Page 11 of Only Fangs

“Don’t be so negative. She will. I have it on good authority that you’re the only person who applied and she’s a little desperate.”

“Did her friend say that?”

“Clara? Yeah. She has like zero filter.”

“What else did she say?” I ask.

“About the job? Or about Ari?” He does this little shimmy thing and twerks his eyebrows.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh no. I take it you also didn’t notice she’s exactly your type.”

“She isn’t,” But even I can hear the defensiveness in my tone.

“Knew it!” Matt punches the air.

“She’s a vampire.”

“Pfft.”

“She’s a vampire who is making a vampire only dating app.” I keep my tone level, even Matt can’t help but follow the logic here.

But he doesn’t. Or at least he pretends not to. “So?”

“So? So, she’s hardly out dating normies, is she?”

“Clara says she doesn’t date vampires either.”

“Well then. Case closed I guess. If she doesn’t date vampires, she definitely doesn’t date normies.”

“You like her though.” He says it like it’s a statement of fact.

“I don’t.”

We both know I’m lying. She’s beautiful and smart and funny and she has this cute dimple when she smiles. I mean, she’s absolutely terrifyingly out of my league and I wouldn’t have a chance with a woman like her in a million years, even if she wasn’t a vampire. That’s just the final nail in the coffin.

Chapter 7

Ari

Brody accepts my job offer within five minutes of me messaging him. I mean, he did say he was a little desperate, but he was also hugely enthusiastic so maybe this is how he responds to everything. To be honest, I kind of hope it is desperation; I don’t know if I can cope with that level of exuberance.

He calls me on Sunday evening to ask for the address of the office.

“The office?” I reply. I’m a little distracted as I’ve just applied some part-cured nail wraps and the whole palaver is decidedly harder work than the packaging had implied. There was a cute little infographic on their website and I think they might have been lying to me.

“For my first day tomorrow?” he sounds uncertain.

“Ohhh. The office.” I make it sound like I just misheard the first time, or at least misconstrued what he was implying. It isn’t like I can tell him the truth. I hadn’t even thought about it; but he’s right, we will need somewhere to work.

“Are you alright⁠—”

But I cut him off with a scream of anger as I fuck up the nails on my right hand. Have you ever heard a vampire scream? I don’t recommend it to be honest, there’s a certain quality to the sound that’s developed over the centuries and it’ll make your blood curdle in your veins as your lizard brain tries and fails – which is most terrifying of all – to decipher the threat. “Sorry,” I say into the phone. My cheeks flush – metaphorically at least – I hate letting out that primal side of myself out in public. “I’m trying to do my nails and it’s a disaster.”

“Oh. Well that’s…” he trails off. “I thought something bad had happened.”

I want to tell him that something bad has happened. But I don’t think he’d understand. I’m doing my own nails at home because I can’t afford the salon. I can’t afford anything. I have just enough in savings to keep paying my rent for a few months and fund the meagre salary I’ve promised Brody, but after that…