Alien Blue

Chapter 1.

I intently turned the page, the last page. I craved more of this character. This vampire that wanted so much to be mortal. To me, he was real.  My eyes were strained and I had a bit of a headache, but I had to know what happened to him. I glanced out the large bay window to relieve the stress on my eyes. Much to my surprise, a luminescent figure stood in the park across the street. I kept staring. He was beautiful.
         Suddenly, I noticed that he was staring back, his eyes a brilliant icy blue. His raven hair danced as the wind blew. He held my eyes for an intense minute. His eyes were so bright against the black night that I had to look back down at my book.
         Then a sentence caught my eye.
         His frosty skin and onyx hair...
         I had to hold my hand over my mouth to keep from screaming. But it was really quite silly, I soon realized. A vampire, the thought made me chuckle, a real vampire.
         I looked out the window again, hoping my Vampire- as I had decided to call him- was still there. Just so I could be sure I wasn't imaging things. But, of course, he had disappeared, leaving not a piece of evidence that he had even existed.
         I probably just needed some sleep.
                                                -

"Rose? Hey, anyone home?" Andria Saps snapped her long fingers in front of my face. I looked up from my book with an annoyed stare.
         "What?" I snapped, reluctantly closing on my page.
         "You haven't spoken a word since homeroom," she tapped one stubby fingernail on the worn cover. "Didn't you, like, just read this?"
         I glanced quickly around the cafeteria. Was it lunch already?
         "I-I...uh..."
         She rolled her chocolate eyes and pulled the book over to her so she could inspect what was so good about it. She would certainly find nothing special, other than, a really good plot. She opened to the page I was reading and furrowed her dark, angular brows.
         "This character," she chewed on her bottom lip for a moment. I cocked my head to the side. My imagination took the best of me and I thought I could hear her say that she had seen my Vampire too.
         "You like the description?" her tone was questioning as she looked up, hoping she hit correct.
         What could I say? That I was reading what this particular author thought a vampire was, because I could swear the I had seen one last night?
         I nodded lightly, snatching the book back. "He just seems so real..." my voice trailed as I looked up at the ceiling and began counting the stains on the tiles. I couldn't tell her what I saw. He was probably just some guy anyway. Just some extremely pale, neon-blue-contact-wearing guy who liked to take walks at night, at the park in front of my house. Okay, that was even more far-fetched than my vampire theory.
         "Rose, Rose, you lost me again."
         But I wasn't paying attention to her anymore, because outside was something much more beautiful.
         He had caught my eye again, only this time, I would not look away. He stared from the parking lot, in front of a sleek, shiny, black car. His skin didn't look quite as mesmerizing under the gray sky, but his eyes were the same, intoxicating blue. I was faintly aware that drool was edging my lips.
         "What are you...." Andria moved beside me to see what the fuss was about. I heard her mouth fall open with a pop.
         He closed his eyes and seemed to have sighed. He slid back into his car and revved the engine. It purred like a happy jungle cat. I didn't want to look away as he sped off.
         "Wow," she breathed. "Who was that?" she sounded...excited. She was excited and I was terrified.
         "Rosie, dear, who was that embodiment of hotness?" she forced me to look at her with her warm hands.
         "I don't know...." I felt my body shaking. Last night, I was ecstatic about- I didn't want to think of him as a vampire anymore- him.
         "Honey," she jerked my chin upward with her finger. "he was staring at you and you don't know who he is?" This seemed very odd to her.
         "I saw him...last night. Outside my window."
         She smiled at this. "Looks like Rosie's got a stalker!" she proclaimed in some sick satisfaction.
         I grimaced up at her.
         "Don't you see that this is a good thing?"
         I honestly could not. "What exactly is your definition of 'good?'"
Chapter 2.

         History and Math blurred together. Mr. Kelso asked me for the answer to a simple equation and I dreamily answered the Renaissance. This blue eyed stranger overtook much of my brain.
         I walked along the stained sidewalks, silently dreading the cold walls of home. Oliver would be there, waiting to interrogate me about my day. I really couldn't go home.
         But I did, despite the inner battle going on inside my head. The cold doorknob spun easily; dear brother was waiting for me.
         "Rosie!" he jumped up from his lounging position on the red velvet couch. Some mindless sitcom played on the TV. I squinted my eyes curiously.
