“Funny, we actually had one copy, but it sold last month. I can order you one, if you want. Though it will take a couple of weeks.”
“Yes, please,” I said, smiling at him. As he typed the order into the computer, I let my eyes wander around the shop, though my thoughts were focused entirely on him. He was single again. Maybe this was my chance to get closer, to learn more about his Vampire Slayer ways.
“When do you get off work?” I asked, keeping my tone light.
“Five,” he replied, glancing up at me.
“See you at five then, Connor,” I said, grinning as I turned and walked out before he could say anything else.
I could almost feel his gaze following me as I left.
Let the game of cat and mouse begin, I thought, a thrill sparking through me.
I returned to the bookshop at dusk to find Connor closing the front door, the “Open” sign now switched to “Closed.” He locked the door, placing the key in his pocket.
“Hi,” I said, stepping up beside him.
“Sorry, ma’am, the store is closed for the day.” A grin formed on his lips.
I chuckled, “Aw, that sucks. How will I ever pass the time?”
Connor turned to face me, his eyes lingering for a moment before he spoke. “So, what would you like to do?”
I tilted my head, teasing. “Maybe we can go back to your place?”
“Okay,” he said.
As we drove back to his apartment, I yet again found myself in the passenger seat of a Vampire Slayer’s van. I tried not to glance at the back, where instrument cases sat in plain view, their innocent appearance failing to mask the truth. I pushed the thought of weapons from my mind, refusing to let the unease settle in. Instead, I concentrated on Connor, his profile set against the dim glow of the dashboard lights. His knee bounced up and down, a sign of nervous anticipation. Being close to him was a calculated move. I needed information, yet the magnetic pull between us made it hard to maintain my resolve. I fought the urge to reach out, to brush my fingers against his arm.
He parked, and I walked ahead of him up the stairs to his apartment, feeling his eyes on me. I purposefully wore tight jeans that accentuated my assets; I knew he wouldn’t be able to resist looking.
We arrived at his apartment door, and I touched his arm as he put the key in the lock. “I want you closer,” I whispered into his ear. I needed him to invite me in.
“So come inside,” he replied, pulling me with him through the threshold into his place.
Connor’s apartment was a studio, small but bursting with life. Signs of music were everywhere; guitars leaning against the walls, a keyboard nestled in the corner, and stacks of records alongside towering piles of books.
“You know, there is such a thing as bookshelves?” I teased as I entered behind him.
“I would have tidied up if I knew you were coming over,” he apologized, turning to catch me in his arms and pulling me close. His face was just inches from mine, and I could see the blends of colours in his eyes.
I glanced over to the wall opposite his bed. There, among framed band posters and miscellaneous prints, was a dartboard. Instead of darts, throwing knives were centred in the bullseye.
“Target practice?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he confirmed.
A gust of wind blew in from the open window, causing sheet music to fly off the table and onto the floor. Connor released me and went over to the large window to shut it. I caught glances of bats flying around in the night.
“It’s freezing in here,” I remarked, rubbing my arms.
“Sorry about that,” he said, closing the thin fabric curtains. “Can I get you anything?” He sounded nervous as he made his way over to the small kitchen.
“Actually, do you mind if I jump in your shower to warm up?” I asked.
“Sure, the bathroom is right there.” He gestured to the half-open door on the right.
I walked in and stared at the shower knobs for a second before yelling to Connor, “Can you help me figure out how to turn it on?”
