the story board was great when it came to the big ideas—and that was also when Caroline unloaded what seemed like her entire life’s homework and a few flash drives on me. The information was more than welcome as most of it was already targeted against the government, saving me half the leg work. As for how relevant it was to my revolution, I’d find out soon enough. After these commercials were done, Caroline and I would be traveling and speaking publicly, wherever we could to whoever would listen. People would need to put a face with the idea, and that was the best way, in my opinion, to do it.

Eternal: Chapter Nine, Part 2

Ian stopped by later that day as I was preparing supper. Nick was helping me, but decided to run to the grocery store for some rolls when Ian arrived. I know he knew I was having individual conferences with people, so I wasn’t sure if he’d gone because of that or simply because he really wanted rolls at dinner.

“Hey, love,” Ian greeted as Nick ran out the door. He kissed my cheek and asked, “Would you like some help.”

“You don’t have to,” I said, washing my hands. “I can finish later.”

“What are you making?” he asked, rolling up his sleeves and washing his hands.

“Veggie fried rice with sesame chicken. Nick says he knows a great recipe for the chicken,” I answered. “I’m cleaning the chicken. You can cut it up if you want.”

“How big?”

“Bite sized chunks.”

He nodded, taking up the knife and working on the breast already on the cutting board. “So do you have a new tagline?”

“Of course.” I had been thinking about it for some time and decided to stick with miracles as the central theme. “The next set will be based around ‘miracles are unstoppable,’ because after that set airs, no matter what happens, no matter what people want to believe, they know,” I said, working on removing excess fat and bits of gristle from the next breast. “Most people won’t want to live with the guilt, and even if they can, someone else will step up.”

“You’re right about that,” he said, setting the knife down. “What do you want me to do with these?”

“There’s a bowl to your right;” I pointed to the ceramic bowl with the chunks Nick had already cut up. “The last set of commercials will be based on ‘miracles never die.’ That one isn’t aimed to the people as much as it is to the government. They need to know this won’t stop with just us. Others like us, and even unlike us, are tired. Tired of being lied to, exploited, mistreated in general.”

“I can do that,” he assured me as I handed him the next breast, starting on the last one. “Did I tell you how much I love designing your ‘miracle’ commercials?”

“Only a couple of times;” I smiled, unable to help myself.

“Well, I do.” His eyes darted my way for a fraction of a second, reflecting the grin on his lips. “How have you been doing?”

“Good, thank you,” I responded, not even thinking about it. It was one of those automatic responses hardwired into me; I would have said ‘good, thank you’ even if the world was burning to ashes around me. “Yourself?”

“I’m good.” After a moment, he added, “But you weren’t.”

He finished chopping as I finished cleaning. I handed him the last breast and then washed my hands; then I scrubbed the sink with hot, soapy water and bleach.

“I’m fine now,” I persisted, rinsing the suds down the drain. I checked the rice, though I wasn’t sure how to tell if the rice cooker was working or not; I hadn’t used one before, but Nick seemed to trust it.

“But you weren’t.”

I wanted to retort snidely about how that was obvious, but Ian wasn’t attacking me. I knew that. He was doing what Caroline hadn’t—though I had wanted her to. “Why does it matter?”

“Because I felt it,” Ian said, looking up from what was left of the chicken breast. “You’re my friend, Abriel—Leirba—whatever you prefer. Maybe it’s because you’re also air, but my connection to you is different from anyone else. When you hurt, I feel it as if it were my own pain.”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, turning my back to him and going about cleaning up. I didn’t want him, or anyone else, to feel what I felt, especially not when I had been that badly off. But I couldn’t control that, and I doubted he could either. If he could have, I was sure he would have stopped after I almost died—well, did die, kind of.

“Did you want to talk about it?” Dropping the last of the chicken into the bowl, he placed the cutting board in the sink and ran some hot bleach water for it to soak. He washed his hands, saying, “I have time if you wanted to.”

“I can’t,” I said, trying to find something else to do and discovering the rest of it Nick would have to finish as he hadn’t left instructions for me to follow.

“Can’t…or won’t?” The way he said it wasn’t hurtful or mean, but it still stung. No one else had questioned me about that, and I had started to assume people wouldn’t. Now that someone had, I couldn’t remember how I had planned to reply.

“I’ve talked to Drei already, and I am feeling better. But I can’t really talk about it with anyone else because it would lead to a conversation about something I can’t discuss.” I knew it sounded terrible and pathetic, but I hoped it would sate some fraction of his curiosity.

“I won’t ask;” Ian walked around to the other side of the counter and sat down. “But I’m here if you ever want to, even if you’re not supposed to.”

