Vampire Boys Of Summer
52: Haru’s Room
We were still lying on the porch deck, Haru over top of me, his dreamy, dark eyes peering into my own, when I heard someone coming up the porch steps.
“Hmm, looks like someone forgot to sweep off the porch this evening,” a deep voice said. “I’ll need to fire the maid for certain.”
Haru grinned and turned his head to the intruder of our privacy. “Hello Uncle,” he said.
I was a little embarrassed and tried to hide my face. Mr. Tomoko laughed.
“No need to hide, young lady. I know who you are. He won’t shut up about you no matter how much I plead him to stop.” He leaned down towards us and grinned. In his arms, he held two bags of groceries. “I would ask you two to help me with these, but I can see you’re otherwise busy. Well, never mind, stay prostrate as you like. The air is probably livelier down there anyway.”
As he opened the back door and went inside, he shook his head and muttered something mirthful to himself. Haru shook his head, too.
“Tomoko has a certain sense of humor. It may take you awhile to get used to it.”
I smiled. “It’s okay. I like it. Should we go help?”
Haru got up from his prone position and helped me to my feet. “He probably doesn’t need it, but we can be civil. What I wanted to show you is inside anyway.”
In the kitchen, Uncle Tomoko had set the bags on the dining table. Coming through the back door, we both proceeded to unload the groceries so he could put them up. From the looks of things, everything had its place. Tomoko ran a tight, organized kitchen.
“Do you really have a maid?”
The older man laughed. “Miss Williams, no maid would be able to take our brand of madness for long. But don’t think we haven’t considered it. You interested?”
I had to laugh. “I can’t even keep my own room clean.”
“Well then. Looks like you and Haru are a perfect match, because his room looks like a cyclone touched down.”
“You’re just too much of a clean freak, uncle,” Haru jibed.
“There is nothing wrong with order. Everything has its place in the world, and that should reflect itself in the home as well.”
“Okay, I get it,” Haru said, “I’ll go clean my room.” He turned to me. “You want to help?”
I smiled. “Sure, why not?” In that moment, I felt like we were typical teenagers, rather than a centuries old vampire and his human girlfriend.
We left Tomoko in the kitchen and moved through the house. If I was expecting sparse furnishings, I was wrong. It could have been a show house, one of those places you find in homes magazines. It reminded me of a trip around the world with stops in Egypt, India, France, and of course, Japan. Everywhere you looked, there was something representing a different country. This was not a gothic vampire house, this was a suburban castle of a world traveler.
We went up the main staircase, a twisting set of steps whose balustrade was decorated in black and gold silk ribbons. My hand tried to grasp the railing, but slipped on the slick material.
“Sorry,” he said. “Left overs from our housewarming party.”
I wanted to ask him where all the party goers had come from if they had just moved in. And why had the Trumps been there, yet the girl next door hadn’t been invited?
As always, he seemed to know where my thoughts lie. “I’m sorry we didn’t invite your family,” he said. “Based on your dad’s situation, we’d assumed you were all vampire hunters. That wasn’t quite the atmosphere my uncles wanted.”
I understood. Yes, it kind of hurt, but I would have done the same thing in his shoes, not knowing who I really was at that point.
“If we had the party today, you’d be at the top of the list, trust me.”
“And the Trumps?”
He smirked. “Oh well, it was Ryo who wanted them to come. He saw them practicing cheers outside Amanda’s house when we arrived in town.” He laughed. “They got the first invite, even before a party was even planned.”
I tried not to be jealous. The idea of him at the same party with The Trumps was enough to make me glad Chi had broken Amanda’s nose.
“Hey, you’re here with me now, not them.”
He kissed me on the cheek as we paused outside his bedroom.
“You’re my girl, Nora. No one else. Just you.”
And then he opened the door.
His room wasn’t at all what I expected. If I was thinking it would be painted black with pinups of Vampirella, Bloodrayne, or Alice Cullen I was mistaken. And it didn’t have the appearance of a teenage boy’s room, either. At first glance, it looked more like a template for a hotel room. Sparse and generic, it held a bed, dresser, mirror on the wall, and a small, open closet. A divider ran through the back half of the room, separating it from a toilet and shower. The simple furnishings helped remind me that though he had the look of a teenage boy, Haru had lived hundreds of years. I imagine having to follow the latest, ever changing trends for that long would get old. Trying to keep up with what kids found popular would be maddening, so instead he had settled for a room that reflected none of those flighty things.
He did, however, have a wall mounted television, under which sat a shelf of DVD’s and Blu-Ray discs. A quick perusal gave me insight to his various interests and likes. As he had already told me, he had the Suspiria movie in several editions, as well as other Italian horror films. I hadn’t heard of any of them, but the covers looked quite terrifying. On the American side of things, he had foregone Twilight and Vampire Diaries for American Horror Story and the original Dark Shadows, a black and white TV show dad had gotten me hooked on when I was little. From Japan, he had a small collection of ghost story movies, like Ringu and Ju-On. Despite his apparent love of horror, which endeared me to him even more, a few movies in his collection looked out of place: The Breakfast Club and Pretty In Pink. When I raised an eyebrow and looked at him, he just shrugged and said, “Ducky should have got the girl.”
I didn’t see any computers or laptops around, and the only decorations on the wall were two framed photographs, one of a creepy looking forest, the other of a woman in white sleeping on top of a mausoleum. There were no rock and roll posters, girly pinups, or any other things a young man would have in his room. There wasn’t even a stereo, as far as I could tell, though I did notice a small clock radio on an end table at his bedside.
The bed was small, made for only a single occupant, and I imagined if I ever slept over here, one of us would have to sleep on top of the other. I didn’t mind such a thought, and almost told him so, but decided to keep it to myself until the time came.
We ordered in pizza, and I used Haru’s cell to call Angela. She didn’t answer, but I figured she didn’t recognize the number. If I’d used mine, she might not have answered either after our argument the night before.
My boyfriend was sympathetic. “I’ll go over and check on her in a minute. That’s if she is even with Ryo.”
I smiled and gave him a quick kiss. “Okay, thank you. I won’t lie. I’m still worried, even though you said he wouldn’t turn her.”
“I know. It will be okay.” He put his hands on my hips. “Come here.”
I let him draw me close. As his lips met mine, I swore I heard singing from somewhere in the house. The lilting voice seemed to be butchering an Adele song in wonderful ways. It was a nice serenade, and with Haru’s mouth on mine, my fingers fumbling with the removal of his shirt, we fell back on the bed. I half expected an explosion of roses to erupt from the mattress, as “Rolling In The Deep” became Tearing Up The Sheets.
An hour later, we lay in bed, the covers tossed about us, clothes laying on the floor. He cradled me in one arm. His free hand played with my hair, as if he were fascinated with every strand on my head. He leaned close and breathed me in. He sighed as if he had just caught a whiff of grandma’s freshly baked Christmas cookies. I had to smile. It was wonderful having a boy make over me like this. All the little moments a girl dreams of, all the things she wishes a boy to be, it was right here in this bed, where space was so tight the only thing keeping me on the mattress was Haru’s strong arm around me.
Continue to Ep. 53
“Vampire Boys Of Summer” 2018 Paul D Aronson. All Rights Reserved.