My Blood Approves: Fate Part 13

"She's happy to see you, and she didn't want to alert the boys," Ezra shrugged.

"Oh." I sniffled again and tried to wipe smeared make up out from under my eyes.

"You know what would cheer you up?" Ezra asked, getting to his feet. "Watching an elephant paint. It's really much more entertaining than it sounds."

"Okay," I laughed a little and got up.

After Ezra showed me that video, he gave me a brief tour of his den, explaining some of his favorite books and the painting on the wall. He'd actually lived in Amsterdam shortly after Rembrandt died, so that had always held some significance to him. When I finally looked like my normal self, we headed out in the living room to see what everyone else was up to.

For most of the night, Jack and Milo played video games, but n.o.body really complained. I felt rather sad and lonely, and while I did my best to mask it, Mae noticed and let me curl up with her on the couch. The time pa.s.sed much quicker then I wanted it to, and before I knew it, the sun was rising and Jack was giving me a ride home. Fortunately, by then, I was so tired I was almost falling asleep. If I had been awake enough to talk, he probably would've noticed something was up, and I really didn't want to talk about it. I didn't even want to think about it.

65.

Chapter 11.

Nine days left of freedom, and Jack couldn't return a stupid text message. It was getting late, and I knew I couldn't spend tonight locked up inside the stifling heat of the apartment. In antic.i.p.ation of escape, I had purposely gotten all dolled up, and I did look ridiculously foxy, at least for me.

There was no way I could stay inside looking that good, and three text messages and one hour later, when I still hadn't heard from Jack, I resorted to actually calling him. That doesn't sound like that big of a deal, but I put off actually speaking to someone on the phone as much as possible.

"Alice," Jack answered the phone, and he didn't sound happy. So that was a good start.

"Jack," I replied, unable to think of a better response.

"What can I do for you?" he asked, and there was the sound of someone talking in the background.

"Hold on." Before I could even answer, the sound m.u.f.fled as he moved the phone away from his mouth. "No! Can you just wait? I'm on the phone." He scoffed loudly. "I don't care! Just hold on!"

"Jack, what's going on?" I thought I heard Milo shouting in the background, but I couldn't make out what he was saying. "Is something wrong?"

"No, no, everything's fine." Jack was talking into the phone again, sounding irritated. "Look, now's not really a good time to talk. Can I call you back later?"

"Like when later?" Was there a hint of pathetic desperation in my voice? I think so, and boy, did it make me feel good.

"I don't know." He growled suddenly and yelled at something happening around him. "No! Knock it off! You can wait one second for-" He exhaled angrily, and then spoke to me again. "Alice, I'm sorry. I gotta go. I'll call you later, though."

"Alright, fine." He didn't even say good-bye. I'd barely gotten the word "fine" out of my mouth before he hung up.

I collapsed back on the bed, knowing that I was completely messing up my hair that I had stupidly spent hours on. It was only light curls at the bottom, but my hair fought curls so much it took forever to get them to stay in. My nails were freshly painted a dark violet, and I had pulled out a fancy new top that did amazing things for my cleavage. Not to mention that I had put on my one pair of black heels that did all sorts of wonderful things for my legs, even though they killed to walk in. My eyes were in dramatic smoky make up that would almost certainly wash off when I started bawling in approximately five seconds.

After a whirlwind romance with a pair of vampires, somehow my life had amounted to waiting by the phone in hopes someone would call. Getting all dressed up with no place to go. That makes complete sense. This is the logical progression of my life. In a week and a half, I'd be a senior in high school, and I'd better crack down on my studies because had college to prepare for. I had a whole boring life ahead of me.

When my phone jingled Blondie in my hand, I was surprised, but then it all seemed to make sense. Out of the blue, my supposed best friend Jane had texted me. Immediately after being blown off by Jack for the hundredth time this week, Jane sent me good news.

There's a big party at Andrew Sullivan's house. I'll drive. You in? Jane had text messaged me.

66.

I'll admit, my first instinct was to decline. But then I decided that it was probably a sign. Just the other day, I had asked Ezra if it would ever make sense for me to turn, or if I was better off just moving on with my life and forgetting about them. So Jack practically hung up on me, and Jane invited me out into the real world. My path looked clearer.

Yeah. I'm actually already to go out. When can you get here? I responded.

Twenty minutes? Jane suggested. Great. See you then.

I rolled out of bed and hurried to the bathroom to make sure my hair and make up looked okay.

Even though I was looking about the best I could ever hope to look, I knew it would hardly compare to her. That was unfair, but that was just another fact of my life. With one last quick look over myself, I realized that something was missing. That something that screamed "I need to go crazy tonight." I dashed back into my room and changed into the final touch: a bright purple thong that Jane had insisted getting for me from Victoria's Secret, just "in case" Jack ever decided...

well, he was never going to decide that, so it seemed like a moot point.

