As I step out of the car and walk toward the house, the tension in my body amplifies. The last time I saw Daniel, we seemed to be on a more friendly trajectory, but I can’t be certain. Something about him reads like Doctor Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. I’m not sure which one I’ll get today and I’m not in a fit emotional state to handle an attack.
 
 I ring the doorbell. Within moments, that weird, electric spidery feeling rushes up my arms and shoulders. I bristle just as the door swings open. Daniel is there. His frosty purple eyes are apathetic as he takes me in, like I’m an unwanted solicitor that’s about to ask him if Jesus Christ is his Lord and Savior.
 
 “Hey,” I say, stepping back. Why the hell does he give me this odd staticky feeling across my body? I’m not a kid anymore and he’s mean—this feeling should be gone. “I told Kathryn I was coming… she said it was okay.” His dark hair is swept and tied back. He’s wearing jeans, a gray zip-up hoodie and a maroon t-shirt underneath with a picture of a hammer on it. Underneath the hammer are the words “This is not a drill.” I snort.
 
 He raises a dark eyebrow. “Hi, yes, she told me. What’s funny?”
 
 “Nothing,” I say. “I… I like your shirt.
 
 Daniel glances down, then back up at me. “Thanks. Come inside. I’m starting the upstairs bathroom today.” He turns and his hair is braided in a sleek plait that reaches down between his shoulder blades. I follow him inside and immediately notice that we’re alone.
 
 “Where are Kathryn and Roland?” I ask, trying to mask my nervousness as we walk up the stairs.
 
 “Out looking at flooring options for the downstairs hall and bathrooms.”
 
 “Oh, really? I thought they were going to wait until next month to place an order.” In truth, I was surprised at all the furniture that they ordered. The initial investment I gave them couldn’t have stretched that far. Before I left last week, I had alook at some of the furniture. It was stellar quality. Not built with cheaply made materials at all.
 
 “They have other resources,” Daniel says, stepping into the large bathroom. “I’m filling holes and cracks because this bathroom has a lot of them. Then we’ll sand. How does that sound?”
 
 “Fine. I like filling the holes and cracks.”
 
 “Do you?” he asks, handing me a scraper. “The mud is over there.”
 
 “Yeah… it makes me feel like I’m an archeologist on a dig—like Picard inTNG.”
 
 Daniel chuckles as he walks toward the opposite wall. “That’s quite the reference. Can we agree thatThe Next Generationis, without question, the best series of theStar Trekfranchise?”
 
 “We can,” I say, surprised. “Outside of the original series, of course. Kirk, Spock and McCoy. Uhura and Sulu—they started it all. We can’t not acknowledge that.”
 
 “Agreed.Deep Space Ninewas also excellent.”
 
 “I never watched that series.”
 
 Daniel turns back to face me, blinking his light-lilac eyes in shock. “Really? Why?”
 
 Stepping up to the wall, I look it over, deciding where I want to start. “Well, I watched the one with Captain Janeway—what the hell was it called?”
 
 “Voyager.”
 
 “Right. That one. And it was just… God. It lacked all the enjoyment of the original andTNG. It was depressing as hell that they were lost in space, and I hated almost all of the characters. Everyone was so flawed and annoying. It’s like, for how lovable and fun the first two series and its characters were, the creators decided, ‘Let’s make a series that’s the total opposite.’”
 
 “Hm, yes.Voyagerhas much darker themes compared with the other two series. It’s visually darker, too—I believe they shot it with a different camera lens. ButDeep Space Nineis great. I would highly recommend you give it a try.”
 
 Dipping my scraper in the mud, I nod. “Yeah? Maybe I willthen.” I’m grinning as I turn and head back to my wall to start working. The bleak heaviness from earlier this morning has all but dissipated. “So… who’s your favoriteTNGcharacter?”
 
 “Data, of course.”
 
 “Of course.”
 
 “And yours?”
 
 “Captain Jean-Luc Picard.”
 
 “That’s very on-brand for you, I think.”
 
 Laughing, I lift my arm to fill a crack that’s higher up the wall. “What does that mean?” I ask. “Is henotan awesome, admirable and well-developed character?”
 
 Our conversation goes deeper into the weeds and I’m honestly loving it. I never get to express these opinions or talk about these obscure things that I like. Most vampires in Eden don’t even engage with human entertainment and media at all. They wouldn’t knowBuffyfromDraculaorTrue Blood. It’s just my weird thing.