I woke up to a soft tapping on my bedroom door, then a creak, before footsteps trailed softly over the carpet. The mattress sunk under someone's weight, which caused me to roll slightly to the right.

Being half asleep, I was only slightly aware of someone talking softly to me, encouraging me to get out of bed.

Then, a soft finger reached out and traced the line of my cheekbone. It left a trail of heat, my skin tingling under its touch. My eyes snapped open to see Jake smiling down at me.

"Morning sleepyhead," he murmured.

"Hello." My voice sounded loud and rough compared to his, and it cracked over the word. He pressed his lips into a line, as if to suppress a laugh. "What time is it?" I asked sleepily.

"Just after 9. Your mum left for work half an hour ago; there's a note on the table."

I nodded, being unable to get out any sound. Just the thought of Jacob sitting in my bedroom sprouted butterflies in my stomach, and my heart beat hard and uneven.

I bit my lip, trying to calm myself. "I suppose I'll get dressed—" Even I could hear the uneasiness in my voice, but if he noticed, he didn't show it.

Jumping out of bed, I walked over to my wardrobe, and selected a pair of jeans and a hoodie. I walked into the bathroom, shut the door, and sighed. My heart was becoming dangerously fast – its palpitations seemed almost audible as it threatened to burst.

I clutched the sink tightly with both hands, and leaned over the sink. My whole body was trembling, which was strange, because it was only Jake. Attempting at some calming breaths, I closed my eyes and tried to regain composure.

There was a real chance I'd do something incredibly stupid if I didn't get a grip on my feelings around him. I stared at myself in the mirror and frowned. My hair looked like a crow's nest, wild and tangled, and dark circles hung stubbornly beneath my eyes. My face was flushed a deep red, flustered by the fact that Jake was sitting on my bed, just a few steps away, waiting for me to come back.

I inhaled slowly and began counting in my head. One, two, three... until my heartbeat steadied and my chest stopped tightening with nerves. I peeled off my pyjamas and slipped into the pair of jeans the soft hoodie.

Then came the essentials—scrubbing my teeth, wrestling with the knots in my hair, splashing water on my tired skin.

I had no idea what Jake planned to tell me today—only that it had something to do with the gas station—and I didn't want to face it looking half-dead.

So, I swiped on a little mascara and dabbed some tint on my lips, just enough to feel human. When I finally looked up at my reflection again, I held my gaze and practiced a smile. This was as good as it was going to get.

Forcing my trembling legs to move, I pushed open the door to find Jake exactly where I left him. His mouth pulled up at the corners as he looked up at me.

"You look... nice." He said.

"Oh... Uhmm..." My carefully plastered smile faltered, and I was at a complete loss for words. "You too." I murmured. It was only then I noticed what he was wearing.

He was wearing a black t-shirt, which contrasted with black jeans, and matching converse shoes. I had to hold in a smile; he reminded me of an FBI agent.

His messy hair was only slightly curled today, as if he hadn't put in as much effort to style it, but his eyes cut deep into mine. I felt a light blush spread across my cheeks, and I looked away.

I thought I heard a soft chuckle, but then Jake was at my side. "Do you want to go for a walk?" He whispered.

"Okay," I whispered back.

He led me to the field behind my house—just like the one I had imagined the night before—dotted with trees that looked as though some sky-born artist had flicked them from a paintbrush, scattering them across the grass at random.

About a kilometre from the house, a glittering blue river wound through the landscape, catching the sunlight like liquid glass. Beyond it lay the neighbours' land, distant and quiet.

Jacob walked the entire way in silence, moving with a kind of certainty, like he knew exactly where he was going. When we reached the edge of the river, he lowered himself onto the soft riverbank without a word.

I sat cross-legged beside him, watching closely, trying to decipher what was on his mind. His face was calm—almost too calm, like a painting fixed in stillness—but his hands betrayed him. His fingers fidgeted restlessly, picking at the grass or brushing invisible dust from his jeans. If not for those small, restless movements, I might have believed he was completely at peace.

"So," I asked at an attempt for conversation. "How'd you get into the house?" I made sure my voice didn't sound accusing, and I glad to hear that it merely sounded curious.

"I used the key in the potted plant by the front door."

"H—How?" That caught me by surprise – I didn't think it was that obvious of the keys whereabouts. Most people keep them under their doormats.

"What I mean to say is, how did you know it was there?"

"I saw it."

"What? How? I thought it was very well covered."

He seemed to consider this for a moment. "I have rather good eyesight."

"Oh... okay" I'd always thought I had rather good eyesight, so I wasn't sure how he could have seen the key so easily.

