11. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

" O ur new neighbor asked if I could hang out at his house after school. He can give me a ride home. Is that okay?"

"A him ?" Mary asked with a raised eyebrow the next morning.

I rolled my eyes. "Just a friend in my math class—his name is Shad."

Did her eyes just widen? What is wrong with her lately? Doesn't she want me to make new friends?

"Of course, you can. Just make sure his parents are home, and don't get too attached to anyone. You know—high school doesn't last forever."

Huh? Why did she now not want me to make friends? She loved Ash.

"I am sure his parents will be there," I said, feeling irritated.

"What are the plans?" She asked, as she pulled open the fridge to take out the orange juice.

"He wants to show me a collection or something," I said leaning against the kitchen counter. The coolness of the stone startled me for a moment.

"Oh, sounds interesting," she said as she filled up a glass of orange juice then capped it and put it back in the fridge. Well, have fun, but not too much fun. Be safe, and don't forget to text me when you get there." She bit her lip, then smiled and took a long drink of juice.

"Is something wrong?"

"No, why? Are you okay? I am most definitely fine. Did you ever finish reading your parent's letters?" she rambled, asking me as she set her glass down.

"No, I forgot. I will, though. It's just hard to see a love so perfect. I am not sure I will ever find anyone who loves me like dad loved mom."

"You will, Emma. You will. Everything will be alright," she nodded, hesitating for a moment as if she were trying to convince herself as well.

"I found mom's old storybook. I always enjoyed those fairytales she read to me–with princes and princesses finding true love and how with true love, their souls would sing together, creating melodies, which enchanted them. How cool would it be if such a thing as true love and souls' melodies actually existed for real?" I asked.

"Oh, yes, you remember those stories?"

"I found the book again. Mom really was very creative. She should have been a writer," I said with a laugh.

"Yes–she liked to write things down," Mary said as if it was not a good thing. Then she smiled at me. "I hope you have fun with your friend." Again, her words seemed forced.

"Did you want to meet him first?"

"No!" She spat out, then cleared her throat, "No—no, Emma, that's okay. Please, have fun," she smiled a fake smile and walked into the living room.

"Okay? Bye!"

Now that was the strangest conversation I have ever had with Mary.

That day during math class, I tried desperately to keep my eyes off of Shad. We didn't even get to talk the entire period because our teacher was lecturing the entire time. Then, even if I had wanted to just say hello to him, I couldn't because after class, he bolted out of the room, and I wanted to cry—which I knew was way over-dramatic.

Shad was not in the other class we had together at the end of the day.

What is going on?

Had he forgotten our plans? I did not know if I could really handle him breaking the plans we had made. I needed to see him, talk to him, maybe finally figure out what his hair feels like in between my fingers. Is it soft and silky? I shook my head as I put on my backpack and headed out the door at the end of school.

But there he was, Shad, standing across the hall, leaning against the brick wall, looking right at me. He smiled a tight smile as if he was holding something back. His collar was unbuttoned, and his sleeves pushed up. He looked so unbelievably attractive. I stood frozen in the hall, our eyes connecting, the music inside me blaring to life. He quickly pushed himself away from the wall and walked over to me.

As he reached me, the look in his eyes spoke of need and want. Could he possibly be feeling this attraction, too? Could he really be interested in me? I knew that the look in my eyes had to be just as clear.

"Hello, Emma," he spoke softly as he stood before me in all his perfection.

"Hi," I whispered, thinking that if I had spoken any louder, that happy, perfect bubble would've burst between us and been lost forever. His hand touched my cheek, and I thought, I have never felt anything this wonderful before. It could not be real. He isn't real.

"You ready?" he asked, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. How could he breathe? How could he speak? I could only nod. "Well, let's go," he said with a side smirk as if he understood his effect on me. I wondered again if he was affected by me as much as I was by him.

"This is your car?" I asked Shad in astonishment as he stopped in the parking lot. Shad was about to drive me to his house in his extremely nice sports car.

