Just My Type by Lucy Bexley & Bryce Oakley

Author:Lucy Bexley & Bryce Oakley [Bexley, Lucy & Oakley, Bryce]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-10-22T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Ero

Annie’s eyes go wide and her laugh sounds desperate. “I’m sorry, you’re a what?”

I shrug. People love to blow this proclamation out of proportion even though they fetishize us every chance they get. Wasn’t she talking about a vampire show the other night? It’s a great injustice to be a sex symbol only in the abstract.

“Do I need to be afraid of you?”

“You’re going to trust a person who tells you no?” I want to laugh, but it’s unsettling to me how well she’s taking this. She hasn’t even reached for something to stab me with yet.

“No, I’m going to trust you.”

“You can’t just go around believing people who tell you not to be afraid of them, Annie.”

“So I should be afraid of you then?”

“We should all be a little afraid of everyone, I think.”

Annie straightens up and pulls out her phone before typing something into it. Is she calling for help? I didn’t mean she should be afraid of me at this moment when all we're doing is eating this curious soup. I set down my gory plate before I force down another bite. Something colder than me nudges my hand and I give June’s head a few pats like I’ve seen Annie do. June keeps pressing her nose against my palm until Nines comes to my rescue and pounces on her. Some of the red sauce splatters onto the floor and the dogs clean it up immediately. Very helpful. If Annie wants protection, she should call Nines.

Annie is tapping rapidly on her phone screen, deep in concentration. She didn’t even tell the dogs not to eat the sauce.

“What are you doing?”

“I didn’t have this on my list of possibilities, so I was updating the data on my spreadsheet.”

“You have a spreadsheet on me?”

“I have several, but the data’s all linked. So, I guess it’s like one big spreadsheet, or an interconnected web of possibilities.” She stops and gives me a small smile. “Sorry, I usually try to save full-nerd for the third date. Ok, what kind of vampire would you say you are?”

“I’m not sure what you’re asking. I’m a regular vampire.”

“Like who do you relate to most? Dracula? Lestat? Oh, I bet it’s Carmilla!” Her thumbs hover above her phone screen like ice skaters.

“What makes you think those vampires weren’t based on me?”

“If you’re a vampire, why didn’t the garlic bread repel you?”

“Those are just stories, Annie. You shouldn’t be surprised that the books are wrong. Fantasies made up by humans who want to pretend they have the power to destroy us. Fairy tales.” I wave my hand in the air to dismiss the notion that there’s much truth to those old legends.

Her eyes light up as she places her phone back in her pocket. “Interesting hypothesis. Ok, prove it.”

“Prove it?” I quirk an eyebrow. She can’t be serious, though my mouth waters at the thought. “And how would you like me to do that?”

Annie tilts her head to the side, exposing the length of her neck like an offering.

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