"Simon, you've…grown." I gazed at him.
"Not in the slightest." He held the side of my face gently in his hand.
I ignored his hard, ice cold skin. I concentrated on his long hair. It boggled my mind that a vampire can grow hair.
"I mean—"
"I know what you mean… It's just that…I can't stop thinking about you."
"You and I both." I smiled. There he was, a huge change, a huge difference then the Simon I knew a year ago. And yet it was like I was staring right into the eyes of Simon…my Simon, non-vampire.
"Please, Isabelle, don't say that."
"Why Simon?" I asked feeling annoyed but my voice came out like a sob—a beg. "Why can't I have these feelings for you?" I pushed my finger to his lips so he couldn't give me a reason. "Do you really think you'll hurt me? Because you're better than that. You're Simon, my Simon, and no amount of vampire venom can stop that."
"But," he pleated, when I lifted my finger, but snatched my wrist in mid-sentence. "But Isabelle, think about it, what happens when you start aging? Or even if you are with me and you become me, how will you feel when everyone else starts to age?"
"Simon, I will be with you." I felt the flow of tears drip down my face. "No matter what the cost."
"Isabelle, no! I won't do it! I won't do that favor." He said, yelling as if I wasn't hearing him out. The sudden movement of him letting me go didn't faze me, it made me even more focused.
"Simon, you promised."
"I promised?"
"You promised we would be together, by each other's side no matter what the cost."
His face of impatience, anger, and frustration turned into sadness and pain. "I remember…and I will not break that promise."
I heard the muffled shouts of my father and Ben trying to find me. I ignored them, but to Simon they were easily heard. "Did I ruin your party?"
He looked me over and I released my attire was a bit more formal then his plain black shirt and matching black jeans.
I shook my head, "No, Simon. It's no big."
His hand was automatically back on my cheek "You look beautiful tonight."
I looked down at my shoes, "Nothing compared to you."
He smiled as if I was telling a joke or a very silly lie.
"It's true!" I laughed like old times. I gave him a warm smile but I never looked into his eyes.
"Isabelle," he lifted my chin up and held it so I wouldn't look down at my shoes.
I closed my eyes; I didn't want him to see the new tears budding out.
"Shh, Isabelle don't cry," he hugged me and his wintry temperature gave me goose bumps but I didn't care. "I'm right here."
I nodded. What should I say?
All too quickly he unburied my face from his chest and gently kissed me on the lips. They were cold, but too careful. It made me feel weak, so I enter twined my fingers in his silky black hair and pushed my self against him. But he had a new strength that was twice—a dozen more times stronger than Ben.
"Isabelle," he said after he set me flat on my feet. "Don't test me, I don't know how strong I am now."
"I know you are," I pleaded. "You are very strong."
"You—and I—don't know that."
"You may not but I do, you are Simon, you are strong."
"I…I—""You are strong." I chanted, pulling my self up to bring us face to face, nose to nose. "You are strong."
"Thank you." He whispered. His hands wrapped around my wrists like handcuffs. My fingers tingled as he lifted my hands to his face. "Once more, until I visit you tonight."
This one wasn't as careful, but he was still aggravatingly gentle.
"Thank you." I whispered once he pulled away.
He smiled, "I should be thanking you."
Then I heard my father's frantic calls coming in louder.
He looked to where they had been coming and then turned to gaze at me. "I must go, but I'll see you tonight."
"Wait!" I reached out after him, he turned and smiled. "How will you get in?"
He smiled wider and I swear I saw the sharp points of his teeth. "I'll find away." And he reached out to brush my check. "I am strong." And he was gone.
I closed my eyes and reached out to the air in front of me like he was still there. "You are strong." I whispered.
A minute later I heard my father calling, "Isabelle! Isabelle, there you are!"
"Oh, sorry Dad, I didn't mean to run off." I apologized.
"No, it's fine, Evan got worried." He stretched his arm and grabbed my hand.
I looked past him, past Ben, to Evan. "I'm sorry Evan. I just needed some fresh air." I stood by my father's side.
