Trust a Vampire? You've gotta be kidding me.

Trust a Vampire? You've gotta be kidding me. Ch. 2

Time to get to the more sarcastic, funny girl! :)

I love bitter, sarcastic people.

Real pajamas tho people! Comment please! I need feedback!

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I woke up to a dull pain as my face hit the wooden floor.

"Shit! Trace!" I yelled, propping myself up to rub my bruised forehead and glaring at a clean, handsome face. "What the hell was that for!"

"It's nine already. Get your lazy butt up. And for the sake of all that is good, no cursing Leila! It's bad manners." a low voice ordered from the other side of my colorful twin bed. He had done this to me almost everyday since I turned twelve. That's a good three years of headbangs and bruised foreheads. It was like tradition now. Tomorrow will make it the fourth year. I may not have shown it so early in the morning, but I was buzzing with excitement.

His wet, washed hair gleamed in the morning light. Trace was already dressed, clean, and ready to tackle the hazards of the day with jean shorts and a pretty gay white shirt. I was one of those hazards in his opinion. Might as well be the best hazard as possible, short of death. But in my defense, Early Bird wasn't light and easy to live with.

"Shutup, you hypocrite. Where do you think I got those "bad manners" from? By the way, switch shirts. You look like a homosexual angel." I retorted. The bed fell to the ground was a heavy thud as Trace let it fall down. The area around it was deeper and more worn than any other place in my room from constant drops back to the ground.

As soon as it touched ground, I zipped back into the bed. I hid beneath the warm covers, trying to catch another wink of sleep. "Come back tomorrow," I muttered from beneath my covers. I snuggled tighter in my own ball of warmth I didn't feel. Now, in the dead of summer in Virginia, people would probably be sleeping without and covers or blankets, but I seemed to be a special case. I just could not ever get warm. You would think it would unsettle me, but I lived like this for as long as I could ever remember (which was since I was five), so I was used to the chill. I wrapped myself in the blankets even more. Annoyingly, Trace crushed my dreams.

He grabbed the covers and gave them a vicious pull. The move flipped me over a couple times, before I felt face first into the soft pillows. "This is a nice position, too," I sighed into the pillows, just about half-asleep. I was not a morning person. I was more of an afternoon person, my preferred time of day to actually wake up. I envied anyone who could just bounce out of bed and be happy and smiling for the day. I don't think I could have gotten along with them very well.

This earned another spilling of the bed, an even more bruised forehead, a few harsher curse words, and another rebuttal for my atrocious language. Well, the pillows and blankets were on the floor with me, so I went back to sleep on the floor.

"Jesus, get up Leila! There was something I wanted to tell you. It's sort of a present for your sixteenth birthday, but maybe I shouldn't tell you anymore," Trace baited.

I took the bait. I threw off the blankets and popped my body up. An an all too eager look spread across my face, but I couldn't hold it back. I didn't feeling the morning heat wrap around my purple pajamas and where my bare skin showed. A good amount of skin showed because of my small jammies, I had outgrown a while back. They had that skunk from looney toons printed on the front. He threw the petals of flowers into the wind, asking the question, "She loves me? She loves me not?" My pajama shorts were now booty shorts, ending shortly after they began. Petals and flowers were printed willy nilly everywhere you could see.

"Oooh! What is it, Trace? You have to tell me now!" I pleaded, bouncing up and down. His amber eyes followed me up and down warmly, and his jaw twitched minutely. I was almost too excited to notice it, but I had learned from the best to notice the smallest things. Instantly, I stopped jumping and cocked my head to the side. "Is everything alright?" I asked worriedly.

Trace shook his head, slightly shaking with laughter. "I'm fine," he assured me, but something still bothered me, causing my eyes to narrow. I'd learn to let those feelings about Trace go. He had told me few secrets and I knew no pleading, torturing, or threatening would get him to spill the rest. I shrugged in nonchalance and muttered something like a "whatever". Quickly, I recovered my excitement, only dimmed slightly. "So come on! Tell me what it is!" I demanded.

I got frustrated when Trace shook his head no. "Not yet, Leila. I'll tell you when you are eating breakfast." By the arrogant smile on his face, I knew he was enjoying keeping me in suspense.

"Prick," I insulted. I ditched my pj top to throw it at Trace's face. "Then get out of my room so I can go take a shower," I ordered. I didn't feel awkward being half-naked (well, considerably over half-naked, but ehh) with Trace in the room. Sure I had had a huge crush on the guy for a few years; he was smoking hot, but it was obvious nothing was ever going to happen between us, so I gave up on him. A little feeling was still left over from that crush, still hoping, but I knew it was never going to get anywhere. Didn't hurt to show off my body, but he still kept my tiny shirt over his face. Son of a modest bitch.

When he didn't move for a second, I spoke up and walked over to the other side of my bed and up to him. I guess I really must have surprised him. "Come on. Are you planning on standing there all day? Get out, Trace." The male stood rigid, so I started pushing him towards the door. The muscle he had on him really packed weight and it wasn't easy, but with some cursing, I managed to move his frozen body. I took my shirt from his face as I was about to close the door on him. It stalled me for a moment.

Trace's eyes, from their usual warm yellow were now a deepening red. "Wow, Trace. Those are really pretty..." I murmured. "How did you do that?" I asked.

He didn't answer. He only stared at me with an odd look in his. I couldn't name it because I had never seen it before. I crossed my arms across my naked chest, annoyed that he wouldn't answer me. I patted him on the cheek, trying to get him back to normal. It seemed to work. He blinked once then actually blushed. Trace BLUSHED. I had been living with him for ten years and I have never seen him get abashed like a high school girl. Eventually, I thought that it was impossible for him or that he did everything so perfectly, there was no reason for him to get embarrassed. The latter was quickly ruled out after I realized how bad his cooking was. I was currently the chef of the house...well, apartment. Whatever.

My mouth dropped in an O and I started cracking up. "You look so c-c-cute with a blush!" The tanned man looked ridiculous with a red face. It made me think of a corndog covered with ketchup on the tip. I wrapped a hand around my chest, trying to stop laughing. I didn't.

I was about to close the door when, Trace's hand shot in between the gap, grabbing mine with a startling force. My hand burned up, for once actually feeling warm. I quickly lost all laughter, worried I had really hurt his feelings or angered him. "S-sorry, Trace. I didn't mean to laugh," I quickly apologized. Yes, I did, but that was the guilty side of me talking.

His grasp suddenly released me, leaving my hand colder than it had been before. "Naw, it's all good," Trace replied with fake humor in his voice. "Treasure the memory this time Leila, because you will never see it again!" he warned before closing my door. I could tell there was something wrong with his voice. It was a bit off, but I couldn't guess why.

Oh well, I shrugged it off, or tried to at least. I stripped the rest of the way, heading to mine and Trace's adjoining bathroom. There were some very funny and awkward moments in this bathroom. One of my favorites were when I saw my first male genital. His. It was when I was thirteen. I had had no idea he was in the shower. I was too brain-dead to realize the shower was running. So I go in to brush my teeth. I turned around with my tooth brush hanging stupidly from my mouth and I caught an eyeful. Trace hadn't even blushed then. He just grabbed his towel and disappeared from the bathroom.

Oh, the memories.

Memories.

I stepped into the shower and watched my memories get washed down the drain by the water.