Within The Cave- Originals

Chapter 27

Carl is already waiting for me at the door when I meet up with him. He helps me in carrying my bag and I flush for the umpteenth time. He opens the passenger seat abreast the driver seat.

"In you go."

"Thanks."

"You don't have to mention."

His Lexus whose model is a mystery to me has a cool air conditioner, refreshing me from the warm weather. I slide my back to rest more comfortably while he gaits to the other side after closing the door for me and hop in too and drive out of the parking lot with lots of carefulness.

After a few minutes, my nerves spikes up but when he turns on the radio, I calm. An Opera song whose band, I don't know soar up, filling the cramp space. It's melodious, soft, high-pitched, and welcoming to my ears. I close my eyes and listen deeper.

"You seem to like Opera," he says matter-of-factly, "mind if you share me the name of the band you love most?"

"Oh, that I'm bad at. I don't have a favourite band, just listen to whatever sweet Opera comes my way. Cliché, uh?"

"Sometimes not doing favoritism is okay." I look down at my fingers when he sharply glances at me. Control button Rayne! You should learn how to stop flushing around time to time. It's exhausting!

I decide against asking him what band he loves since it won't in any way be useful to me. There's tendency I might have even forgotten its name before we reach my street.

"Why did you move here, Carl? You travelled to Morocco, right? Isn't the place good enough?"

"No, Morocco was actually great. The beaches are nice but it's like, my family doesn't stay in one place for a long time. It's personal. We move, traveling across the world, not in a family resort, reunion stuff but to check out the packs, see if things are okay and well-conducted."

Uh?

"I absolutely did not understand you."

Packs? Strange-typical-Carl-Wildlings.

"You can't really understand. That's why I mentioned it earlier to be a personal thing. I can't make you comprehend." His eyes squint as he says, facing ahead, and focusing on driving. I feel a bit disappointed but then, it's not his secret to tell. It's a big-bang family secret stuff.

"I get."

He gives me a curt nod.

The green light shows and we continue on driving. I'm just a street away from getting home.

"I still remember you, having a crush on me in fifth grade," he starts and I feel the air suck out of me, knocking me in the stomach only to erupt a shard of embarrassment as the blood drains off of my face. He knew?!

"You couldn't hide it then just like you couldn't hide your embarrassment now." He caught me on this too and on the second note, he just answer my unasked question.

"I had a crush on you too in junior high school but I was a stupid, dull guy then, I couldn't come up and talk to you. I guess going to Morocco changed that."

"Turns you into a bad, sexy guy?"

"Something like that."

I look ahead of me and have a glimpse of my house.

"Um, sorry but if I may ask, do you have a current boyfriend?" Carl question.

Hmm!

"No, why?" Where is this leading to?

"Nothing too much," he pulls over to my place and I take off the seatbelt. He turns all his attention to me, "I just wanted us to, if possible, become friends all over again, get to chat and have nice time together, that could spike up our old, childish feelings. If that's okay with you?"

He's quick.

"Okay, um, let's, er, do it in the old ways." I stutter.

"Wow?"

"I'll be thinking about it."

"Well, that's a great start, at least it wasn't a direct denial." He laughs, nervously

I mock, copying a masculine tone, "hey Mister Carl, I don't wanna date you, leave me alone."

He laughs pretty hard at my jocularity and I watch him from the close proximity.

His cheeks are firm — not in anyway chubby, helping to straighten his jaw, in filing it a more chiseled but Nicklaus'--- I revert back to him--- is more chiseled and sharpened-- like it could cut a material into halves.

I reel over the thoughts of Nicklaus-- the way his skin pales sometimes as if it lacked warmth--- cold instead like the warm weather has no effect to his skin's tone, the way he isn't tanned in any ounce, the way his eyes colours changes time to time--- blue radiant eyes to another, the way he looks at me and manages to sweep me off my feet and spike up something in me, the way he gives me the reactions-- butterflies-in-stomach, heart-in-hand-thumping affectionate sessions, the way his existence steers me.

Comparing all this to the school party night, those fangs, I think I saw, the impossibility I had seen as a possibility, blue ravishing eyes, changing to scarlet red, and after he “feeds” from Lydia, they turn into lighter, creamier golden shade. It was terrifying and thrilling at the same time, but mostly of the first word. I shudder at the thoughts, inwardly. Maybe he is a Vampire after all. I mean, his way of irritability. It's alarming. Wait...red eyes, golden shades, pale skin, cold tone, it seems to add up to my calculations.

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Thanks for reading. Join me in the next chapter.