You are not responsible for other adults feeling uncomfortable around joy.
Next to that last one, I scribbled:even undead adults.Even though I knew my energy always felt safest when I was close to Cristian. My energy was a backstabbing bitch.
Cristian glanced over at the notebook. “You write spells?”
“Affirmations,” I said. “For mental health. Remember?”
He nodded, as if he were making peace with the difference.
I sighed and looked down at the page again. “I’m practicing not editing myself for people who don’t like me anyway.”
He gave a slow nod. “A wise practice.”
No lecture. No teasing. Nothing but quiet understanding. It threw me off balance a little.
Before I could say something weird and awkward, the front door opened.
Lena burst in holding a box of wine and a tote bag. “Ladies and gentlemen—undead gentleman—we’re having a sleepover!”
Cristian looked up. “Sleep… over what?”
“Not what,who,” Lena said, setting down her bag. “Evening, Fang Boy. You still brooding, or have you learned how to smile yet?”
I made a strangled noise. “Lena!”
She ignored me, pulling bottles of polish out of the bag like ammunition. “You, sir, are about to experience the cultural milestone that is a girls’ night in.”
“I see,” Cristian said slowly. “And is survival expected?”
“That depends on your attitude,” she said cheerfully.
By the time we had music playing, snacks set out, and wine poured, Cristian was sitting in the middle of the living room like someone awaiting trial.
Lena patted the couch. “Feet, please.”
“Pardon?”
“We’re painting your nails,” she said.
“That seems unnecessary.”
“So were neck ruffles, but can you say you never wore them?” Lena shot back.
Cristian: zero. Lena: eternal champion.
He hesitated, then—probably from sheer curiosity—placed his feet on the couch.
Lena got to work as I took a healthy gulp of my wine. “You have excellent nail beds,” she said. “Do vampires use cuticle oil?”
Cristian looked personally offended. “I am not aware of my nail beds.”
“That’s tragic. Everyone should be aware of their nail beds.”
I was laughing so hard I nearly spilled my wine. By the time she finished, Cristian’s toenails were glossy red, and he regarded them as if weighing the cost of survival.
“Magnificent,” Lena declared. “You’re a new man.”
Cristian muttered something that sounded like a prayer for death.
