Chapter Three
"Are your tighty-whities lodged up your ass or something?" Michael frowned across the table at his younger brother who was constantly fidgeting in his seat, completely fixated on the comic laid out beside him.
Sam glanced back at his brother with a scowl, his spoon completely missing his mouth resulting in a rather unsightly splatter of milk and soggy cereal down his front. "Oh man, look what you made me do Mike!" Sam threw his hands up in exasperation, hurriedly making a bee-line for the kitchen sink.
"Surprised the spoon missed your mouth, it had a big enough target," Mike smirked around a mouthful of cocoa pops.
"You know you can be such a jerk," Sam pouted, sponging down his shirt, the soggy patch of cereal now replaced by a large wet patch in the middle of his chest. Flick couldn't argue with that fact, Mike could be a jerk, then again, so could Sam when he wanted to be. She theorised that they clashed so much purely because they were so similar, regardless of how much they both refuted the notion.
"I was only asking what's got you so fidgety this morning, it's not my fault you can't multi-task," Mike shrugged as Sam slumped back in his chair, inspecting his comic for any stray splashes of milk.
"It's this comic, I told Edgar and Alan I wasn't into horror comics but they insisted, they even went so far as to say it could save my life," Sam gestured to the animated glossy pages.
"Save your life?" Flick arched her brow incredulously. "Death by comic book – wonder how that works…" she teased.
Sam rolled his eyes. "Not the actual comic itself bird-brain, but what's in it."
Michael reached across the table and snatched the comic, ignoring Sam's whiny protests. "Destroy all vampires?-" he scoffed, reading the comic's title, "-how's a dumb comic about shit that doesn't even exist supposed to save your life?"
"Edgar and Alan-"
"-Wait who are Edgar and Alan exactly?" Flick inquired, slurping the chocolate milk from the bottom of her bowl.
"Their parents own the comic store but they practically run the place-" Sam explained, "-anyway, we got to talking last night and well, they have this theory that Santa Carla is being taken over by vampires and if I want to survive, then I gotta know what signs to look out for and how to defend myself in case of an attack," he gestured to the comic Mike was still flicking through.
"Garlic? Seriously? That's some playground bullshit Sam, these kids sound like weirdo's," Mike rolled his eyes, tossing the comic back across the table.
"I gotta agree with Mike on this one Sam, they sound like they need to get their head out of the comics and into the real world," Flick squeezed her younger brother's shoulder.
Sam cheeks flushed as he pushed himself up onto his feet. "You know, if Edgar and Alan are right and this place is full of vampires, then don't come begging for my help when one tries to stick their fangs in your neck," he huffed, grabbing the comic before storming out of the room.
"Sheesh, what a drama queen," Mike laughed, shaking his head in amusement.
"Right?" Flick laughed.
What kind of weirdo's lived in this backwards town?
~/~
Flick paced in front of her closet in nothing but her bra and knickers, staring at the rail of clothing with distain. Why was choosing an outfit such a big deal when guys were involved? Guys could just roll out of bed, tug on a pair of crumpled jeans and a creased t-shirt and still look hot but with girls it was like trying to crack the freaking Da Vinci Code. Urgh!
Flick glanced out of the bedroom window, the sky was beginning to streak with pastel pink and apricot, a tell-tale sign that dusk was approaching. She sighed, biting the nail of her thumb as she eyed her closet one more time. She usually didn't have this much trouble choosing an outfit for a date, then again, was this even a date or were they just hanging out? Paul never specified what the actual itinerary was, just that he'd meet her at the boardwalk, he hadn't even given her a solid time frame.
"Get a grip Flick," she chastised herself. Why was she getting so worked up about some guy? The corner of her mouth quirked up in a coy smile. He wasn't just some guy though was he? He was Paul. He was cute, funny, wild, older, experienced and all the right kinds of wrong. He made her feel things she'd never felt before. Sure, she was no stranger to fooling around but in the way that seemed to matter, she was innocent and there was just something about him that made her want to shake off that side of her and open herself up to a whole new world. A world filled with wild dirty blonde hair, mischievous grey eyes and a gorgeous, roguish smile.
