“…Nicholas…Nick…Earth to Nick…”
A rugby ball bounced harmlessly off his head. He blurted, “AH,” and more coherently, “Oi!”
Christian and Otis chuckled at him, the former catching the ball and giving Nick space as he said, “Coach said you’re on cones.”
Nick cast his eyes over the pitch, realizing practice was over. “Right. Okay.”
Even if he had been assigned to collect the neon practice cones, his friends trailed after him. Otis confronted, “You’ve been supremely out of it all day. You’re lucky Mrs. Reynolds didn’t call on you in class.”
“Yeah,” he huffed a performative laugh. “Yeah, I am.”
“It’s impressive, really,” Christian said. “You didn’t even notice Harry in a louder mood than usual.”
“So, what’s up?” Otis asked.
Flashes of dark curls and a voice that felt like water on his parched senses coursed through Nick’s brain. “I’m just distracted, is all.”
He could feel Christian and Otis sharing a look. The former pushed gently, “Yeah, we get that. But, like, why?”
Otis guessed, “We thought it might have to do with what Harry said at the party, but Harry might as well not even exist to you today.”
Nick stacked cones in his hand while he thought up an answer. “It’s not about Harry.”
Another pause ensued as they waited for whatever crumbs he’d give them. Christian gave him an out, “If you want to talk about anything, we’ll listen. We were just worried since this is a bit different for you.”
“And because I’m not covering for you forever,” Otis seconded. “Mrs. Reynolds is scary.”
Nick laughed more sincerely. “Yeah, she is. I appreciate it guys. I’m fine, really. But I do need to be heading out as early as I can.”
Otis and Christian helped him collect the practice materials and he changed back into his Truham uniform. Outside the school, however, he bypassed the bus stop, instead jogging across the road to the other one that would be going in the other direction.
The weather was still cold, and he did not sweat as much during practice. He couldn’t help but sniff his armpits regardless. Still good, Nick raked his hair off his forehead as he watched the progress of the bus through town and contemplated what he wanted to do. He knew what he did not want to do, and that was to appear like a student. In his bus seat, he took off his striped tie, coat, and blazer, folding the Truham pieces into his bag and wearing just the blue coat.
Except, as he stepped off the bus and walked the rest of the way, his nerves got the better of him and he removed his coat as well. He hung it off his side-bag, which he held to his hip as he stepped into the hotel. He knew Charlie was working today. Something about leaving early if he moved enough of the storage. At least, that had been before the firework incident.
Nick found the hotel busy, almost as if the party were still going on, just without the student body. He reckoned the truck outside made sense as workmen came and went on the stairs, no doubt working on whatever repairs the upstairs toilet required. Then there were all the requirements for the event Charlie had mentioned. Nick peeked into the ballroom; the confetti had since been swept up and chairs were placed in rows.
“Are you a guest?”
Nick’s head jerked to attention. He marched to the concierge desk and said, “No, sorry, um, I’m looking for Charlie. He’s working today, I thought?”
She smiled. “He’s gonna be busy for the next ten minutes or so, but you’re welcome to wait in there. Sorry for the bedlam.”
“Thank you,” he said, receding to one of the sitting rooms close to the entrance. The hotel had been renovated from an old rich house, and they kept it furnished as such. Nick felt some sort of irony at sitting once more on the couch he’d used to avoid Harry for part of last night…
Nick perked up at the concierge stepping outside and hissing, “It’s time! Come on!”
She dashed back inside with two other staff members. Their excitement made Nick stand up to see where they were going. The noise of workmen upstairs momentarily eclipsed his ability to hear, but a song did emerge through the bustling hotel.
“…day to you…Happy birthday…”
Nick left his bag on the couch and followed the song through the ballroom to the back of the hotel. From the main house and the clubhouse deeper within the garden, staff came together around the manager holding a plate with a singular cupcake. A person behind him held a proper platter of cupcakes, but the one with the lit candle was held for Charlie.
Charlie, who stood in his black slacks and white shirt, held his arms crossed with a happy but embarrassed smile while he waited for the song to finish. Nick stood in the open French doorway, feeling better about his decision to come here.
“…day, dear, Charlie…Happy birthday to you!”
Everyone moved to clap but held their stance, waiting for Charlie to make his wish. He shut his eyes, took a deep breath, and blew out his candle. Everyone cheered, including Nick. Charlie thanked the manager for his cupcake as he took the plate, along with everyone rubbing his back in passing on their way to the cupcakes. He plucked the candle out to lick the frosting off it as the concierge woman said, “Charlie, there’s someone here to see you, but room two-seventeen needs a BT.”