         He smiled and I knew he knew that I could see straight through him.
         "Mom's working late," he explained, folding his arm behind his neck and smirking. We exchanged knowing looks.
         It had been three years since Dad had run off with the bartender at his favorite joint. Mom hadn't taken it very well, a lot of sleepless nights with nothing to keep her busy but the computer. Thus, we had accommodated many "As Seen On TV" specials.
         "You think that she and that boss of hers..." I started, plucking an imaginary fuzz off my sweater.
         He rolled his green eyes to the ceiling. "Who knows?" he shrugged. "She could be banging the milk man. Frankly, I don't care."
         He grinned mischievously. "How about we celebrate our lovely mother's triumph over that traitor of a father? Champagne or perhaps, a glass of Merlot?" I smiled. Sometimes it was so easy to love Oliver.
         After I downed my third glass of wine, I realized what color it was. Red. Blood red. I almost gagged, but instead poured myself another. Oliver stared at me, sipping his glass lightly. He'd only had one, but I was losing count.
         "Something bothering you, sis?" he blinked, moving to sit beside me on the couch.
         I slurred a "nothing" and chugged. I reached for the bottle again, but he grabbed it before my drunken fingers could grasp the neck.
         "I beg to differ." He slid the bottle to the table behind him, out of my reach. I hated him at that moment.
         "Just give me the damn bottle!" I lunged forward. He gripped my waist and pushed me back against the armrest. He sat on top of my legs, restraining every limb. I sighed, though it wasn't in surrender.
         "You are the worst liar. Not to mention, an alcoholic," Oliver placed his glass down gently, moving to straddle my knees, still keeping me pinned under his grip. "Tell me," he whispered in my ear.
         I began the dilemma of telling him what I had seen. Surely, he would just assume I was drunk. I did have to admit that the pale gold walls were beginning to spin.
         "Did something happen at school?" his eyes wary. "Did someone hurt you?" his voice edging on anger. "A boy?"
         What a big brother question, I chuckled to myself.
         "What's funny?" his eyes were hard now, his hands loosening from around my waist.
         "I thought..." I trailed off, noticing that his shirt was the color of something familiar.
         Blue. Icy blue. Him.
         "Vampires..."
         His expression questioned my sanity, and I couldn't blame him.
         "You were reading horror novels again, weren't you?" he stood, looking very disappointed.
         I nodded wistfully. That was better than any other explanation.
         He groaned and stomped off to the kitchen, taking the wine with him. I finished off his glass that was left on the antique coffee table and staggered up to my room, holding the rails for dear life up all two flights of stairs.
         Out of our whole house, I always found my room the coldest and quietest. The rest of the Victorian-inspired house was covered, wall to floor, in antiques and heirlooms of families that I had never met. The hardwoods always creaked, the doors swung open randomly, and the most of the large windows didn't open. But my room had been an addition in recent years, added on when Mom got pregnant with me and Oliver- a defiant, four year old- refused to give up his room for the newest member of the Coudray family. The floors were a different color than the other floors, the stain of the rest of the house having gone out of production in the late forties. The walls were still the mint green of my nursery days, a "unisex" color according to Mom. My large, four-post bed was stained the color of the floor, as was the rest of the furniture. Thick, dark curtains flowed around my favorite spot- the window seat. The view was especially good, a straight look at the lush park where children never played. The latest addition, a computer that I never used and an abundance of novels that covered the wall-length bookshelf above the computer.
         I slung myself onto the cushion under the window and instantly regretted it. My stomach was still back in the doorway. My head whirled for a moment and then stopped abruptly, my eyes focusing on the latch on the window. I didn't remember unlocking it and I could've sworn that I had locked it last night before going to bed. I tried not to think too hard; my head pounded with the hope that I would never touch alcohol again. My head had some high hopes.
         I fell asleep on the window seat, curled into a ball. I heard the faint sound of music in my ear, but it was so quiet and relaxing that I couldn't bear the thought of it stopping. I shivered in my sleep. Oliver or Mom must've turned the air conditioner on. I clutched the blanket- when did I get up to get that?-up to my chin and drifted away again.
