The Knight Of The Rose (3 page)

“Oui, jolie fille.” He t ouched his hand to th e hollow between hi s collarbones. “I am your

eternal servant. You should neve r feel pres sured to do s omething because I want you to…” He

swallowed and his eyes filled with liquid that did not spill past his lashes. “And you should never be

afraid of me—
or
my reaction.”

“I wasn’t really afraid—per se. Just anxious.” My shoulders dropped. “I just don’t like

disappointing you.”

“My love, nothing you want with your heart will ever be a disappointment to me. You must

know that?”

“I do.
Now
.” I shook my head and laughed softly. “I’m sorry, too, David. I—I mean, it’s not

that big a deal—buying my own dr ess. I guess, in some ways, I just wanted to prove that I had my

own strengths, and that I could make a stand.”

“You, my girl, are the strongest soul I know.” He rested his upturned palm along my jaw.

“You don’t ever need to prove that to me.”

Smiling, I took his hand and held it in my lap. “David, you’re a vampire—a part of me will

always need to prove I’m not weak.”

He looked down then, and his eyes focused on something far away while his lips turned up;

my heart skipped at the sight of his dimples.

“What are you smiling at?” I asked.

“I hope you like scary movies.”

An eerie feeling swept over me as my gaze followed his to the front door at the base of the

stairs. “Why?”

“Hello,” Emily chimed in her high but elegant voice as Sam opened the door.

“Hey, Em.” I stood up.

“Hey,” she said, then turned and waved to someone outside. “Bye, David.”

David? Not surprisingly, when I looked back, my eyes fell upon the plain colours of the

corridor walls and the rosewood floorboards below the rug David had been kneeling on.

Right, so, no goodbye for me, then. “Right on time, Em.” I looked at the clock on the wall as

I reached the base of the stairs.

“Yep, and I hope you like scary movies.” She held up a DVD; the title said something about

a saw, but it was hard to tell, because I was too distracted by the blood-like scratches on the cover-

art.

I shivered.
That’s
what David meant. “Uh, yeah, sure,” I lied. “That’ll be great.” Why did I

just say that?

I could almost hear David laughing down the street. Wel l, I hope he enjoyed his little joke,

because he’ll be paying for it when I call
him
at two in the morning, scared, unable to sleep because

the bad man is going to get me—instead of calling Mike, like always.

My arms folded in smug grat ification. Well, there you go, t hat’s one thing I’ll l et him pay

for.

“I don’t know?” Emily grinned at Dad as he stood up. “I think Sam has a point.”

“See, old man,” Sam said, “if a senior agrees with me, I must be right.”

Dad, with a humoured grunt, stacked a pile of plates in the sink and leaned against the bench.

“Well, I happen to know that this particular senior is an A grade st udent because she
doesn’t
play

video games.” He motioned a hand to Emily, who sat taller—bristling with pride.

“Dad.” Sam smirked as he spoke. “Emily’s only an A grade student because she has a cru—”

“Good work ethic,” I cut in, sure Sam was about to say “crush on her teacher.”

Sam bit his lip and looked apologetically at Emily, who grimaced and picked the pineapple

off her pizza.

“If only a good work ethic was as addictive as video games.” Dad sat back down at the table.

“The fact is, Samuel, my boy, that you have an example to set for the other students, being that

you’re a—”

“Teacher’s kid. I know, I know.” Sam rolled his eyes. “We’ve all heard the speech, Dad. But,

you can’t debate my ar gument with any prof itable reasoning. I learned more about physics by

playing Halo than I did from Mr. Ester.”

Dad let out a long breath and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“It’s okay, Mr. Thompson,” Emily said in an encouragi ng tone, “Alana and I still believe in

the importance of homework, isn’t that right, Lani?”

Alana looked up from her plate and nodded.

“I’m sorry.” I folded my arms. “I’m with Sam on this one. Burnout taught
me
the logistics of

driving a car.”

Dad jostled with a little chuckle. “Exactly.”

“Hey. What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean—” he sat back and folded his arms, “—that there’s a reason you don’t have your

licence yet.”

“You don’t have your licence?” Emily practically spat the words out.

“Um…no.” I sank back into myself.

“Why?”

