PRESENT CHAPTER 10: MORE QUESTIONS, LESS ANSWERS DIANA I couldn’t stop thinking about what Anastasia told me. A lot of things were starting to make sense to me, like why Gualtiero seemed busy most of the time. If he had a girlfriend, she probably kept him busy. The thought brought a pain to my chest, and I cursed myself for feeling that way. He’s not yours to feel that way over, so get over it, I thought to myself. How could I be so stupid? Of course, a guy that gorgeous had a girlfriend. He’s probably so used to his good looks getting him any girl he wanted. He laid the cheesy lines on me so thick, and I fell for them easily. All this time I was avoiding gross guys like Roman, but I fell for the first one who used a different approach on me. I cringe now thinking of how I laid in my bed with him, how I eagerly kissed his cheek. I raised my fingers to my lips, remembering the feel of his cold skin. Perhaps I’m being too harsh. Maybe Gualtiero is not a total scumbag. He didn’t touch me or let me kiss him. I guess it’s possible that he wasn’t a habitual cheater and just felt a connection with me but didn’t want to physically cheat on his girlfriend. Maybe he had never done anything like this before. Not that it made things better, it just helped things make more sense. In my experience, gross cheater dudes usually don’t hesitate to hook up with another girl, they just go for it. Gualtiero didn’t really strike me as that type, he still doesn’t, even after what I’ve learned about him. Maybe I’m stupid for giving him the benefit of the doubt, but I couldn’t deny my feelings for him. I sighed and walked over to the garbage bin that contained the discarded notebook he gave me. I picked it up out of the trash and stared at it, feeling my stomach flutter with longing and sadness. No, this is wrong, I thought and dumped it back in the bin. I decided to spend some quality time with the writings of Iosif Michea in an effort to distract myself from my thoughts. I had to admit that while I didn’t quite believe in the things he was writing about, the journal was interesting and very descriptive. If you didn’t know that vampires weren’t real, you would believe they were from reading Iosif’s accounts with them. I sat in my bed and opened the book carefully to where I had bookmarked it and became instantly enthralled by his experiences. As I was reading, it crossed my mind that this could be the original brains behind all of the vampire novels. Bram Stoker got so much credit for Dracula but that wasn’t written until 1897, decades after Iosif wrote his journal. Maybe what I was holding in my hands was a first edition, handwritten copy of a really cool and lesser-known vampire novel. Perhaps my parents admired his work so much that they named me after him. Curiosity got the best of me and after grabbing a quick dinner, I found myself at the local library doing some research on Iosif Michea and vampire fiction. I was surprised to learn that Dracula was not the first vampire novel, but one called The Vampyre by John William Polidori written in 1819. I was disappointed to find something predating Michea’s work, but that didn’t stop me from being interested in learning about him. I was digging through articles in one of the library’s computers when I felt a presence lurking behind me. “Diana?” I heard his voice before I could even turn to look at his face and I felt the hairs on the back of my neck standing up. I turned and saw him standing there, several medical books in hand, looking like a model cut out of a college brochure. He was infuriatingly perfect, and I hated how little I actually hated him. I should have been disgusted by his presence, but I couldn’t feel that at all. I couldn’t feel it even though I tried. “I thought that was you,” he said. “What are you doing here?” I asked stupidly, as the answer was obvious, although I couldn’t believe the coincidence of running into him there of all places. “Studying,” he said. “And you?” “Same,” I replied shortly, blushing as he eyed the copy of The Vampyre that was laying beside my keyboard. “That is quite an interesting topic,” he said, raising his eyebrows slightly. This made my cheeks burn hotter. I suppose I felt somewhat embarrassed to admit that I was actually researching vampires, but in my defense, I wasn’t. I was researching the author behind the journal I found. “It’s a literature project I’m working on,” I said, making it sound more academic than it was. “I’m doing research on someone who wrote about vampires a long time ago.” “John William Polidori?” he asked. “No,” I replied. “Iosif Michea.” Gualtiero frowned. “I’ve never heard of that one. Is he Romanian?” “How did you know?” I asked, surprised. He