Charlie licked his lips with an, “Okay,” as his eyes flicked to the hotel and landed on Nick. Nick couldn’t read his expression as he clarified, “Two-seventeen, you said?”
“Yeah, the one with the grumpy goth girl.”
He held his cupcake up for safety and reached for another. Double wielding cakes, he rose up the stairs to meet Nick. “Hi.”
“Hi,” Nick breathed, because seeing Charlie in the daylight was…different. A good different. “Why didn’t you say your birthday was today?”
“Because it isn’t,” he squinted an eye guiltily in passing. “It’s next week, but I’m not going to be here, so they’re treating us all early. Do you want some?”
To his surprise, Charlie took him to the kitchen. Under a counter, he pulled out a cake box and folded it around the spare cupcake. He put it carefully in a fridge before he grabbed two forks and handed one to Nick for the cake on its own plate. “It’s bad luck to not have a little bit.”
Nick’s cheeks pushed up to his eyes as he gratefully accepted the fork. They plunged their forks through the frosting and cupped their hands under their mouths for the first bite. Nick hummed a pleased sound. “This is good. They made these here?”
Charlie nodded, but he set his fork in the sink. “It’ll be a sad day when this chef leaves. You can have the rest.”
Nick stumbled. “What? Where are you going?”
“A guest needs a transfusion upstairs. I’m not going to make them wait.”
Nick quickly wiped his mouth and followed everything he’d seen Charlie do: fork in the sink, cupcake box around the confectionary, and the box went on top of the other one in the fridge. He jogged out to find Charlie behind the concierge desk, sorting through some kind of paperwork on a clipboard as well as clicking through the computer. His eyes darted to him and he said with a slight firmness of annoyance, “It’s going to be a little bit. Is that okay?”
“I’m not trying to be in your way. Is there anything I can do to help?”
Charlie’s mouth pinched to the side and he reached into a drawer for something. “You could bring up that other cupcake in about twenty minutes. Make sure to bring a fork wrapped in a napkin. They’re pre-wrapped in the kitchen, you’ll see them. Here, so no one kicks you out.”
Charlie handed him a name tag. Nick read, VOLUNTEER, and pinned it on his shirt. “Two-seventeen?”
Charlie slanted a keen smirk at him. “Yeah.”
He came around the counter and started on his task, but Nick wondered aloud as he followed, “How are you bringing a trolley down when there aren’t any lifts?”
“Force of will and luck. And there’s a dumbwaiter.”
“Really? I didn’t see one.”
“It’s not for guests to see. It’s for the help.”
“Well, can I help?”
Charlie sighed melodramatically like he expected this. “I guess.”
“You can say no,” Nick cornered.
“No, no, far be it for me to refuse your strong rugby muscles. If you want to do heavy lifting, be my guest.”
Nick blew a raspberry on their way up the stairs and sassed, “I thought I wasn’t allowed to touch the medical stuff.”
“You’re not, but you can carry the trolley.”
“Oh, I see.”
Charlie smiled at him, releasing him from being the expense of the jape. Nick hadn’t expected to pick up right where they’d left off working together last night, but he like it. He wanted to ride this out as long as he could, if it kept him close to Charlie.
All the way upstairs, Charlie opened up the dumbwaiter with a key from his clipboard. The door was painted just like the wall, so of course Nick hadn’t been looking for it or seen it last night. They then arrived at smaller ballroom, and the row of transfusion machines along the wall. Charlie moved a bag-stand out of the way at the same time he tried to roll a trolley, but with a lack of finesse, the corner wheel went over the toe of his shoe. The machine clattered loudly the same time Charlie exclaimed in a strangled voice, “Ow.”
Admittedly, Nick had been looking out the grand window, taking in the sight in the daylight to compare with last night. But his head whipped around and he rushed to him. “Charlie? Was it the wheel?”
“Yeah…I’m fine,” he recovered.
“Does this coincide with your medical protocol?”
“Excuse me,” he complained, to Nick’s delight. He was discovering that he liked pestering Charlie a great deal.
Charlie heaved the machine into his arms and Nick moved out of his way. He went to the dumbwaiter and Nick went to the stairs, where he carried the wheeled cart down to the second floor. Charlie returned the machine to the trolley and Nick remarked, “There has to be a better way of transporting this.”
