You didn't know what things needed to be sorted out, but it was clear to you once you watched Eric drag Bill and Henry to a back room. You still don't know what happened in there, but they came out with wide eyes. You don't know if he interrogated them or just said something insane. Or he could've tortured them. But they were back there for more than an hour. You and Sarah played pool to pass the time. It was your first time playing, and you almost broke the light fixture above the table. Pam just watched the both of you while Margot continued to organize the bar.
Because the sun wouldn't be out for a while, the group decided to stick together and drive to New Orleans. Henry, Margot, and Bill already left in Margot's car. They made that decision before any of you could follow them. Which means you're stuck in a car with Eric again. This isn't ideal, it'll be awkward. You're leaving the faerie club when you hear Eric's voice from behind you, "Pam, come with me." He says, walking past you toward his red Corvette. You raise your eyebrows in surprise when you don't see Pam following him. You look at her from over your shoulder. Her arms are crossed and her eyes are narrowed.
"I'm going with Sarah." She decides loudly, marching over to your roommate's car. Eric spins around, eyes wide with surprise. He glances at you for a moment before he glares at Pam. He doesn't have a chance to respond, she's already in the passenger seat of Sarah's car. His surprise morphs into frustration once he realizes she won't listen to him. And his frown deepens once Sarah starts the car and pulls out of the parking lot.
You just stand there, taking everything in. You didn't know Pam was mad at Eric. Or maybe she's looking out for you. You're not sure, but you hope it's the latter. Knowing Pam, she's probably just mad at him. You don't know what for, but you're sure you'll find out soon enough. Soon, Sarah's car is out of sight and you're alone with Eric. It's already awkward. But maybe you just think that because you feel awkward. You hope he doesn't feel the same way. He's been alive for a very long time, he's probably used to stuff like this.
He looks at you again, "Get in the car." He says to you, turning and marching toward his flashy red sports car. With a shaky breath, you follow him and open the passenger-side door. He's inside before you can slide in, starting the car. When you get inside you close the door behind you, trying not to slam it like you usually do when you get in and out of cars. It's an expensive car and you don't know how Eric's feeling right now. He seems tense or frustrated, judging by the way his hands tighten on the steering wheel when he pulls out of the parking lot. You're surprised he hasn't ripped the wheel off with his vampire strength. But he seems to have some control over himself. He showed that when he kissed you and when he rejected you twice.
Eric only relaxes about an hour in, leaning against his seat and loosening his hold on the steering wheel. He spreads his legs out a little bit, taking a deep fake breath.
Both of you are silent for a very long time, almost two hours into the drive. It's a long time for you, it's probably like half a second to him. You don't know how he processes time and if it seems to move faster for him. That sounds shitty to you. Another reason not to be a vampire. But you've thought of that before, that's already on your pros and cons list.
You look over at him, wondering what could be going through his mind. You wonder how many times his thoughts have repeated themselves over the 1,000 years he's been alive, "Why is Pam mad at you?" This is the first question you ask. Immediately you regret it, feeling yourself wince. He glances at you, blue eyes connecting with your own for half a second before you look away bashfully.
"She thinks I'm acting strange." He says simply, shrugging his shoulder. You hum to yourself, agreeing with that sentiment. You don't know Eric well, but you know he's acting weird. He continues to drive the car, and you don't say anything more for quite a long time. It's hard to relax.
Mostly, you're thinking about Sarah and Pam. Russell's on your mind too but for some reason, he's not as important as their new relationship. You knew about Sarah's interest in women, and you knew she was interested in Pam. But you expected to see them kiss (or something) sooner than today. You wonder how Sarah's therapy has been going. Maybe you'll sit down with a doctor and tell them your deepest, darkest secrets. The car ride seems to go on for decades, and you still haven't arrived. If hell was personalized for everyone, this would be yours. Or maybe it would be waiting in line for a roller coaster. Both are things you hate.
A song is playing on the radio, it's one you don't recognize, and don't like. It's quiet enough that it's not bothering you. And it's making the ride less awkward in a way, "How much longer?" You ask, wincing at the sound of your voice, scratchy from disuse.
"About 2 hours." He says, voice devoid of emotion. You nod awkwardly in response. The car is silent again, save for that bad song. You lean forward and change the channel. Happy with the change, you relax against your seat. Eric glances at you, shakes his head, and goes back to starting at the road.
The silence persists, along with you glancing at Eric out of the corner of your eye. You can't seem to stop doing that. Sometimes, he glances at you too, but it doesn't deter you in any way. If anything, he's enabling your behavior. He's making you want to look at him more. After realizing that this might seem creepy, you stare out the window instead. You can hardly see anything, but it's better than staring at Eric.
