Page 112 of The Good Vampire's Guide to Blood & Boyfriends
“I’m gonna be there the whole time,” Brennan said. He captured one of Cole’s hands in between both of his own and caught Cole’s eye. “And I’m sure they love you no matter what.”
Cole hummed in a tone Brennan identified asagree to disagree.He started walking, though, so Brennan marked it as a win.
The city was cold and gray, even windier this close to the water, as they made their way through the streets. Cole didn’t take his hand, and Brennan couldn’t blame him, so they walked with their shoulders brushing through thick layered coats.
“Thank you for being here for me,” Cole said. “I know it’s not exactly fun.”
“Who said I’m not having fun? I’m having a great time.”
“Yeah?”
“Oh, sure. Going on a double date with middle-aged homophobes from Tennessee is one of my favorite pastimes.”
“You’re the worst,” Cole said and smacked Brennan’s chest, which he generally did when he didn’t want to admit Brennan said something funny, ducking to hide a grin.
They wove through the bustling of people rushing toward somewhere warmer, the wind whipping bare trees and chilling skin. Brennan recognized the area—it was near the blood cache Nellie had taken him to that first time, the vending machine hidden between restaurants. He hadn’t been back since; a different cache was more easily accessible by commuter rail from campus.
The noise of all the crowd and clutter wasn’t overwhelming anymore, not like it had been when he was thirsty and confused and drowning under all of his senses. He felt like he might finally be past that, able to focus on the here and now. On Cole.
“I have a great time whenever I’m with you,” Brennan said. He meant it to come out cheeky but ended up far too sincere.
Cole grinned and said, “Cheesy.”
“I distracted you, at least?” Brennan offered, because they were approaching the restaurant, two figures standing huddled near the entrance. There was Cole’s mom, Deborah, waving Cole down enthusiastically, and his dad, Christopher, who stood beside her scrolling through his phone and looking bored.
Cole looked on with what could only be described as dread.
“Okay,” he said, smoothing down his jacket. “Let’s carpe this diem.”
It was then that, down the alley they were passing, Brennan recognized that vending machine he’d visited with Nellie for blood, and a shadowy figure crouching in front of it.
Choppy black hair and all black clothes, a long skirt and platform boots. He’d recognize that overly enthusiastic Goth attire anywhere.
“Oh shi—” Brennan started, but Cole was already trotting up to his parents. Seizing the day, as such.
Brennan’s ears rang as Cole started to do greetings, hugging them each in turn. But Brennan couldn’t tear his focus away from the vending machine—the blood cache—that Dom was messing with. What was she doing? Maybe she just needed blood? Though she’d made it clear she wasn’t exactly on a cruelty-free diet, so it didn’t make sense. All signs pointed toevil scheme.
Dom stopped in her work, glancing over her shoulder, and locked eyes with Brennan. Brennan’s veins turned to ice, and Dom recognized him instantly, panic flitting across her face.
There was one frozen moment where Brennan realized that he might have the advantage. Whatever she was doing, she hadn’t planned for him to be here. For once, she was the one thrown off, and maybe Brennan could—
“Brennan?”
Cole’s voice pulled him from his thoughts and he realized that both he and his parents were looking at him expectantly. They’d been doing introductions.
This was maybe one of those capital letter Important Choice moments, where he was supposed to step up and solve problems, go after Dom, prove that he had conquered his vampiric skills.
He looked up to see Dom turn the corner of the alley, disappearing. Fleeing.
He turned his back to the alley, put on his parent-charming smile, and made his introductions.
“Sorry about that, I thought I saw a friend,” Brennan said, and Deborah smiled politely.
“It’s nice to meet you,” she said.
“Thanks for letting me interrupt your family dinner.”
They went through the motions of pleasantries and small talk as they went to the host and were seated. Deborah chattered on about nothing.
