“But now,” he said, “I think that’s the kind of book I’d like to read, not live in.”
“So whatdoyou want?”
“I just want to grow,” he said. “I want to feel more comfortable in my life. I want more supporting characters.”
“You mightbea supporting character,” she teased.
“You told me I had leading man written all over me.”
“I told you you looked like a love interest—there’s a difference.” She was trying not to smile, but she was still smiling. Her lips were twitching.
James was smiling, too. His eyes were twinkling. “I’ll take it,” he said. Then, “What about you? What kind of book are you hoping for?”
“As long as it’s a book,” Anna said, “I don’t really care. She better not waste me on a short story.”
That made James laugh. “Are you kidding? It would take half the story to describe your weird house.”
A week passed, and James didn’t change very much. Anna could tell he was disappointed, that he felt abandoned. But he didn’t storm off again. He told her he wanted to meet more of the people here.
She walked around with him, dutifully making introductions. “What ishedoing here?” a rare unused vampire asked Anna behind James’s back. “He’s practically in 3D.”
“I know,” Anna whispered. “He’ll probably be gone soon.”
The vampire shook her head. She had a very distinct sense of humor but only a blur of a face. “The only one around here with that much precise detail is you, Anna.”
Anna shrugged. She hoped that James hadn’t heard. He wouldn’t like being compared to her.
When they got back to the farmhouse, James was tired. He didn’t want to sit on the porch, so they watched TV with her parents.
“What are we watching?” he asked, twenty minutes into the show.
“Gunsmoke,” her dad said.
“I don’t think your parents are much older than you,” James said, so that only Anna could hear him.
“They’ve never been revised,” she explained.
After her parents went to bed, Anna and James stayed up, sitting on the couch. He seemed lost in thought.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“I was just thinking—now that I’m not a sociology professor, I can’t go back to my office and buy ice cream bars.”
“I’ll bet the vending machines show up somewhere else,” Anna said. “She liked those.”
“I really wanted to be in a book with those ice cream bars,” James said sadly.
Anna laughed.
They were sitting right next to each other on the couch. Her mother had turned off the TV but left on a lamp.
“I don’t want to be in a book with any of this stuff,” Anna said quietly.
James lifted his head away from the couch to look at her. “What do you mean? You’ve got great stuff here. It’s all so vivid.”
“I don’t know what sort of story she has in mind for me …” Anna said. “But it’s not a romantic comedy.”
He was just watching, listening.
