Chapter 16 – The Chase

Vamped

Previously, Mark discusses internship plans with his friends and Misty begins considering her future. Her mother is offered a new job and Mark tells Misty he wants to spend more time with her outside of school.

Saturday

Mom set off for her first twelve-hour shift of the weekend just before noon, kissing me on the forehead and humming the same meandering tune as the night before.

I was once again alone, searching for a way to entertain myself.

I decided to start a new habit, and get my assignments from the past week out of the way first. Jackson had helped me through most of the math lessons, so I took several minutes to rewrite those, adding his edits (read: unit labels) and removing all my scratch work. After that, I made my way through Bio, Home Ec, Health, English, and History. By the end of the unit summary, I was softly banging my head against the counter like Catherine.

Then something banged back.

It took me a few seconds to realize someone was knocking on the front door. I left my work scattered across the study table and made my way through the kitchen to the foyer. When I opened the door, I was surprised to see Mark on the porch.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

He looked a little taken aback. “I can go if you want,” he said, cautiously.

I shook my head. “No, I just didn't expect you. I thought weekends were your bro-time or whatever.”

He shrugged. “Last weekend was, because of the party. But we all have our own lives outside of the team. Can I come in?”

I stepped aside and he stomped his shoes off on the door mat, shaking his hair out as if it had already started to rain. “So you just wanted to hang out?” I asked, still not sure what unsupervised boyfriend time was supposed to look like without a bunch of other teenagers around.

He stretched, his shirt lifting to show off a happy trial and some tasty-looking abs. He caught me staring and smirked. “I'm here for whatever you want. What do you usually do on weekends?”

I huffed. “Honestly, I'm still trying to figure that out.” His face transformed into something soft, and the smirk held less attitude in it. “What?”

He lifted a shoulder. “I like when you're honest. It's easier to relate to you.”

“That's good,” I said, choosing to be blunt again. “Because putting up a façade of having my shit together is more tiring than not having my shit together.”

He laughed. “Yeah, that's what I mean.” He closed the door and I led him up to my room. “Sometimes you feel like an apparition or something. Somebody in my head that I'm hallucinating. Picky eater, sharp wit, but somewhat unsocial. And when you say shit like that – It's just easier to remember that you're not just my imagination.”

I didn't know how to respond to that honestly, so I defaulted back to my usual offhandedness. “That's quite a fever dream you're having. What else makes me seem unreal?”

He sat in my chair, then pulled me down on top of him. “Well, for one, you looked like a wraith when I first met you, hidden within those dark, heavy clothes like reaper robes. I wasn't always sure there was a body underneath. But now…” He slid his hands down my waist and let them rest against my hips “You're more substantial. I don't expect you to fade away.”

I thought about how easy it was for me to disappear in front of someone's eyes – someone other than him. I hadn't tried to do that at all this past week. I didn't feel the need to hide or flee, even as much as I would have liked to be anywhere but the school grounds.

“And then there's this,” he said, gently tugging on my hair. “I didn't realize until I saw you next to your mom last night how much red hair washes you out. Didn't you get any sun in your old town?”

“I didn't have anywhere to go, so I just stayed inside.”

“And what about now?” he asked. “Will you hide away from me in your lair?”

“Mark, it rains here every day for twelve hours at a time. Even if I spend every waking moment outside, I'd never get a tan. I don't know how you all do it.”

He grinned. “It's brighter before it rains. Try taking an outdoor PE class next semester.”

I rolled my eyes. “Hold on while I write that down in my academic planner.”

“Okay,” he said, pushing me off his lap at once, so that I landed hard on the floor.

“Hey!” I said, looking up.

But he wasn't sitting in the chair anymore.

I saw his legs leap through my open window as he tucked and rolled himself down the roof. I jumped up in time to see him crouched neatly on the grass, then he stood up and waved me down. Having never developed that level of vampire agility, I took the stairs.

By the time I got through the front door and down the porch steps, he was no longer under my window. I spun around searching for some clue as to which direction he ran off to, then screamed as he grabbed me from behind.

“Gotcha,” he whispered, nibbling on my neck.

“Don't do that,” I wheezed. “You scared me half to death.”

“Well then there's a whole other half to play with before we run into trouble.” I whirled around in his arms to glare at him, and he winked and sprinted off into the woods.

This was his first mistake.

The one thing I seemed to excel at physically was catching prey. Yes, the coven members I'd seen so far were generally trim and seductively lanky. But they all had impressive quads and shapely asses, perfect for sprinting down a quick kill. I could play the long game, with leaner legs, less upper-body bulk, and a longer stride.

I set my pace and zeroed in on the signs of his passing in the underbrush. With his strong, quick movements, he left a new trail behind. Branches were snapped, leaves disheveled, and puddles shaken from foliage in a straight line toward Ash's house. I followed him until his trail ended, then held my breath so I wouldn't drown out any noises he was making.