"Yes, is there something wrong?" he asked, looking concerned as he took my backpack from me and placed it on the back seat.

"Oh—no, I mean, it's just a really expensive car, and I have never been in such a nice car before. I was not expecting it–maybe like an old pick-up truck or your mom's old commuter car, but, yeah, not this. Vampires have cars like this, I think–" I bit my lip; no– I had just let the crazy out.

He smiled at me. "Well, I can assure you, I am not a vampire. You are safe with me. My guardian purchased this car for me," he shrugged.

"Wow, that was really nice of your guardian ?"

"Yes, I do not live with my parents, sadly. I have a guardian, but I am well taken care of."

I nodded. Hadn't he said he worked for his family business? Why didn't he live with his family?

"Ready?" he asked as he opened my door. I sank into the leather seat which was very comfortable. I smiled, rubbing the soft leather. It smelled like mint as well as leather, and I liked it. I tried to memorize the moment– the feelings and all the aromas without becoming insanely embarrassed that I had mentioned vampires to Shad.

Shad sat down and started the engine.

"Wow, this is a really nice car."

Shad chuckled.

"I'm glad you like it, Emma." He drove through town, toward our neighborhood, and I couldn't help but look at him as he drove. It was a manual, and he drove the car so effortlessly. I envied him; I could not drive a manual to save my life. We pulled into his driveway, and he asked me to wait a moment as he got out of his car and walked around to my side and opened the door for me. My heart fluttered. Why did Ryker think that Shad was like other guys? He was a complete and total gentleman.

"Thank you," I said. As I got out of the car. Shad closed the door behind me with a smile and brushed his hair back before he grabbed both of our backpacks from the back seat and carried them with him as we walked to his front door.

"Is your guardian home? My aunt wanted to make sure we weren't home alone. It isn't like anything is going to happen, or—but she just said that because we are young, and we need to make sure that we are—" I stopped myself by covering my mouth with my hand. I felt my cheeks heat up, my eyes wide at my embarrassing rambling. Shad touched the hand I used to cover my mouth with his own, tugging it away.

"All seems reasonable, you don't need to be embarrassed, and, yes, my guardian is here." He set the backpacks down by the door, and I tried to take deep breaths to stop myself from spouting off more nonsense.

"This way, Emma," he said, pointing in front of him, down the hall. It was an average house, just like mine—a different layout, tidy, and simply decorated. As we walked into the living room, there was a man sitting on the couch, reading a book. He had dark brown hair, glasses that covered up his eyes, and a smile upon his face as his eyes met mine.

"You must be Emma; it is truly an honor to meet you, my dear." He held my hand and made a little bow, and I looked at Shad with confusion.

He shrugged and grinned, as if it was just a quirk that was common for his guardian.

"It is great to meet you," I said with a smile.

"This is Keil, my guardian. Keil, this is Emma," Shad said happily.

"I hear that Shad is going to show you his roses?"

"Yes, I believe so," I answered.

"Yes, Keil. We will be down in a little while. We will be in the study," Shad said.

"Yes, of course. Have a good time," he smiled and sat back down as we headed upstairs. It turned out that the study was a very large room, probably the master bedroom with every wall lined in books. In the center of the room sat a large table with some chairs around it. In one corner, there was a computer, and in the other, a stack of paper and other office supplies.

"Wow, you have so many books," I mostly whispered in awe as I traced the letters with my pointer finger down the spines of a few of the books as I walked past.

"Keil enjoys reading."

"You don't?"

"I do, but these are mostly his collection. I keep mine in my room." He motioned for me to sit at the table. I sat down, and he pulled out a small leather-bound book. I watched as he opened it to the first page. There in beautiful cursive letters, it read: "My search for the rose." I traced the beautiful writing with my finger.

"It is beautiful." I looked up at Shad. He looked at me, his eyes intently watching as if he were curious about my reaction. I turned the page. There were about twenty pages that were bound together at the beginning of the book.