Following a chorus of huffs, sighs and a brooding pout, Flick opted for a pair of acid washed denim cut-off shorts and a Billy Idol t-shirt, pairing the outfit with a plethora of bracelets and her old tatty white chucks. She brushed her fingers through her back-combed hair and touched up her mascara, giving herself one last look over in the mirror before pocketing some cash and heading downstairs. "Mom?" Flick hollered from the foot of the stairs, hearing a muffled clatter coming from the kitchen.
"Do you know where your brother is?" Lucy bustled out of the kitchen with an arm full of laundry.
"Which one?" she countered, perching on the arm of the sofa.
"The one with a closet to rival George Michael," she sighed, holding up a tropical print shirt.
"He's probably out with the dork brigade-" she shrugged, "-his new friends," Flick clarified with a grimace.
"And Michael?" Lucy questioned.
"I think he's in the bathroom feathering his hair-" Flick laughed, "-why, what's up?"
"Do you see this?" Lucy held up the mountain of laundry.
"Barely," Flick joked earning an exasperated sigh.
"Your brothers seem to think that they're living in the Hilton with a maid service on tap, I'm working now Flick, I don't have time to spend all my time tied to the washing machine – it's about time they learned to look after themselves," her mother exclaimed, clearly heated about the subject.
Flick wanted to counter that it was her mom's fault for catering to their every whim, turning them into needy little mommy's boys -she'd been doing her own laundry since she was a freshman- but she didn't want to rattle her mother any further. "Put it outside their door with a note declaring mutiny, they're gonna have to learn to wipe their own ass at some point," she stated.
"You know what, I just might," Lucy resolved, stomping up the stairs with a determined expression on her face.
A knock on the front door drew her attention away from her mother's retreating form and she hopped to her feet, making her way into the hall. Flick opened the door to find a girl a few years older than her stood outside. "Can I help you?" she asked confused by the unexpected strangers arrival.
The girl looked her over with a haughty expression causing Flicks hackles to rise - who did this girl think she is? "Is Michael home?" she finally answered, glancing over Flick's shoulder dismissively.
Ah, so this was Mike's latest piece of ass, figures… he always seemed to gravitate toward absolute bitches.
"Mike?-" Flick hollered over her shoulder, "-there's some girl here for you, I'd hurry up if I were you, she looks a little uptight," she added, shooting the girl a pointed look as she shouldered past, sauntering down the drive with a smirk.
~/~
Flick wove through the sea of bodies flocking the boardwalk, debating on a good place to hang whilst she waited for Paul to show up, if he showed up at all…
With a sudden hankering for a milkshake and hot, salty fries, Flick shouldered her way through the crowds and headed for the diner, slipping through the door on a welcoming jingle.
She slid into a vacant booth and ordered herself a large strawberry shake and a side of fries. Whilst she waited on her order, she found her eyes roaming the kitschy eatery with a fond sense of nostalgia, recalling the times her grandpa used to treat her and her brothers to a large chocolate fudge sundae despite her mother's adamant requests that he not indulge their sweet tooth. Did she really expect a man who hoarded double stuffed Oreo's and root beer to follow such orders? The diner was done out in a 1950's style with music popular back in the 1950's playing from a polished red and chrome jukebox huddled in the far corner while the booths were all made up of red and cream leather seats, the tables all water-marked stainless steel. Stools sporting the same red and cream cushions lined the stainless-steel counter while the walls were all decorated with framed vinyl's and vintage, signed baseball jersey's.
A perky waitress with her auburn hair pinned in neat victory rolls delivered her food and drink with a chipper smile and a flourish of her petticoat styled skirt before sauntering away to take more orders and wipe down the counter.
Flick dipped the tip of her finger in the mountain of whipped cream heaped on top of her milkshake and brought it to her lips, giving a satisfied hum on tasting the creamy, sweet treat. She absentmindedly dunked a frie into the little pot of ketchup resting on the side of her plate, her brows furrowed as she lost herself in her own bubble of self-doubt.
