Page 46 of Vampires and Violas

“I just think a desk with a proper chair would be a lot more comfortable than your current setup.”

I follow him into the kitchen, almost running into him when he stops abruptly. He turns around, gesturing to the present on the counter. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s just a friend-gift.”

“Is that like a friend-date?”

“That’s right. They all live in the same paddock.”

He chuckles. “Has anyone told you that you come up with the strangest phrases?”

“I blame the virus. It messed with my brain.”

“It does that,” he says solemnly. “Hence the medications.”

I walk over to the counter and lower my eyes to the package. “I’m sorry you have to take so many.”

Noah’s quiet for a moment, like he’s assessing the situation. Gently, he says, “It bothers you, doesn’t it?”

“It shouldn’t,” I admit. “If you had any other disease, including regular anxiety or whatever, all those bottles wouldn’t freak me out. I’m not sure why yours do.”

“Because they control the monster.”

I lift my eyes to his, not liking that his answer is much like my own thoughts.

“You’re probably questioning if I’m me, or if I’m a product of medication. If you know therealNoah.”

Slowly, I nod. “I think that’s it, sort of.”

“I don’t know myself off the drugs,” he admits. “I was part of NIHA—I visited one of their doctors within hours of getting that final bite. I’ve been on medications since day one, and I was already taking blood. I’ve never experienced life as a rogue vampire.” He takes my hand and rubs his thumb over my skin. “But, Piper, my family didn’t notice the difference, so I couldn’t have changed that much.”

I nod, admitting that does make me feel better.

“I’m still me,” he continues, “just like you’re still you. We’re both simply versions of ourselves who have been exposed to the virus—one more than the other.”

“Speaking of that, what are you going to do about the cake tonight?”

He grimaces. “I have no idea. At least Dad is grilling steaks, so dinner won’t be an issue.”

“If you can figure out how to sneak me your piece, I’ll eat it for you.”

“That’s a pretty big sacrifice,” he jokes, following me out the door.

“What are friends for?”

“Eating cake, apparently.”

We end up taking his SUV.

We’re just pulling into his parents’ gravel drive when I realize we left his gift on the counter.

“Oh no,” I mutter.

Noah looks over. “What’s the matter?”

“I forgot your birthday present.” I sigh. “Oh well. I guess we’ll just have to have our own party later.”

He flashes me a roguish grin. “This birthday is looking up.”

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