Blood Type (4 page)

H
is other hand settled behind my knees, barely touching my skin. He smiled down at me, wet lashes framing
his
eyes. For the first time I noticed the spray of freckles on his nose and cheeks, and the
perfect
Cupid’s bow of his lips. I wondered what it would
feel like to kiss
his mouth
and then quickly erased that thought from my mind
.

“And now you’re floating
,
”
he said.

I
closed my eyes and
laughed despite myself. This was as close to swimming as I had ever
gotten
. My dad
lived by the “sink-or-swim” philosophy,
and his attempt to teach me when I was five years old by tossing me into the deep-end of our family pool had me swearing off all bodies of water deeper than the bath tub.

“You’re doing it,” John said
.
“You’re swimming.”

The muffled sound of his voice carried to me through the water. I stretched my arms wide and waved them up and down
,
as graceful as a manta ray’s fins.

A
ll at once, the reassuring solidness of his hands slipped away. My eyes popped open, and I flailed my arms and legs in automatic response. “Hey!”

My uncoordinated movements did nothing to help me stay afloat and I went under. But John had me on my feet almost at once, and I came up spewing water from my mouth and nose.

“Why did you do that?” I yelled, once I’d gotten my breath back. “You said I could trust you!” 

He looked
almost
ashamed, but not quite.
“You can
.
”

“What’s going on down there?”
A voice on the dock
i
nterrupted us, and I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude when I looked up to see my best friend. I wasn’t sure I wanted to continue the swimming lesson anyway, now that I had firsthan
d experience with John’s M.O. Good-looking
or not,
th
e entire encounter
was all very strange
.

“I’ve been looking all over for you
, Blake
. What the hell are you doing?”

Olivia peered down at us from the edge of the dock. Her dark, oversized sunglasses made it impossible to see the look in her eyes, but I knew from the tone of her voice that she was shocked to see me actually
in
the water, not to mention in
someone’s arms
other than
my boyfriend’s.

“I’m learning to swim,” I said, putting a few feet between John and me while refraining from adding,
It’s
not what it looks like.

Olivia crossed her arms over her chest and cocked a curvy hip. “Well it’s about time. Does, uh,
Zach
happen to know about this?” she said, swirling her finger to indicate John and me.

“Libby!” I pushed the tangled mass of hair out of my face as I glared up at her.

Olivia
rolled her eyes
. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to say anything. However, I’ve just spent the past five minutes looking for you while dodging Mr. Grabby Hands over there.”

She threw a look over her shoulder, but I couldn’t see who she was talking about. “I swear, sometimes I think I should wear a sign around my neck that says ‘Please Touch. I Don’t Mind.’
One of these days I’m going to sue for sexual harassment.
”

Although Olivia’s ample bra size had made her the butt of jokes in junior high, she’d become the subject of every guy’s wet dream
in
high school. Unfortunately, there was the occasional jerk
who
forgot personal boundaries and
actually
tried to cop a feel.

“So who’s your new friend, Blake, or are
n’t you
going to introduce me?”

I made a self-conscious gesture toward John. “You know John Kelly
.
He sat behind you in History last semester.
”

Olivia raised her glasses, the corner of her mouth turning up as she did so.
Then s
he lowered
them
back in place and dug her keys out of her bag, jangling them at me. “Well, I hate to break up this little soiree, but we have to
go now
.”

“
Seriously?
W
e haven’t even
eaten
yet
,” I said, “I’m starving.
And
I bet
the burgers are almost done.
”

“Sorry,” Olivia said. “The twins were jumping on the bed, and one fell off and . . .” She trailed off, shrugging her shoulders. “You know the rest of the story. Mom thinks Eleanor needs stitches, but she’s refusing to drag Henry along with them to Urgent Care. She said she’s fed up with them today and can’t take any more stress. I have to rush home to babysit.
”

She looked around and sighed. “
This party blows, anyway.
Gabe and Zach didn’t even bother to show up.
I can’t believe they thought lifting weights at the gym was more important.
Sometimes I wonder why we bother with them.
”  

“I can take her home,” John offered.

