Page 40 of Vampires of Eden
Well, fuck me.
I’m making a mess of this, aren’t I? See—this is why I should stay in my protected bubble. I’m not equipped to interact well with others anymore. I don’t know how to benice. “You have something like a switch, you know?”
“What does that mean?” Alexander asks, his tone impatient.
“You flick it one way and you’re all charming and princely. But if it’s flicked another way, you’re razor sharp. Biting.”
“Is this another criticism?”
“No,” I say calmly. “More like an observation. It’s interesting. I’m not judging you, Alexander.”
He doesn’t respond, but rolls his shoulders and adjusts slightly in his seat like I’ve made him uncomfortable.
“I don’t have a switch,” I go on in his obstinate silence. “I’m not charming and radiant, and I never say the right things. I just say whatever it is plainly and this is the way I am. But I… don’t want to be hurtful. You told me before that what I said was hurtful. I’m sorry.”
As I watch him, I find that I suddenly am remorseful. Not half-heartedly but genuinely. I don’t know how else to express it. All of this feels weird, but I’m trying.
“I don’t understand you,” he says, his eyes still focused on the road. “You keep being callous, then you apologize for it.”
I chuckle, shrugging. “That’s fair. I don’t understand myself most days.” Especially not lately. The fact that I’m making an effort and feel guilty. That something about thissituation is getting under my skin when I’ve been perfectly content in my apathetic existence for years.
Alexander keeps staring out the windshield with a distinct intensity. He couldn’t possibly be this focused on the simple task of driving.
I want to know what he’s thinking, so I ask. “What are you thinking?”
Another weighted pause settles before he responds. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Yes...”
“Why don’t you play the piano anymore?”
A fine sliver of pain slices through me—as if I’ve been cut with a very sharp blade. A hairline incision across my heart.
Not that question. Not yet.
Instinctively, I deflect. “How do you know that I don’t?”
He frowns. “Well, there’s no piano at the safe house in Nantshire, and I didn’t notice one at the vineyard cottage.”
“Maybe I play somewhere else.”
“Like where? In the mountains?”
“Could be. Or maybe at a local rec center.”
“What local rec center?—”
“Or a bar in town? A church? Or the total opposite—some seedy underground organization that’s kept secret from you upper-crust vamps. Some place with neon purple lighting that’s rife with orgies and drunken debauchery. I could be playing anywhere.”
I expect him to laugh, but Alexander shakes his head. The car is deafeningly silent. I’ve lost him again. Sighing, I sit back. “Ask me a different question.”
“No.”
“Ah, come on,” I say, teasing. “One more. I’ll behave myself.”
“We don’t need to talk to each other during this ride.”
“But that’s boring.”
