Chapter 9
When I meet Noah’s eyes, I nearly throw my paper bag down an aisle.
Who’s buying blood? Not me.
Of course, he can’t see what’s inside, so freaking out is pointless.
He nods toward the prescription. “Did you have your follow-up with your doctor?”
I nod, struck mute.
I haven’t seen the man since last week, but I’ve thought about him more than I probably should.
Sadly, I might have had a chance with him at some point, but there is no real or alternate future where I can imagine ever fessing up to Noah about my new diet.
“How did it go?” he asks.
“Um…fine. It was fine.”
He raises his eyebrows.
“I’ve got to go.” I hold up the bag. “The pharmacist says I need to keep my prescription refrigerated. It was nice running into you.”
Just before I dart, an amused smile passes over his face.
“Bye, Piper,” he calls.
I hurry to my car, refusing to make eye contact with anyone else.
Once I’m safely tucked into my house, I pull the two bottles from the bag. They look like any other liquid medicine, their contents masked by the amber bottle.
Filled with dread, I unscrew the top and peer inside. The blood is congealed and cold, and my stomach revolts.
They can’t be serious. Fake or not—yuck.
I glance at the clock on my stove, realizing it’s time for dinner. My first dose is going to have to wait until morning because I can’t stomach both a steak and blood this close together.
Quickly, I stash the bottles in the door compartment of the fridge, next to a bottle of mustard.
“Tomorrow,” I sternly tell myself. “I’ll take it tomorrow.”
My phone pings with a text at ten after nine in the morning. I sit up in bed, groggy. I stayed up last night reading Dr. Granger’s pamphlets. All the information is a blur.
Two big things stood out, though—if I take my blood as prescribed, I can go in the sun again as long as I wear good sunscreen. And I can eat fruits and vegetables.
Apparently, real vampires can’t do either of those things.
Vegetables are forbidden, and they can only go out during the day if there’s heavy cloud cover.
The virus completely alters the way their systems work, and they become full-fledged, night-dwelling carnivores.
No wonder I only saw Ethan in the evenings.
Thank goodness I’m only pre-vampiric.
My phone chimes again, reminding me I have a text. I stretch, yawning, and then remember that I’m supposed to meet my conservator this morning.
I looked up the definition last night, curious because I hadn’t heard much of that word.
The dictionary gave me a few definitions, but since I’m not a piece of art or a protected swampland housing an endangered species, only one makes sense.
Apparently, a conservator is a legal guardian appointed to protect a person incapable of taking care of themselves.
I’m not sure how I feel about that.
Already irritated about the whole thing, I check the text.
Montgomery: This is Montgomery York. I will come by for an introduction at ten.
No, “Good morning, how are you?” He didn’t even bother to ask if ten would be all right. I’m pretty sure we’re not going to get along.
Groaning, I swing my legs over the side of the bed and hurry to the shower. I barely have enough time to get ready.
As I shampoo my hair, I ponder this Montgomery York. Will he be old? Young? My mind imagines all kinds of people, but it settles on a middle-aged man of medium height who carries a clipboard as he follows me around and observes me like I’m a zoo specimen.
I almost don’t bother to blow dry my hair, but I’d rather make a good impression. I don’t want to be forever thought of as that “frumpy vampire girl.”
I’m just finishing up my makeup when the doorbell rings.
I press my lips together, spreading the lightly tinted lip balm. Then I take a deep breath to prepare myself and hurry down the stairs, to the entry, coming to a dead stop when I spot the man through the mottled glass in the door.
It’s not some dowdy, clipboard-carrying conservator standing on my welcome mat—it’s Noah.
“What are you doing here?” I blurt out when I open the door, looking over his shoulder to make sure he’s alone. The last thing I need is for my conservator to show up while he’s here. “I kind of have an appointment…”
He’s wearing that black leather jacket again, looking good enough to eat.
The thought immediately flusters me. The phrase takes on a different meaning when you’re pre-vampiric. Obviously, I’m not actually going to bite him.
My eyes stray past his yummy jaw to his equally yummy neck. Okay, if he offered, I might take a little nibble…but not hard enough to draw blood.
“That’s a warm welcome,” he deadpans.
I would laugh if I weren’t so freaked out by my chaotic thoughts.
“Seriously, you have to go,” I tell him, pressing my hands on his shoulders and turning him back toward his SUV. “This is the worst time ever.”
He glances over his shoulder as he allows me to escort him down the porch stairs. “You’re acting a little stranger than normal today.”
“I have this guy coming—”
“Guy?” he says, cutting me off, sounding way too amused. “You have a date at ten in the morning?”
