The vampire is not a bad man, and he loves you.
If this was The Lord of the Rings and I had a smart British voice like Cate Blanchett, I could tell you the background of the events of that fall in a really suspenseful way. And you’d be straining to hear the rest.
He looked like he’d just seen the Ghost of You Better Shut Your Mouth...
I really, really wanted to lose awareness of the here and now. The best way for me to do that was bury myself in a book.
Don’t go looking for trouble; it’s already looking for you.
Life had sure been simpler when I hadn’t dated.
I was embarrased, horrified and absolutely ready to jump him!
I gripped the stapler even harder and felt like a fool planning to battle a crazy man with a stapler that even, I suddenly remembered, contained no staples. Well, strike that line of defense.
Food that walked and talked, that was us. McPeople.
We could go back to your house. I can stay with you always. We can know each others bodies in every way, night after night. I could love you. I could work, you would not be poor. I would help you.
It was time to pull my moral socks up and behave myself.
My brother, Jason, came into the bar, then, and sauntered over to give me a hug. He knows that women like a man who’s good to his family and also kind to the disabled, so hugging me is a double whammy of recommendation.
If I was getting harder, it was in response to the world around me.
Eric turned to me, kissed me on the lips very lightly, and looked at my face for a long moment. “He’ll spare you,” Eric said, and I understood he wasn’t really talking to me but to himself. “You’re too unique to waste.” And then he opened the door.
I’d always enjoyed life, and I knew I would again. But I was going to have to slog through a lot of bad patches to get there.
A dog – a collie – went up to Eric, looked up at his face, and growled. “Shoo,” Eric said, making an imperious gesture with his hand.
Look, how come he showed up now? When you have other fairies in the woods? And does that sound crazy when you say it out loud, or what?
Then was ashamed of myself. I should be happy for what I’d been given. I hoped God hadn’t noticed my lapse in appreciation.
I’d been blindsided with the most painful knowledge: the first man to ever say he loved me had never loved me at all. His passion had been artificial. His pursuit of me had been choreographed.
This was an unpleasant trend. I didn’t want a lot of guys popping in and out of my bedroom. I wanted one who would stay.