"Do you like New Orleans?" You ask him curiously, turning your head to face him. He glances at you briefly before focusing on the road. His expression is the same as before, unreadable. But he's not ignoring you, so that's good. You'd hate it if that were to happen.
He seems to think about your question for a moment, "It's just like any of the other places I've been to. It has its charm and its history, but I've never liked Louisiana in general, New Orleans is just an extension of that." He replies to you. It's a more detailed answer than you were expecting, but you're glad to hear his voice.
"Is there any reason why you hate Louisiana?" You inquire, turning your body to face him. He doesn't look at you this time, he just stares straight ahead at the road. His grip on the steering wheel seems to tighten a bit, concerning you. If he rips that thing off, there's no way you won't die in a car crash. You hope he can control himself.
"I never said I hate it." He says, not answering your question. His blatant refusal to answer only raises more questions in your mind. Maybe his disliking Louisiana has something to do with why he rejected you. But you won't jump to any conclusions, that hasn't worked out for you ever. Every time you've thought something, you've been wrong. You still can't help speculating.
"Fair, but you never answered my question." You remind him pointedly, slightly irritated. Eric remains silent for a few minutes, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. Those minutes seemed to drag on for hours. His grip on the steering wheel seems to loosen, and you stop worrying about crashing. He's considering telling you. You just hope he decides to do it before you die from anticipation.
"Pam and I never chose to come here," He starts, glancing over at you with an unreadable expression. You raise an eyebrow at him, urging him to continue, "We weren't cooperating with the authority's new agenda, and they didn't like it." He explains to you, looking back at the dark road. You don't know what their agenda is, and you don't care but you'll probably find out at some point.
"Where were you staying before?" You can't help asking, you're curious. Again, he looks at you, and you revel in the short amount of eye contact. His cold blue eyes meet your own for a moment and all your thoughts seem to disappear. This doesn't last long, he turns his head to face the road again and you're left unsatisfied. You don't know what you want from him, but it's definitely more than a few seconds of eye contact.
"We lived in France on a vineyard," Eric answers, still slightly tense. You just hope he doesn't rip the steering wheel off the column or something. Sarah's car is out of sight, it has been for a while. But you're not worried about that, you're sure Eric knows where he's going. You don't want to ask about his time in France, he doesn't seem like he wants to talk about it. He doesn't elaborate further, so you don't know what to say at all. That's the worst part about being around Eric. You never know what to say. The guy's been around for a thousand years, you're sure he's heard it all before. But you never let that stand in your way, you still manage to be awkward or say something that makes you cringe internally.
You stare out the side window just as Eric makes a turn down a dark road. There are no streetlights, but it doesn't worry you. You're sure Eric can see in the dark. You're just worried about how creepy everything feels all of a sudden. The trees along the road are large, and sometimes you think you see someone standing there. But it's just your mind playing tricks on you. You're just paranoid, probably because of all the shit that happened tonight. There's some dickhead vampire on the loose with no self-control. It's a good reason to be worried or paranoid. You see Eric glance at you out of the corner of your eye, he probably noticed your heart rate speeding up. But as expected, he doesn't comment on it. Eric takes another turn and you see lights up ahead.
Soon, you reach another highway and try to look for Sarah's car. Of course, you don't find it. You have no idea where they're at, they're probably ahead of you somewhere. You feel sort of dumb for doing it, but you'd rather be in the car with them. Third-wheeling is never fun, but it's better than this, "So your punishment was Shreveport? Doesn't seem that bad." You comment, slightly hesitant, watching his reaction carefully.
All he does is hum and you have to stop yourself from sighing in disappointment. He doesn't make any indication that he'll respond to you, and you're already irritated by this. The car continues along the road and the silence grows uncomfortable. You glance at him in hopes that he'll look back at you, but he doesn't, so you just stare ahead at the dark road. It's obvious that he's deliberately avoiding you and he has been for a while. He made that clear when he tried to leave with Pam.
You wonder if asking about New Orleans was the wrong thing to do, Eric seems to think so. But you never can tell with him. He probably doesn't even care, he might be thinking about something completely different. There's no way to tell, ever. You'd have to get him to open his mouth if you want to know. And that seems like it would be extra hard right now. So you'll just sit in silence until you reach your destination.
