and soft cotton t-shirts, put on some of the same, and walked down the hall with a fistful of quarters.
Paco’s blood and sex had muted my hunger to a dull roar, like quiet TV-static heard through a closed door, but it was still there. It never went away. Today I’d be fine, but tomorrow I’d have to go searching or hope to get lucky. I shoved everything into a washer, fed the machine, and waited till I heard it start just in case, as another tenant walked in, walking to a finishing dryer.
I gave him a companionable smile and a nod and caught him staring. My arms were visible and my tattoos made a lot of people stare. His stare went a bit past that though, pushing into the territory of being checked out.
So I returned the favor. He was a little younger than I looked, tone and blonde. His shirt advertised a yoga shop in Florida, where I believed he was from, given his thorough tan.
“You new here?” I asked him.
“Yeah. Just moved in. Fourth floor, back corner.”
I replied with a slightly more coy, “Nearby,” and a jerked chin towards the rest of the first. “How do you like it so far?”
He looked to the ceiling for a moment, then laughed. “It’s less humid than Florida was. But I don’t know many people yet – and my job – all I do is move cars from one lot to another when a radio tells me to. I don’t meet other drivers, muchless other people.”
You only told stuff like that to strangers when you wanted a friend. “Yeah.” I leaned back, feeling the running washer churn against me. “It’s even worse to be lonely when it seems like everyone else is having fun.”
“Exactly,” he said, nodding hard. He looked at me a moment too long, and then nervously looked away. He was interested. I was interested. Under his attention my hunger had perked up its ears and trotted over. But this was my own apartment complex – and I could make it a day without sex.
I rocked forward. “Try Bastille. Or the Phoenix. You’ll make friends in no time.”
His face flushed a little and he looked down. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” I said, and tried not to graze him as I left, which was hard when the room was so small, but I managed, walking back to my apartment with an inconvenient hard on.
* * *
I did more research on the Pack on my own, and tried to figure out tonight’s plan. I’d seen what Wade looked like last night – I’d cruise through the bar, make sure he was there, and then stalk him. Once I got him alone, I’d make him fess up, and then the punishing would begin. I stretched out the fingers of my right hand then pulled them into a fist, making a satisfying crunch.
The timer I’d set on my phone rang and I walked back down the hall. Just thinking about drinking blood again made me hungry. Paco’s blood was excellent, but there was something to be said for the blood of a complete stranger, with their frightened adrenaline still singing inside.
Then I turned the corner into the laundry and found Florida standing there.
“Hey,” he said, looking sheepish.
“Hey,” I responded. He wanted my attention – now he had it.
“I, uh, saw the setting on your washer. I knew when you’d be back.”
I tilted my head to hide a smirk. “You lay in wait for guys often?”
“Only when they look like you.” He dared to meet my gaze. I stood still, considering. I’d been thinking about blood all the long walk down here and I’d had to fight down my earlier hard on. But this place was where I slept – where I died . I needed to keep it safe. Even if I could scent the sharp scent of his hope in the air – and knew that he’d been thinking about me for the past hour, too. “I’m sorry,” he began, taking my silence the wrong way. “I shouldn’t have –“
“I don’t mind,” I said quickly. I didn’t want my reluctance to possibly chase him back into a closet. “But –“
“You have a boyfriend.”
“No.” It wasn’t too late – and everything about him reminded
Paco’s blood and sex had muted my hunger to a dull roar, like quiet TV-static heard through a closed door, but it was still there. It never went away. Today I’d be fine, but tomorrow I’d have to go searching or hope to get lucky. I shoved everything into a washer, fed the machine, and waited till I heard it start just in case, as another tenant walked in, walking to a finishing dryer.
I gave him a companionable smile and a nod and caught him staring. My arms were visible and my tattoos made a lot of people stare. His stare went a bit past that though, pushing into the territory of being checked out.
So I returned the favor. He was a little younger than I looked, tone and blonde. His shirt advertised a yoga shop in Florida, where I believed he was from, given his thorough tan.
“You new here?” I asked him.
“Yeah. Just moved in. Fourth floor, back corner.”
I replied with a slightly more coy, “Nearby,” and a jerked chin towards the rest of the first. “How do you like it so far?”
He looked to the ceiling for a moment, then laughed. “It’s less humid than Florida was. But I don’t know many people yet – and my job – all I do is move cars from one lot to another when a radio tells me to. I don’t meet other drivers, muchless other people.”
You only told stuff like that to strangers when you wanted a friend. “Yeah.” I leaned back, feeling the running washer churn against me. “It’s even worse to be lonely when it seems like everyone else is having fun.”
“Exactly,” he said, nodding hard. He looked at me a moment too long, and then nervously looked away. He was interested. I was interested. Under his attention my hunger had perked up its ears and trotted over. But this was my own apartment complex – and I could make it a day without sex.
I rocked forward. “Try Bastille. Or the Phoenix. You’ll make friends in no time.”
His face flushed a little and he looked down. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” I said, and tried not to graze him as I left, which was hard when the room was so small, but I managed, walking back to my apartment with an inconvenient hard on.
* * *
I did more research on the Pack on my own, and tried to figure out tonight’s plan. I’d seen what Wade looked like last night – I’d cruise through the bar, make sure he was there, and then stalk him. Once I got him alone, I’d make him fess up, and then the punishing would begin. I stretched out the fingers of my right hand then pulled them into a fist, making a satisfying crunch.
The timer I’d set on my phone rang and I walked back down the hall. Just thinking about drinking blood again made me hungry. Paco’s blood was excellent, but there was something to be said for the blood of a complete stranger, with their frightened adrenaline still singing inside.
Then I turned the corner into the laundry and found Florida standing there.
“Hey,” he said, looking sheepish.
“Hey,” I responded. He wanted my attention – now he had it.
“I, uh, saw the setting on your washer. I knew when you’d be back.”
I tilted my head to hide a smirk. “You lay in wait for guys often?”
“Only when they look like you.” He dared to meet my gaze. I stood still, considering. I’d been thinking about blood all the long walk down here and I’d had to fight down my earlier hard on. But this place was where I slept – where I died . I needed to keep it safe. Even if I could scent the sharp scent of his hope in the air – and knew that he’d been thinking about me for the past hour, too. “I’m sorry,” he began, taking my silence the wrong way. “I shouldn’t have –“
“I don’t mind,” I said quickly. I didn’t want my reluctance to possibly chase him back into a closet. “But –“
“You have a boyfriend.”
“No.” It wasn’t too late – and everything about him reminded
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