         I awoke the next morning with the worst hangover I had ever experienced in my sixteen years. I groaned, suddenly sick as I stumbled to my dresser, the blanket thrown around my shoulders. At least, it was Saturday. I grabbed a towel and headed for the bathroom that attached Oliver's and my room. Then I clutched the post of my bed for support when I realized that my headache wasn't what was making my stomach do dizzy flips.
         I had dreamed of him.
         I washed the thought out of my hair, scraping my scalp with my nails. I scrubbed every bit of my dream out of my skin.
         I was being completely insane. I had no reason to fear this stranger with the intoxicating blue eyes and snowy skin. He is just another person, I reasoned. I would not fear another person, especially if I had never spoken one word to him. But I had dreamed about him, I couldn't deny that.
         "Good morning, honey." Mom kissed my forehead as soon as I reached the end of the second story stairs. She retied her bathrobe around her thin waist. I sighed as I looked her over. The blond hair, the emerald eyes, the small figure, the ivory skin. I was the spitting image of my mother, only she was somehow prettier.
         I tugged on the bottom of my white T-shirt. I looked extremely plain next to her, even if she was half-naked, though maybe that was why.
         Oliver didn't greet me as I moped into the kitchen. He was scarfing down eggs like chickens were going extinct. I grabbed a box of cereal and got out the milk, but then felt my appetite drop and I shoved them both in the refrigerator. I decided to skip breakfast completely and just head to town early. I checked the clock above the stove. It wasn't even seven A.M. yet. Way too early for any of the shops to be open.
         "So, are you better this morning?" Oliver didn't look up from his yokes.
         "I don't have any idea what you are referring to." and I walked out the door without so much as an explanation.
         Raindrops attacked me as soon as I slammed the heavy door. I heard Oliver's faint yell.
         "It's raining." Really?
         I ducked and ran across the street. Cars squealed to a halt and drivers grumbled about crosswalks.
         My shoes squished down in the soaked grass, right on through to the mud. Great.
         I knew the shortcut well. Straight through the park, a left across a suburban neighborhood, a leap across an irrigation trench, then straight until I hit town. My feet could make the journey by heart. I started to run, but something stopped me. A hand, pressing lightly on my shoulder.
         "Oliver, I don't..." I spun around, expecting to see my bright-eyed brother, holding up my jacket.
         Instead, a pair of alien blue eyes cut through the curtain of water. I gasped, taking a quick step back. His hand was so cold it was burning into my skin.
         "Do you not realize that it's pouring down all hell out here?" he yelled over a crash of thunder, squinting those hypnotizing eyes.
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Chapter 3.

         I could only gawk at him. His black hair was matted down over his forehead. The tiny droplets that perfectly traced out his lips glimmered like diamonds. He looked like a model for Calvin Klein. While I probably looked like a drowned, sewer rat.
         "You're freezing! You'll get sick," he stated, pulling off his jacket. "Take this. Come on; I'll give you a ride." He threw the black Italian leather around my shoulders. The soft lining stuck to my wet skin, but it was so warm...and dry that even the irritation was not enough to get me to take it off. He led me through the rain with his arm wound loosely around my waist, careful not to touch me.
         I knew it was wrong, getting into his car. It was Safety 101. "Never, under any circumstances, take a ride with a stranger." But he didn't look like a murderer or rapist. Of course, they never do. Yet for some unexplainable reason, I felt safe as I slid into his Mercedes. The leather seat squeaked as I adjusted myself and buckled the seatbelt.
         I shrugged into the jacket. He turned up the heater and down the music. The whispered notes of some 1920's jazz filled the car. I looked him up and down now, his dark jeans, his light gray, V-neck sweater that mapped out every muscle of his chest, and his expensive shoes. What was an obvious silver spoon boy doing out in the rain? Or outside my window or school, for that matter.
         "My name's Rose," I admitted, hoping to get a name out of him.
         He turned, forcing the full power of those eyes on me. "How rude of me! I'm Sebastian," he smiled warmly.
         He cranked up the engine and whirled off around the corner. He kept his focus on the road, thank God. I might have fainted with him looking at me.
         "Can I ask you a question?" I spoke up after a good five minutes of silence.
         He looked cautious for a moment then nodded curtly, still with his eyes on the road.
         "Where are we going?" He hadn't asked me where it was that I was headed so either he was planning on taking me somewhere remote and leaving me for dead or he was psychic.