Silence found its way between us for a short while before I decided to ask the question I hadn’t been able to ask Caroline: “Is something wrong with Caroline?”

“What do you mean?” he asked, leaning forward on his elbows.

“She seemed weird when she was here earlier. Like she was overcompensating for something by being less argumentative.”

Ian’s head bobbed slightly, though he didn’t say anything. It was like he was debating whether or not to tell me about it. I would understand if he didn’t—it was only fair. But I was hoping he’d find it decent to share.

“Her parents dropped by for a visit a few days ago and finally left today,” he said, almost as if that answered it.

A couple years ago, when I had met Caroline’s parents, they seemed like perfectly normal people who may have loved their only daughter a touch too much. However, appearances, especially in the world Caroline and I both hailed from, were everything but meant nothing about the real person underneath. And there was definitely something about her parents because, that entire vacation, even Ian had been stressed. It was the first time I had seen him stressed in a subdued, biting his tongue, way. And Caroline’s stress had been off the charts. I had never had the opportunity to know why that was, and I had been too preoccupied with my own problems to ask then.

“What is it about her parents she doesn’t like?” I asked, hopefully in a way that suggested I wasn’t forcing him to answer.

He opened his mouth to say something before closing it. Exhaling, his lips curling upward, he noted, “You never got to be alone with them. They are two real pieces of work.”

Eternal: Chapter Nine, Part 1

Chapter Nine: Reason to Stay

Good news met me upon my return. The commercial was a success. Within the first 24 hours the website had several thousand hits. That turned into several hundred million after a week’s time. Mikael and Xenia added a comments section to the site after the first day; while some people insisted we were crazy, insane, needed to be locked up for life, there were even more who asked what it was like, how did it feel. They believed; even if there was only a hint of belief, it was enough.

Drei, still worried about me—never straying too far, always looking over his shoulder, watching for signs that something was happening again—and wouldn’t let me hold a group meeting to discuss our budding success and the next set of commercials. If he could have, I think he may have swept me away somewhere new to hopefully forget about everything again—likely a better option than fighting himself. Time and second chances weren’t luxuries we had, though; he eventually compromised on individual meetings with my team.

Caroline was first because she had demanded it. I needed to talk to Ian about the next set of commercials, but there wasn’t a point in arguing.

“Missed you at the party,” she said, sitting down across from me in the living room. “What happened?”

“Long story;” I hoped she would drop it. “I’m better now.”

“Well, at least you’re better.” She waited a moment as though vainly hoping the silence would drive me to reveal my secrets. “Anyway, you saw the numbers, right?”

“Most of them,” I said, nodding toward my notebook. “You won’t show me how much you’re paying for everything.”

Smirking, she said, “Good. That’s how I wanted it. And…we’re ahead of schedule;” she crossed her legs and leaned forward on her elbows. “So we only have two more rounds of commercials and two more additions to the website left before we go live.”

“We’re not going live with broadcasts; we’re going live—”

“As in speaking publicly,” she finished, waving a hand to the side. “I remember. More my point was, with a website, we could put together mini broadcasts that people could download for free. That way people who can’t see either of us speak can still know what’s going on.”

“I’ll talk to Mikael and Xenia about it.” I liked the idea; I had already planned to discuss making the commercials available on the site with them, and this tied rather nicely into that. My primary goal with the website was to keep the message accessible, especially as it evolved.

“Also, did you plan on keeping the apartment as your office?”

“I don’t see why not.”

Shrugging, she replied, “Nothing wrong with it. I was just wondering.”

“You didn’t buy something, did you?”

Caroline stood, denying it. I couldn’t help but feel she had, or was looking to, at least. “I’d best be going,” she said, giving me a hug before heading toward the door. “I’ll see if I can find any of my old research and bring it over. You can look through and see if anything’s useful,” she explained over her shoulder. “Take care, Abs.”

“You, too.”

I was surprised Caroline hadn’t thrown a fit, but that might have been because she’d already thrown it to Drei or someone else. She was behaving strangely, though, more secretive than usual; she also didn’t try to make me talk about it like she usually would have. How much did Drei tell everyone, if anything at all? Or was this something else entirely?

Vampiric: Chapter Nine, Part 10

“And now to start the year off right for the couples in the crowd,” the DJ announced, starting the music back up with a slow song.

“May I?” she asked hesitantly.

“Why not?”

Caroline spun me in a circle before we started slow dancing. Part of me knew it was dangerous because she probably still liked me, but I always hated sitting out on slow songs. And she was good about keeping it a dance between friends.