shrugged. “I’m good at genealogy. I can usually tell where someone is from by their surname.” “That’s very impressive,” I said. “It pleases me that you think so,” he said, smiling. It was easy to forget that I was upset with him when he smiled like that, and I had to remind myself that this guy was a player. Be cold, Diana, don’t fall for it, I told myself. I gave him the tiniest of smiles and then turned back to the computer screen, hoping that he would take my silence as a hint that I was busy and end the conversation. To my dismay, he walked over and set his books down by the computer next to mine. “I hope you do not mind,” he said, taking a seat. “Not at all,” I said, gritting my teeth. “What are his notable works?” “What?” “Iosif Michea. What books did he write? I have spent a lot of time reading classic literature and it surprises me when I come across someone I have not heard of. Did he write anything of interest?” “Oh,” I replied. I hadn’t expected he would be so interested in my research topic. “Not really. At least I don’t think so. It’s what I’m trying to find out. I found some of his handwritten work in my parents’ things, I guess I am just interested in knowing more about him.” Gualtiero was looking at my computer screen, reading the article I had open on it. “It appears he won a prestigious award in science,” he said. “He sounds like he was an intelligent fellow.” “I could tell he was brilliant by his writings! It’s why I become so interested in learning more. The man was very talented. He wrote so realistically about vampires that it doesn’t even seem like fiction. I’m not even finished with what I found but I already wish there was more to read,” I said. Gualtiero was staring at me intently and I regretted my own enthusiasm. Stop forgetting to be mad! I scolded myself. “That sounds fascinating,” he said. “I would be interested in reading it sometime if you would allow me to see it.” “Sure,” I said coolly. “Maybe when I’m finished with it.” I turned back to the article and said nothing more, though I could feel his eyes on me. The article wasn’t very long, it was only a short account of Iosif’s scientific achievements which made no mention of vampires or a journal, but it did briefly mention his death: Michea was found dead in 1833, in the woods in Sicily, Italy, where he was vacationing. He died of an apparent animal attack and was survived by his wife and children. I swallowed hard reading the details of Iosif’s death. They reminded me so much of how Roman died and I got chills remembering that I sort of suspected Gualtiero for that. “Is something wrong?” he asked, making me jump. “Diana, you appear frightened.” “Where did you go after Oliver’s party?” I blurted out. He looked confused at my question. “I was with you, remember?” “Before that,” I said. “I was long asleep before you showed up at my window, so where were you before that?” He shrugged. “I took a walk to calm myself down from the excitement of the night.” “That’s it? You took a walk?” “Yes. That is all.” “And did you happen to run into Roman during that walk?” He stared at me and blinked a few times. “Diana, what are you asking me?” I looked around, remembering that we were in a public place and lowered my voice. I somewhat regretted bringing this up, but it was too late to back down now. “I’m asking you if you –” I paused, not being able to bring myself to use the word “killed” “—if you did something to Roman.” Gualtiero studied my expression for a moment but did not look angry or upset and when he spoke, it was very matter-of-factly. “To be perfectly honest with you, I am not saddened by Roman’s passing. I barely knew the young man, but I did not like the impression he left on me, nor did I like his forceful behavior on you. When I saw him grab at your hand like that…” he paused, sneering at the memory. “I admit, I did lose my composure. I became violent with him.” “You did. Like, scary violent.” “I did not mean to frighten you, I was only being protective of you,” he explained. “That being said, it was not I who attacked Roman after the party. Whatever wild animal attacked him, Diana, it was not me. I really did calm myself down.” I had to admit, I didn’t get any impression at all that he was lying to me. He didn’t seem defensive, as I would imagine a guilty person to be. Everything about his demeanor seemed genuine, which calmed my nerves a bit. “Okay, I believe you,” I said. “Why would you suspect me in the first place?” he asked. “Roman’s attack was… brutal. The police do not even suspect that another human could have been capable of it.” He had a point and I felt stupid now for suspecting him. How could I make assumptions on what happened to Roman without even