Nope.
No ingredients listed—just a fucking blood type.
Holy hell.
I ripped my hands back, the pouches falling to the floor again.
That wasblood.
I shuddered, my stomach roiling.
What the hell?
Why?
A hysterical giggle escaped my throat.
Maybe he really was a vampire.
More giggling followed.
I bit my lip, trying to suppress the sound, as I leaned down to pick up those damn bags of blood again.
Tears welled up in my eyes, my chest constricting as I stuffed the pouches back into the fridge.
This was so fucking ridiculous.
I couldn’t stop the laughter as more and more thoughts came to my mind, slotting together like puzzle pieces.
Blackout curtains.
Not being able to go outside during the day.
The fact that I still hadn’t seen a fucking gunshot scar anywhere on his body.
Bagged blood.
I kept laughing as I closed the fridge, hiding the evidence inside. Resting my forehead against the cool metal door, I grabbed my hair, pulling it tighter.
What the fuck was going on?
Were they pranking me?
Was this some kind of sick joke?
I hated to even contemplate this, but there was fucking blood in the fridge, and Bennie and Eric had really driven home how important it was to keep those damn blackout curtains shut, and…fuuuck.
I grabbed my phone and opened the fridge again.
Proof. I needed proof.
I opened the camera app and took a picture. And a second one. A third one. And a fourth one until I finally had one that wasn’t all blurry because my hands were shaking like crazy.
My boyfriend might be a vampire.
Or a psychopath.
Or… I wiped at my eyes.