Because everyone is suspicious of Russell, you don't think you'll be staying at his mansion. But even if you weren't suspicious, he probably wouldn't want Eric around. Especially after what happened last time when they fought like children. Scary vampire children, but children nonetheless. You hope Russell isn't behind those dead faeries. You already had to deal with him once, you don't want to do it again. But maybe if it is him, he'll finally tell you why he was in Sarah's dead cousin's house that day.
Eric finally stops the car in front of a shady-looking motel that gives you the creeps. He parks next to Sarah's car, which is parked next to Margot's car. You don't know how Eric found them, but he did. They didn't plan any of this but you wouldn't be able to tell. When you get out of the car, you notice there's nobody else around, "Wait here," Eric says, shutting the car door and walking over to the motel's entrance. You huff but do as he says anyway.
The front door closes behind him and you look down at the pebbles beneath your feet, illuminated by the lamppost above you. You kick at a few of them, sending them across the concrete. Impatiently, you glance at where Eric disappeared to. You're not sure why all of you are staying in a motel, you know most of the vampires are rich. They could've upgraded to a holiday inn or something at least. Anything would be better than this dump. It's not that the exterior is a mess, it's just the feeling it gives you. Like there's a pit in your stomach or something. You've only felt like this a few times before, and always right before you almost die. So you're eager to get in your room and lock the door behind you.
Lost in thought, you don't notice Eric exit the lobby. A loud beep startles you and you step away from the now-locked Corvette. Eric shoves his car keys into his pocket and starts walking without saying anything to you first. You sigh and follow after him, arms crossed over your chest. There's a chill in the air, unnoticed by Eric. You follow him across the parking lot and toward a bunch of rooms, rubbing your arms to stay warm. There are goosebumps all along your arms, and the hair on the back of your neck is standing upright.
He stops in front of one of the bright red doors and pulls two small keys out of his pocket. He unlocks the door and pulls it open, stepping aside so you can enter first. When you do, you notice there's only one bed in the room. This means you'll have to share or one of you will get the couch. You hope the curtains are blackout, or Eric'll be a pile of blood and guts in a few hours.
Immediately, you head to the bathroom to pee. Eric closes the door, locks it, and sets the room keys on the dresser beneath the shoddy television. He does the same with his car keys. While you're washing your hands, Eric turns the TV on and clicks through the different channels. There aren't many to choose from, to his displeasure, but he finds an acceptable channel. You pat your hands dry with a stray towel, looking at yourself in the mirror. There are deep purple-colored bags under your eyes and your hair looks flat and lifeless. You can't believe Eric is seeing you like this. Desperately, you fluff your hair up a bit at the roots, trying to add more volume. After a moment, you realize Eric can probably hear what you're doing and you stop.
Shamefully, you exit the bathroom and find Eric lying against the headboard, one hand resting behind his head casually. He's shirtless and watching whatever's on the TV. Not sure if you should sleep on the couch or not, you stand there for a moment, sort of like a child that just threw up. He finally turns his head and looks at you, eyebrow raised, "I don't bite," He says sarcastically, patting the spot on the bed beside him. After a few awkward seconds, you slink over and slide into bed next to him. Once you're close enough, you finally take the time to admire his naked chest. The tension in the air is palpable, and so thick you probably couldn't cut it with a knife.
Sharing a bed with a thousand-year-old vampire who rejected you twice wasn't on your bucket list. Part of you wonders if this is some cruel joke the universe is playing on you. Imagining it is one thing, but seeing it is another. You knew he had abs, you knew he would be muscular, but it's better than you thought. He remains quiet, watching the TV and pretending not to notice you. It kills you inside, but it has to be this way. You remember the feeling of his lips on yours, you would do anything for that to happen again. You look at his face, it's paler than it usually is somehow. It concerns you.
"So how long have you known Sarah?" You look up from his chiseled chest, trying to break the tension and make everything less awkward. If you can't have him, you'll just be friends with him instead. It's better than not being around him at all.
He glances at you for just a second before turning his attention back to the TV, "She came into the video store 3 years ago and immediately knew what we were, Pam was head over heels." He explains with a grimace, disgusted by the idea of loving a shifter. Suddenly, you realize something. Eric's extra pale because he's hungry. He didn't bring any blood, and there probably aren't any hospitals around here. And it's far too late for anyone to be out right now.
"Are you hungry?" You ask abruptly, surprising Eric. He looks at you, eyebrow raised. He pulls his hand out from under his head and rests it against his leg. He seems to consider this for a moment as the TV plays quietly in the background, filling the silence and making it feel less awkward. There's still some tension in the air, and more of it now that you asked him if he was hungry. You're hoping he isn't.