"Oh, those first few pages, they are just some journal entries, boring stuff really." He reached down to turn the pages. He stopped when he reached the desired page. There was a single rose pressed into the paper, some of the color from it bleeding onto the page, I assumed from being partially damp when it was pressed in order to preserve the blossom. It was absolutely beautiful. As I flipped through the pages, I noticed that written across each page was the name of a city or town where the flower was obtained. There were dozens and dozens of roses, all beautifully preserved within that book.

"This is incredible. You did this?" I asked.

"When we move, which as you can tell is often, I find a rose and press it into this book." I turned to the last pages which were all blank.

"You still need a rose from here," I said, looking at him. His eyes were so intently focused on me that I could barely catch my breath. He was so incredibly good looking. He touched my hand and smiled softly. I loved the feel of his hand on mine. Electricity pulsed between us, and again, I wanted more, wanted to really touch him. I wondered then what it would feel like if he entangled his fingers with mine. Heat came to my cheeks, and I cursed my fair skin because I was sure that I was blushing red.

"I plan on going by a shop I know to collect that missing flower, after I decide on the right color." He smiled, and I dropped my gaze. I turned the pages again, examining the flowers even closer, naming them as I went. Shad went to the opposite table and brought back a pen.

"Why roses?" I asked, touching a pressed, pink blossom.

"They are beautiful flowers." He shrugged as if he could have made the same book from daisies. I doubted that.

"But only roses?" I asked, flipping through more pages. "You could have had some variety. Peonies, for example, are very beautiful, too."

"Yes, but they had to be roses, Emma." His voice was husky, and I felt his breath near my ear. I tried to steady my shaking hand by grasping his book.

"Would you mind writing down what you know? It would be a great addition to the book, his low voice made my stomach flip.

I was frozen to the spot as I felt his breath caress my cheek. I wanted to jump into his arms, wanted to feel his lips meet mine. I pushed those thoughts down and gulped. "O—oh, my writing would make it ugly. Your cursive is beautiful." I traced the curls and dips on the page with my fingertips, trying to distract myself from the electric fire that his close proximity lit inside of me. "I wish I could write like that."

"I was taught when I was a kid." He pulled away from me. And even though I still wanted him close, I was also grateful to have more of my self-control back with the distance. "I was made to have near perfect penmanship; my mother insisted on it. I think your cursive is beautiful. I saw your notes in your notebook."

Eventually, and even though it hurt to do it, I added the names of the roses if I knew them underneath his writing. I was honored to be part of something that was his—and so personally so. I made sure to write small, not wanting to take away from his beautiful lettering.

"So, you move a lot?" I asked, still fumbling through the pages.

"We did. Keil and I have mostly been on the east coast. I think we will be here for a while, though."

"Really?" I asked, a little too enthusiastic, looking up at him, and he smiled.

"Yes, at least until I am done with high school—which will be next year," he said, brushing his hair out of his face.

"Do you have any plans for after you graduate?" I asked.

"I want to see my family, let them know how I am doing. I have not seen them in a long time. I want to find my way home somehow."

It must be hard, I thought. Knowing that your family is out there, and you cannot be with them. I wonder what happened with his parents and why Keil is his guardian.

"What about you?" he asked after a brief pause.

"I don't know yet. College somewhere; luckily, I still have two years to figure it out."

"That is true," He sat down beside me. I then realized that he had been standing the entire time I spent looking at his book— or hobby .

"I do think it is more of a collection than a hobby," I said.

"That may be true; I never knew what to call it." He shrugged.

I closed the book, then, and turned to him.

"So, now, that I have seen your secret rose collection—"

There was a pause, and I looked into his golden eyes, waiting for him to say something.

"Do you want something to eat?" he asked, finally.

"Yes." We stood up at the same time, and my head hit the bottom of his chin, again . I sat back down and moaned in pain. Ouch, it really hurts this time.

"Are you okay, Emma?" He knelt beside the chair as he spoke.

"Yes, sorry. I am kind of clumsy."

"I think I need to be more careful around you." He gave me a beautiful smirk, his hair falling over his eyes as he looked up at me from the ground where he knelt.