“I uh, I’m not very good at driving,” I lied. I am good. I just don’ t see the need to be behind

the wheel—it never did my mum any good.

“Maybe Alana and I could teach you,” Em offered.

“Uh, I think we’ll leave the driving lessons to the experts,” Dad chimed in.

“But, if your methods aren’t working, Mr. Thompson, then maybe she could learn from those

of us closer to her age,” Emily said.

Sam stifled a giggle; Dad raised a brow at him. “When did I become the old guy?”

“Uh, about forty years ago, Dad.” I laughed.

“Hm. Should’ve seen it coming. So—” he said with a change in tone, “what are you gir ls up

to tonight?”

“Scary movie,” Emily said.

“Yay.” I waved an invisible flag, with mock enthusiasm.

“Yeah? Which one?” Sam sat up, suddenly more eager to be a part of the conversation again.

“No way, pest. Girl’s night,” I said.

“Aw. No fair.”

“Life’s not fair, son. Get used to it,” Dad said distractedly.

What is it with this town and philosophical one-liners?

“Well, Sam, if you want to paint your nails and look at pictures of Ara’s hunky BFF, then you

can have a girl’s night with us,” Emily said.

“Yeah, I’ll pass.” He slumped back in his chair.

“All right, well—” Dad st ood up and took the las t of the plat es, “—Sam and I will get t he

dishes, and you girls can go talk about boys.” Hi s eyes widened and he grin ned, raising his brows a

few times.

Awkward. “Yeah, that’s our cue to go.” I stood and motioned the girls to follow.

As the sun dropped over the roof of the house and the rainbows ran away from my walls ,

Emily, Alana and I all sat with our feet dangling off the side of my bed, our heads tilted back over

the opposite edge and our hands on our bellies, laughing about nothing in particular.

“So, whose idea was it to hang the crystals?” Alana asked. “It’s very inventive.”

“Oh, um, Pollyanna.”

“Pollyanna?” She rolled onto her belly and frowned.

“Yeah. It’s from an old movie my mum used to love.”

“Hm. Never seen it.” Alana looked at Emily, who shrugged, shaking her head.

“So, Ara, are you gonna show us these pics of Mike or what?”

“Sure, Em, but, you’re with Spence now, do you really need to be checking out other guys?”

“Who says it’s checking him out? I ’m just curious as to why your eyes light up when you

speak about him.” As Emi ly sat up, her and Alana rested their heads together for a second and

giggled at my blank expression.

“They so do not light up,” I demanded.

“Um, actually, Ara, they kind of do,” Alana said carefully.

“Yeah, you sparkle.” Emily waved her fingers around. “So—” she sat on the edge of the bed,

“let’s see them.”

“Fine.” I rolled up with a huff and wandered over to my desk. “I only have one box, though. I

grabbed the wrong one when I moved.” The one I meant to grab was my box of Harry, but I’d

switched them over a week before, and now, I have the wrong one. But at least I can remember my

best friend properly, and his face keeps me going when I get homesick.

After closing my drawer with my hip, I dumped the shoebox on the floor in the middle of my

room, then plonked down in f ront of it. Alana sat beside me, waiting anxiously while I fingered the

lid delicately, trying not to peel back the carefully placed rainbow and kitten stickers Mike randomly

stuck on the box when he was bored one day.

With a quick breath, Alana reached past my wrist and grabbed the first picture the li ght

touched. “Oh, my God!” She jumped up and handed it to Emily, who smiled instantly.

“Oh. He
is
cute.” Emily laid back on my pil low, her silky blonde hair spilling out around her

like a splash of liquid. “He’s kinda rustic, isn’t he?”

Alana, with another picture in her hands, nodded. “Is he a surfer?” She f lipped the image

around for me to see; Mike in his board shorts, on the beach—golde n and tanned, with hair like t he

sun falling scruffily over his eyes.

“Yeah, I suppose.” I shrugged. “He does surf.”

“I can’t beli eve how cute he is.” Emily rolle d onto her bel ly and reached down to gr ab

another picture.

“Yeah, he is sorta cute…in a way.” I shrugged.

“In a way? Ara, he’s
really
cute,” Alana said.

“And you two never uh—” Emily let the suggestion in her tone lead that question.

I shook my head. “It’s really not like that.”

