She frowns. “I know it takes some getting used to…”
“That’s not why I ran. We also did…other stuff, and I started crying.” I bite my lip. Damn it, why are the tears welling again?
“Oh, honey.” Jordan circles my shoulders with a lean arm. “But you like him, don’t you?”
“It’s not that. I’m just… I’m sad about the whole Tom thing, you know? I wasted so much time on him because I didn’t know what I really needed and wanted. What I have with Jay is just… It’s…” My face crumples, and Jordan hugs me, patting my shoulder with awkward sympathy.
What I have with Jay is beautiful. It’s healing. He makes me feel valuable, wonderful, strong—all the things I haven’t felt for a long time.
I just have to keep letting myself realize that my future isn’t dark anymore. It’s brightening, flooding with warmth, because of Jay. Because of my strengthening friendship with Jordan. Because I’m allowing myself, finally, to be fully and wholly me without those dark voices in my mind holding me back.
Sighing, I nod to Jordan, and when she releases me, I splash my heated face with cool water. “I’m good now, thanks.”
“Damn, your cheeks look tasty when you’re flushed.” Jordan draws a glossy nail down my face. There’s a flicker of white in her eyes, the hint of hunger. “I should go find a donor.”
“You mean go drug someone and then bite them.”
“Let’s not start, okay? Jay has some of the guests wearing red bands if they’re hopefuls—vampire candidates—and willing to donate, so I’ll look for one of them first. But yeah, if I can’t find one, I’ll be taking blood from someone else. You can just put your judgy face away.”
“Fine.” I swipe my hand over my face. “There, it’s gone. Go have fun. And thanks for checking on me.”
“Always, babe.” She breezes out of the locker room.
I take another second to pat my cheeks with a paper towel. Then I inject my thigh with the contents of the syringe and leave the locker room.
Jay is dressed again, staring at the people clogging the pool and lazy river. When I touch his arm, he jumps. “Daisy! Are you all right? Did I scare you, hurt you? Jordan said you’re fine, but—”
“I really am fine. Just got a little overwhelmed, but in a good way.”
His brow is still furrowed, so I reach up and pretend to smooth it out with my fingertips. “Stop worrying. You did nothing wrong. I started tearing up because of all the deep emotional stuff I was feeling, and I didn’t want you to see me ugly cry after sex, okay?”
“If you’re sure that’s all… Because if I did anything to upset you or hurt you, Daisy, I’ll fix it.”
“No, Jay.” I cup his face between my palms. “You sweet, gorgeous man. I’m good, really. And… Wait, why is your pocket buzzing?”
He pulls out his phone, and his eyes light up. “I set an alarm so we wouldn’t miss it. Come on!”
We hurry through the crowd, up some stairs and along hallways and through a bedroom, passing through some French doors onto a small balcony at the back of the house.
“We should have a perfect view from here. Have a seat.” Jay gestures to a couple of padded chairs. On the floor nearby is a bucket of ice, with a bottle of champagne and a bottle of sparkling juice nestled inside. Two glasses stand on a tiny table. “Champagne for you, sparkling cran-grape for me,” Jay says.
“Is it heresy if I mix cran-grape with my champagne? I don’t like the taste of champagne by itself.”
“It is, but since it’s just the two of us, who cares?” He pops the cork and pours me some of each.
I sip the concoction and nod approvingly. “So, why are we back here?”
“You’ll find out in about”—he consults his phone—“one minute. Or less. I’d better put these in.” He tugs a pair of noise-canceling earbuds from his pocket and tucks them into his ears.
A handful of seconds later, a great swell of music envelops the place, echoing across the lawns and gardens. There’s a general murmur of expectation from the crowd, and then something bright rockets into the sky, cracking through the night like a thunderclap and splitting into a shower of golden sparks. Another burst of fire, pink this time, and then an explosion of blue.
“Fireworks,” I breathe. Jay can’t hear me, of course, with the noise-canceling buds protecting his sensitive vampire ears—but he looks way too pleased with himself. I twine my fingers with his and sip my drink while the fireworks spray and shatter across the sky, painting it in sizzling color and lingering smoke. The show goes on for a full fifteen minutes, ending with a series of enormous white fireworks with yellow centers. Wait a second…
Those are daisies. For me.
I tighten my fingers around his.
When the last glimmer fades, Jay removes the earbuds.
“You need to stop being so over-the-top romantic,” I chide him. “Men your age don’t do this stuff.”
“Daisy, darling, you have to stop thinking that everything I do is for you,” he says solemnly. “This show was for my wonderful guests. Think of how many vampires were able to slip away for a drink from their donors while it was going on.”
“Right. And those daisies at the end?”
“Just a coincidence. Is it my fault that you see yourself in everything I do?”
“Yes.” I trail my fingertips over his knuckles. “It’s absolutely your fault.”
He watches my hand wandering over his skin. “Did you like it?”
“I loved it.”
“Anything you don’t like, I’ll change. Immediately.”
“I told you, I don’t expect perfection.”
“Then you’re a rare soul.” He rises, looking off the balcony into the gardens. “When I look down there at all the guests who come to my house every Friday night, do you know what I see? I see a bunch of people starving for perfection. They all curate their social media with it in mind. Even their ‘real’ moments, their messy moments, are carefully chosen. They come here in search of the perfect night, the perfect entertainment, and they expect me to be the perfect host and provide the perfect experience. Anything less is my fault, even if it’s really theirs. And they’re not forgiving. Sure, they’ll ignore a guy like Tom, mouthing off while drunk. As long as I’m shelling out free booze and food and fun, they’ll claim to love me. But if I ever stop giving them what they want, all it would take is one rumor, and the whole rotten crowd would cancel me in a second, no proof required.”