I snapped my head to the left as a crackle of leaves broadcasted his current location, and spread my strides as I crouched and slowly paced my way toward where I heard the sound. I caught another crunch, then a twig snap underfoot, letting me know that I was keeping up. He was about fifty feet ahead in the dense brush. The noises stopped as we made it past the property line, back into my own familiar woods.

This was his second mistake.

As I came upon a small clearing, I immediately recognized where I was, and where he had hidden. There, in the center of a depression, where anyone who had spent some time outdoors would have recognized the intentional flattening of the brambles and vine maples, was a large, hollow tree.

Suddenly I was glad I had never been interested in decorating my little grotto. That would have given it away – let him know that it was my space he was hiding in. I quietly crept around to the other side, where the opening was, taking my time to find the right approach. I knew where the cracks in the bark were, and where he might try to catch a glimpse of my approach. I avoided the side with the biggest gaps that he would be drawn to.

Finally coming upon the edge of the largest crack in the hollow, big enough to slide through, I deftly dug my hand into the brush until I felt a stick. Picking it up lightly, I swung my arm back and tossed it over the tree. It fell and bounced on the other size, at the edge of the clearing. I heard Mark gasp and shift inside.

That was when I pounced.

He was huddled inside, ducking to stay below the bark that had been torn or rotted off years before, looking through a crack about an inch wide in the direction of where my stick landed. I reached out and growled, sinking my nails into his shirt. He fell forward into the bark, then spun around, giving me the same wide-eyed, fearful look my late classmates had always given me before the final strike. And then he let out a deep, hoarse shout that echoed within the hollow.

It only lasted for a second before he recognized me, then he relaxed his back against the bark, sinking down and clutching his chest. I covered my mouth with both hands to cover my breathless laughter, then managed to ask, “Are you okay?”

He shook his head, catching his breath. “No. A creature with fiery hair and emerald eyes almost tore me to shreds.” Then he started laughing in short bursts, too. He pulled me down with him and curled me in close. We both shivered in the cool air as the adrenaline rush faded, and he rubbed my arms with his hands to warm them. “That was scary cool, by the way.”

My faced warmed up a bit with the compliment. “Thanks. You were fleeing me in my own territory, you know. Not your smartest idea. You should have stayed on Ashton's side of the property flags.”

He shook his head again, bumping his chin lightly against the top of my head. “I didn't even see where the line was, so that probably wouldn't have helped any.”

I snickered. “Well, you definitely shouldn't have hid in my very favorite spot in this whole town.”

He turned his head from one side to the other. “You've been in here before?”

I nodded. “Yeah, see the marks?” I pointed to one of the sides near us, where I had scraped at some of the rotting bits to get at the flat, clean wood underneath. “And the bed of pine needles?” I dug my hand down into the fluff I had scattered around us, unearthing the dry soil beneath. “This is my lair, you might say.”

“Huh,” was all Mark said as he continued to look around the space I had made my own little safe haven, private and sheltered from Mom's yoga coven and the unruly boy-child who liked to follow me around whenever they invited him to join. He placed a hand on the side, as if trying to feel a piece of me in it.

“Any thoughts?” I asked, wanting to know what he thought, but not entirely sure about what.

“It's so…” He took several seconds to come up with the right adjective, which turned out not to be one at all. “It's so you,” he said instead. “It's not dark and musty, like the cave behind the bleachers. It's light and dry, instead. There's an earthiness to the smell, but it's overpowered by how clean and fresh the air is out here. It's really nice, but it just feels … exposed.”

I giggled a little at that. “Honestly, this is where I feel hidden from the world.” I looked around at the tree that, even as it decayed, was sturdy enough to endure the elements. I admired the mosses and ferns that grew around the top edge, shielding from most of the drizzle that would eventually make it past the distant treetops. I snuggled up into Mark and gathered the bed of needles closest to the side furthest from him to protect me from the chill of the late January afternoon.

Mark watched me do this with a soft look in his eyes, then wrapped his arm tightly around me and blew warm air around my collarbones to heat me up. He asked me questions about the tree – what type it was, when I found it, what my favorite parts were. We sat like that for ages and centuries and eons, wrapped up in each other and gazing above us as the clear sky began to cloud over.

Finally, the clouds turned gray, and we knew it was late enough that the rain wasn't far off. I helped him off the ground and we scraped pine needles off each other, taking care to brush some parts off more than others.

As he slid his hand down my back for the third time, making sure it was cleaned off, Mark said, “I want you to come over for dinner tomorrow.” He didn't follow it up with anything, just simply stated the request.

“What, at your house?” I stammered, surprised at how quickly he wanted to move forward with this phase.

“No, I was wondering if you would come have dinner with me at your house tomorrow. Your mom is a great cook, and I really think she'd enjoy spending some more time with you, outside of a larger group.”

I knew he was needling me, so I decided to play along. “Do you really think she likes me that much?”

“Oh yes,” he said, smiling and pulling me out of the hollow. “She really grew quite fond of you over the course of the dinner party last night, and I think she'd like to get to know you better. Especially now that we're officially dating.”

