Page 94 of Your Coffin or Mine
“How the hell should I know? Why are you?”
Now we’re both just whispering through the phone.
“Is this a bad time? Vlad mentioned you might need help getting ready,” George says, smiling.
Vlad sent him? I squint my eyes in suspicion.
“No, just trying to ask the bestie which shoes to wear with my dress.” I grin, knowing Bernadette would rather do anything but that, and is right now more than likely wishing me dead. She is so not the outfit type and has a blog devoted to pajamas and how they should be accepted at every social function. I don’t think she’s wrong, just that she may have questionable hills to die on.
“Am I on speaker?” she asks.
“Nope,” I say, getting to my feet.
“In that case, fuck your shoes, alright? Shoes are just devices created to further instill our own futile existence. The only way I ever wear shoes is if I have to leave the house, which again, is entirely ridiculous. Like, who even needs to or should have to leave their house?” she rants on.
I stop listening because I have heard the “why people shouldn’t have to leave their homes for any reason” rant for years. It has been an argument I’ve been an unwilling party to since sophomore year of high school. To say I am over it would be a whole-ass understatement.
“Yes, I am aware,” I say, my tone hinting at how hard I’m eye-rolling. “Been aware for twenty years now.”
“Well, everyone should be. Wearing pajamas while sitting behind a desk does nothing to anybody. Why should we be made to wear uncomfortable clothes all the time?”
“Burnie, I’m gonna have to let you go. I think George would be appalled if I suggested wearing my PJs tonight.” I wink at George, who acts as if he will faint if I dare leave the room in my sleep attire.
“Well, duh. That’s not what I meant, but fine,” she says, and I laugh. “Hey, for real though, be careful, okay? He could be Dracula, or he could just be some really hot weird guy with a made-up last name and weird teeth. I’m starting to get creepy vibes with how off the dead end you sound right now.”
“Uh huh,” I say, instead of pointing out how, just a bit ago, I had literal fang marks on my neck. “I know what I saw.”
She yawns. “Call me if you need me. I’m keeping my phone on.”
“If I have service, I will.”
“Ugh. I’m ready for you to be home,” she moans.
My lips curve into a weak smile. “Me too,” I say as I hang up the phone.
I beam at George, who is quite literally jumping in place. I don’t like that Vlad’s basically sent him here to keep an unwitting eye on me, like I need a babysitter, but that isn’t George’s fault.
“I just had to come and see it.” He waves his hands around as he gushes. “I can’t wait to see you being the belle of the ball.”
“See what?” I ask, frowning.
“Your gown, woman. What else?”
Right, my dress. Suddenly my priorities are entirely flipped. I haven’t even thought to look at it or take pictures of any kind.
“Oh, it’s in the bathroom.” I’ve seen it, but I’ve been too distracted with the potential return of bite marks to even give it a true glance.
He swishes his hips toward the bathroom and then gasps. “Oh my goodness. It’s beautiful.”
Vlad did say he was going to dress me in something scandalous. And right now, I’m not so sure how I feel about that. Today has been more than one revelation, and I would really just like to sit down.
“Aubrey, are you okay?” He pokes his head into the room. “I expected you to be more excited.”
Do not blurt vampires are real, and you’re losing it.What if he already knows?
“Yeah, I’m okay. Kind of anxious about tonight, that’s all.”
“Oh, doll, it will be fine. Besides, I’ll be there, and we will have a fabulous time. I’ll keep you company till Romeo makes his entrance. Might be a good idea, since I’ll be batting the men away. I wonder who the designer is?”