"Are you okay?" I pointed to his chin. He smiled and nodded. He stood again—this time far away from me as he reached his full height.

"Let's eat." He reached his hand out to me, which seemed so formal, but I was eager for an excuse to touch him again. I took his hand in mine—our palms touching, and then slowly our fingers were interlocking. First, there was a steady pulse and a heat rising between us. Then, the song floated around so loudly inside me, and I wondered if he could hear it, too. I gasped as I felt my heartbeat quicken. He looked at me, and I looked at him. Our eyes locked for that moment.

Does he feel it, too? He has to feel it. Isn't it clearly written all over his perfect face?

I never wanted to let go of his hand ever again. His eyes turned a shade even more golden right before me, and I wondered if I was seeing things or if that was really happening. We stood there, for I don't know how long, looking at each other, our hands entangled together. I could not help but feel the burning inside of me, deep within my very soul, that I really needed to know him, know everything about him. It was as if I needed to know who he was, like I needed to breathe.

Mine .

My soul echoed within me to the beat of my made-up song. It surprised me.

Why am I being so possessive? Is this some teenage, hormonal thing again? If so, I have never heard of this one before. They did not cover this in health class, freshman year. Who are you? I wondered. As soon as I did, my entire body was filled with one phrase—so quiet, so soft—but clearly, it was there:

I am yours.

Goosebumps ran down my arms, and I cleared my throat, breaking the trance that entrapped us. My imagination is really running wild, isn't it?

Shad's face was blank, and I was not about to ask any questions, because not only did I have a million of them, I did not know which to ask first.

What is this between us?

Something was there, and I was sure he had to have felt it, too. That—or again, it was only me losing my mind, because we had just confirmed he was not a vampire. Perhaps, he was a Fey, they had magic and were beautiful—glamor, that's what they had. Was Shad glamoring himself? Is that a word?

Shad tugged me from the room, making my thoughts fade away till I was alone and could unhealthily obsess over them. He carefully led me down the stairs.

Keil was making sandwiches in the bright, clean, and all white kitchen when we entered. Shad and I both sat at the small, wooden table near the back patio sliding glass door. His backyard appeared to be the same size as my own, with the same kind of trees, cement slab patio, and small grass area, although he did not have a pool. We were both silent as Keil set the plates down in front of us. I missed Shad's hand in mine as I watched him begin to eat. I remained hopeful, however, because maybe since he had held it once, he would hold it again—and soon. I thanked Keil and ate the turkey and cheese sandwich. My head was still aching from crashing into Shad, and my hand was still tingling from his touch. What could I say? I was smitten. No warning flags turned on in my head. He seemed wonderful, kind, smart, thoughtful, and a bit nerdy—maybe, with his collection and all, but it was also sweet and beautiful. He was polite, probably the most polite person I had ever met. It was almost as if he were from a different time when people actually had manners. While his wardrobe was a little formal for my liking, he looked smokin' as Ash would say in his prep school look. Still, I could not help but wonder if his rolled up sleeves, unbuttoned collar, and lack of tie that day were because of me. Did he do that because of what I said by the pool? I didn't want to change him. I just felt that while he was this amazingly, almost perfect human, he could learn to let loose a bit.

Maybe, let loose, at least with me? Let me in, and tell me everything?

I really liked him, and I just hoped, beyond all my faults and ramblings and clumsiness, that he could like me, too.

I want you to like me, I thought as I took another bite of my sandwich, which was delicious.

I watched him stare out the window for a moment.

I want to know everything about you. I hope you like me, I thought as I put my sandwich down and stared out the window to see what he was looking at. As I did, I imagined hearing a song playing inside of me with words that answered my questions:

I like you, Emma; I want to know everything about you, too.