"Hey space cadet, see anything you like up there in orbit?," a familiar drawl startled her slightly and she glanced up to find Paul sliding into the booth.
"Your home planet," she quipped in return and Paul chuckled, the mischievous sound making her stomach flutter.
"I've been looking for you everywhere," he slumped against the seat of the booth with a sigh.
"I was about to give up on you," Flick joked, knowing deep down she would have likely waited for him all night, her heart in her mouth, her stomach filled with nervous butterflies.
Pathetic but undeniably true…
"Aww don't say that babe, you didn't really think I'd blow you off, did you?" Paul frowned, his infectious smile fading slightly.
Flick shrugged. "Maybe – I don't know you enough to decide for sure whether you would or not…"
"So it's a case of getting to know me, huh?" Paul cocked his head to the side. "Wanna play twenty questions?" he grinned and Flick laughed, taking a sip of her milkshake.
"Are you serious?" she shook her head in amusement.
"Why not?" he shrugged, helping himself to some fries.
"Fine, what's your favourite colour?" she asked innocently and Paul barked a laugh.
"Aah so we're getting straight down to the really personal stuff, huh?" he joked. "Shit, I don't know? Maybe blue?"
"Well you could have a secret love of all colours of the rainbow for all I know."
"That's me all sunshine, cupcakes and fucking rainbows – you're only jealous you couldn't pull it off," he teased and Flick couldn't help but laugh, his light-hearted demeanour and fun-loving nature was infectious, so much so that she was starting to feel childishly giddy.
"You don't think I could pull off a hot pink leotard and purple leg warmers?" she smirked.
"I'm down to judge if you ever wanna find out," Paul winked, making her cheeks heat. "When you were a kid, what did you wanna be when you grew up?" he asked.
"A butterfly," she laughed, earning a bark of laughter. "What about you?"
"I told you, you were cute," he smiled, meeting her eyes and her stomach fluttered. "I wanted to be a roadie, getting to watch your favourite band play every night sounded like the best job in the world."
"That still sounds like the best job in the world," Flick agreed. "What's your favourite song?"
"Shit babe, that's a tough one," he mused, chewing on the end of a ketchup soaked frie. "Ugh it's too hard," he pouted.
"OK, give me one that's in your top ten," she bargained.
Paul's eyes drifted to her shirt with a smirk. "Billy Idol – Rebel Yell."
"I totally thought you were gonna say Motley Crue – Girls, Girls, Girls," she grinned.
"There's only one girl I'm interested in right now," he winked and Flick felt her cheeks heat. "C'mon, what's your favourite song?"
"Def Leppard – Pour Some Sugar on Me," Flick replied instantly.
"Interesting," Paul grinned, flashing his teeth. "Right, you're on death row, you're about to be executed, what would be your last meal request?" he arched his brow, leaning back against the seat of the booth.
"If I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die drunk-" she laughed, "-I'm requesting a bottle of Tequila, a huge plate of fries smothered in ketchup, a cheeseburger and a doughnut with extra sprinkles, what about you, what would your last meal be?"
"Three big macs, a crate of beer, a massive wedge of chocolate fudge cake and a greasy slice of pizza," he declared. "OK, quick fire round – pizza or burger?"
"Burger."
"Pepsi or Coke?"
"Coke."
"Indian or Chinese?"
"Chinese."
"Chicken or beef?"
"Chicken."
"Sweet or sour?"
"Sweet."
"Top or bottom?"
"Bottom…"
Flick's eyes widened and Paul barked a laugh, knowing that he'd caught her off guard. "I'll be sure to remember that for future reference," he smirked with a wink.
"You dick," she pouted, her pout turning into giggles moments later.
~/~
Paul slid a huge slab of chocolate fudge cake into the middle of the table with two forks clattering alongside it as he slumped back into the booth. "This place does the best chocolate fudge cake in town," he smiled, gesturing for her to grab a fork. "So, school's out for summer, right?" he quirked his brow.
"Right – I'm kinda dreading going back, starting a new school sucks," she sighed.
"School's a fucking drag man, how long you got left?"
"Another year," Flick pouted.