“In a modern hotel with a lift, there is,” Charlie said as he locked the dumbwaiter door with a key from his clipboard. He opened a drawer in the trolley to check that it had medical things like latex gloves and sanitary wipes before he stood upright. Nick’s eyes wandered, noticing a lack of a standee for a blood bag. He also didn’t see where any blood bags might be stored, though—
“Cupcake in twenty minutes?”
Nick’s head swiveled to see down both sides of the corridor. “Which direction is two-seventeen?”
Charlie pointed. “That way.”
“Okay,” he agreed whilst pulling his phone out of his trousers pocket to check the time. He found a missed call and a text from his mother. He quickly jogged down the stairs to call her back.
* * *
Charlie saw the blocks of notifications on the screen and the way Nick diverted his attention. Charlie couldn’t let himself get preoccupied about it, though, as there was someone waiting for him. When the parents had checked into the hotel, he’d noticed that their daughter was a vampire. They’d noticed each other, really, and he’d smiled politely before continuing with his tasks. As he knocked on their door, though, he thought about how it couldn’t be easy, being the only vampire in the family.
The door opened and he offered his hand to the mother. “Hello, I’m Charlie.”
She saw the trolley beside him and eagerly shook his hand. “Yes! Do come in. I’m Meredith. My daughter, Angela. My husband’s gone to the bank but we’re so glad the hotel is accommodating.”
Blood bank. The bank had rules strictly overseen by the government, so the hotel was not allowed to carry blood bags for its vampire guests.
The teenager sat on the couch, watching as much television as her dazed hunger allowed. Her head and its dyed black hair turned to him as he entered the room, her eyelashes lifting to seem a bit more awake with the connection of their resonances. Just as he’d identified her as a vampire, she did the same to him. Quite a difference, after spending so much time with human parents. He smiled, much as he had in the lobby. In its own, vampiric way, their resonances acknowledging each other was enough of a greeting. So, he said warmly, “Are you ready to feel better?”
Her eyes wandered over him a little bit, perhaps reading his resonance and deciding. She blinked lethargically with a matching nod.
“May I ask, what hand do you write with?”
“My left,” she said, while her right arm rested on the end of the couch.
“Perfect. You can stay where you are. I’m just going to move this a bit…”
He dragged the coffee table out for the cart to roll in close. He sat on the table and opened the drawer to have it ready but first unbuttoned his cuff and rolled up his sleeve. To Meredith, he said conversationally, “Have you called the concierge for bank details? We have a lot of information to help you check into a bank, travel, or even how to carry your own blood bags since Angela’s under eighteen.”
To his surprise, it was Angela who answered, “I’m not used to drinking it yet. We can’t travel with a machine.”
He nodded his understanding. “That’s okay. It’s common.”
Her mother voiced, “I would like to talk to your concierge. It couldn’t hurt.”
While she went to use the room’s corded phone, Charlie glanced at his clipboard while he reached for a sanitization wipe. Burren, Angela (F, 14). He pulled on his gloves and set out the factory-sealed needles and medical tape. “May I handle your arm?”
She opened her arm towards him. Charlie moved a couch cushion for it to rest on and wiped just below the trench of her elbow. He did the same to himself. To himself, he also wrapped a rubber tube around his bicep. Angela watched all of this and asked, “Do I need that?”
“No, I can get you wired in without it,” he promised. He opened up a needle, and connected it to one of the machine’s tubes. He tilted her arm in the light and found the telltale blue he wanted. A momentary squeeze inside her bicep made the vein protrude enough to make it easy. He asked, “Ready?”
She nodded and said, “I’m not afraid of needles. Unlike my mum.”
He sent a smile to Meredith over his shoulder. She rolled her eyes but remained on the phone. Charlie inserted the needle into her vein and taped the tubing down with tape. He next readied everything again for himself. He tapped his inner elbow and his vein engorged right before his eyes. unwrapped the tube around his arm. His blood gushed through the tubing and into the machine. It started humming instantly. After a few moments, red chased through the empty line toward Angela’s needle and into her arm.
Charlie pressed a button on the machine, and a timer started on the screen alongside measurement numbers. The timer coincided with the customary blood bag amount, but he liked to go off of how quickly a patient absorbed the transfusion. He wouldn’t let a teenager go hungry.
He looked at Angela to read her face. “Feeling better?”
She breathed through the change in her body and mind, but her head bobbed loftily. “Thanks.”
He smiled, his resonance warm. “You’re welcome.”
* * *
“Volunteering is fine. I just wish you’d told me when you agreed to go,” Nick’s mother said through the phone.