That night, after Shad walked me home across the street, I lay on my bed, and I smiled. My heart was happy, my soul was singing, and I was content. It had been eight months since my parents' deaths. I knew they would love Shad because Shad was the kind of guy my father always talked about me finding. He reminded me of a heroic prince from my mother's book. He was kind and thoughtful. He was everything I wanted, and when I was with him, all was right in the world, or as right as it could be in my situation. I turned over on my bed and felt a crunch. I sat up and looked where I had lain and saw there, the dried, now smashed and ruined, lavender rose—which I had not placed there.

Something weird was going on. I knew I was not moving that rose about my room, and Mary was not moving it either, so what is happening? I wondered. But, I was too happy from having just been with Shad to worry over the placement of his gift. I lifted it off of the bed with a smile and placed it on my nightstand. I fell asleep while looking at it—thinking about his book of roses.

I raced home on Monday after school, just in time to snag the car keys from Mary and head to the flower shop. I stopped by my room to brush my teeth in my bathroom, looking into the mirror, when I spotted it again, the lavender rose on my bed. It was barely recognizable, as most of the petals had crumbled and fallen off. I put my toothbrush back in the holder and turned around to face my bed. I walked to my bedspread, and I touched the rose with my fingertips. Why is it moving? Have I fully lost my mind? I knew things with me were strange, and even stranger with Shad, but he made me happy, and being happy wasn't bad, right? I grabbed a piece of tape from my nightstand drawer, and taped the rose to the wall above my bathroom counter.

"There, now try and move," I said to the rose; then I washed my hands and left the house.

I walked outside to the car, and as I drove away, I could not help but feel like someone had been in my room. Someone was moving that flower around, and I had an odd feeling that whoever it was, was not a friend. I shook my head. That is stupid. Who would do that? I was only misplacing it, and taping it to the wall would give me proof that it wasn't actually moving around. Then, the thought came to me that maybe I was sleepwalking, which felt to me like a very possible and comforting explanation. I nodded to myself: sleepwalking—that is all it is.

I took over the shift for the evening, telling Mary's new college hire that she was free to go, and she split in a hurry. I stood behind the counter, looking over the order list for the morning and checked to see if there were any orders that I could make or prep and put in the fridge—when I heard a ding from the front door and looked up.

"Good afternoon," I sang out in a high pitched voice, which I had never heard come out of me before. I cleared my throat as Shad approached me, and I tried to look like I didn't care if he was there, that he didn't send my pulse and heart into hyperdrive. But I'd be lying if I said that his presence there didn't make me happy.

"Hello, Emma." Shad placed his hands on the counter and peered into my eyes. "How are you?"

I tried to speak, but taking in his appearance was making it difficult. He had no tie, not even one draped around his neck. His shirt's top two buttons were unbuttoned, and it was partly untucked from his pants in an alluring way I'd never seen before from him. His hair looked as if he had combed his fingers through it just a moment ago, which was a habit of his, so it was safe to say he had. Seeing him like that, so relaxed, made my insides wobble.

"Oh, I am okay; let me know if you need help with anything."

"Sounds good," he agreed as one of his hands touched mine on the counter. The jolt I felt from him calmed my worries about the rose in my room, the rose I had taped to the wall. I looked at him. "Is there something you want to say? You can tell me," he said.

Maybe I would have confided in him if I wasn't afraid it would make me look stupid.

"Yes, I mean—no, I am fine. You look different," I said, and then quickly shut my mouth.

"I find it difficult to stay put together when I know I am going to be around you, Emma."

"Why is that? I mean, what I said by the pool—it doesn't mean you have to stop wearing what you want. I was just trying to understand you. Most people don't dress as formally as you, but since you went to a private school with uniforms and all , it makes sense, and also you work at an office afterschool and have to dress up, so I get it. I think I like the prep school look." I closed my mouth and inwardly groaned because, again, I had rambled and told him way too much.

"You could never offend me, Emma; do not worry about that, and Keil for some time has told me that I should blend in more. At my last school, I did that by wearing a uniform, and I guess I got used to it."

"Blend in more?" I asked.

"Yes, I think I stand out a bit here, and it makes me uncomfortable."

