Page 12 of The Awakening
Someone walks into the bathroom. I recognize him, but I can’t think of his name. He sees us standing there, bows politely and walks out. The doctor had turned to look at the new arrival, but he looks at me again. “Truthfully, every experience I’ve had with a vampire… They’ve been pretty direct with what they want. And I am genuinely busy with my schedule, so I just thought—you know…” He shrugs.
I frown. “Had a lot of experiences with vampires, have you?”
“Nota lot. Christ. Some. Never with ranked vampires, though.”
I lean toward him, batting my eyes. “Well, I suppose we shouldn’t walk around making sweeping generalizations about vampires, should we?”
He’s looking at me, and I swear his gaze flickers down to my mouth for a split second. “Sorry about that,” he says.
I stand straight, ignoring the quick flash of heat in my groin. “You’re only sorry because you think I’m someone important now.”
“No,” he says sternly, frowning behind his black-framed glasses. “I felt like shit right after you left. But I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”
“Well, if your proposal is flawless, you’ll only need to see me one more time.” I smile. I’m being an asshole, I know. Stepping around him, I walk toward the door. Halfway there, the doctor speaks out from behind me.
“So youweren’tthinking about sleeping with me then? Not at all?”
The brashness of his question surprises me. When I turn to look at him, I don’t show it. “Is sex all you think about, Doctor Davies? It’s starting to seem like that’s whatyouwant from me, and you’ve just been projecting this entire time.”
He pulls his glasses off and breathes a laugh, running his palm down his face. I wait, but he doesn’t deny it.
Maybe Asao is partially right? The script is all fucked up now, so I don’t want to deal with it. He’s messy. “Whatever the case,” I say, “it’s never happening, so don’t worry. I look forward to reading through your proposal, Doctor.”
I nod politely, turn and leave the bathroom. Case closed. As I walk down the hallway, my phone buzzes inside my jacket pocket. I pull it out and look at the screen. Two additional messages quickly pop up. All from the harpy.
[We’re scheduled to feed tomorrow Violet. You sexy motherfucker.]
[11:00 am DON’T BE LATE.]
[If you’ve fed from some low-leveler or human in the past week, don’t even bother coming.]
Sliding my phone back into my pocket, I groan. Ishouldfeed from some low-level vamp or human tonight, just to spite him and call bullshit on his empty threats.
Seven
Jae
Recently, I realized that I rarely ever make the first move. I’veneverdone so with another man. I can think of a few times when I’ve initiated physical intimacy with a woman. With men, they always make the first move on me. I don’t know why.
Have I not liked anyone enough? Or did they just choose me and I went along with it? Do I unconsciously expect someone else to make the first move? This deserves deeper analysis at some point.
Currently, I’m holding my journal as I pace back and forth outside a meeting room at the hospital. Junichi is inside. I hear his voice, but I can’t understand what he’s saying. I also can’t hear anyone else talking. I think he’s on the phone?
“Tu no dejes que esa gente te hable así.”
I have context clues now, though. He’s definitely speaking Spanish. What dialect, I have no idea. Could be Mexican Spanish, Puerto Rican Spanish, Spain Spanish and on and on. While this doesn’t necessarily mean that he’s part Latinx, it at least tells me a little more about him. My mind has been in a wild state of tug-of-war all week—half worried about this proposal and half thinking about him. Particularly how stunning his golden-brown skin looked in that plum suit.
“Por qué diablos tu ordenaste una caja de fideos? Qué tu vas a hacer con toda una caja?”
I have five more patients to see today. One of which is new, and I’m always chuffed to meet new patients and understand their unique circumstance. Something in it is thrilling, like a fresh riddle to solve, and I genuinely love helping.
“Oh, guineos! Ah bueno… tá bien.”
Risa told me Junichi doesn’t have a formal office in the hospital, since he’s hardly ever here. When he is, it’s usually for meetings, so he camps out in a conference room until everything is done. It’s been a week since I saw him at the gala. I’m nowhere near finished with the proposal, but I need some parameters. Guidance?
When I think I hear him say “adiós” a minute later, followed by a stretch of silence, I take a chance and knock on the door. He tells me to come in. This conference room is one of the nicer ones.
There are some meeting rooms in the hospital that feel like they’re made for hostages, with no windows and only harsh fluorescent lighting. This particular room is filled with natural light. It’s at the back of the building, so the windows are facing the thicket of trees behind the hospital. The afternoon light is yellow gold, and the leaves are still bright green as they flicker in the gentle breeze. A month from now, I’m hoping everything will be washed in red and orange.