knowing the details of his death? If the professionals think there was an animal behind it, why would I know better? Besides, I knew there had been animals making attacks in the area. After all, that’s how I found Lucky, who Gualtiero bravely stitched back together. I really was being ridiculous. This man may be a liar, but he was not a killer. “I’m sorry, Gualtiero,” I said. “I’ve been an idiot to even entertain that thought.” Gualtiero visibly cringed at my choice of words and for the first time, I saw him looking rather stern with me. “Diana, please do not ever use words like ‘idiot’ to describe yourself. You are the most incredible woman I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.” I hated the way I was melting at his words. Surely that had to be another line of his, right? I tried to keep my cool. “I don’t think your girlfriend would appreciate you saying that to me,” I said. There, I did it. I called him out on his lies. Though the look on his face was confused more so than caught. “My…girlfriend? As in lover?” he asked and when I nodded, he burst out laughing in a way that I’d never heard before. I looked around self-consciously as we had gotten a few annoyed looks by people trying to study. Gualtiero didn’t seem to notice. “Good heavens, what would make you think that I have a lover?” “There’s a girl who has a picture of you on her phone,” I replied. “Anastasia overheard her talking to you. She said the two of you sounded like a couple.” “It is not possible,” he replied, still chuckling in amusement. “I do not photograph.” “What do you mean?” “I mean,” he said, sobering up. “I do not enjoy being the subject of photographs. I would not have willingly consented to being in one. Anastasia must have been mistaken.” I stared at him curiously, not sure if I believed that. “You don’t like appearing in pictures? You’re like the most gorgeous guy ever, how could you not love staring at yourself all day?” I said, then blushed. God, that was happening a lot lately. And did I really just say that out loud? Gualtiero smiled and his shoulders shook in silent laughter. “I don’t know if I’m worth looking at all day, but I could certainly look at you forever,” he said, reaching over and gently tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear. The feel of his fingertips brushing against my face made me feel weak with longing for him. “The rosy color appearing on your cheeks really looks lovely on you.” At this, I blushed harder. “Don’t tease,” I said, smiling in spite of myself. “I am not teasing you, Diana. You really are beautiful.” I stared at his face for a moment. It was hard to believe that someone so flawless was calling me beautiful. I’d had admirers in the past, but I never truly felt special or seen until it was Gualtiero who was looking at me. Still, I had to be sure that he wouldn’t hurt me. I had to be certain that this wasn’t some kind of trick before I truly let myself feel things freely. “You really don’t have a girlfriend?” I asked. “I assure you that I do not,” he replied. I took a breath and decided to believe him. After all, I didn’t have proof and Anastasia was only human after all. It was entirely possible that she was mistaken. It’s not like the name on the wallpaper said Gualtiero anyway, she said it said “G.” There must be millions of handsome men out there with names starting in G. “Is that why you have been ignoring my calls lately, because you think I am spoken for?” I frowned, looking down at my phone and clicking over to my recent calls. I hadn’t received any calls from Gualtiero in two days. “I wasn’t ignoring you. Something must be wrong with my phone,” I said. I started to toy with my phone’s settings when an announcement came over the library’s PA system. “Attention everyone, we will be closing in ten minutes. If you are checking out books, please report to the front desk promptly. Otherwise, please vacate the building. Thank you.” “I guess they’re kicking us out,” I said, then nodded to his stack of books. “Aren’t you going to check those out?” “No. I was actually on my way to put them back when I saw you. I have completed my studies for the evening.” “Oh, great. Do you want to go grab a coffee with me? I don’t really want to go home yet,” I said, surprised at my own boldness. “Yes, I would quite fancy a drink,” he said with a smirk. *** “Here you go, two coffees,” said the waitress, a mid-thirties looking woman with a kind face and a nametag that read “Gwendoline.” She set cups of coffee down in front of Gualtiero and I and gestured at a basket that was on the table. “And there’s cream and sugar there if you’d like some. Is there anything else I can get you guys? A slice of pie, maybe? We’ve got all