"I'm sorry if I ever made you feel—"

He held up a hand to stop me. "Emma, please—you don't—"

I looked down at the counter.

"Okay, then. Thanks. Well, I do have a lot of prep for tomorrow; it's a big day, so I better get started," I said, holding up my list to show him what I had to do.

He snatched it from me and leaned his back against the counter, releasing my hand.

"Hey!" I squealed playfully, trying to take it back. He held up a finger, gesturing to give him a minute. My insides buzzed as if electric, and I played the song I created just for him in my head, trying to calm my nerves down a bit.

"Don't most of these need to be created the same day? You don't, after all, want to give anyone wilted flowers." His eyes widened.

"Of course, I just make some of the baskets or vases up and soak the flowers and things—" I said, cutting myself off before I rambled again.

He nodded.

"I see," he said as he handed the list back to me, and our fingers touched for just a few seconds before I pulled away. "Would you like some help?"

"Oh no, I'm okay," I said quickly, knowing I'd hardly get anything done if he helped because all I'd do is be caught up in him.

"Okay. I'll just be over there, making some tough decisions, all on my own, then."

I rolled my eyes. "You didn't need my help for all those other flowers," I said as I turned and walked toward the door to the backroom.

I couldn't be sure, but I felt as if I heard him say something: Yes, you did.

I turned to look at him; his back was facing me as he perused the flowers before him. I quickly turned back around again and began preparing a couple vases for the next day.

"Emma?" Shad asked, after some time passed.

I looked up from the five vases I had prepared and labeled to see Shad standing in front of me with two roses—both orange.

"Orange is the color this time?"

He smiled as he laid them out on the counter.

"Two? Why two ?" I asked as he pulled his wallet out of his pant's pocket.

"Now, now, Emma, I cannot tell you all my secrets, can I? I don't want to go on too much about how much of a nerd I am, after all. If I did tell you all of my secrets, I would not be so appealing to you, would I?"

I laughed, and it came out like a girlish giggle, and I wanted to slap myself, but I withstood the urge.

You don't need to look even more crazy.

Shad held my gaze with a knowing look upon his face.

I cleared my throat, "I never said you were ‘appealing' to me," I added as I typed in the number on the register that displayed the price of the orange roses. "That will be fifteen dollars."

"I do not need you to tell me that I am appealing to you. I already know," he winked as he handed me a twenty, and I handed him back his change.

"Rather confident, are you?"

He smirked at me. "Sure, confident, observant—you decide."

I gasped at him, and he chuckled.

"See you at school, Emma, and really, if you need to talk, I am a house away or a phone call away. My sister always used to tell me I was an excellent listener," he said as he took the orange blossoms, turned, and walked out the door and into the night, taking the song I had made for him with him as he went.

As the time finally came to close the shop, I rushed out the door and into Mary's car, dying to know if Shad had left one of the flowers for me again. After Shad left that night, I went to find the fliers I had made with the meanings of all the different roses and their colors, but they were all gone. I wondered if Mary handed them all out, or if maybe the new college hire tossed them. I was irritated.I remembered what orange stood for, and I thought it was for friendship, so I was pretty disappointed when I saw that he chose that color. Not that I did not want to be his friend, but I wanted to be even more.

Sure enough, as I walked to my car, there was an orange rose there on the hood, exactly where the lavender rose had been. My pulse quickened, and my heart raced. I also noticed that tucked into the windshield wiper was a white piece of paper. I unfolded the carefully folded paper, and there, sprawled in a decorative script which I knew to be Shad's, I read: Fascination.

I turned the paper over to see if there was anything else written there, but there was nothing. I frowned. Well, at least it's better than friendship? He is fascinated with me? Is that really a compliment? Like he could be fascinated with me because I am an idiot, because I am an orphan, a horrible math student, or for any number of reasons, right? I shoved the small piece of paper into my pocket, definitely disappointed, and picked up the rose, smelling the sweetness of its scent, letting the petals caress my lips, telling myself that Shad had chosen that specific bloom just for me, and the frown quickly turned into a smile.