Romulus steps back into the room just as she’s asking that question.
“You shouldn’t be talking about things like that,” he says to Vivian. “You know the rules.” He shoots her a look that’s meant to be scathing, but I don’t miss the hint of softness that plays on the outer corner of his lips.
Great. Even Romulus likes her.
I feel that pang of jealousy resurface, but this time it’s for an entirely different reason.
Vivian just waves her hand in the air dismissively. “Please,” she says. “I’ll talk about what I feel like talking about.”
Romulus looks as if he’s getting ready to say something else, something that’s likely going to come across a lot harsher, but he apparently thinks better of it and turns around to leave instead. This time, Lydia follows him. Something’s on her mind. Something, I’m sure, that’ll be whispered well out of earshot of the rest of us.
In their absence, the silence feels less stifling.
To be honest, I’m kind of impressed by Vivian’s boldness. She sits there staring at me, still waiting for me to answer her. I look around at the boys and none of them seem to want to stop me from talking about
it this time, not even Rory.
“Well, if we’re being honest here,” I start.
“We are,” Vivian interjects.
“Okay, then honestly, I do want to be turned, but these three seem determined not to do it.”
Somehow, saying it out loud to a near stranger is exhilarating.
“That’s fascinating,” she says with a genuine sense of awe in her voice. “And you’re not scared about it at all? Turning, I mean.”
“No.” I hadn’t really thought about whether or not to be scared about it yet, mostly since it seemed like it was never going to happen. No point in worrying about a fantasy.
“You’re lying.”
She stares me down intently, her eyes narrowing as if she’s suddenly struggling to read me.
“Excuse me?” I snap, my temper flaring again.
Who does this girl think she is?
“Everyone is scared about their first shift, even the toughest of us. You’re scared too,” she says. “It’s only natural.”
I get ready to disagree, knowing full well I’ll sound like a frustrated child, but I don’t get the chance.
“You’re scared to be turned, but you’re more scared of something else. That’s what’s making you think otherwise. What is it you’re really scared of?”
This time, her question shocks me into silence. Her eyes, the deep color of coffee without cream, seem to look right through me as though she’s peeling off the layers that I keep hidden away.
I’m not sure why I keep talking. I’m honestly not sure why I’m telling her anything at all. But something makes me answer her; maybe it’s the flowing cups of early-day aperitifs, or maybe it’s something else.
I’ve gotten a taste of how it feels to be open, to be honest, and I’m drunk on it.
“I’m scared of being without them,” I blurt out. I clamp one hand over my mouth to hide the way I’m gaping at her as if she’s somehow solicited the words from me against my will.
“Ahh, there it is,” she says. “There’s the truth.”
Vivian looks around at the boys, who have all been sitting silently listening as she talks with me.
“You’re scared of that too,” she says. “All of you are. You want her.”
Who really is she?