         "Er, you looked like you were just headed to town..." he cringed, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.
         I looked up at him curiously, my mind comprehending what he had just said. He knew I was going to town. My stalker alarm went off, but I kept talking.
         "Another question?"
         "Go ahead."
         "Why were you outside my window?"
         He stopped at this one. The brakes screeched in protest as he slammed his foot before hitting the silver Honda that swerved in front of us.
         "Damn," he muttered almost inaudibly. He spun the car in a circle, the wheels squealing like a bunch of groupies for their favorite band. My head swam. He was going way too fast. We were bound to hit something.
         He looked back to me cautiously. Maybe he thought I would drop my interrogation. Wrong.
         "So?" I glared. His expression softened as he dropped his head, only to look up through the mane of hair that fell like a curtain over his face. Oh, I got it. He thought he looked cute, eh? He thought he could distract me with that childish display? This boy really needed to learn more about stubborn girls. I blinked expectantly.
         "I was...taking a walk," he said, the finality ringing in his voice. He thought that I'd give up after that?
         "A walk?" I repeated in disbelief. "In the middle of the night?"
         "I couldn't sleep," he held in a smile. Apparently, I was missing some private joke.
         "So...you took a walk." He looked back to the road, relaxed. "But that doesn't explain why you were at my school."
         Instantly, the air in the Mercedes ran cold and tense. The iron bands of his biceps flexed, his jaw clenched, his fingers gripped the steering wheel in a way that I was afraid he would crush it, and his eyes went dead.
         "Were you taking a walk then?" I snapped and regretted it. If he was a criminal, I would definitely die now. Stupid, stupid, stupid!
         "No..." he spoke through his teeth.
         "Then do you mind informing me why you were there?" Mary Sunshine now.
         He was thoughtful for a moment then sighed, in defeat I hoped.
         "I saw you. When I was...walking. You were sitting in the window, how could I not?" he looked upward, glancing at my reaction from the side. I honestly have no idea what my face looked like.
         "You noticed me. You saw me," he continued. "I had to know..."
         I stifled a groan. He was at an obvious loss for words.
         "I just wanted to know you, okay?" his eyes shut. His embarrassment shined through his calm shell.
         I felt bad now. He was truly mortified by this. I wanted to touch him, to slide my hands through his hair, trace his lips...
         I snapped out of my fantasy. His stone fingers were running up and down my arm, drawing intricate designs. I couldn't breathe. My mind went blank. My heart threatened to burst from my chest.
         The rain had lightened by now, the drum of thunder quieting. I could hear the music more clearly now. The song had changed. Hard rock ripped through the speakers on the quietest level, but all I could focus on was his cool hand touching me.
         We had to be in town by now at the speed he was driving. I reluctantly looked from him to the windshield. We were parked, at the small strip of stores. I hadn't even noticed him stop. The bookstore glared me in the face.
         He removed his hand from my arm and I stifled the urge to jerk it back. I just folded my hands in my lap like a good girl. He took a long, deep, cleansing breath and turned to smile wistfully at me. I couldn't breathe again.
         "Ready?" he clicked his door open and was at mine in impossible time. He helped me out the car with my hand in his. When we were standing on the sidewalk, he didn't release. My fingers were going to get frostbite, his skin was so cold. How is it possible for someone to be that cold? Bad blood circulation? My mind wondered back to my original theory...
         The whole car ride I had forgotten about my...vampire, I forced myself to think the word, idea. But now, as his ice-like hand clasped mine, it all flooded back with excruciating speed. I looked up at Sebastian fleetingly, looking for proof that a face so beautiful could not possibly belong to a bloodsucking monster. But all I saw were two sharp fangs sticking out from his god-like lips. My logic cried Scream!, but instead I shook my head, hoping that my mind was like an Etch-a-Sketch. The image dissolved away, leaving his beautiful, flawless, fangless face.
         I realized I was staring at him and diverted my eyes to my muddy shoes. Crap, I probably ruined the interior carpet in his car. An ant crawled over my untied shoelace and into a crack in the concrete. The crack lead straight through the sidewalk into the street. A large semi-truck zoomed by. I imagined the sound of an exoskeleton crunching.



[Author's Note: It is not finished! I need some help. Am I rushing the romance a bit too fast? Just if you read this, PLEASE review!!!]