sorts of flavors.” “No, thank you,” I said. “How about you, handsome?” she said, smiling at Gualtiero. “I am quite all right with the coffee, thank you, Gwendoline,” he replied, reading her nametag carefully. Her smile widened at the sound of her name on his lips. “Sure thing, let me know if you change your minds,” she said and threw me a conspiratorial wink as she walked away, as if secretly congratulating me for being there with such a good-looking guy. “I bet that happens a lot,” I said, laughing. “You bet what happens?” Gualtiero asked. “That,” I said, opening a packet of cream and adding it to my coffee. “Women of all ages gushing over you.” Gualtiero looks down at his shirt for a moment. “I do not believe that she ‘gushed’ anything onto me. That is not something that happens often at all.” I laughed. He really did have a unique sense of humor, but it was just so cute to me. “So, tell me more about yourself Gualtiero,” I said. “What would you like to know?” he asked. I shrugged, stirring some sugar into my coffee, and taking a sip. “What’s your last name?” “Craioveanu,” he replied. “Where is that from?” “Romania,” he said. I stared at him in disbelief. “Wait, really? I told you my ancestry is Romanian, and I’d even gone to visit there one summer. How come you didn’t say anything then?” “I did not know you would be interested,” he said. “Gualtiero, of course I am interested,” I said. “It’s a beautiful country. Why did you decide to leave?” “I did not really live there so long in the first place,” he said. “I have traveled a lot in my life, so really I am ‘from’ all over Europe. I transferred here so that I can experience even more of the world.” “That’s really fascinating, I wish I was as cultured,” I said. “My last name is Aguero, in case you wondered. I know it doesn’t sound Romanian, but my family’s Romanian history goes way, way back. I’m actually surprised I still have family there.” “Are you close with your Romanian family?” he asked. “No,” I said. “I only met them the one time I went there, to be honest. I barely remember them,” I paused, taking a sip of my drink. “I guess they’re the only family I have now. Maybe I should get in touch sometime.” Change the subject, Diana, you’re making things too depressing. “Anyway, tell me about your family. Do you have any brothers or sisters?” “I am an only child,” he said, then as if sensing that my own topic became awkward for me, he changed the subject. “What kind of things do you do for fun? Besides watching romance films like The Notebook, of course,” he smiled. I laughed at that; all awkwardness broken. I found it really sweet that he paid close attention to the things I like. Not all guys cared to do so. “I like to read a lot, listen to music,” I shrugged. “I’m not that interesting,” I added with a short laugh. “On the contrary, I find you very interesting,” he said and held my gaze for a long moment. I found it impossible to look away. He was just so mesmerizing. I cleared my throat. “How about you? You mentioned you read classics. Do you enjoy music as well?” “I do,” he said. “All kinds. I also do not only read classics, I enjoy various genres and subjects, both classic and modern. Every era is different for literature and music. I view these things as time machines of sorts. You can pick up a book or record from any era and instantly be transported back to it. It is quite interesting to me.” I stared at him in amazement. He was the most interesting person I’d ever encountered. I hoped he wouldn’t ask me the same question back. Adele being my favorite artist suddenly sounded so lame compared to his response. I jumped suddenly hearing a loud crashing noise behind me. Gwendoline had been cleaning the table behind ours and had dropped a set of plates and mugs on the floor, shattering them. She bent over to pick them and groaned in pain, slicing her finger on a piece of glass. Blood began to shoot everywhere. “Oh my god, are you okay?” I exclaimed and rushed over to her with a napkin. “Oh, I’ve sliced my finger real deep,” she groaned. I took the napkin and carefully wrapped it around her bleeding hand. “Here, keep this on it. Maybe Gualtiero can help you, he’s a med—” I turned around to look at Gualtiero but he wasn’t there. Huh? Where did he go? He was there only a moment ago but had disappeared. His coffee was untouched. He had never drunk from it or even added anything to it, but he had left some money next to it for our bill. How did he leave so fast and why didn’t he say goodbye? I turned back to Gwendoline to try and help her with her wound, but my mind was still on Gualtiero and how he was the most beautiful, mysterious, enchanting and confusing person I knew all wrapped into one.