“I know, I’m sorry. All of it happened fast.”
“Do you know what time you’ll be finished? I can pick you up.”
“I don’t but it can’t be for much longer. I’ll text you.”
“All right, darling. I love you.”
“I love you too. Bye,” he finished, and hung up the phone. He looked at the time and stepped out of the sitting room where he’d left his bag. On his way to the kitchen, he needed to pass the concierge, where the woman glanced at him before locking onto him.
“Wait! You’re going upstairs, right?”
Despite feeling like a deer in the headlights, he answered, “Yes? Charlie asked me to bring something to room two-seventeen.”
“Perfect. I need you to take these there. I’ll make it easier,” she said as she searched and found a large envelope for a collection of papers and pamphlets. She dropped all of it into one dossier, and sealed it with the prongs before handing it to him. “Thank you very much.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, and tucked it under his arm to go to the kitchen. He gingerly removed the cupcake box from the fridge and asked one of the cooks, “Excuse me, where’s the wrapped silverware?”
Their eyes flicked down to his VOLUNTEER tag and pointed behind him. “Just there, love.”
“Thanks,” he said, and rearranged the envelope to stack the box and fork on it. Nick chanted two-seventeen, two-seventeen under his breath on his way up the stairs. When he stood in front of the door, he looked around to check the orientation of numbered plates beside each door to be sure he had the right one. He knocked.
An older woman answered and smiled at him. He voiced, “Hello, is Charlie here? He’s expecting me. And I was told to bring these for you.”
He offered up the envelope and the woman opened the door wider. “He is, come in.”
Entering a stranger’s hotel room lit up a red light in his brain, but as she walked away, he leaned and saw the back of Charlie’s head in the living area of the suite. He seemed to be sitting down, so Nick shut the door and stepped inside…
“…has to do with circulation. Usually your dominant side is better for it, and most people are right handed. So, yeah.”
A young girl—younger than Nick—sat on the couch and sighed like she were put out by something. “I have to start asking for it in the left arm, then. Fishing for my veins is making my right side look like an addict.”
Her attention lifted to Nick, who immediately felt out of his depth. “Uh, Charlie?”
Charlie pivoted on the coffee table and reached towards him. Nick handed him the box but his eyes surveyed the taped down needle in his arm. He kept his face expressionless and quickly lifted his eyes to Charlie saying, “Angela, Nick. Nick, Angela.”
She said politely, “Hey, Nick.”
“How are you?” he greeted.
“Much better,” she answered, but she followed Charlie setting the box on the table and taking the wrapped fork out of Nick’s hand.
“Are you allergic to anything? Lactose intolerant?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Good. We wanted you to have this. Traveling is hard enough without a hunger crisis.”
Angela’s mother came around to kneel beside the table and opened the box. “What a beautiful cupcake. If Angela doesn’t want it, her father and I will share it.”
“I want it!” she argued.
Nick and Charlie laughed—and the machine beeped a chime. Charlie pressed a button and watched the red fade in opacity in Angela’s tube. He worked quickly and efficiently, holding a cotton pad to his arm as his fingertips pulled on the tube. He uttered a soft, “Boop,” when the needle left his skin, and the cotton caught whatever blood escaped. He taped the cotton down and capped off the needle. He wrapped it up back inside the machine to clean up outside of the room, and went about freeing Angela from her own needle. She, however, got a spiffier plaster.
“Moons, candy floss, or Marvel?” he asked, holding up her band-aid options and their colourful prints.
“That’s DC,” Nick corrected gently.
Charlie held the plasters like cards and tilted them for scrutiny. “Is it?”
“I’ll take the DC,” she answered, and he finished with her arm. Finally free to be herself again, she unwrapped her fork and commented, “Does every transfusion come with a cupcake?”
“They don’t, sorry,” Charlie said as he stood up. “We celebrated a birthday downstairs and had some to spare. Thank you.”
Meredith handed him his clipboard, freshly signed and dated. He relayed it to Nick. “Can you take this to the front desk? If no one’s there, don’t leave it alone.”
“I won’t,” he promised, but did not leave immediately. He pointed at the transfusion machine. “What about this?”
“I have maintenance I need to do with it. I can handle it.”
Nick didn’t want to impose while in someone else’s room. He took the clipboard and left.
As for Charlie, he organized the cart components as Angela said outright, “He’s cute.”
Charlie brightened with a smile. “He is.”
“What does he volunteer for, exactly?”
