Chapter 21
Finn
Six a.m.
I sighed dramatically and flopped back. My head hit the luscious pillow, and I closed my eyes.
Why was I awake already?
Oh, right.
I’d had the early shift yesterday.
Fuck my life.
I opened my eyes again but couldn’t really see anything. It was fucking dark in here. Like almost pitch black. The fact that I’d looked at my bright as shit phone screen a couple of seconds ago only made matters worse.
Hell, if I weren’t able to feel Eric’s body next to me, I wouldn’t even know he was here for sure.
But I could feel him. He had his back turned to me and appeared to be dead asleep.
Which didn’t really come as a surprise.
Apparently, my boyfriend was a night owl and slept most of the day.
Since he had this weird sun allergy or sensitivity or whatever, I wasn’t surprised. I mean, if I could only go out at night—or in the evenings—I’d sleep during the day too.
The problem was that my newfound schedule meant I was the opposite of a night owl. I was an early riser. An involuntary one, but still.
I groaned and grabbed my phone again.
Okay.
So, I’d stayed the night for the first time. And it’d been a lot more uneventful than in my imagination. In my mind, we’d have hot morning sex, then we’d shower and trade lazy blow jobs, and we’d finish by eating breakfast while chatting about our upcoming day.
Instead, I was the only one awake, and if I wanted morning sex, I’d probably have to wait another six to seven hours. Which would make it afternoon sex, right?
And no matter how much I liked Eric, I couldn’t just stay in bed next to him doing nothing for half a day.
I mean, he and Bennie had offered that I could just chill in the living room or the library.
I could play video games or read or… whatever.
As long as I kept the curtains in front of the windows at all times.
The thing was, that felt weird.
If I knew Bennie better—you know, for more than one night—I might feel comfortable hanging out alone here, but the reality was that I was in a strange place all alone while everyone else was sleeping.
That felt all kinds of wrong to me.
Also, I needed to get home.
A shiver ran down my spine, my pulse speeding up.
What if there was a new note waiting for me? What if the stalker had seen me running away last night? Would he be… mad that I’d run scared? Glad because he was getting to me? Or even… apologetic? Like the one time he’d scared me by gifting me the tea?
I raked a hand through my hair, tugging at the strands.
What did it even matter what he was feeling?
It didn’t.
Because I was done.
I was done running scared. I was done letting him get to me. I was just done with it all.
I needed to go home—especially because a part of me didn’t want to. A part of me wanted to say fuck the weirdness and stay on Eric’s comfy-as-fuck couch, buried under a pile of blankets, and ignore the world outside.
Soo… I pulled my hoodie over my head, the heavy cotton a comfortable weight on my shoulders. Then I turned to Eric’s bed, a smile on my lips as my screen lightly illuminated my boyfriend’s sleeping form.
Caressing his cheek, I leaned in and placed a kiss on his forehead. His skin was a bit cool, so I carefully pulled up the comforter, neatly tucking him in, then whispered a last goodbye to him and quietly exited the bedroom.
The hallway appeared even darker than his room, so I shook my phone, the movement activating the flashlight.
As I climbed down the stairs, the faint scent of pizza hit my nose, and my stomach rumbled appreciatively. To my surprise, it hadn’t been upset by the pizza or by that can of Coke. Then again, I was still swallowing those damn pills, so I guess they really worked.
Which meant I could probably get away with eating a bit of leftover pizza for breakfast. Bennie had said he’d put it in the fridge, so…
I probably shouldn’t. Especially since I hadn’t brought my meds with me, and I was supposed to take them first thing in the morning on an empty stomach and then wait for an hour until I ate anything.
But… pizza.
I’d spent weeks eating nothing but bland food. Steamed veggies, steamed rice, steamed chicken… steamed anything.
How bad could a slice of pizza in the morning be?
It’s not like I’d immediately start puking blood again, right?
Right.
And I deserved it. Because I was being a grown-up and facing my problems. A.k.a. my stalker issue.