Olivia pushed her glasses up again and looked from him to me. She quirked her brow in an I-don’t-think-so kind of way before finally turning her attention back to John
again
.

“Didn’t I see you with Jill Honeycutt
earlier
?” Olivia said. “Blake and I have been friends, like, our whole lives, so I’m pretty averse to letting her go off with
some
random
douche bag that would drop one girl for another. And besides . . .”

Her voice trailed off, but the message was clear:
She’s taken.

“
Come on now, Libby,” John said
, teasingly
.
“You’re not her mother.”

I burst out laughing, especially
at
the expression on Olivia’s face. “
First of all,” she said, “no one’s allowed to call me that except Blake. Secondly, it’s both
your asses if Zach finds out.”

“It’s just a ride,” I said.

“I promise
to get her home safe and sound.
Olivia
.” He gave her that same endearing smile he’d used on me
,
and for a brief moment I felt a qualm in the pit of my stomach.

“I’m holding you to that promise,” Olivia warned. The corner of her mouth drew up in a lopsided grin as she pointed a finger at me. “I’ll see you later.”

We watched Olivia turn on her heel and walk away, and then John
offered me his back and told me to hop on
. “I’ll swim us to shore
,
”
he said.

The suggestion
seemed
oddly intimate, especially since we didn’t know each other well at all, but I
got that lightheaded
feeling again and was afraid I’d faint from hunger right there in
the water. I
jumped
on his back and wrapped my legs snugly around his waist.
Zach would break up with me for sure if he saw this
, I thought, and yet for some reason that wasn’t enough to stop me from doing what I was doing.

John didn’t complain
of my strangling grip
or that he couldn’t breathe, even though I had
his neck in a choke-hold.
Still, I didn’t loosen my
arms
,
even when it
occurred to me that if I unintentionally killed him, I’d only be screwing myself in the process.

“So that was pretty good for your first time,” John said as we plopped down on the rocky beach.

I stretched my legs in front of me and turned my face toward the sun.
“And my last time.
Swimming is completely overrated
if you ask me
.”

After a few minutes
John
elbowed me in the side. “
I have an idea.
You wanna blow this joint
and grab some
lunch at The Market
?
”

I shook my head uncertainly,
“I don’t know.” John was actually a very nice guy, but like Olivia said, I was taken.

“It’s just lunch,” he
prodded
.
“My treat.
You said yourself you’re starving.
”

“Fine.
I’ll go with you,” I said
with a smirk
. “But only
because
you’re buying
.”

October 2
7

I stared at my reflection in the mirror
and delicately probed the pale curve of my neck where bite marks had been set in indelible ink
.
“You’re an idiot,
Blake Ehlert.
What the hell were you thinking?” 

Mom
had
the weekend off for a change, and her voice floated up from the foot of the stairs that breakfast would be ready in ten. I gave up any hope that the tattoo would just magically disappear and instead stripped out of my pajamas. I ran the shower as hot as it would
go,
testing the rising temperature with the inside of my wrist
, but i
t never
seemed to get hot enough
.  

As the water rained down over my head and shoulders, I recalled the sensuous flick of John’s tongue against my neck the night before. I shivered at the memory, one steamy thought leading to another.

The first time John kissed me, I realized I’d been missing
out
before
. There was something about
John’s kisses
that
always
took me by surprise and left me breathless and wanting more. It was like
knowing there’d be
presents on Christmas morning,
but
what
was
hid
den
inside
the boxes
shrouded in mystery
,
something to be discovered and enjoyed slowly
to make
the excitement
last as long as possible
.

John’s lips were soft and always very warm; his breath against my skin a moist heat. He wasn’t hard as marble or deathly cold
, or any of those other
stereotypes
typical of vampires
. He felt very much human when holding me in his arms.
But the fact remained that John was a vampire, and I wasn’t. I didn’t belong in his world, just as sure as he didn’t belong in mine, and I was not about to make that leap.

I
couldn’t
.