“Mind if I cut in?” the cutesy girl—the one Ian had been dancing with earlier—asked. She twisted a blond curl around her finger and ground the toe of her right shoe against the floor.

“For whom?” Caroline asked, though I’m not sure she actually saw the girl.

The girl’s dark eyes darted to the floor. “You.”

“Go ahead;” I stepped back. Caroline eyed the girl, and I could tell she was thinking how this girl was so unlike her past girlfriends. It was healthy for her to be uncertain, though. After they started dancing, I headed to the bar, the energy that had filled me previously replaced by extreme thirst.

“Lime water, please?” I took a seat.

“Hi,” a guy beside me said, slightly waving with the hand not holding his beer.

I nodded, otherwise choosing to ignore him. He was darkly tanned with sun-kissed brown hair and green-blue eyes. “Thanks,” I said to the bartender who handed me my water. I pulled a dollar from my wristlet and left it in the bucket on the counter.

“What’s your name?” he asked as I slipped from the stool and headed to the tables on the other side of the dance floor. I wanted to have fun, not be hit on by some gorgeous stranger. Even as I reminded myself I wasn’t looking for someone—not even to dance with—my mind argued that I still wanted the attention, that it wouldn’t hurt to hear someone tell me I was beautiful.

I caught sight of Ian at a table, but he was busy talking with the uptown miss, occasionally kissing her. The music returned to remixes as I found an empty table. The guy from the bar was following me. Not too close, but he wasn’t trying to disguise it either. I wasn’t sure if I was glad he had followed—if that was a compliment to me that he even would—or if I wished he would just go away. I did know that I wasn’t emotionally ready to deal with him. I had just started dealing with my other problems.

“Anyone sitting there?” He flashed me a dazzling smile. Pretending not to hear, I wondered if it’d be easier to turn him away if he didn’t look so handsome. Taking my silence as a no, he sat, sitting his beer on the table and saying, “Now, a lovely lady like you should have a name.”

Taking a sip from my water, I glanced at him from the corner of my eye. “Not one you need to know.”

He leaned forward on his elbows, capturing my gaze for a moment before I pulled away and stared at the crowd. “I’m Dominic, but everyone calls me Dom.”

“Well, Dom,” I said, glancing around again as if looking for someone, “I’m not interested.”

Dom didn’t say anything, but he pulled his chair closer to mine. One of his fingers trailed down my forearm, sending goose bumps along my skin. “You will be,” he insisted, the words just audible over the music.

I pulled my arm away from him, finishing my drink. At this point, I had two options. One of them I knew was the wrong choice, so I went in search of Caroline.

“Lovely, lovely lady,” he called, grabbing my hand and twisting me into his embrace. He was strong; I could feel the muscles in his arms flex around me. His body against mine was hard and sculpted. I wouldn’t have minded staying there if the proximity hadn’t reminded me of Drei. Of our dance lessons and how those often resulted in kisses.

“Let go,” I demanded, struggling to hold myself together. All I wanted now was to be home. To go to sleep and hope I could stop finding him everywhere. It didn’t seem possible I could go from being okay with thinking about him to being close to tears because of one stranger. I hated it.

“What’s the matter, lovely lady?” I could feel his eyes scanning my face as I tried to find Caroline. If I could see her, I could send her a message. I could ask her to make him stop, because I couldn’t without drawing too much attention and I was technically supposed to be dead.

His lips found mine and, for a brief moment, I was caught up in the alcoholic smokiness of his breath before it started to choke me; smoke turned out to be far worse than water. I tried pushing him away, breaking from his embrace, but he wouldn’t let go; I knew tears weren’t too far off. Blanketing the room, I searched for Caroline that way, trying to ignore his nipping at the base of my neck. His lips were tickling my skin, bordering on being consummately distracting. And in all the wrong ways.

“Caroline,” I whispered, finally finding her in the crowd. She turned in my mapping, apologizing to her partner. “Stop,” I said, trying to pull away.

“Why are you crying?” he asked stupidly before his head jerked backwards.

“Maybe because she doesn’t like being treated like that,” Caroline yelled, yanking on his hair some more. I couldn’t imagine what he was feeling but waves of heat were washing from her and the people nearby were backing away. He let go, pain etched across his face.

Without staying around to hear whatever she was saying to him, I pushed my way through the crowd, trying to find my way out. I couldn’t stay here. I had to go. I needed fresh air, to breathe, to try and slow my racing pulse.

Someone grabbed my hand from in the crowd and pulled me along. Ian glanced back at me. “No worries, love,” he said, smiling grimly. He didn’t let go of my hand until we were outside. I wished we were at the beach still so I could walk out over the water, inhale the heavy sea breeze and calm down. But we weren’t at the beach. And all I could inhale was the stale city air, traces of smoke finding its way into my lungs.