“Never?” Emily grinned.

“Well. I did kind of thr ow myself at him once.” Whoa. Can’t believe I just said that. I bi t my

info-blurting tongue.

“Really?” Emily sat up and crossed her legs under her. “Well? Come on, girl, fill us in?”

Great. My head dropped to one s ide with groan. This will bring on the tears for sure—and

tears are bad; questions al ways follow tears. “Um, so, it was my fr iend’s eighteenth…” Going well

so far—no tears. “And…I had a drink at her party. Well, okay, maybe three.” I laughed. “Or more.”

Alana and Emily gasped, wide-eyed.

“What?” I shrugged, with half a smile.

“You rebel,” Alana breathed the words out.

“I know, I know. It’s not one of my proudest moments. But remember, the legal age for

drinking in Australia is eighteen,” I added. “So I’m not that far off—not like here.”

“Huh! So lucky,” Emily scoffed.

“So, anyway. I walked to Mike’s house to stay the night so my mum wouldn’t f ind out. I’d

never had a dr ink before, and Mike picked up on it s traight away. He took me upstairs to his room

and sat me down for a severe talking to.”

Not that I listened to any of it. I spent the whole time laughing at the serious look on his face.

Emily and Alana exchanged glances. “How did he know you’d been drinking?” Alana asked.

“He’s been a cop s ince he was eighteen.” I shrugged. “He knows the signs, and he knows

me—and
I
don’t act like that.”

“Wait. I thought he was just getting into the Force.” Alana asked.

My head moved in a nod as I po pped a candy in my mouth. “No, he’s just getting in to the

Tactical Response Group. That’s where he really wanted to be. But he’s been general entry for

forever.”

“So...” Emily led, “what happened then?”

“Um, well, so, he knew I was drunk. I mean, I guess it isn’t hard when your best friend for,

like, ever, tells you she’s always loved you and thinks you’re gorgeous.” I grinned at the girls.

“So much for you never really noticing how cute he is.” Alana smiled.

“Yeah. Well, maybe once. But he was so furious with me for drinking. He even yelled at me.

He had
never
yelled at me befor e. Not for anything. Plus, he’s like, all about the law. And I was

breaking it. Not only that, but, he was so worried something bad could’ve happened to me that—he

cried.” My voice lowered on the en d. The memory of Mike’s face when he told me what was

wrong—why he was crying—it just about broke my heart to think of.

“He must really care about you?” Emily smiled with dreamy distance in her eyes.

“He does.” I pushed my fringe off my forehead. “So, anyway. With that much alcohol in my

system, his kindness and over-protection, and years’ worth of noticing how gorgeous he’d become,

my hormones took over, and I tried to kiss him.”

“Huh! I would’ve, too,” Emily said.

“Did he kiss you back?” Alana leaned forward slightly.

“Yeah—” I lowered my head, “—for a moment. But then he stopped—pushed me away.”

“Ouch.” Emily winced.

“That must have hurt?” Alana said, softening her tone.

“Not really. But I felt rejected, so I ran away from him and hid in the bushes when he chased

after me.” I l aughed it off, but I’d pushed that memory so far down t hat remembering it came as a

shock. I’d almost convinced myself the kiss never happened.

“That sucks. So he didn’t like you the way you liked him?” Emily asked.

“No.” I shrugged casually. “But it was a mistake. I don’t really feel that way about him. It

was just the alcohol.”

“Or did you just tell him it was alcho-lust to save face?” Emily asked.

I shook my head. “We never talked about it again.”

“Oh. So...how will t hings be when you see

him on Tuesday, then ?” Emily’s face had

“awkward” written all over it.

“It’ll be fine.” I hope. “So, have you guys got a dress for the Masquerade yet?”

Alana, picking up on my need to divert, knel t up and placed the picture she was holding into

the pile. “I’m wearing the same dress my mother wore, and her mother and so on.”

“Wow, that’s so cool. So it’s like, totally vintage?” I knelt up and started placing the pictures

back in the shoebox.

“Mm-hm. It was actually firs t worn by my great-great grandmother at the very f irst

Masquerade.”

“That is totally cool.” Emily le aned forward and handed me a picture. “I haven’t found one

yet. I’m still looking. Just, nothing seems to suit me.”