My fingers clenched and unclenched around the fabric in my hand. It was a stupid and terrible idea, what I was doing. But I couldn't stop myself. I needed to smell her; to feel like I wasn't alone in this big bed of mine. She had been right: it was obnoxious of me to have this massive bed all to myself. I needed her to fill in the rest of the space. I bet she could, if she laid with her arms out even though she was so small.
We would never work; I repeated those words over and over in my mind, but I never managed to convince myself of it. Because I wanted her, and it was clouding my every decision. I'd almost trashed the kitchen again when I had to feed on yet another blood bag. I didn't want to feed on it if I didn't get to come back upstairs and hug myself to her back. It just wasn't worth the stale, disgusting red liquid.
Halfway through today's self-loathing session, I heard Sam downstairs speaking unnecessarily loudly. "Colby."
I didn't respond at all, staring at the small fabric of a shirt she had left here.
"Colby," Sam repeated, this time at the top of the stairs. Still with no answer, he started for my door.
I darted back at him and caught the handle before he could do anything. He heard the gentle thump my body made when I hit it, and he sighed on the other side. I wouldn't be able to block both doors, but he didn't try the other one.
"I really need you to do me a favour, brother," Sam said as he knocked once against the wood — he was making himself feel better about almost forcing himself in my room by knocking.
I didn't say anything still.
"Katrina needs me to pick her up but I can't. I only trust you to do it."
"No," I muttered instantly, lifting the shirt in my hand to my chest. I squeezed it for a second then threw it onto my bed, where another shirt sat. I couldn't face giving them back to her yet, or getting rid of them. Not until they didn't smell of her anymore, at least. Then they'd be useless to me.
"Colby, I haven't asked anything of you. Just this."
"No," I replied, louder.
"You're soft," Sam snapped suddenly, his tone completely changing. He was almost snarling with his words. "Sitting in your room moping about some girl."
I was going to kill him, if he said that again.
"Why don't you get out and-"
His mind games worked like a treat as I flung the door open and grabbed him by the neck. I pushed him against the wall lighter than I would anyone else, glaring into his eyes.
He smiled at me. "Good. Katrina's at my favourite restaurant." He pulled out of my loose hand, twisting beneath my arm to be free of me altogether. "Don't be too long, I don't want her to be alone."
Then he darted out of the house. I stared after him, a little stunned. That fucker. I thought about leaving Katrina wherever she was, forgetting that she existed and letting Sam be pissed at me. But then I thought about someone else instead of her being left alone as the sky got dark outside, and I couldn't help but run back into my room for my keys.
Something inside me still told me this was a mistake. I didn't know what it was, but it was fighting with the phrase 'I would want him to do it for me', because it was the truth. And I would trust him with her. Like he trusted me with Katrina.
So, nearly ten minutes later, I was parked outside of Sam and Katrina's favourite date restaurant staring at the news on Twitter. She had texted me the second I got there to say that she wasn't far. How she was travelling, I didn't know. I knew that Katrina had been on the girls' night that included her, and that she never came home afterwards. I hadn't cared enough to question it. Or left my room to be told about it.
Minutes passed until I heard footsteps rushing towards my car. I barely glanced out the window at Katrina. But I did a double take. She looked different, somehow. Her clothes were purely black — a crop top and jeans. And when she flung herself into the car, she smelt like the shirt sitting on my bed at home.
I stiffened.
"Sorry," Katrina said, as if she had any idea of the wounds she was making deeper. "Tara dropped me off at her place last night. I've kind of spent the day with her." Katrina was blushing, which wasn't helping me be happy with her.
I didn't say anything. There was a silence between us; a tension rising in the car.
"Sam's not actually busy," she finally said.
I looked at her sharply. A part of me already knew this; had suspected it, deep down. "I know," I muttered.
"Do you know why I asked for you, though?" she questioned.
I went silent.
"I want to talk to you, alone, where we can't be interrupted. You aren't going to like it."