Caroline wasn’t far behind us, running to catch up. When she did, she wrapped her arms around me saying, “God, Abs. That was awful. I’m so—”

I tore out of her embrace, not wanting her to touch me. At that moment, I couldn’t stand her. Drei wasn’t here because of her. And though Dom wasn’t her fault, being at that club was. In that instant, I could have blamed her for almost anything. We had toasted to a happier New Year and it was already worse.

“What’s wrong, Abs?” she asked, her voice soft and pained.

Waving it off, I knew the wisest thing to do was to not say anything. So, filled with anger and a renewed hurt, I hailed a cab back to the apartment, wishing more than ever she would have let me move out.

Vampiric: Chapter Nine, Part 9

Caroline hooked her arm around my waist as we entered the club. She knew the bouncer so we didn’t have to wait in line with everyone else. Ian draped an arm over her shoulders and asked if we wanted any refreshments.

“I’ll take a Jack and Coke,” Caroline said over the din.

“For you, love?”

“Water, please.”

As he slipped past us toward the bar, Caroline led me through the crowd of gyrating bodies. I could barely hear myself think over the music and shouts of friends ready to find a new scene. Streamers and nets of balloons decorated the ceiling. The tables were covered in New Year confetti. Picking up some of the plastic confetti, I sprinkled it in Caroline’s hair.

“Now you look festive;” I giggled. She was about to the do the same to me when I stopped her hand and reminded her, “You dressed me for tonight. No confetti.”

Flicking her wrist, it ended up in my hair anyway. “Now I’m done dressing you,” she teased, grinning.

She had come into my room before we left and insisted what I had put together wasn’t right for New Years. Then digging through my closet, she picked out a sleek, strapless black dress and a pair of slingback heels. Grabbing my brush, she pulled my straightened hair out of its bun and smoothed it out, saying it looked sexy. Dusting a touch of foundation over the scars on my arms—not the first time she had seen them—she deemed me ready to go out.

Caroline was decked out in an off the shoulder number, crimson red to match her flowing hair. Even the soles on her black kitten heels matched. Ian had whined on the drive over about how he hated the dress shirt she picked out for him while she complained about his hat. She let him keep it because I told her it matched. It didn’t stop her from pouting a little, though.

Ian set the drinks on the table. “Here we go—” He repressed a laugh and Caroline scowled at him. “I didn’t think we’d be wearing the décor.” We both threw confetti at him for that, laughing as some of it stuck to his cap.

“To half an hour left in this year,” Caroline toasted when he sat down, raising her drink.

“To a better year,” I added, lifting my lime water—Ian insisted it was the only way they would serve water tonight.

“And to happiness,” Ian tossed in, clinking his margarita against our glasses—he claimed New Years was the one time of year he condoned drinking.

When our drinks were finished, Caroline pulled us both from our seats and onto the dance floor, sliding between pairs and groups to the center. There she started her dance, seeming to spread this energy to Ian and I, possibly even to those around us as well, so that we joined her. It felt strange and exhilarating to just move, to thrive on energy I didn’t know I had. At some point, I realized Ian had left us to dance with a fabulous looking guy. A few moments later, the guy had been traded for a cutesy girl who looked barely 21.

“Which is he?” I asked Caroline over the music.

“Anything and everything. Nothing when he feels like it.” She twirled me around. “Sometimes I wish I could be like that and just not care. But I do.”

“Me, too,” I said, spinning her around.

The music stopped and the DJ announced there was one minute until midnight. Caroline dragged Ian away from his new partner—an older looking woman with high cheek bones who held herself with poise and elegance, as though she was either famous or very wealthy.

“My favorite girls,” he said, wrapping his arms around us.

“Eight…”

The crowd had already started the countdown. I joined in, but I suddenly didn’t feel right. It felt like this happiness would disappear before the night’s end. I didn’t want that to happen, but I couldn’t stop it either; I resented being able to tell.

“Three…two…one!”

Caroline and I kissed Ian on the cheek and he kissed each of us on the forehead as the balloons and more confetti rained down upon us.

“Happy New Year, loves,” he wished, hugging us tight before disappearing to his uptown partner and kissing her before the minute changed.

“Happy New Year,” I wished Caroline, trying not to let this sensation ruin the evening.

“Same to you,” she said, smiling, failing to notice something had changed. I guessed that was a good thing, though; it was better not to dampen her mood. She should enjoy the party. “And may this one be better for your heart.”