I'm skipping a bit of time between last chapter and this chapter. In this chapter, Janine and Dillon have just graduated. Predictably, she is his guardian. Because he is not royal, she is his only one. Thanks for reading, and please review.
I eyed the clerk angrily. She was oblivious to me; her attention was entirely focused on my charmingly sexy boyfriend/Moroi. The death glare was not working on her. I cleared my throat rather conspicuously. Still no notice. This girl was desperate, deaf and human. Jesus Christ. The instant she had rung up our last item, bagged it, placed it in the kart, and sent one last seductive glance to Dillon, I grabbed his arm and briskly whisked him away form the checkout line. Humans never failed to annoy me.
It was only my third day of being a real guardian--five days ago, I was still at the Academy. I was still flying high, metaphorically speaking. Being a guardian... it was nothing like I had imagined. And I had imagined it many times growing up. My classes at the Academy had always seemed fun, like you make a game out of the guardianship thing. Maybe that was why I had found no interest in them. Because being a real guardian was absolutely no game. I had to keep constant vigilence. Constant vigilence. Constant meaning your eyes were either following your Moroi or scanning the perimeter. Or glaring at desperate human girls who were hopelessly flirting with the Moroi you were guarding.
I had been requested to guard a few royal Moroi--and I was deeply humbled by that, although I had politely declined their requests. I didn't want to spend every day following around some person I didn't even know. If I was going to literally stalk someone for years, I was going to stalk someone I loved to be around. I did love to be around Dillon. I loved him. I just hadn't told him the little 'L' word yet.
Currently, it was summer. In fall, Dillon was going to college and I was following him, of course. I hadn't decided if I planned on actually going to my classes or if I would just attend his. It was technically a human college, even though there were more than just a few Moroir and dhampires. The humans were completely unaware of this, however.
Dillon and I were staying in a pretty but small house just outside a city called Oshkosh, Wisconsin. Weirdest town name I have ever heard before in my life. Second only to Walla Walla, Washington. Oshkosh is... well, pretty midwestern. They have this flying convention every year where way too many airplanes land there and the population swells. Thankfully, I don't think we will be here when it happens. We just missed it, thankfully, and it won't happen again for another year. Planes bore me. Anyways, come fall, Dillon is taking classes at the University of Wisconsin--in Milwaukee. I burst out laughing when he told me... only to realize he was serious. I was completely mystified. He was fluent in French, proficent in Math, an astounding writer, and because he was a Moroi, he was better than most humans at human sports. I'm surprised he didn't set his eye on a... well, better university. I'm not criticizing those who go to the University of Wisconsin, but I don't envy you.
Dillon kissed my forehead, drawing me back out of my thoughts. "Baby, what are you thinking about?" I smiled softly, loving the nickname. Loving him.
"The fall," I replied, leaning into him comfortably. I inhaled his scent subtly. He smelled good... and that is very cliche. I made a face. "Why Milwaukee of all places? Why couldn't we go to New York or Los Angeles or even Denver?" I couldn't keep the desperation out of my tone.
He sighed leaning away from me. This wasn't good. "My mother was born here," he said simply, gesturing around us. "She wanted to go to the University in Milwaukee, but my grandfather wouldn't let her. Some sexist thing about women and college, I guess. Anyways, by the time she had gotten old enough to really make her own decisions, I had been born, and then she died." His tone was calm, serene.
I looked at him sadly. "Oh. I'm sorry... I didn't realize." I hugged him again, burying my face in his chest. His arms wrapped around my back, holding me close. We stood for an immeasurable moment before I pulled away with a laugh. "Unless you like your ice cream toasty warm and soupy, we'd better get going and get this in a fridge," I said with a wry grin. He smiled at me warmly, grabbing my hand and a grocery bag.
We piled the groceries in the back of my car--a graduation gift from my mother and long-lost father. It was a nice car, not incredibly expensive, but not rusty and beat up. A Mercedes W126, I believe. 1985. It was a pretty good car. I climbed into the driver's seat, buckling my seatbelt and closing the door. I pulled out of the parking lot, keeping my eyes focused on the road, even though they tended to stray to Dillon every now and again. I sighed, clenching the steering wheel tightly. I really did love him. He was so... perfect. Okay, yes, I know he was far from perfect, as everyone is, but I really, really, really, really liked him.
"Dillon," I whispered quietly. My heart was pounding. Damn it. This was so not me. The fluttering heart, sweaty palms, heavy breathing. I could feel his gorgeous green eyes on me. "I love you," I told him, keeping my eyes on the road. I held my breath, waiting for a response.
He didn't say anything. I looked at him frantically. Did he not feel the same way? Shit, I pushed us too far.
Finally, he spoke. "Pull over," he commanded. I did, and faced him warily. I wasn't prepared.
Before I had even put the car in park, he was kissing me passionately, one of his hands expertly undoing my seatbelt before pulling me closer to him. I kissed him back roughly, my lips parted, my fingers weaving through his thick black hair. Dillon. Dillon. Dillon. He pulled away briefly, his lips brushing mine as he spoke. "I love you, too." And then his mouth was devouring mine again, his hands sliding down to slip around my lower back, lightly touching my hips. I shivered and pushed myself closer, opening my mouth, a clear invitation. He groaned, kissing me harder, pulling me tighter.
My fingers brushed up against something cold and wet. Shocked, I opened my eyes, pulling my lips from his. "Shit, the ice cream," I muttered, glancing at the melting tub of mint chocolate chip ice cream.
"Screw the damn ice cream," Dillon whispered huskily. He pulled my lips back to his, kissing me again. My lips parted and I kissed him back fervently, loving this, the feel of him. The ice cream slipped from my mind. Pretty much everything did.
Jeez, I kind of realized how un-Janine she seemed. Let me know if you thought so too. Anyways, thanks for reading! And I have been to Oshkosh during the flying convention. I didn't enjoy it that much. And if you happen to wonder why she has a 85 Mercedes, please remember that she grew up in the 70s and 80s. My guesstimate (guess/estimate) is that she was born in the 60s. Have a great day.
Mel.