Page 31 of The Baritone's Rival

“I idolized him. Of course I started to talk like him, to dress as fastidiously as he did. Later, when I was turned, I just sort of leaned into it. It’s not such a strange thing for a vampire to wear a cravat and speak in complete sentences.”

Trent breathed out, the air running over his lips like a gentle breeze. He’d been pushed toward Oscar for the last year and a half. Everyone had assumed that they’d be fast friends. But he couldn’t imagine hanging out with the hard-partying dandy. Now he understood what an asshole he had been.

Trent didn’t say anything as they drove. After a moment, Oscar spoke again.

“I was only allowed six years with him. He didn’t throw me out when I reached adulthood, but he…he passed just after my twentieth birthday. A stroke. I wish…if he’d still been alive when I was turned, I could have made him a vampire. But it happened too late.”

Trent glanced at Oscar. A tear ran down his cheek, falling and staining the beige fabric seat below.

“I’m sorry. I…for everything.”

“You weren’t the cause of his death. Butheis the reason that I sing. He loved opera. We would listen to the live broadcast on Saturday afternoons together. He’s the one that recognized that I had talent and put me in voice lessons. He was generous and kind to me.” Oscar reached up to his face, wiping away the remains of his tears. “Apologies. I didn’t know I’d be talking about thistoday.”

“I…thank you,” Trent said. “Thanks for telling me.”

The car shook as the terrain changed. They made their way over a bridge that spanned the distance across a wide, brown-gray river. Trent craned his neck, catching sight of a single woman in an orange life vest drifting downstream in a kayak. She wasn’t paddling, letting the current do all the work instead.

Trent wished he could do that, relax enough to let the current take him where it will. It wasn’t in his nature.

“What about you?”

Oscar’s voice pierced Trent’s bubble of introspection. “What about me?”

“You’re a damn enigma. You must hate rich people for a reason. And how do you know so much about vampires, just because of a couple of cousins? Also, are you gay?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Trent hadn’t expected that last one, and it had thrown him.

“Not the most important question right now, maybe, but everyone at school wants to know.”

“No!” Trent’s voice sounded tinny to him as he answered. “I’m not gay. I mean, I don’t think. I’ve never done anything with a guy. I know that doesn’t necessarily mean anything but, well, I don’t know, I’ve never thought about a man that way, at least not until, I mean, my whole life I’ve dated women, so I don’t think…”

Trent couldn’t get his tongue under control. If Oscar were anyone else, it would have been the perfect opportunity to unpack some of these new feelings. But since Oscar was thecauseof them, that was off the table.

“Hey. No worries. Forget I said anything.” Oscar smirked, which made Trent’s stomach do a somersault. God, what was happening to him? And how could Oscar manage to be so annoying and sexy at the same time?

“Okay.”

“But you’ve clearly been trained to fight vamps. Do you hunt the creatures of the night?”

Trent sighed. “I wish. Nothing so exciting. I, uh, might have lied…”

“About what?” Oscar’s brow furrowed even as he kept his eyes on the road.

“My cousins weren’t vampires. My father was. Well, stepfather. A few years after my father died, my mother remarried a guy that ended up being, you know…”

Trent made cute little fangs with his fingers and hissed. Oscar’s eyes widened in surprise and he burst out laughing. Justin shifted in the back, but his breaths evened out again quickly. He was still in a deep sleep. Oscar stifled his laughter, but couldn’t prevent a few stray giggles from sneaking through.

“What?” Trent asked.

“That was funny. It’s just, I never thought of you as having a sense of humor. At least not around me.”

Trent looked out the window at the trees that lined the edges of I-95. The rows of maples flew past, creating a strobe effect, almost as if he was watching a flipbook. Oscar wasn’t wrong. He hadn’t exactly been warm to him. Or to a lot of people.

“I’ve been focused on my singing. I don’t really have time…”

“To not be an asshole?” Oscar asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

“I guess…”

---