“No. Not poisoned. I just don’t have much to laugh about.” I shrug.
She nibbles on her bottom lip for a moment before standing. “You can sleep on the couch upstairs. Don’t use all the hot water,” she adds before walking back behind the bar.
I sit back feeling a little smug. She spoke an entire sentence without insulting me. Things are already improving.
The hours pass, and the last of the regulars leave. She reaches up, locking the deadbolt. I stand and start by collecting the glasses and empty bottles, placing them on the bar. Before I grab the cloth and spray wipe every table, using my vampire speed to get the job done quickly. Her eyes follow me, and she folds her arms across her chest. “Once you’ve done that, the chairs need to be stacked on the tables so I can mop the floors.”
I pause, wiping and looking at her. “Go upstairs and relax. See this as me earning my keep while I’m crashing here,” I state as I turn my back on her and continue cleaning the tables.
“If you’re expecting my gratitude, then you’ll be waiting a while,” she huffs.
I don’t look at her; I continue going about the job. “Not expecting anything,” I answer back. I hear her muttering under her breath before she loudly storms out of the bar and upstairs.
I make quick work cleaning up the bar before I head upstairs, following the sound of the TV. I stop in the doorway to the open-plan kitchen living area. Lilith is sitting on the couch, her hairdamp, wearing shorts that cover the curve of her ass as she sits curled up on the couch. Her gaze is fixed on the TV. “You going to stand in the doorway all night?” she asks, still not bothering to look my way from whatever show she’s watching.
I could stand here all night with this view,is what I want to say. Instead, I back out. “Jumping in a shower. All I can smell on myself is alcohol.”
Her gaze flickers to mine. “You don’t have any clean clothes,” she points out.
“Is it okay to wash my T-shirt?” I ask.
She gives me a brief nod. “Sure, leave it outside the bathroom.” I nod in return and head into the bathroom, removing my shirt and dropping it on the floor by the door. I don’t close it fully, so I can still hear if anyone enters the building. The bathroom fills with steam as the hot water cascades from the shower. I step under the hot water, reaching for the shower gel. The scent of coconut surrounds me as I wash my body, my soapy fingers brushing over the thick scars on my chest; wounds that were never allowed to heal, wounds that bear the reminder of my actions.
Once I’ve finished showering, I dry off as best I can and walk out of the bathroom. I stop in the doorway to the living space, the room dark apart from the light from the TV. Lilith doesn’t look away from the screen. “You going to continue to stand there, or are you going to sit down?” she mutters.
“I was going to ask if you have anything to drink?” I retort.
“Fridge.” She jolts her head in the direction of the kitchen.
“Thank you.” I nod and walk over to the fridge, opening the door, the glow highlighting me as I reach in and grab a pouch of blood, stamped with the local hospital’s name. “When did you get these?” I ask, looking down at the pouch in my hand. I close the fridge to find Lilith standing there, her wide eyes roaming over my chest.
“What happened to you?” she breathes, as if looking at each scar causes her pain.
I grit my jaw tight, the truth on the tip of my tongue. “I…” I pause as her hand reaches out, tracing her fingertips over the smiley face charm resting against my chest. Her emerald eyes flicker up to mine, emotions rolling.
“You kept it all these years?” She whispers.
I swallow and place my hand delicately over hers, waiting for this moment to turn, for that warm look in her eyes to dissipate. “I told you I would treasure it for eternity.” My voice cracks, repeating the same words I had said to her all those years ago.
Tears sting her eyes; she blinks rapidly, keeping them at bay. My thumb slowly strokes the back of her hand in a soothing motion. The touch of her palm on my bare skin almost brings me to my knees. She rolls her bottom lip through her teeth before stepping back, withdrawing her hand. “I think I’m going to get an early night,” she whispers.
I look at the clock on the wall. It’s only two a.m. The equivalent of going to bed at five o’clock in the evening. I pierce the pouch of blood with my teeth and drink down its contents. It’s enough to curb my hunger for a while. Walking over to the couch, I sprawl out across it, placing my hands behind my head. The feel of her touch on my chest still burns with warmth.
Maybe an hour passes. I hear the creak of the floorboards as she makes her way over to the fridge. “I thought you were going back to bed,” I murmur, my eyes still closed.
I don’t need to open my eyes to know she’s now standing beside me. “I can’t sleep,” she sighs with frustration. I open my eyes and look up at her from my position lying on the couch. Her long bare thighs before me… Fuck. “You mind if I sit and watch an old movie? Sometimes that helps me sleep,” she asks. Her being nice, asking—her guard down—still takes me by surprise.
“Sure,” I answer, sitting up and shifting to make space for her. I catch her eyes lingering on my bare chest as she sits beside me, close, but still a safe distance away. She nibbles on her bottom lip as she scrolls, looking for a film to put on, finally settling on Speed.
“Speed?” I query, giving her a side glance.
“And what’s wrong with Speed?” she asks, arching her brow and crossing her arms over her chest; those walls that were down slowly being built back up again.
“I just didn’t think it was one of your favourites.” I shrug.
“What, because I’m a girl, what’s supposed to be my thing? Titanic? Dirty Dancing?” she presses, her tone snapping. Fuck me, remind me never to poke the bear when she hasn’t had enough sleep.
“No, I thought Edward Scissorhands, The Crow, and Dogma were your favourites,” I say, knowing that fantasy movies were always her favourite.