He tipped his head to the side, eyeing her knowingly. “He’s not a blood donor, I’m afraid.”
Meredith concurred, “He looks too young to be a donor. Sweet boy, though.”
“He likes you,” Angela shared, in a tone like she might be testing the waters.
Charlie smiled bashfully. “I’m flattered.”
“Only flattered?”
Meredith piped a laugh. “Angel, leave the poor man alone. I’m going to give your dad a call.”
She stepped into the bedroom for it, leaving Charlie to Angela’s mercy. For being so new to reading resonance in the world, she had a talent for it. “Do you like him too?”
Lying would just be insulting, so he squinted in an evasive, “He’s a bit young for me.”
“So? I have a friend who’s dating a university student.”
Charlie paused. “Are they fourteen as well?”
“Fifteen.”
“I hate to ask this, but are they a girl dating a man?”
“Yeah, why?”
“It’s different between boys and girls.”
“Different, how?”
Charlie took a deep breath and considered how to say this. “Well…anyone seeing Nick and I together will not immediately make assumptions. If you walked in here with a very visibly older boyfriend, your parents might notify the police.”
Angela seemed to genuinely consider that but debated, “What’s the issue? Pregnancy? It’s not like she has money for him to take.”
“There could be a few reasons,” he explained. “She’s an investment. A roommate in the future to help him with rent, food, whatever. She’s a toy, for reasons that are maybe too obvious. And yeah, maybe he likes her. Maybe it’s good right now, but a person grows a lot in their teens and early twenties. There’s plenty of time for her to see him as a deadbeat and break up with him, or for him to realize he’s outgrown her. Either way, relationships shouldn’t have a power structure. If he’s older, making money, and living out in the world, she’s at a really unfair disadvantage. Worse, she doesn’t even know it, or she’s so in love she won’t allow herself to see it.
“I’ve said too much, so I’m gonna go. I don’t know these people,” he finished with a push of the trolley towards the door.
“Maybe so, but you’re the only one who’s actually explained that to me like I’m not an idiot.”
He offered her a polite smile and dismissed, “I’m glad you’re feeling better. I don’t know how long you’re staying but I’ll be gone starting Wednesday.”
“It’s okay. We’re leaving by then too.”
“Okay. It was nice meeting you.”
Meredith called from the other room, “Charlie, a moment, if you would.”
He rolled the cart in a position it could be ready to depart, but waited for her to emerge with the phone held to her shoulder. She reached for him and he caught her hand for a shake—and to accept the money she handed him. “Thank you so much. You really saved us.”
“You’re welcome. I hope the concierge was able to help.”
“A big help. Cheers.”
“Cheers,” he said, and shut the door behind him. As for the transfusion machine, he left the trolley at the bottom of the stairs. The machine required too much handling to get the materials into their biohazard bags before his shift ended. He was promised an early finish to his day, and he damn well intended to have it.
After he deposited the bags into the correct receptacle, he went to the concierge desk while his gaze searched through the rooms. “Hey, where is the boy you sent upstairs?”
The woman smirked at him and said, “I gave him to the manager. Every volunteer helps.”
Charlie’s voice dropped for privacy. “You know he’s not a real volunteer.”
“If a crush is hiding incognito for you, they pay their dues. I think he went to the clubhouse.”
“Oh, for god sake,” Charlie cursed, sprinting outside with her mirth behind him.
* * *
Nick trudged with Charlie to the car park. “Thank you for giving me a ride home.”
“It’s my own fault you needed rescuing. They would make you work forever for free. And I’m sorry for the smell.”
Nick huffed a laugh as he opened the door and set his bag down. He repeated, “Smell?” and then sniffed once seated inside the car. “What is that?”
Charlie sighed, “Tori’s gonna kill me.”
“Who’s that?” he asked while clicking his seatbelt over his lap.
“My sister. We share the car. In the city, she has all the public transit, so I have it while I’m here. I rescued the cat last night, and paid for it by spilling sardine oil in here.”
Nick’s brows flew up. “The kitten? You took her home?”
Charlie pulled out of the lot while he explained, “She wasn’t going to have a home once the hotel opened its garden for outdoor events. Which means I had to scoop her up and socialize her now, and I did not trust a horde of teenagers last night to help her trust humans.”
“Fair point,” Nick as while he watched the late afternoon descend into evening. “You seemed to be doing okay from what I saw yesterday.”
“I dread to think of the state of my room when I get back.”
Nick smiled at him. “Will you keep her?”