When I went outside to meet her, Moby was playing so loud in her father's car, I'm surprised it didn't blow the speakers. The whole car smelled of strawberries because she was thickly applying strawberry flavored lip gloss. With an overly happy "hey girl," she offered me some, and I took it.

I'm sure that I could find somebody that appreciated strawberry flavored lips, because the immortal certainly did not.

As predicted, Jane looked amazing. She reminded me of some tragic socialite, like Edie Sedgwick, the way everything about her was perfect and completely poised to end up exploited in some way. Undoubtedly, there had to be photos and videos of her in compromising situations posted all over the internet, but she would laugh about and if she were drunk enough, she would even boast about it. While she was driving, she laughed a bit too much at things that weren't particularly funny and started dancing so intensely to the music, that the car started weaving all over the highway.

"Jane!" I exclaimed, grabbing the wheel to keep the car from slamming into a divider. She giggled surrept.i.tiously and put both her hands securely on the wheel, but it looked like it was an effort to keep her eyes focused on something as mundane as the road. "Jane, what's going?"

"I'm rolling." Jane leaned towards me, as if she was confessing a secret and spoke carefully, then she held her fingers out to me about an inch apart. "Just a little."

"Of course you are," I sighed, and she apparently took this as my displeasure in not being high myself.

Immediately after this statement, she squealed and let go of the wheel entirely so she could dig through her glittery purse. "Jane!"

"Just hold on! I know have some more X in here!" Lip gloss, condoms, and cash were flying out of her purse as she dug through it, and I groaned.

"I don't want any! Just take the wheel back!" I insisted. I'd never done ecstasy before, and I didn't really want to start right now, while I was trying to steer the car from the pa.s.senger seat.

"Oh whatever." Jane finally turned her attention back to the road, sounding as if I was raining on her parade. Then her eyes widened. "Oh! Quick! That's Andy's exit!" She s.n.a.t.c.hed the wheel from me and skidded across three lanes of traffic without looking before flying up the exit and lurching to a stop.

67.

"This is still better than sitting at home," I muttered to myself. Sure, we had just nearly died, but at least I wasn't crying myself to sleep. No sir, not tonight.

Magically, we got to Andrew Sullivan's house without dying. When we got out of the car and I saw her stumbling in her heels as we walked up to the house, I realized that she had to be more than rolling. Either she was drunk or on something else entirely, but it was pretty amazing that she even remembered where Andy lived, let alone how to get there.

From outside, I could hear the music, and I took that as a good sign. The house was overly warm and the entryway was clogged with teenagers. Jane instantly separated from me, but I'm not sure if it was by choice, or if she was just sucked up male hormones. Thankfully, there were too many people and too much alcohol for anyone to notice that I was awkward and alone. I'd been there for all of five minutes before someone spilled beer me, and I knew that I was in dire need of a drink myself.

In the kitchen, an attractive young man I didn't know was pouring shots for all the girls in the room, and he insisted I take one. He made some swarthy comment about me being hot that I could barely understand over the ba.s.s blaring from the next room, but I let myself take it as a compliment. Bright blue vodka burned when it went down, but it burned really good.

"Your eyes are the same color as the drink!" he told me after I had downed the shot, and I laughed like I actually thought it was funny. My eyes were more gray than they were blue, and nothing in nature was the same shade as that vodka. "You want another drink?"

"Yeah!" I shouted.

So far, it only felt warm in my belly and there was the fake blue taste in my mouth. Theoretically, I think it was supposed to be blue raspberry, but everything that was artificially flavored that way never, ever tasted like raspberries. They all just tasted like blue, the same way that grape Kool-Aid tasted like purple.

"My name's Jordan."

He leaned in closer to me as he poured me another shot, and he smelled really good. He probably did a lot of drugs, but I didn't care. Boys that smoked a lot of pot always smelled really good because they put on too much cologne to mask the smell. But so what? At least they smelled good when they leaned in close.

"I'm Alice!" I yelled over the music. He had poured himself a shot, then clinked his gla.s.s with mine.

"Cheers!" Jordan laughed, and I laughed too, because he did and the warm feeling was starting to spread through me.

When the hair fell in his eyes, I realized that he was probably very attractive, but it was hard for me gauge anymore. Peter had been so incredibly gorgeous that everything else paled in comparison, and Jack was definitely pretty easy on the eyes himself. But I didn't want to think of Peter or Jack so I made him pour me another shot, and I tried to focus on Jordan and his eyes and his wonderful cologne.

"You should probably slow down," Jordan suggested as I downed my fourth shot in the past fifteen minutes, but he never stopped pouring them for me.