"Alright, so you're a junior? That makes you what, sixteen?" Paul guessed, his pale grey eyes studying her face intensely.
"Seventeen," she corrected.
"Eh, close enough," he shrugged.
"How old are you exactly?" Flick asked.
She knew he was older but she was curious to know just how old he really was.
"Twenty-four…." he replied honestly.
Shit he was like seven years older… would he even still be interested in her?
"Oh…" she murmured, averting her eyes awkwardly.
"Age don't mean shit if you vibe, you know what I'm saying?" Paul caught her eye, his smile sincere.
"That's what a pervert would say," Flick joked.
"You calling me a pervert?" Paul laughed incredulously.
"Might be," she grinned, licking an errant blob of chocolate fudge from her fork.
~/~
Flick sat huddle in one of the over-sized oak rocking chairs on the back porch, her eyes drifting from the Rolling Stones magazine in her lap to the swaying corn stalks standing tall in the field opposite. The moon was full and low, casting everything in an eerie silvery light, whilst the sounds of chirping crickets broke the silence of the night. She sighed, her fingers drumming against the chairs armrest as she absentmindedly chewed her lip, her mind wandering to the nights earlier events. She'd spent hours in the diner just chatting shit with Paul, eating her body weight in fries and fudge cake, secretly not wanting the night to end, when just as he'd suggested they head out somewhere else, his whole mood had suddenly changed and he gave her some weird off-hand excuse about forgetting he'd promised his buddies he'd meet them somewhere.
Flick couldn't help but feel paranoid that she'd said something dumb and dorky, reminding him of the undeniable age gap between them and putting him off her completely. She couldn't understand how his mood had flipped so suddenly, like he was practically itching to get away. She couldn't deny that it had hurt a little when he'd dropped her home without even so much as a peck on the cheek. The second she'd hopped off his ride he'd been flying down the drive, nothing but a cloud of dust and loose gravel where he'd been only seconds before. Feeling more than a little rejected and confused, Flick had spent the last two hours sat on the back porch, half reading her magazine and half staring into space, cursing herself for being such a naïve idiot for believing someone like Paul could be into someone like her.
"What're you doing out here?" a familiar voice brought her back down to earth.
Flick glanced over her shoulder to find her younger brother Sam leant against the kitchen door frame, cradling a can of Coke with a packet of potato chips stuffed into the pocket of his cardigan. "Reading," she stated, waving her magazine. "The house got a little stifling…" she grimaced, referring to the humidity and hell-like heat.
"Yeah, it's pretty hot tonight, huh?" Sam mused, his eyes tracking a moth with a look of distaste. "Mike not home?"
"No, he's out with some stuck-up chick," Flick scoffed, recalling the way the girl had looked at her when she'd answered the door.
"I think he's got a fetish for girls that treat him like trash," Sam sighed, slurping from his Coke.
"You might be onto something there little brother," Flick nodded.
"You staying out?" Sam inquired, pushing away from the doorframe.
"Nah, think I'm just gonna head to bed," Flick replied, rising to her feet with a stretch.
"Same, well… night," Sam smiled, cutting through the kitchen, the packet of potato chips rustling loudly as he ascended the stairs.
"Night," Flick sighed, locking up before heading to her room, trying to ignore the sinking sense of rejection once again tying her stomach in knots.
~/~
Paul stared up at the dark house, his eyes trained on the window of Flick's room as he debated whether it was a good idea to hit her up so late. He'd been riddled with guilt for the past few hours. He could still picture the hurt look in her eyes when he'd made some bumbling excuse about forgetting he'd made a promise to meet the guys. He knew she felt rejected, he'd smelt the bitter stench of shame on her skin when he'd dropped her home and took off without even attempting to explain himself. But then again, what could he have said? I'm sorry but my packs calling for me to hunt and the scent of your blood is making my throat itch.
He wished he could just tell her the truth straight up but in what world would that work? He needed her to truly trust him before he revealed the truth, he didn't want to fuck things up before they'd even started. He knew she felt the pull, he knew she wanted him and holy fuck did he want her too but blurting out the fact he was immortal was likely to erase any feelings she may have for him and as much as it pained him to admit – it would fucking hurt.