Charlie’s shoulders slowly hitched up close to his ears. He confessed giddily, “I might? I don’t know, I haven’t decided. If I can have my sister and her partner’s help, I would like to.”
He stopped at a red light and quickly twisted around to get something out from the backseat. When he faced forward again, he brought with him a gust of air that put stars in Nick’s brain. Charlie smelled good.
Before the light flashed yellow and then green, he pulled a cardigan around himself and shoved his arms into it. With the car moving again, Nick swallowed to moisten his throat. “May I ask about the transfusion stuff?”
Charlie gave him a consoling look, like he might have been expecting this and was also sorry Nick had to see any of it. “Yeah.”
“When you said you were certified, I didn’t think that meant you were giving the blood.”
Charlie watched his mirrors as he changed lanes; smoothly driving as he said, “The government regulates blood donations. It would be great if the hotel could keep blood stocked up, but it’s illegal and would require an entirely separate team on staff to manage that. You’ve seen blood banks around.”
He said the last part like a question. Nick nodded and then added since Charlie couldn’t see him the whole time, “Mmhm, I have. Never went into one, though.”
Charlie smiled with a teasing, “Well, why would you?”
Nick frowned and let his ruminations out. “Am I stupid for assuming a vampire would want a human donor? Can anyone donate?”
Charlie frowned right back at him. “You’re not stupid. You’re right, most vampires do prefer humans, but when a person is hungry, a vampire’s blood will work. Not everyone can donate, but the rules are like, an age requirement, proper body weight, you’re not actively ill, things like that.”
“But…if you give your blood with someone, what about you? You need it then, too, right?”
“I don’t share it often, so it’s not a big deal. I’ll be okay.”
“Are you the only one on staff who can do that?”
Charlie tipped his head from side to side. “I’m only here for the spring, so I don’t know what their staff is usually like. During the peak season, I’d imagine they keep more than one certified person around. A lot of vampires have blood bank memberships so they either go there or they go through the process of being allowed to travel with blood bags. Then I’m just handling the needles. Thanks for bringing the cupcake up.”
Nick felt the swerve of conversation topic and didn’t care about the cupcake outside of informing, “I didn’t finish yours. I put it in a box in the fridge.”
“Oh, that thing’s been claimed and devoured, I’m sure,” Charlie said, “but thank you.”
“It had our fork marks in it.”
Charlie glanced at him. “I’ll find it if it’s still there.”
They sat in the quiet for a time, aside from Nick giving Charlie directions. The closer they drove to his neighborhood, the more Nick felt like he wanted to absorb every detail of this moment. The texture of his seat and the way Charlie’s hands held the steering wheel. The colours and pattern of his cardigan—the fact that Charlie wore a cardigan at all, and seemed to have a collection to choose from in the backseat.
He also didn’t know if this would be the last time he could see him. “You said you wouldn’t be here for your birthday…plans?”
Charlie sat at the last stoplight of their journey with his hands between his thighs, as if to keep them warm. “Mmhm. I’ll be back in the city. My sister is taking me to an orchestra concert. The kind where they play the soundtrack of a videogame.”
Nick’s jaw loosened. “That’s so cool. What’s the game?”
“Zelda. Some kind of Zelda assortment, I’m not sure.”
“Wow,” Nick sighed, facing forward again as they drove through the neighborhood. “That sounds great.”
“It doesn’t sound boring?” Charlie prompted.
Nick shrugged. “I like theatre plays. I’ve never seen an orchestra concert, but I love Nintendo games. I’m the third house on the right.”
Charlie leaned forward attentively. “This one?”
“Yeah,” Nick said, sounding crestfallen in his own ears. Charlie turned into his driveway behind his mother’s car. Since his headlights beamed off the metal and glass, he turned them off. In the darkness of Charlie’s car, Nick didn’t want the whole afternoon to go to waste. He approached what he’d gone to the hotel to say in the first place. “I’m sorry I crashed your job.”
“It’s okay,” Charlie replied, perhaps leaving the way open for Nick to speak.
He licked his lips and dared, “You didn’t seem happy or upset when you saw me.”
Forced to give his own two cents on the matter, Charlie’s eyes moved with his thoughts before he said, “I didn’t expect to see you. I wasn’t upset.”
“Are you okay, like, physically? You took hits from three rugby boys last night.”
Charlie rubbed his chest, his hand drifting towards the shoulder that got checked by the boys charging out of the toilet after their fireworks incident. “I was reminded why I used to avoid you lot, but it didn’t hurt in the moment. I’m sore, but it’s nothing to worry about.”