My face and neck go hot. “No, it’s not like that. He’s probably a sniveling little weasel.”
“Oh yeah? What’s this sniveling little weasel coming for?”
Noah digs in his heels, refusing to let me propel him any farther. He turns to face me, and though he’s not smiling, his eyes are bright.
I huff out a frustrated breath and cross my arms. “It’s like a medical counseling thing, okay?”
“I see. And you’d like me out of the way?”
Avoiding his eyes, I nod.
“That’s fine, but first, I have to talk to you.”
“Can we make it quick?” I nearly jump out of my skin when a car slows in front of my driveway. When it speeds up and moves on, I let out a relieved breath.
When I look back, I find Noah studying me, his expression strangely sympathetic. But he’s still not leaving.
“Listen, just…” I pull out my phone. “Give me a minute.”
Quickly, I reply to Montgomery’s text.
Piper: Running late. Please give me an extra thirty minutes.
Pocketing the phone, I look up. “Okay, what?”
“One second.” He holds up a finger. “I got a text.”
I watch the street beyond the drive, full of nervous energy. The sun is bright, and I didn’t put sunscreen on this morning. “Why don’t you come inside real quick?”
Still looking at his phone, he follows me into the house. While he’s distracted, Montgomery replies.
Montgomery: We’ll reschedule. I’ll email you later.
I exhale, nearly sinking to the floor, I’m so relieved.
“Everything okay?” Noah asks, peering at me with slightly narrowed eyes.
“Yep, great.” I give him a lopsided grin that probably makes me look a little crazy. “What’s up?”
His expression goes blank, like he’s trying to remember why he knocked on my door on this random Friday morning.
“You said you came for a reason…?” I prompt.
“I did.” He frowns. “I…wanted to see if you were free tonight?”
It sounds like a question. I mean, it is a question. But it sounds like he’s asking if that’s a plausible reason to be here.
But I can’t focus on the bizarreness of that because my face goes slack. I’m pretty sure I look like a dumbfounded cartoon animal.
He shifts and clears his throat, uncomfortable. “Is that a no?”
“I…” Impossible. Did Noah just ask me out? “Why?”
“Just to hang out.” He gives me an incredulous look. “Because I’m a loser who doesn’t know anyone, remember?”
“I think I said you were a loner.”
“Is there a difference?”
Yeah, one is hot.
As soon as I think it, my face flushes. I can’t have these kinds of thoughts about Noah. I’m pre-vampiric. Infected. Gross.
Even though Dr. Granger said I could live a normal life, I can’t ask a guy to deal with my new quirks. Blood smoothies are many things, but attractive is not one of them.
“I have a stand at the farmer’s market,” I say, more disappointed than a vampire girl has a right to be. “I haven’t been able to go for the last month, but I promised the coordinator I’d make it tonight.”
He nods slowly. “Do you sell your flowers there?”
“Yeah.” I fidget with the hem of my shirt, suddenly nervous. I pushed the market out of my brain with all the other stuff going on, but now it’s front and center.
I might see Ethan tonight. What will I do if he comes to my stand? Worse, what if he talks to me?
Noah frowns. “Why do you look panicked?”
I hesitate. “You know that guy I went out with the night you picked me up at the gas station?”
He nods, his expression sharpening.
“He visits my stand regularly. I guess I’m just a little nervous.”
“Would you be less nervous if I went with you?”
My heart goes squishy. Like damsel-in-distress, hello-handsome-white-knight, let-me-nibble-on-your-yummy-neck squishy.
“I can’t ask you to do that…”
“I don’t remember you asking—I volunteered.”
Uncomfortable, I rub the twin scars. “I can’t pay you.” Especially not when my new steak diet is already putting me in debt.
“I wasn’t asking for a job.”
The idea of Noah sitting next to me at my stand is almost too cozy.
“Okay, but it’s not all that exciting…”
“I didn’t figure it would be.”
“But the food is good—and there’s a guy who roasts turkey legs. That seems like something you’d like,” I say, feeling I should defend it. “And my brother is playing tonight, so the music should be decent.”
“What time do you leave?”
“About four.”
“I’ll be here at three thirty.” Noah turns toward the door. “I hope your medical consultation goes well.”
I don’t tell him it was canceled. I barely remember to say goodbye.
With a wave, he’s out the door.
I scan the email I just got from Montgomery, relieved he didn’t ask to reschedule.
He just wants to know if I’ve read the pamphlets, taken my first dose of blood (spoiler—I haven’t), and if I have questions.
He’s also been in touch with my dietitian, and apparently, I need to tell him what time I’m free for an appointment next week.