"Katrina, I will hurt you if you piss me off."
She reached out to her door and locked it, trapping herself in a car with a frustrated, almost-pissed off vampire with a track record of hurting people. And she wasn't even scared. "No, you won't," she said confidently.
I growled under my breath and went to turn my key in the engine, but she reached out and tugged the lanyard strap to stop me. I glared at her.
"Just let me talk to you for a minute. You don't even have to take me home after, if you don't want to. Sam's waiting for me to text him to come and get me instead."
I hated how much she had thought this through. I knew that whatever she was going to talk to me about, it was going to be important, and I wasn't sure how I felt about that. Because serious meant only one thing now, when it came to me.
Katrina decided that I was going to let her speak, so she twisted to face me in the car and crossed her legs. Her hands rested in her lap. "She misses you, you know."
My gut clenched.
"I think it's mostly subconscious because she won't let herself think about you."
"Katrina," I said, softer than I expected.
"Just listen!" she groaned at me. "I managed to get a little out of her, but not much. More... getting her to avoid something to figure out what she's really feeling. Like what we do with you."
I glared at the steering wheel.
"And you know what I realised? You two need each other. You don't want each other, you need each other. And there's no point in denying it to me. Pretend you brush off Elton's comments all you want. I know the truth.
"I realised that you calm down because of each other. She's been frustrated and had no way of releasing it. At the club, I thought she was going to find someone."
My heart dropped.
"But she didn't. I don't think she even considered actually doing it."
Somehow, I knew that she had, but I was still relieved.
"So, that either means that she isn't bothered at all or she's very bothered. I'm betting on the latter."
"What are you expecting out of this, Katrina? To hurt me? You're doing a really fucking good job."
Katrina sighed. "See? Need each other. I'm here to convince you to go to her."
I flinched. "Won't work."
"Will," she argued. "Absolutely will. Because you two are... what's the expression, two sides of a coin? No... let's say the exact same person in different bodies with different pasts. But still the same."
I slowly shook my head to myself.
"Oh, come on, you won't even admit that?"
"We are too alike, Katrina. That is why we don't work."
"Because you get a little mad and fight more than normal couples?"
I didn't respond.
"How did those fights end? Unless you two changed away from our eyes and ears, there's a kiss of some kind and a silent apology, since neither of you want to damage your pride by actually saying sorry."
I turned my head to watch out the window now, refusing to even see Katrina in my peripherals.
"Sam told me about what you said before — what you think of yourself. And you do deserve her, Colby. No matter what you think, that" — she didn't mention the actual legend so that I couldn't argue — "does exist for you, and I believe you can grasp it by the wrist and slap it on the ass."
I looked back at Katrina, then, slightly surprised.
She smiled shyly and shrugged. "Been around Becky too long today."
I turned away again.
"Here." Katrina slid a piece of paper across the dashboard. It had an address on it. "This is Becky's studio address. Go there, catch her while she's working. I know you liked watching her work in the red room."
My heart clenched at the memory: she was sitting on me, leaning forward to draw in her sketchbook, her lip sometimes going between her teeth and driving me crazy, the apologetic look she gave me when she realised she'd done it. I wanted it back.
"Whether you go or not, Colby, is honestly up to you. I think it's in your best interests, and hers. I know they say 'if you love them, let them go' but that doesn't work here. I prefer the quote: 'if you love them, let them go. And if they really love you, and you really love them, you'll find your way back to each other'."
I couldn't help it when I met Katrina's gaze. She had nothing but care in them, staring right back at me. Love was a strong word, yet I knew deep down that it was the right one. An understatement, really. But I wasn't ready to face that yet.
Baby steps.
"Becky's going to give you a hard time. I hope your time apart's taught you a little self-control, because we don't want you messing up in the first ten minutes of seeing her."
I hurt everywhere at the thought.
"So, Colby. I'm going to text Sam now. Good luck."
And then Katrina climbed out of my car, leaving me with the piece of paper with an address on it that could flip my life back around.