Nick nodded but he glanced down at his hands in his lap. “I’m sorry I ran away last night.”
“You didn’t really have a choice,” Charlie consoled. “It would’ve been problematic for both of us if your friends found us.”
Nick raised his head. Because a different problem had plagued him all day. “I didn’t want to stop kissing you.”
Charlie’s lips parted, looking as if Nick had stolen the air from his lungs. Then, in an attempt at salvaging whatever this was, maybe to pull up his professional mask again, he flashed a smile—
Charlie said something. Nick didn’t hear it. Nick’s eyes locked onto his teeth. His fangs were down.
Once upon a time, he’d listened to gossip about how a vampire’s canine teeth were always visible. Just like regular human teeth, but they slid further out of their gums to feed. He and his peers had been too young to ask the question that left a negative space in the air. But when did a vampire feed?
Charlie’s mouth relaxed back over his teeth, but not without the tip of his tongue sliding along his blunt front teeth to bump into the elongated fang. His hands flew up. One covered his mouth as the other flipped down the visor for the mirror. “Oh,” he mumbled. “Sorry.”
“Why?” Nick said, out of breath.
“It’s embarrassing,” Charlie said quietly…like he felt something more akin to shame than simple embarrassment. However, both of his hands covered his face as he collapsed against his door dramatically. “Ugh, you can go. Leave me to die here.”
“I can’t leave you to die in my driveway,” Nick said with a smile in his voice. “I did ask if you were hungry.”
But then Charlie pulled his cheeks down, stretching his under-eyes. Nick frowned wryly and, before Charlie could find a way out of this, said, “Is it something else? Why would you be embarrassed?”
“Nick,” he groaned. “It’s extremely inappropriate for me to have my fangs out.”
“It’s just me here,” Nick said gently. “Is it inappropriate to say I like them?”
Charlie rubbed his eyes but put his hands down to harmlessly glare at him. “Fangs usually come out when a person is aroused.”
It was Nick’s turn to look winded. His eyes moved between Charlie’s eyes and his mouth. “Do they stay down if you’re kissing?”
Something changed in Charlie’s face. Something understanding and hungry and restrained. “They could. It’s dangerous.”
Nick didn’t know when he’d moved all the way to the edge of his seat towards Charlie, but he unbuckled his seatbelt to get it out of the way. “I’m not afraid of you.”
Charlie’s brows tilted, making his eyes look a little sad. “This is a terrible idea, Nick.”
“Please?” he begged on his breath.
Something unlocked behind Charlie’s eyes and he came across the distance. Nick’s eyebrows reached for his hairline at experiencing the plush softness of his lips again. The agony in his chest opened and somersaulted, bigger than himself. Eyes closed, he heard the rustle of Charlie’s fabric before he felt Charlie’s hand find his chest first, and then it traveled up to hold Nick’s cheek…
They felt the car moving at the same time. Charlie gasped the same time his foot fully slipped off the brake before he slammed it foot back on. Nick felt Charlie’s hand punch his chest, holding him as securely as he could to the seat while the car lurched to a stop. Nick looked down at the gear shift while Charlie laughed nervously, “This is why I’m a terrible idea. Can’t even control a car—”
Nick moved the gear shift into park and reached both hands for Charlie’s head. He kissed him and felt Charlie’s firm lips yield to him. Charlie’s voice blurted in surprise, but melted out of him as his hands found Nick’s biceps. Kisses flowed together, the push and drag and sound of it all sending sparks through Nick’s chest and down to his groin.
Charlie’s tongue slid between his lips. Nick’s eyes must’ve rolled back with the new oblivion he submitted himself to. Charlie tasted…he tasted unbelievable. A flavour Nick had never experienced, but committed to instant memory. Charlie’s tongue dipped into his mouth once…twice…each time making circus tricks in Nick’s torso and a spike of arousal in his groin. Nick ventured to taste Charlie’s lips. Charlie’s hand slid down from his face, rubbing his chest. His head tilted for a better angle, encouraging Nick to taste him, to explore.
Nick didn’t know how long they made out. Time didn’t exist and every new level of lust was matched and shattered as Charlie’s hand found his leg. The longer they kissed, the further it slid up inside Nick’s thigh. Nick tried to move his leg, to open it wider without even thinking about what he was doing, until he came up for air.
Charlie panted in the humid space between them, just as much as Nick. “You have to go inside soon.”