I leaned my head against the shower tile and took a deep, shuddering breath.
My life had been stolen from me
, and now I was doomed whichever path I chose.

There was a knock at the bathroom door and my mother’s muffled announcement of breakfast. I turned off the water and stood dripping, my legs weak with a shameful craving that consume
d
me from within. Seeing John again last night—him touching me, and me touching him—had left me more confused than ever.

I knew he was right when he said I needed him
, and
it wasn’t just a base need rooted in mutual attraction and desire. It was a need on which my life now depended. The only problem was I’d come to regard him
and his kind
as something like a disease. And unfortunately, the cure for what ailed me came with one very nasty and long-term side effect.

I dressed in jeans and the heaviest wool sweater I owned pulled over an oxford button-down before making my way
downstairs to the kitchen. The heat from the oven made the room a few blessed degrees warmer. I took a seat at the table opposite my dad and spooned a serving of steaming, creamy-yellow eggs onto my plate, if only for appearance’s sake.

M
y stomach
ache
d
with a terrible
hollowness that made me feel as though I was being turned inside out. But when I brought a forkful of eggs to my mouth, I stopped abruptly, fighting back
the
sudden rise of nausea. I covered my mouth and nose with my hand and pushed the plate aside, willing myself not to be sick all over the table.

“Is everything okay?” Dad asked, eyeing me over the top of his newspaper.

I spread my fingers enough to talk.
“Are these eggs expired?”

Mom turned around, a
spatula of bacon hovering over the plate in her hand and a
confused expression on her face. “I just bought them yesterday. Why?”

I pinched my nose and said in a distorted voice, “Because they smell rancid.”

Not believing me, Mom stepped to the table and picked up the bowl of eggs. She took a generous whiff and then shook her head
, her dark hair brushing her collar
. “They smell absolutely fine to me. Are you congested? Maybe you’re getting a cold.”

“No. They definitely smell funny.”

Mom pulled the carton from the refrigerator and held it up to check the “use by” date. “They’re still good for a few weeks.”
She looked at me, her brows pulled together.
I knew what she was going to say before she even said it.

“You’re not calling the doctor,” I said to head her off.

“I’m calling the doctor,” she said
anyway
. “This is just ridiculous
, Blake
. You’re not eating. You’re still losing weight. You’re cold all the time.” She flung her hands up in frustration. “Just look at you! I can’t believe all this,” she said, thrusting her hand at me, “is because you’re anemic.”

“I’m fine,” I said. “I’ve only been on the medication for a few weeks. It probably just takes time to kick in, you know?”

Mom and Dad were still staring at me, neither of them saying a word, so I downed my glass of orange juice just to prove my point. The acidic, too-sweet taste nearly made me gag,
but
I choked down the urge to vomit.

“I think I’ll go for a drive if that’s okay. I need to
. . . I just need to get out of the house and
clear my head.”

“Sure,” my mother said, a note of concern
still
in her voice.
“If you think that will help.”

I got up to dump my dishes in the sink, stepping around my mother. She did a double-take and grabbed my arm before I could walk away. She brushed aside a thicket of curls and folded down the collar of my oxford.

“Good Lord, Blake.” She dropped her hand, shaking her head. Her jaw clenched and unclenched
. “You couldn’t have gotten a heart or butterfly?
Something a little more girly
than
that
?
”

I pulled out of her grasp.
“Since I’m going out, can I have my phone back?”

My father
flicked his wrist at the
kitchen drawer in which he’d “hidden” my phone. “Put it back when you come home,” he said, eyeing my tattoo with an equally disappointed expression on his face. “You’re still on probation.”

“And check in with us if you think you’ll be out for more than a few hours,” Mom
added
.

I kissed my parents good-bye and slipped on my coat. Then I grabbed a copy of
Mad Love
from the coffee table where I’d left it face
-
down to mark my page. The plan was to drive down to the lake where I could sit dockside and alternately stare out at the expanse of water and
read about
some other girl’s
dysfunctional
love
life
—one that
didn’t
include
vampires.