Page 72 of My Roommate Is a Vampire

cassie

I read over my note, torn between leaving it on the table for Frederick and tearing it into a thousand pieces.

In truth, bringing Frederick would probably make the night more fun for me, and could be a great distraction from all the awkward questions I would inevitably get about what I did for a living from Sam’s law school friends and Scott’s English department colleagues. I’d have to pay attention to him, and possibly run interference if things went sideways and he tried to pay for something with gold doubloons or something.

And the more chances Frederick had to put it all into practice, the better.

It was normal for roommates to invite each other to things, right? Just like it was normal for roommates to tell each other about job interviews and their favorite foods, and to semi–feel them up outside a Nordstrom dressing room when they needed new clothes.

But then, a small part of me wondered—would falling for him really besobad? Sure, there was the whole drinking blood thing,and the wholehundreds-of-years-older-than-me-and-also-immortalthing. But he was being really good about keeping his promise to never eat in front of me. And I’d dated guys with much bigger strikes against them than immortality.

Before I could talk myself out of crumpling up my note, I sketched a quick picture of the two of us, dancing, amidst a sea of floating musical notes. I drew the cartoon version of him with a smile on his face—because he really did have such an incredible smile.

I left the note on the kitchen table before I left for my evening shift at Gossamer’s, not sure if I hoped he’d say yes to the invitation or turn me down.

When I got back home at midnight from my shift, Frederick was at the stove, his back to me as he stirred something that smelled suspiciously and deliciously like chicken soup.

This was the first time I’d seen him so much as stand in the kitchen since my first night there, when I’d gone on that futile search for cookware. I’d certainly never seen himcookanything. I didn’t know why he was doing it now; his food preparation routine was, as far as I knew, limited to cutting into bags from the blood bank.

He didn’t seem to notice my presence, so I decided to just stand there in silence and watch him for a while. He really did have an incredible build for men’s T-shirts. And an amazing ass for jeans.

Taking him to the mall and getting him new clothes hadn’t only been a favor to him. It had been a favor to humankind.

“Frederick?”

He whirled around at the sound of my voice, a wooden spoon with something dripping from it clutched in one hand and a sheet of paper in the other. He wore a black apron over his clotheswith the wordsThis Guy Rubs His Own Meatin large white Comic Sans lettering.

I huffed an involuntary laugh, momentarily forgetting what I’d been about to ask him. “What are youwearing?”

He looked down at himself, then back at me. “It’s an apron.”

“Yes, I can see it’s an apron, but...” I managed to convert the giggles threatening to escape me into a cough, but barely. “Where did you get it?”

“Amazon.” He set his wooden spoon down on the stove and smiled at me, clearly proud of himself. I made a mental note not to let Frederick navigate Amazon on my laptop without supervision anymore. “I saw this apron and immediately thought,This message conveys competence in the kitchen. Which is exactly what I’d hoped to convey as I prepared your meal.”

My eyes went wide. “You’re cooking something for me?”

“I am.”

I didn’t know what to say. “But why?”

He shrugged. “To thank you for helping me. I see what you feed yourself, Cassie. All those snacks and ready-to-grab things you keep in the fridge.” He looked back over his shoulder at me. “It’s important to get adequate nutrition, you know.”

I stood there, heart in my throat, struck dumb at the idea that a centuries-old vampire was lecturing me on the importance of three squares a day.

No one had cooked a real meal for me since I’d left my parents’ house. Not even Sam.

“And so you’re making me—”

“Chicken soup.” He gave me a shy smile. “I might have had an ulterior motive when I asked you for your favorite meals. I also cut up some fresh fruit for you. Pineapple and kiwi. There’s a bowl of it on the counter.”

“Thank you,” I murmured, my chest tight. I was an adult and had been taking care of myself for years. But the idea that he wanted to care for me...

It did something to me.

Trying to distract myself, I turned and sat at the kitchen table. My laptop was there, and I decided I might as well check my email while waiting for Frederick to finish the soup.

I grabbed a slice of kiwi from the bowl of fresh fruit, popping it into my mouth and enjoying the bright burst of flavor on my tongue. Humming appreciatively, I clicked the mouse button on my laptop.

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