Page 21 of By the Pint

I guess I’m vers now,he thought.

Suddenly my chest was hollow. It was all so fucking unfair. Casey, me, Killian. Casey’s plans for immortality; the reality of immortality; the reality of turning; my stupid fucking feelings always being so stupid fucking extra all the gods-damned time.

Why couldn’t I be a normal guy, happy to leave things at a one-night stand?

Why couldn’t Casey be a non-mindreading, non-amazing person?

Why did he ever think listening to Killian was a good idea?

I forced myself to stop thinking about it and used my telekinesis to pull my boxers back on. I folded his clothing into a neat little pile on the dresser. And then I assessed the bed.

It had been alongtime since I’d slept in a bed. But … well, it did look comfortable, if only I could figure out how I got … on? In?

I lifted the blankets — sadly not beautiful hand-sewn quilts — and the heavy feather … blanket thing. Duvet! It was called a duvet. Actually, it was pretty cold.

If Casey was used to sleeping under/over this, maybe it wouldn’t be so weird for him to cuddle up next to me.

“You sleep under it,” he said, appearing beside me at the end of the bed. Had I let all those thoughts slip through? I dropped the duvet. “I had to teach Ki—my master the same. You vampires fully embrace the whole …” He crossed his hands over his chest and closed his eyes.

“Does your master sleep in a bed now?” I asked, incredulous. I couldn’t imagine Killian climbing into a bed every morning instead of the twin coffins we had propped against the wall. “With you?”

“Gods, no. He still sleeps in a coffin. In his own room.” He laughed. “Said modern life was not for him. Though, you wouldn’t know it. Not from the way he spends twenty-four hours a day glued to the laptop in the library.”

Something deep inside me stirred with curiosity. Killian, addicted to the internet? I couldn’t picture it. Unless he was using it to look up porn. That would track. I pushed the intrusive sensations down into the oubliettes of my mind. Where they belonged. I wasn’t about to let Killian ruin the most perfect morning of my un-life.

“Come on.” Casey threw open the duvet and laid on his back in the centre of the bed, wearing nothing but boxers and socks. As he caught me looking at his socks — fancy blueand pink plaid ones, at complete odds with the rest of his predominantly grey wardrobe — he thought,Don’t trust hotel floors.

I climbed in next to him, snuggling into the dip between his armpit and chest. He didn’t flinch at my body heat, or lack thereof, even when I tucked my icy feet against his legs. I placed my palm over his heart so that I could feel the breath filling his lungs.

I could stay like this forever, I said. Out loud or in my head, I wasn’t sure.

Me too.And that was the last thing he thought before drifting off to sleep.

7.

Casey

When you’ve lived with vampires for longer than a decade in the City of the Undead, the place in Borderlands that received the fewest natural daylight hours, you got used to waking up at all times of the day or night. Not only that, but windows were often boarded up to prevent accidental vampire combustions. So, it was dark in the hotel room when I opened my eyes, because it was always dark.

I spent a few moments regaining my bearings, remembering where I was, what I’d been doing before I fell asleep, and who I’d been with. A jolt of nerves and excitement speared me in the stomach at the last thought.

Him.Dima Black. The man who’d featured in so many of my pie in the sky fantasies, stretching way back into my adolescence, was here in my bed with me. Had spent the morning with me. Slept beside me. Would be waking up with me.

I turned on my side, willing my eyes to adjust to the lack of light, but I was greeted only by a cold emptiness on his side of the bed.

He’d bailed.

I flipped back onto my back, scrubbed a hand down my face, and let out my sigh.

He’d legged it. I didn’t get his number. Didn’t penetrate his mind and find out all his business secrets. Didn’t even give him my real name. He’d have no way of finding me.

If he wanted to, that was.

Given he’d fucked me and ran for it, I’d say that was probably low on the list of Things Likely to Happen.

Was I more disappointed I’d failed my mission? Or that I’d spent the best morning of my life with a man I’d probably never see again? A man I’d been crushing on since puberty, despite not really knowing anything about him, not even what he looked like. And then finding out he surpassed every one of my expectations in every way possible.

I allowed myself only half a second of self-pity, before I threw the duvet off, got up, and tore open the curtains. Afternoon sunlight flooded the room. If Dima was still here, hiding in some corner, he’d be toast right now.

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