Page 16 of Loving A Vampire Is Total Chaos

His red hair curls over his forehead boyishly and tapers down the back of his neck. Rogue strands fall into his eyes, and I resist the urge to swipe them away. An adorable pair of glasses rest on his nose and act like a window into his oddly vivid green eyes. He’s dressed in an outfit very similar to mine, a sweater and pants in all black. A thin silver chain peeks out from the collar of his sweater.

He doesn’t appear outwardly dangerous. He’s fit but lanky and maybe I’m being too confident, but I think I could take him in a hand-to-hand fight if it were necessary. The hours I put into boxing should be good for something. But there’s a sharpness to him, something that makes me wary.

“Desperate times call for desperate measures. The pizza had to be protected.” He pats the top of the cardboard pulling me out of my trance.

I shake my head in disgust at myself for checking him out so thoroughly.

His small smile of pure masculine pleasure tells me he didn’t miss it.

“Maybe you should watch where you’re going and not grab random women. Then this wouldn’t happen,” I chide, even though it’s probably my fault I wasn’t paying enough attention.

“You ran into me,” he muses, and I make a move to step around him toward my door. A hot shower, my bed, and a book are calling my name after this long day.

His arm shoots out and he grips my forearm. I look down at the muscular, veined hand clutching my wrist, dwarfed under his hold, before flicking my gaze back to his.

“Do you want to eat with me?” It comes out in a rush and a red curl manages to fall fully into his eye. He flicks it back with a shake of his head while his eyes remain trained on me. There’s an almost predatory gleam to them, not in a gross way but in an intense way. Something internally tells me to still under his gaze, I’m not sure what it is but my guard shoots back up.

“Not really. I thought we established we don't know each other.”

His eyes widen and he takes a step back once again letting go of me. “I apologize, where are my manners. I just moved in.” He points to the door of the apartment beside mine and grins like it’s that simple.

“What happened to Cory?” He’s lived here the entire time I have and never made any comments about leaving. On multiple occasions he tried to flirt with me and failed. The douchey, frat boy energy wasn’t my type, but we remained cordial and made small talk when we’d pass by each other. “I just saw him the other day and he didn’t say anything about moving.”

“Is that who lived here before?” he says in a way that makes me feel like he knows more than he’s letting on. He shifts the pizza box to his other hand. “The leasing office called me with a very sudden opening since I was on a waitlist for this building.Said someone had an opportunity arise and they had to jump at the opportunity.” For some reason this makes him smirk. When I squint my eyes suspiciously, he shrugs his shoulders.

I must be losing my mind because I come to an irrational decision. The words seem to tumble out of my mouth before I even know what I’m saying. It’s almost like I’m being influenced by a feeling out of my control. For some reason I’m drawn to the stranger. I have my gun on me and people would notice if I went missing, so fuck it. “You know what, I’ve had a shitty day and pizza sounds great, so why not?” He pumps a fist in the air which makes me laugh. “Lead the way, Mister?” I drag out the last word, so he knows I’m searching to fill in the blank.

“I’m Zavier. But my friends call me Zav.”

“Hi, Zavier.” I purposely draw a line with the use of his full name. “I’m Celine.” I offer up my hand and he engulfs it with his own. There’s a spark of something when our skin touches, but it could just be my half-hungover and startled state imagining things.

Holding my hand for longer than necessary, he finally lets go. “Come on in.” His keys jingle and I follow through the open door.

I’ve never been inside Cory’s apartment when he lived here so I don’t know what to expect. Seeing as we live in a generic rental building, I’d assumed the rooms were similar but his is much bigger than mine. The living room holds a large black couch and a humongous flat screen TV is mounted on the wall. There's not much decor besides some movie posters and sports memorabilia, particularly hockey based, placed around the room.

“Do you like hockey?” I ask.

“Not particularly.” He sets the box on the counter.

Interesting.

“When did you move in?” My eyes continue to scan the space. I don’t recall noticing any signs of anyone moving in, but I have been out of it lately. Sliding my hands in my back pockets. I graze the pocketknife I keep there just in case. My dad taught me growing up that there’s no such thing as too paranoid.

“Yesterday,” Zavier calls from the bedroom he disappeared into. “I planned to introduce myself then, but you didn’t seem to be home. I went door to door distributing the lemon pound cake I made for all my new neighbors.”

He made lemon pound cake?

I try to imagine the man before me with an apron tied around his waist baking in the kitchen that’s off to the side. I hate to admit the visual of it is appealing.

There are a few boxes stacked by the kitchen bar just waiting to be unpacked.

“I was out with friends.” Making myself comfortable I sit on a stool at the counter. “You actually made the lemon loaf? From scratch?” I need him to clarify so I can determine if my visual is correct or not.

He swaggers back in the room, and I have to make a conscious effort to keep my mouth shut when I see him pull his sweater off. His t-shirt rides up revealing smooth alabaster skin. Divots of muscle showcase his most likely frequent gym visits.

My core clenches.

Slow down. Let’s not go there. Ava’s right, you really do need to have sex, but sex with your neighbor is a big no-no. If it ends terribly you’ll inevitably run into him from time to time.

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