Besides flinching at being tied to the same chick for the rest of eternity, one of the main reasons he hadn't wanted a mate was the whole prospect of developing feelings, of getting hurt or being the cause of someone else being hurt. He usually couldn't give a shit if he offended someone or pissed someone off but it was different with Flick, he did care if she felt hurt and the thought of her spending the night thinking she'd done something wrong made him feel uneasy.
"Fuck it…" he sighed, noiselessly making his way over to the tree that stood just outside her bedroom window. In one swift leap, Paul was crouched on the branch that brushed the window ledge and before he could talk himself out of it, he reached out and quietly tapped his knuckles against the glass. The window was open, the breeze from the ocean making the drapes flutter as he heard the sound of hesitant footsteps on hard wood.
Flick's face appeared from behind the curtain, her brows furrowed in confusion before her face relaxed, her cheeks flushing pink as their eyes met, he couldn't help but wonder how much further down that blush went…
"What are you doing here?" she whispered.
Why was he there exactly?
"I uh… I felt shit about ditching you earlier," he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. "Can I come in a sec?"
"Oh… OK," she nodded, her blush deepening and Paul found himself yearning to feel the heat of her skin beneath the tips of his fingers. He hopped down into the bedroom, his dick twitching when his eyes caught sight of a pair of bare, slender, sun-kissed legs as Flick stood a little awkwardly by the bed.
"Nervous?" he arched his brow, slowly closing the space between them. He could hear her heart drumming rapid-fire against her chest, the scent of her blood strong enough to make his teeth ache. Flick nodded almost imperceptibly and Paul smiled. "Figures - some creep you barely know crawling through your window at 3 in the morning, I'd feel nervous too," he joked, moving to stand in front of her.
"You don't need to feel nervous though, not with me…" he whispered, the pad of his thumb stroking her flushed cheek.
She was so fucking soft and warm…
"I'm sorry about earlier…" he confessed awkwardly. "It was a shitty thing to do and I guess I just didn't want you to think it was something you did. I really did have to meet the guys and if you knew David like I know him, you'd be moving your ass pretty quick too," he stated, grinning when Flick's lips curved up in a pretty smile.
"It's OK," Flick smiled as he felt her relax.
"You sure? You can tell me to fuck off if you want and I'll leave…"
"I don't want you to leave," she whispered.
"Yeah? Me neither," he drawled and much like it had the first time he'd kissed her, the air around them seemed to charge with a palpable energy while the tug in his core became almost violent in nature. Unable to ignore the pull any longer, Paul captured Flick's lips in a lingering kiss, his tongue slowly teasing the corners of her mouth until she exhaled, her lips parting in response. He slid his tongue between her parted lips, drinking in the taste of her. With one hand cupping the back of her head, he smoothed the other down the length of her arm and over the soft, warmth of her stomach, lightly squeezing her hips beneath his fingers. Flick's tentative fingers twisted in his hair whilst her fingertips lightly grazed his scalp in a way that made his skin tingle.
A low groan escaped him, blending with her shallow breaths and his hunger for her doubled ten-fold. He trailed kisses across her jaw, nuzzling behind her ear before he snaked hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses down the length of her neck, teasingly nipping the spot where her pulse thrummed. Flick moaned softly, her warm breath caressing the shell of his ear as his skin burned beneath the thin cotton of his t-shirt when her hands explored his chest with a featherlight touch whilst he drew her back into a passionate kiss. Paul slid his hands up her waist, his palms resting flat against her ribs as he traced slow circles with his thumbs on the underside of her breast.
"Let me make it up to you tomorrow night," he swallowed, pushing back his desire.
"What do you have in mind?" she countered breathlessly.
"Patience is a virtue you know," he smirked.
"Sucks for you that I'm not very virtuous - you better make it worth it," she smirked flirtatiously.
"Oh I will," he drawled, sucking her bottom lip between his teeth, eliciting a low hum. "Anyway, I should go but I'll see you tomorrow. Meet me at the pier at around 7?"
"Sure," she nodded.
"Sweet, night babe."