:Author Notes: The vast, vast, large, large majority of this story was written way back in September during my Twilight Swing. I fished it up, found it out, and finished it just last night. I hope you like it. : )
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Drink.
--
"Would you care for a drink?"
I would not. "Love one."
He smiled genially and poured a glass of something that smelled faintly like cognac. It was the russet color that was to be expected, but the red color emanating from the glass was not of the liquid I would rather drink.
"Do you drink a lot, son?" he asked.
"No," I told him. "It's unlawful. I am underage, after all. You of all people should know that."
He smiled faintly, knowing the truth of my words. "Drink up," he told me. "You look like you can hold one or two brandies."
One or two, perhaps.
"It's impolite to say no," he pressed. "Who am I going to tell?"
"I really shouldn't."
"You're family. This is purely social."
I took a minute sip of the foul liquid, imagining the moment I would have to spit it back up.
How odd, he thought. He doesn't even seem to be enjoying himself.
Of course, he expected that sort of flaw in my character. Anything to give him a legitimate reason for his rightful distaste in and of me.
"Let me properly introduce myself," he told me in his best kind tone. "We've never really gotten to know each other."
"Unfortunately," I replied.
"Tell me about your life," he demanded. "Leading up to the break, I mean."
Which break did he mean?
"I was born in Chicago," I replied. "My parents died of sickness. I almost joined them in death, but Carlisle saved me. I was soon adopted."
"Oh?" he said, truly interested.
"Yes. Carlisle was kind and, knowing it would be hard to stay there, we moved."
"How old were you when this happened?"
"Would you care for a drink?"
"I would love one."
Of course, a few coy words had him pouring into his own glass at my own meager request. He poured more cognac into my already quite full cup in accordance, eyes giving me a meaningful look. I raised the glass to my lips and took a large gulp of it, trying best to ignore the revolting taste it left in my mouth.
"I was very young, sir," I impressed upon him. "Much younger than I am now. The memory is… foggy, to say in the least."
He raised his eyebrows.
"Do you have any intentions of going back?" I doubt it. He'll cling to his Father for the rest of his natural-born life.
"In the distant future, I may," I replied, grimacing at the trail of his thoughts. His tone was harsh. "My priorities, at the time, will take me elsewhere."
He raised his eyebrows, his thoughts obviously going awry. Priorities? What priorities? Not with my daughter, he doesn't. "What might those be?" he asked, forcing a smile.
"Hopefully, your daughter and I shall attend the same university." I faked a smile, trying to disguise my dislike for her understanding of the subject. "That will take up the vast majority of our time in the near years ahead, as you can imagine." I took a deep drink of the brandy, trying to ease him. "Wherever she goes, I am sure to follow."
Soulless abomination. Why can't he just leave my daughter in peace?
If only he knew the true extend of his thoughts.
"You sound like such the romantic."
"Do I?"
"Would you care for a drink?"
"I would love one."
He poured evermore the drink which I despise—for I would despise it, would I not, the taste which is so vulgar to my kind? It is of which humans become addicted, craving the moment in which it passes their parched lips, where they would kill to drink it. I, on the other hand, turn this into a matter of bulimia. How eloquent.
I took a sip.
"For someone who doesn't drink, you sure can pass brandy," he grunted disapprovingly.
I immediately, happily placed it back on the table. "I apologize."
"What for?"Stealing my daughter, breaking her heart, ruining her life, ruining my life… name your bargain, you foul—
"I shouldn't have been so… greedy."
Couldn't have said it better myself.
"But you must believe me, I am simply trying to be polite."
Politeness is behind you.
I smiled a rickety smile. "I'm on my best behavior now."
He studied me, his eyebrows furrowing. He took a large swig of his drink, but his eyes never left me, only closing twice to blink. He scrutinized me so deeply, so thoroughly, had I been human, long ago would I have flinched. Over the years, I've learned to, er, stomach such gazes. I've been able to hide my truer reactions more easily, to disguise surprise, to fake complete and total indifference. Now was such a case that I practiced this art.
"You're different," he said abruptly. "Not like any of the other boys I've met."
I didn't miss his use of the word "boy". To him, I was some higher-up teenage child, but I knew substantially more than he did concerning my own age. Substantially being used in terms of eighty or so, loosely.
"I shall take that as a compliment," I told him, grinning, albeit a fake grin.
"Perhaps you can," he mumbled.
What kind of boy behaves like this? He's not rude, he isn't misbehaved, he's…perfect. An act. A rouse!
What an actor I was.
"In what ways am I different?" I asked, a genuine smile gracing my face. "Elaborate for me, if you will."
"I've seen you. Maybe you don't realize this, but I watch you, sometimes—"
If only he knew.
"—When you're around her, I mean. It's as if—it's as if she's transfixed by you. Every bit of you—more so than other equally attractive boys." He sniffed. "Mike Newton could give you a run for your money."
I almost laughed at the thought. She cringed at the very thought of the first syllable bearing his name! The idea of the two of them together was quite laughable. She would never agree to it.
"Mike Newton is very handsome, yes," I said, humoring him. "But I still don't understand the train of your thought."
Lie.
"Well," he tried again. What I mean to say, you dirty, snot nosed boy, is that I don't like you and I want you out of my house. You're ridiculous."No one can keep a girl's attention like you. I want to know—" why you chose my daughter's life to corrupt, "how you do it!"
I allowed myself a small chuckle. "To be perfectly honest, I don't do it on purpose."
Is he honestly bragging? The gull!
"Oh?" he said, not trying to hide the obvious disbelief in the tone of his voice. "I wonder how you manage to do that."
"As do I, sir. As do I."
If he thinks he's going to make me believe he just magically makes my daughter hang on to his every word as if her life depended on it, he's got another thing coming.
"Something you must understand," I said, blinking and clasping my hands. I leaned forward just enough for this act to become noticeable. "Is that I am absolutely in love with your daughter. I would gladly give my life for hers."
Then why don't you leave now and let her live her life in peace? "Well, that would be nice of you."
"The thing, though, is that she feels the exact same way. I can't tell her otherwise—it would be like her telling me otherwise. And, I am afraid," I flashed him my teeth. "That if she did do such a thing, I would never believe her."
Try.
"I see," he said solemnly. "And I suppose, if she throws her life away for you—"
Another thing that he had absolutely no idea how spot-on he was.
"I assure you I will let her do no such thing."
His eyes studied me impeccably, never blinking, never relaxing. I would have laughed had his thoughts not betrayed him.
You're a terrible excuse for a human being, he thought. "Care for a drink?"
My eyes were tight. I smiled and lifted up my glass. "Thank-you."