My mind made up, I headed to the kitchen, opening the huge side-by-side fridge, looking for the promised leftovers.
I’d be responsible. I’d only take one slice. Then I’d get out of here.
The only question was, where were my leftovers?
There was a lot of fresh produce in the fridge. More than I’d expected, really. And a ton of drinks. Coke, ginger ale, water, beer. But no pizza cartons.
Had Bennie finished off both pizzas last night?
No. No single human could possibly eat that much.
Which meant he was probably one of those guys who put everything in neat glass contain—ahh, gotcha!
I grinned as I spotted the pizza on the bottom shelf of the fridge, the slices indeed neatly stacked inside a glass container. Pulling it out, I took off the lid and took one slice.
Just one, I chastised myself, stopping my hand from grabbing a second one at the last moment, and closed the lid again.
My stomach rumbled, not quite happy with my restraint as I leaned down to put the container back, and… huh. Something had fallen over, lying right where the container had been.
I reached for the dark fruit pouches, making space for the pizza container, and slid it into place. Now I just needed to put the pouches on top, and I could have my break—
I stopped, my mind coming to a screeching halt.
I blinked.
Again.
And again.
Staring at the fruit pouches on the floor.
They weren’t fruit pouches.
Holy shit.
Was that blood?
No, right?
I snorted and shook my head.
Why would Bennie and Eric keep blood in their fridge?
That didn’t make sense.
Also, it wasn’t like you could just go out and buy bags of blood, right? So there had to be another explanation.
I grabbed the pouches I’d dropped and eyed them carefully.
Whatever it was, it was a really good fake, because it did look like bagged blood. The kind they gave to people in the hospital. The kind I’d fucking donated a couple of times.
Was it a relic from Halloween?
Some kind of colored juice or alcohol or smoothie or whatever?
I stared at the label.
Nope.
No ingredients listed—just a fucking blood type.
Holy hell.
I ripped my hands back, the pouches falling to the floor again.
That was blood.
I shuddered, my stomach roiling.
What the hell?
Why?
A hysterical giggle escaped my throat.
Maybe he really was a vampire.
More giggling followed.
I bit my lip, trying to suppress the sound, as I leaned down to pick up those damn bags of blood again.
Tears welled up in my eyes, my chest constricting as I stuffed the pouches back into the fridge.
This was so fucking ridiculous.
I couldn’t stop the laughter as more and more thoughts came to my mind, slotting together like puzzle pieces.
Blackout curtains.
Not being able to go outside during the day.
The fact that I still hadn’t seen a fucking gunshot scar anywhere on his body.
Bagged blood.
I kept laughing as I closed the fridge, hiding the evidence inside. Resting my forehead against the cool metal door, I grabbed my hair, pulling it tighter.
What the fuck was going on?
Were they pranking me?
Was this some kind of sick joke?
I hated to even contemplate this, but there was fucking blood in the fridge, and Bennie and Eric had really driven home how important it was to keep those damn blackout curtains shut, and… fuuuck.
I grabbed my phone and opened the fridge again.
Proof. I needed proof.
I opened the camera app and took a picture. And a second one. A third one. And a fourth one until I finally had one that wasn’t all blurry because my hands were shaking like crazy.
My boyfriend might be a vampire.
Or a psychopath.
Or… I wiped at my eyes.
It would be so fucking ironic if my boyfriend turned out to be even more of a psychopath than my stalker was.
I kept staring at the pouches.
What if it really was a joke? What if they had friends at the hospital?
Eric had been a fucking med student after all.
Maybe a friend had gotten them the pouches, and they’d filled them with a cocktail for Halloween.
What if I was going crazy by believing my boyfriend actually had blood stashed away in his fridge?
I grabbed one pouch, my stomach revolting as I squeezed it tightly in my hands and shoved it into the front pocket of my hoodie.
Then I closed the fridge again and ran like a bat out of hell.
Haha… bat.
Vampire.
I was fleeing from my potential vampire boyfriend like a bat out of hell.
Oh, fuck. I really was losing my mind.