Page 47 of By the Pint

“And an incubus.”

“Oh. My. Gods.” I couldn’t stop the torrent of laughter that burst free from me.

“To be fair, Mal — the incubus — never brings women home. He’s just as disappointed in his flatmates as I am.”

“I am so sorry, mate.” Instinctively, my hand placed itself on Dima’s forearm. Dima stared at it. I whipped it back as though that one touch would lead somewhere I’d agreed I wouldn’t take things.

“I don’t tend to spend much time at the flat anymore,” he said, ignoring the moment between us. “Recently, I’ve been considering getting my own place.” He sighed — how?! He didn’t even have functioning lungs — and glanced off towards the twinkling lights of Remy. “We’ve gone off on a tangent. We need to be focusing on your lessons. Think of something else and hide it.”

In the past, in situations like this, I’d use someone’s thoughts to guide my actions. See what kind of person they wanted me to be, and be it. Or be the opposite, depending on my mood. But with Dima, I had no clues, nothing to tell me how I should behave. I couldn’t manipulate the situation as I was used to.

I wasn’t mad at it. Not exactly. I realised I wanted to get to know Dima, and not the way I ordinarily would.

As I studied the vampire next to me, I caught him subtly shaking his head. And though I couldn’t read his mind, the message was loud and clear.Do not get to know me. Do not develop feelings for me. If I slip away for a few seconds in mysterious, moody reflection, do not question me about it.

I nodded to show him I wouldn’t press him for more, and he put his fingers in his ears again.

When I had another humiliating memory, I tapped his arm.

“You chaired the Eternal Boys online fan club. You’re not even trying.”

“I am trying. Don’t get pissy with me. You’re not teaching me properly.”

“Again.”

I took a deep breath and pulled another memory.

“You have a phobia of flightless birds. Again.”

And so, it followed this path for the next few hours. Dima occasionally chipped in with super helpful advice such as “Try harder” and “Don’t make it so easy”. He uncovered one abominable secret after another. Not batting an eye at any of them. We only stopped when my need to release the liquid from my body and fill it with new liquid became overwhelming.

“Sorry, human urges, I forget. Vampires don’t need to use the bathroom as often as humans,” he said. “Same time tomorrow then?”

I nodded and climbed down the ladder inside the volcano. I was drained. Exhausted. Reliving the cringest parts of your life will do that to a man.

Dima stayed at the top of the volcano. I shot him one final look over my shoulder as I exited through the Jungle Frenzy gates and caught him pulling his legs up to his chest, pillowing his head on his knees.

I couldn’t account for the weird ache it gave me in my chest.

15.

Casey

Dima’s shadowy figure was already at the top of the volcano when I reached the mini golf course the next night. There was something in his lap. Something big. As I got closer, I realised it was a blanket. Actually, a quilt. I also realised he was hovering a few inches in the air. I could have passed a whole arm underneath him.

His eyes clocked me, and he plopped his backside down on the solid platform.

“You don’t need to pretend to be human on my account,” I said, after I’d ascended the ladder and emerged the other side. I sat next to him.

The sky was overcast tonight. The glow from the moons sporadically pierced its way around the edges of the clouds. Most of the illumination came from the garish lights of the course.

“Thank you,” he said, letting himself drift ten centimetres into the air again. He looked different tonight. Stillbeautiful, but different. His smile was, not absent exactly, but changed. Reduced? And there was a slight furrow between his brows which I didn’t think I’d ever seen before. I wanted to reach out and run my thumb over it.

“It’s fine. I’m used to it,” I said. “Well, not the floating, because I’ve never met a telekinetic before, but I’m used to general vampire habits. You know?”

Dima watched me silently. I knew he could hear every single thought that flitted through my head. I didn’t care. They were my thoughts. And I was entitled to think whatever I wanted despite what he’d asked me to do, or not do. Didn’t mean I’d act on any of them. He’d made me promise I wouldn’t.

So, I wouldn’t smooth out his furrow. Or push his silky black hair behind his ears. Or trace the line of his stubble free jaw with the back of my fingers—

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