He started walking in the wrong direction, and I grabbed his hand and pointed toward where my house was. “If you think I'm ready to take that step, I'll do it. Will you be there, too?”

That one made him laugh. “Yeah, your mom seems to like me too, so I thought I would tag along. Is that a problem?”

I shrugged. “No, it's fine. Might be a little awkward, though. I wouldn't want you to feel like a third wheel.”

He smiled. “I'll handle myself.” I nodded, but said nothing further as we walked. “So will you? Come over to my house, I mean?”

I let out a breath and walked a bit longer with him before answering. I guess it was inevitable. Real relationships involve building connections with your partner's people, not greedily redirecting all of their attention to you. “I'll be there,” I said.

“You want to, though? Like, you're ready for this?” He turned to look at me, concerned.

I nodded. “I think so? I know it's how things are supposed to go when you get serious, but I've never done this before, and didn't really think this far ahead…”

He tugged me closer to him so that we were walking in sync. “If it helps, I've never really felt this serious about anyone before, so the whole meet-the-parents routine feels more important to me this time around. I'm nervous, too, if that makes you feel any better.”

“Oh yeah, I feel great now,” I said sarcastically. “Two nervous people makes a family dinner that much more pleasant.” I dug my elbow into his rib. “Tell me you're going to confess your love for me in front of them while I'm there. That will definitely make me relax.”

He rolled his eyes. “There's no need to say it in front of others,” he sighed. “They can already see what you don't.”

I stopped in my tracks at that. “What?” I asked stupidly. He stopped with me.

“I said,” Mark paused, clearing his throat, “I don't need to tell anyone else that I love you, Misty. They already know.”

“How?” My brain was still sorting through feelings of non-lethal lust and infatuation. Love wasn't something I had even considered yet.

He shook his head, then looked up to the sky, which was darkening in a patch that surrounded the entire town. “They see it in the way I look at you. They tell me how I stop hearing them whenever your name comes up in conversation, as if the word itself is a hypnosis trigger that sends me into a state of reverie. They say I pace around until you show up, and play better when I know you're watching. They can see me looking around the halls at school, hoping to catch a glimpse of you as you continue along toward your next class. They smirk as I reach for your hand, because they know how hard it is for me not to touch you all the time. They tell me that I have never looked so completely fascinated by anyone before, and they don't think I ever will be again. They remind me almost daily to be good to you, because I'll never get over this feeling.

“Everyone else can see it, Misty. Why can't you?” he asked me, as if I had the answer.

I shook my head. “I guess in all that time that I was watching you, I was expecting something else.”

He took my head in his hands, and brought his forehead down to mine. “Then pay attention now, or I'll say it again every day of our lives. I love you. I think I always will. I want to be smart, and do it slow, and take the time I need to really know you. But I don't think I'll find anyone else like you, Misty. I want to be with you forever.”

I thought about what he said as a fog swept over my head and the improbability of it all threatened to drown me. I pushed the waves aside until it felt like I could breathe again. I allowed the possibility of truth in everything he said and even what others said to him to lap up against my skin, caressing me in hope and warmth and a day called later when things would still feel like this or even better.

I put my arms around him and held him close, then whispered, “I'm sorry. I didn't quite catch that.”

He pulled away, looking hurt and surprised, then saw my failing attempt at a concealed smile. “I just told you, you'll have to wait until tomorrow for me to repeat it.” He was having trouble hiding a smirk to.

“Tomorrow, the day when we'll have dinner with your parents?”

“That's correct.”

“I thought you said you wouldn't be confessing your love in front of them.”

“Oh no,” he said, trying not to break his stony expression. “I guess we'll have to skip a day, then.”

“Or you could just tell me again now, so that we'll still be even for tomorrow,” I replied, satisfied that I managed to corner him with my wit.

He lifted his arms up and shouted to the storm cloud forming above us, “I love you, Misty! I have since the pep rally, and I always will. I really fucking love you!”

I pushed my face into his collarbone, trying to hide my smile and the betraying heat that was crawling across my neck and cheeks. “Thank you, Mark. I heard you that time,” I whispered back.

He huffed out a laugh. “Good. I'm glad you know.”

I buried my head further into his flesh and mumbled, “Me too.”

We parted ways after that, so Mark could finish his own schoolwork before tomorrow and brief his parents on the plans. Apparently he hadn't asked them first, and now had to go through a similar invitation with them. Immediately I went up to my room and started panicking about what to wear to that kind of dinner. Then I realized I had another twenty-six hours to procrastinate the decision, and went back downstairs to drink off some of the soreness from running.

I spent what was left of the afternoon playing with Henrietta outside, teasing her with a frozen chum ball on the end of a string and taking turns chasing each other around the yard. I wore out before she did, falling backward onto the grass finally to catch my breath. She hopped up and down on my belly several times, taunting me to get up and run after her again, but when the rain started, I was ready to go inside. She fussed and dragged her feet a bit, but eventually came through the little swinging door around back and curled up in my lap next to the fireplace.