Page 41 of How a Vampire Falls

He said, “Do you want a distraction? Or no talking?”

She tightened her grip. “This is good. Thanks.”

The quiet that settled between them was simple and bracing and lasted most of the way home. Traffic wasn’t great, and by the time she drove down Main Street in Harmony Ridge, her parents would be arriving in ten minutes.

“We made it,” Ryker said.

“I guess we did.”

“Hey.” He squeezed her hand until she swiveled in the driver’s seat to meet his eyes. “We made it, and now you don’t have time to stew while we wait for them. Perfect timing.”

In minutes she had parked on her gravel driveway. Within the space of a human heartbeat, she and Ryker were outside, leaving both doors open, darting around the front of the car into each other’s arms. The kiss lasted and lasted as Ryker pushed his fingers into her hair, which she’d worn long especially for him. She ran her fingers down the lean muscles of his back and rested against the solid form of him.

At last they took a step back. Ryker kept a lock of her hair wrapped around his finger, leaned back in, and gave her a second quick kiss. “Missed you.”

“Yeah,” she said and rose on her tiptoes for one more kiss. “Perfect timing.”

In a few minutes they went inside, and Leslie put an Ella Fitzgerald record on her turntable. Ryker’s musical tastes ran similar to hers—folk and jazz—but he was tragically unfamiliar with any album older than they were. Leslie was determined to broaden his appreciation for classic artists.

“Guess who,” she said, pointing to the turntable.

“Umm.” He closed his eyes a moment, then opened them. “I don’t want to be wrong, but I think this has to be Ella Fitzgerald.”

“Gold star!”

A few weeks ago, she had shown off her little sound system with great pride; it hadn’t been cheap, but music was too important to scrimp on. Ryker was appropriately impressed and, like her, preferred vinyl to digital. They’d both winced at digital music since they were teenagers with newly-apex hearing. It sounded squished and artificial compared to the organic depth of sound that came from vinyl records.

After only a few songs, Dad and Mom were walking in the front door. Leslie tried to see them through Ryker’s eyes, noting details she took for granted. Dad was an inch taller than Ryker, with wavy brown hair and eyes such a pale blue, humans often glanced twice. Ryker did. Mom was a few inches shorter than Leslie, and her eyes were pure purple, a shade darker than Leslie’s own. Her dark-blonde hair was Leslie’s natural color. But it wasn’t only their physical appearance that Ryker would notice. The more noticeable thing to a vampire would be their energy—body language, micro-expressions, the sense of their movements and how they took up space in the room. They were at ease in her home, as always, but their characteristic reserve might not translate that way to someone who didn’t know them—especially Mom’s.

They both carried takeout containers in rustling plastic bags. For a moment there was no chance for awkwardness as everyone convened on either side of the bar that divided Leslie’s cozy kitchen from her dining nook.

Dad handed over a container to Ryker. “Yours, I think? Breakfast sampler with a side of cinnamon chocolate chip pancakes.”

“That’s me. Leslie’s got me hooked on breakfast food.”

“By the way,” Leslie said as she claimed her burger, fries, and milkshake, “Ryker, meet my mom, Debra, and my dad, Paul. Dad, Mom, this is Ryker.”

“It’s good to meet you, Ryker,” Mom said as she read the handwritten labels on the containers and claimed the one markedspag/mb/bs.

“Spaghetti?” Ryker guessed.

“And meatballs and a breadstick.”

“And last but not least”—Leslie handed Dad the final meal—“the only thing you ever order: pot roast.”

Dad accepted the container with a mock somber nod. “If it’s not broken, don’t try to fix it.”

As they settled around her space-saving square dining table, Leslie’s throat tightened. Every cell in her body needed this not to be awkward.

“How was your flight, Ryker?” Dad said.

“Delayed,” Ryker said with a shrug. “We just got back.”

“It’s really something, the way y’all are making this long-distance thing work so well,” Mom said.

Another shrug. He was really leaning into the calm reserved energy. “Doing what we have to for now.”

Leslie’s shoulders stiffened. For now? Was she missing an implication there?

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