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Authors: Jamie Manning
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lot, just like always. Nostalgia tugged at my heart as I stood there, the New England wind swirling around me like a frigid cocoon. I missed the few times we’d shared in that truck, the arguing and the closeness and the friendship.
That’s it. That’s what I miss most about Chance.
Our friendship.
Even though my heart longed to have him back completely, I wanted more than anything to just be friends with him again, to have him there if I needed him, if he needed me. I vowed then to accept friendship if that was all he could offer.
I watched with fear in my spine as he climbed from the truck cab, his backpack slung over his shoulder and his head facing the icy asphalt of the school parking lot. I didn’t have to say a word to Kayla; she knew.
“Go on,” she said, practically shoving me toward him. I wanted to run to him, to throw my arms around his neck and squeeze the life I took from him back into his veins. I wanted to coat his face with kisses and bury my nose into the soft, warm skin of his neck and forget about the past month he had been ignoring me. I wanted to tell him that I was so desperately, infinitely sorry for what I had done, and that I would spend the rest of my life making it up to him.
But I did none of those things. Instead, I death-gripped the suddenly heavy straps of my own backpack and took tiny, timid steps in his direction. My heart leapt into the center of my throat, thumping like the bass in Kayla’s stereo. I kept swallowing over and over as I carefully crossed the large expanse of parking lot—mostly due to the sheet of ice that had settled there, but also because I was scared as hell—hoping to quell the pounding that was desperately urging me to turn and run. I wouldn’t turn and run. I wouldn’t be a coward. Not again.
I was several yards away when Chance spotted me. He stopped walking and lifted his head; those hypnotic jade eyes were staring at me—though somewhat dimmer than before. My face filled with blood, my cheeks burning as though it was the first time he had looked at me. And then the realization hit me: it was the first time he’d looked at me. The first time since he became a vampire. The first time since I’d turned him into one. I stopped walking then, too, the words “BIG MISTAKE” flashing in my mind, my fingers curled around the backpack strap so tightly my knuckles were painfully white.
What now? Do I go over and say hi? Do I smile and wave like nothing has happened? Do I turn and walk away, with my shameful tail tucked between my legs?
That last one sounded like a winner to me, and I had totally settled on playing the role of coward and bolting, but Chance wasn’t having it. With slumped shoulders, he slowly began crossing toward me. My heart began beating wildly again, and I desperately wanted something to sit down on or lean against, because I knew I was seconds from blacking out.
“Hey.” Chance’s baritone voice crept into my ears and filled my head with warmth and love and all the things I had been missing over the past month. Just one tiny word, and it was as though the two of us had never been apart—as though the horrors of that night in the woods never happened.
“Hi,” I said back, doing my best to ignore his own white-knuckled grip on his backpack straps. “How are you?” I fought not to stutter, suddenly at a loss for words. Before all this happened, before I ruined Chance’s life and condemned him to an eternity of damnation, we could talk for hours about nothing, about everything. Now, it took all I had inside me to muster four meaningless words.
“I’m okay,” he answered through a huff of frozen breath. “First day back.”
“That’s right.” I tried to play it off like I hadn’t noticed him gone, like I hadn’t been swirling in a pool of depression and remorse and grief for the past twenty-nine days, wallowing in thick self-pity over what I had done. “Nervous?”
“Um, yeah, a little, I guess. I’m not sure
That’s it. That’s what I miss most about Chance.
Our friendship.
Even though my heart longed to have him back completely, I wanted more than anything to just be friends with him again, to have him there if I needed him, if he needed me. I vowed then to accept friendship if that was all he could offer.
I watched with fear in my spine as he climbed from the truck cab, his backpack slung over his shoulder and his head facing the icy asphalt of the school parking lot. I didn’t have to say a word to Kayla; she knew.
“Go on,” she said, practically shoving me toward him. I wanted to run to him, to throw my arms around his neck and squeeze the life I took from him back into his veins. I wanted to coat his face with kisses and bury my nose into the soft, warm skin of his neck and forget about the past month he had been ignoring me. I wanted to tell him that I was so desperately, infinitely sorry for what I had done, and that I would spend the rest of my life making it up to him.
But I did none of those things. Instead, I death-gripped the suddenly heavy straps of my own backpack and took tiny, timid steps in his direction. My heart leapt into the center of my throat, thumping like the bass in Kayla’s stereo. I kept swallowing over and over as I carefully crossed the large expanse of parking lot—mostly due to the sheet of ice that had settled there, but also because I was scared as hell—hoping to quell the pounding that was desperately urging me to turn and run. I wouldn’t turn and run. I wouldn’t be a coward. Not again.
I was several yards away when Chance spotted me. He stopped walking and lifted his head; those hypnotic jade eyes were staring at me—though somewhat dimmer than before. My face filled with blood, my cheeks burning as though it was the first time he had looked at me. And then the realization hit me: it was the first time he’d looked at me. The first time since he became a vampire. The first time since I’d turned him into one. I stopped walking then, too, the words “BIG MISTAKE” flashing in my mind, my fingers curled around the backpack strap so tightly my knuckles were painfully white.
What now? Do I go over and say hi? Do I smile and wave like nothing has happened? Do I turn and walk away, with my shameful tail tucked between my legs?
That last one sounded like a winner to me, and I had totally settled on playing the role of coward and bolting, but Chance wasn’t having it. With slumped shoulders, he slowly began crossing toward me. My heart began beating wildly again, and I desperately wanted something to sit down on or lean against, because I knew I was seconds from blacking out.
“Hey.” Chance’s baritone voice crept into my ears and filled my head with warmth and love and all the things I had been missing over the past month. Just one tiny word, and it was as though the two of us had never been apart—as though the horrors of that night in the woods never happened.
“Hi,” I said back, doing my best to ignore his own white-knuckled grip on his backpack straps. “How are you?” I fought not to stutter, suddenly at a loss for words. Before all this happened, before I ruined Chance’s life and condemned him to an eternity of damnation, we could talk for hours about nothing, about everything. Now, it took all I had inside me to muster four meaningless words.
“I’m okay,” he answered through a huff of frozen breath. “First day back.”
“That’s right.” I tried to play it off like I hadn’t noticed him gone, like I hadn’t been swirling in a pool of depression and remorse and grief for the past twenty-nine days, wallowing in thick self-pity over what I had done. “Nervous?”
“Um, yeah, a little, I guess. I’m not sure
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