If there was one thing Nick was not doing, was going inside his house and facing his mother. “I can’t go like this.”
Charlie looked down, as if he could see Nick’s boner in the darkness and his black trousers. But his hand found it. Nick gasped, his hands clutching the shoulders of Charlie’s cardigan. He swallowed thickly and exhaled, “Oh, god.”
“I’ll stop if you want me to,” Charlie said, sounding far too sober as Nick lost his mind.
“No,” Nick growled, bearing through Charlie’s thumb pressing sure strokes back and forth over him. “No…I don’t want you to stop.”
Charlie stopped, but only to cup his balls through the fabric. “Can I handle this for you? It’s okay if it’s too much.”
“Charlie,” he begged. “I’m gonna explode if you don’t do something.”
Charlie kissed his mouth again, but just once. His hands found the closure of his slacks and he paused with his fingertips on the wide elastic of Nick’s underwear. “You’re sure?”
“Charlie.”
Admittedly, Nick thought Charlie intended to use his hand. And then Charlie bowed over the center console and drew Nick out of his underwear to put inside his mouth. Nick thought his eyes would fall right out or his lungs would wheeze like balloons. All of his faculties went into the warm and wet up and down of Charlie’s mouth. In between the spots of his vision and brain, Nick realized his hands were still more or less on Charlie’s cardigan. He removed them but didn’t know where to place them.
Charlie’s hand found his and placed it on his head. A deep breath gushed out of Nick, his mind uttering in total awe, I can touch your hair?
It was softer than he’d ever imagined. And as soon as he let himself carefully palm Charlie’s curls, it all became too much. His other hand grasped Charlie’s back in warning, and he came inside the devastating suction that Charlie inflicted on him for the finish.
After a moment, Charlie lifted himself out of Nick’s hands. He wiped his mouth and chin on his sleeve. All Nick could do was stare at him—
Charlie’s gaze flicked to the side. “The light’s turned on.”
Nick’s head moved on its own. He saw the front door light on. He had to go.
He put himself to rights and reached for his bag between his legs. He whirled around, entrapping Charlie in his gaze. “Do you have Instagram?”
Charlie, his lips gorgeously inflamed and his eyes flicking between Nick and his house, uttered, “Yes?”
“Okay,” he rushed, and left the car.
Inside his house, Nick toed off his shoes and looked at himself in the mirror above the console. He looked the exact same. He had no idea who he was. It was the best night of his life.
“Darling?” Sarah called. “Who gave you a lift home?”
“An old Truham student who works at the hotel,” he answered, alarming himself with how easily it came out.
“Ah, all right…and did you get the papers to prove you did the volunteer hours?”
Nick froze. But far from a fault in his alibi, he removed his coat and took off his VOLUNTEER badge. “Uh, no, but I need to return this anyway. I’ll get it done.”
* * *
Charlie pulled into the driveway of his own parents’ house. He took his time leaving the car, wondering if he should deliberate on what he’d just done or to firmly shove it elsewhere. One thing he knew for certain: Nick Nelson could not know that he lived just on the other side of his neighborhood.
When Charlie had listened to his instructions to drive him home, he’d kept silent on how he knew every road. He even knew which house was Nick’s. He’d walked past it plenty of times without ever knowing who lived there.
Charlie unlocked the front door with stained glass panels. His mother called from the kitchen, “Charlie?”
“It’s me,” he answered, shedding layers of himself like his chrysalis weighed a ton. Shoes. Cardigan. It was due for a wash.
She emerged to greet him, “Good day at work?”
“They made me cupcakes for my birthday.”
“Oh. That was generous of them. You feel different.”
His resonance. It’s a wonder he got away with anything with a vampire mother. Then again, it’s because he did that she was hyper vigilant about it now. “Work was chaotic. Contractors had to repair the toilet while we set up, and I had a patient today.”
She listened attentively, but her head straightened up at the last detail. “I want you to visit the bank tomorrow before your shift.”
“I’m off tomorrow. I’m going to the vet for the little one.”
“Even better,” she insisted while rotating to look up the stairs. “She’s a loud creature.”
“You could say hello to her.”
She indulged in a smile. “I may have, but your father’s allergies.”
Charlie mirrored her smile, appreciating the scheme. Upstairs in his room, the teenage kitten hid in his closet. He let her stay there while he went back and forth for a shower and then bedtime. The popping of a food can brought her right out for dinner. She ate ravenously, not even bothered by him petting her back while she ate.
“Yeah,” he sighed, “me too.”