His eyes were narrowed, he knew. But he wasn't about to lead my father on. "Mr. Richards, may I speak with Isabelle?" If any one else was talking in this tone I would roll my eyes but I felt some hostility surrounding Evan.
Ben eyed him skeptically but nodded to my father, "Let him talk, he's not trouble." Although he wasn't believing it.
My father hesitated, "Isabelle, you'll be alright?"
"I'm pretty sure he just wants to ask me something." He wasn't convinced, so I continued with, "Maybe to dance."
I saw Evan fighting a smile, he would have too if Simon didn't appear.
"Okay." And my father let go of my hand. "Come to the table when you're done, your mother's worried sick."
Once they were out of sight, Evan stepped closer to me. I could see the details on his face; he really did look part wood elf.
I stalled, of course, looking up at the stars swaying to the faint music behind us, replaying Simon's voice in my head.
Evan just stood there for a few beats, waiting until he found the right words to fit his argument.
"Isabelle," he said letting his human accent drop and using his full singsong elfin tone. "What happened? What did he come here for?"
I melted back into my sad, lonely attitude I hid from my parents and my uncles. "Evan, he's not after my blood, he doesn't want to—" I couldn't say it. It wasn't true; he did not want to kill me. Not me, even if he wanted to feed, he wouldn't feed on me.
He did something so unexpected. I thought he'd argue his point. But no, he gathered me up in a hug and whispered in my ear, "Just be careful. For me."
I closed my eyes, extinguishing a new line of tears, "I'll be fine Evan, but I'll be careful, for you."
Evan looked me over, hands on my shoulders and he smiled, "Isabelle, I hope you know how complicated this will be."
I shook my head, "I know, Evan, but it'll work out."
He frowned, "I hope so, I don't want to see you hurt." Then he twirled around, standing by my side, "Let's go," he said in his fake human voice. "Your parents are waiting for you." And he led me inside.
That night…
"Goodnight everyone." I waved sheepishly.
My feet hurt; that was the last time my mother was ever getting me into high heals, my head hurt from staying up all night, and my mouth dry from giving a long speech. The speech was about how it feels to be here, thank you to my parents for giving me the life of a dream, and also to dedicate this night to a very special person, Evan, we were no longer mourning for Simon.
I yawned as I made my way to the bathroom, took a quick shower, and got ready for a long night of sleep.
When I got to my room I released how cold it was. I checked the windows. Closed. The temperature, normal for a late night summer in New York.
And the air felt fine when I stepped out of my room.
So I shrugged on my school sweater and tucked my self into bed.
I woke up at least an hour after I drifted off. And when I rolled onto my back I was staring right into the face of Simon.
"Simon…" I gasped, his entrance had left me breathless. He was my unusual change of temperature.
"Hello, love." And he bent down to give me a kiss on the nose.
I took this opportunity, guard up or down, I was getting him anyway possible.
His cold lips were just perfect, like they were fitted to kiss mine. I loved his icy hands and his silky hair, no matter how long.
When I sat up I heard him whisper, "Heaven help me." As he hugged me close.
How I loved him, how I missed him, all that rushed back. All at once and I was overwhelmed. I started to cry.
"Isabelle," Simon held my head to his shoulder. "Don't cry, don't cry, I came."
"Yes," I shook my head, embarrassed and mad. "I shouldn't be crying. I'm just so…so happy." I wiped my tears away.
I smiled, not knowing what to say to him.
"I missed you…"
"You saw me a few hours ago." I giggled.
"I know…" he smiled. He gently kissed me.
"Simon," I said annoyed. "Don't kiss me like that."
"Like what?"
"Like," I sighed, thinking of words. "Like I'm not…strong enough."
"Isabelle, you have to understand," he breathed softly in my ear. "I'm stronger than you physically."
My eyes narrowed but he explained, "You have to understand…" he thought for a second. Then he had an idea; "Look." He went to the foot of my bed and snapped a piece of iron from the frame.
My eyes relaxed but I shook my head, not surprised and not impressed.