We both looked back towards the water in silence. It wasn't awkward – it was just uncomfortably quiet. I never felt the need to fill the quiet before. Usually, I loved being able to keep to my own thoughts; to contemplate issues, decipher how people might be feeling, or even start doing homework in my head. Today was different.

Sitting so close to Jake made me nervous, and I wanted to talk in order to hide my growing nerves. Despite this, the words on the edge of my tongue refused to budge. I knew there was something I had been meaning to ask him, but I couldn't remember what it was.

I glanced over at Jake, studying the sharp lines and soft curves of his face. He was breathtaking—there was no denying it—but something about him felt different today. There was a heaviness in his expression, a quiet exhaustion that dulled the usual spark in his eyes.

Now that I was really looking, I noticed the redness around his eyes and the faint shadows beneath them, like he hadn't slept properly in days. A quiet ache bloomed in my chest. I had the sudden urge to reach out, to gently brush his cheek, to ask if he was okay—but before I could even move, he looked up at me.

Our eyes met. And just like that, my breath caught.

Feeling my face go red with embarrassment – because he caught me staring – I looked down at my hands. He was the first to talk.

"I remember you had questions for me?"

These words urged me to remember what I had been meaning to ask him - about what had really happened at the gas station that night, and the words he was shouting - but I started by recalling what I remembered.

"So, I went to the gas station to fill up my car, but when I opened the door, I heard shouting – your shouting – and I shut the door. But it seems that I shut the door on someone's fingers, and then the car started crushing like a piece of paper, so I ran inside the station. Then, I saw a person with white skin and red eyes, and they broke the glass. I'm not exactly sure what happened after that – it was all very confusing – but it felt like fire. Everything felt like fire, but my wrist hurt the most."

At that, I felt a soft throbbing in that same spot on my wrist, and it took everything not to look down at my arm.

Jacob was looking grimly at me, but nodding at every word. When he didn't answer, I continued the thought that was buzzing impatiently in my mind.

"Last night I was thinking about it, and I remembered you shouting dad. My attacker was your... dad?"

"Yes." He must have seen the shocked expression of hurt and confusion in my eyes, because he reached out for my hand. "Before I give you an explanation, you must understand that there are things in this world that is not humanly possible – things that you'll think I'm crazy for saying." He was looking deep into my eyes, causing the breath to be knocked out of my lungs. "You must know that there are much bigger threats out there than you are aware of."

"Okay," I whispered.

"You'll think I'm crazy."

"I'm sure I can take it."

He released my hand and placed his arms in his lap. He looked back down at the river and answered in a voice so low, I needed to strain my ears in order to hear him.

"Vampire," he looked nervous, as he peeked sideways to look at my reaction. "My dad is a Vampire."

I was filled with absolute shock and disgust; his dad had almost killed me – this wasn't a joke. "That isn't funny." I said, frowning at him.

Hurt filled his eyes, as he answered with an edge of defensiveness in his voice. "I'm not joking." His voice wobbled a bit, and I wasn't sure if he was lying or not. "Remember, I told you that you would think I'm crazy. That there are things in this world that don't make sense, things that are just fairy tales in the eyes of humans."

"But I simply can't just believe it. I mean surely, there has to be another explanation..." Was there another explanation? I mean that would make sense – the sheer strength, blood red eyes, snow white skin, my wrist burning with fire. I felt my face pale and a shiver tingle up my spine at the realisation. "Your dad was drinking my blood!" I shrieked, jumping up to my feet.

"Am I a Vampire now?" The hysterics was rising in my voice.

"No, of course not. There are two types of Vampire bites: ones just to merely feed and onces to transform. He was just feeding from you."

"He was drinking my blood as a source of feed?" I calmed myself a little bit more as he rose to join me. So I wasn't a Vampire, thank god.

He sighed, and pushed himself up. "Yes. And I'm sorry about it. I wish I could have stopped him, but I couldn't."

I opened my mouth, about to make comment about how this was firstly impossible - Vampires are mythic... right? And how it certainty couldn't be his fault, before I closed it quickly. My mind was racing with a million different possibilities – but Vampires?

I'd read about them in books, and seen them in movies, but I'd never considered the possibility that they were really roaming this world.

My heart and sharp breathing seemed to be having a race,as I pondered with the idea that he might actually be telling the truth.

Jake had said that there are much bigger threats out there than I was aware of, things that seemed utterly impossible. He had said multiple times as if he thinks I would think of him as crazy.

But he said it with such a definite and certain tone... maybe he was a pathological lair and that is why my mother doesn't like him. Despite my uncertainty, I was sure he was telling the truth in one thing at least; I did think he was crazy.

But then again, Jake gazed at me with such a sure and confident look in his eyes, it was almost impossible to think he could be lying.