"Why?" I asked him, because it was the only I could think of.

68.

I felt myself moving closer to him, touching his chest and leaning in on him like I wanted him, and some stupid desperate part of me did want him. When I had first walked in the kitchen, he had been pouring shots for several girls, but eventually they had all dissipated. There were still other people in the room with us, but we were in the corner. He had singled me out from everyone else, and he was foxy, so I was flattered. The more alcohol I drank, the more I realized that I must have tremendously low self-esteem.

"You look like a light weight." This is what Jordan said after he poured me yet another shot. He'd known me for less than a half-hour, and the only thing he'd done in that time was talk about Lil Wayne and ply me with alcohol. These were red flags that I would've noticed, if I hadn't been in the process of getting completely smashed.

On more than one occasion, I had drank a wine cooler. At least twice, I'd drank really fruity schnapps with Jane and got pretty tipsy. As far as I could tell, I had never been really and truly drunk. Not like Jane, when she'd pull off her all her clothes and start making out with a guy ten minutes after puking in the kitchen sink. Never even remotely that drunk.

Not surprisingly, five straight shots of vodka hit me pretty hard. It was very strange, though. One minute, I was standing there talking to Jordan. I felt a little warm and a little light, but still entirely in control of myself. Then, suddenly, everything changed. I'd go to move my arm an inch and it'd move a foot. Everything was closer than I thought it was. I tried to take a step, and I ran into the island. Jordan was talking to me, and I knew I was repeating myself, but I just couldn't remember anything that had happened a minute before.

Here's what I can remember: In the kitchen talking to Jordan, and he finally cut me off when it was obvious that I was entirely gone. I yelled things at him, but he just laughed. A girl in a tube top offered to make out with me. Someone threw a football and it hit me. I walked into a wall.

There were so many stairs and I couldn't figure out how to climb them. Jane told me I looked pretty, but she was making out with a really ugly guy with curly hair. There was a lot of stumbling and leaning on Jordan, who didn't seem to mind.

The next thing that I really remember clearly I was in a dark room. I know that I had been conscious the entire time, but I felt like I was just waking up. I couldn't remember how I'd gotten there or anything that happened prior to that second. All I knew is that I was on a bed, making out with someone that smelled insanely good so I a.s.sumed it was Jordan. We were kissing pretty intensely and his fingers had just started pulling down the string on my bright purple thong, and that's when warning bells went off, alerting me to the moment I was in.

Vampire or no vampire in my life, I hadn't planned on giving up my virginity to some guy who smoked too much pot and thought it was a good idea to pour too many shots for a girl. I know that a moment ago, kissing him had felt good, but it suddenly just felt wrong. But before I could even push him off of me, my pocket started to vibrate.

"You're vibrating," Jordan laughed. He had stopped kissing me, so I took the opportunity and pushed him off me gently.

"It's my phone," I mumbled. Getting it out of my pocket was a major fight because my jeans were too tight and my coordination wasn't exactly up to par.

"Ignore it," Jordan suggested. He put his hand on me, trying to keep me in bed with him, but I shook him off and got up. The ground felt precarious under me, but at least I had taken off my heels at some point so I could actually walk.

"No, I've gotta take this." I wasn't sure if that was true or not, but I just wanted an excuse to be away from him. Without even checking the ID, I flipped it open and answered. "h.e.l.lo?"

69.

"Alice?" Jack said, sounding confused. Just hearing his voice made my heart soar, and combining that with way too much to drink, I started crying in relief.

"Jack!" I squealed. "Jack! I'm so glad you called! Oh, Jack!" I started searching around the darkened room for a door, but I just kept stumbling into furniture. "Dammit! Why is it so dark in here?"

"Why don't you just come back in bed?" That was Jordan's helpful advice.

"Because I just want to leave! Where is the stupid door?" I cried, and tears were streaming down my cheeks now.

"What's going on?" Jack was getting worried, which made sense since I was sobbing and complaining that I was trapped in the dark. But really, I was just too drunk to find a door. "Alice?

Are you okay?"

"No!" I whined, stomping my foot. "I want out!"

"I'm getting the door!" Jordan said, sounding very annoyed. Seemingly out of nowhere, a rectangle of light flooded the room, revealing the hidden door.

"Thank you!" I smiled at him as I walked past, but he just nodded. As soon as he realized that I wasn't going any farther than I already had, he lost interest in me.

"Alice!" Jack shouted, trying to get my attention. "What's going on? Are you alright?"

"I don't know!" I admitted, and I had to yell so he could hear me over the music and the chatter of the party.

"Where are you?" Jack asked. I plugged my open ear so I could hear him better, but he was still hard to make out.