Chapter 8 Quin
EIGHT
Quin
In the couple of weeks following Kit’s unexpected appearance at the beach, Quin bumped into him almost every night.
A few nights in, Quin convinced Kit to exchange phone numbers and established daily communication between them.
Most of the messages Quin sent were memes, and he hoped Kit would learn to respond in more than old-school emoticon smiley faces.
All Quin wanted was a joy emoji or a laughing gif. It wasn’t too much to ask.
Despite Kit being able to message Quin, he always turned up without prior contact when Quin took Mabel on her late-night walks.
Summer might have been approaching—or what passed for summer in Scotland anyway—but Quin’s days were getting shorter as he stayed up later and later to maximise his time spent with Kit.
But the new routine worked. It didn’t matter if Quin woke up late; he had picked up a few coding jobs, which only required intermittent contact and weekly meetings with the clients. Staying out well past midnight was no big deal.
He and Kit would make small talk and discuss a bit about their hobbies and interests.
Quin had sussed that Kit rarely conversed with anyone but him, along with an occasional email exchange with his vampire friends.
Quin had learned a bit about the triad of Shaun, Rake, and DJ, and been told some anecdotes from previous nests Kit had been around in the past few decades, but Kit revealed little beyond the surface level.
However, Quin was certain that, given time, Kit would open up. And once that happened, then Quin would ask him on a date. With the full moon beckoning once again, he’d have to take a short break from his stealthy operation to ask Kit out, but it wouldn’t derail his plans.
That night, the smirr—a word Kit had taught him—was soaking both himself and Mabel. It was a fine, misty rain that didn’t appear heavy, yet seeped into your bones. At least it wasn’t the horizontal rain they’d experienced the other day.
Even with his hood up and Mabel in her little doggy raincoat, they both shivered, so he chose a shorter route than normal. As he walked down a side street, he caught sight of Kit propped against a wall. He wore a bright yellow rain jacket with matching wellingtons.
“Hi, Georgie,” Quin called out.
Quin’s feet got splashed with puddle water when Kit appeared in front of him. “Are you finally admitting you’re a complete and utter clown?” Kit asked, face peeking out from under his over-long hood.
Quin laughed. “Walked into that one, I suppose.”
Kit took in Mabel in her raincoat. “She’s adorable,” he said, reaching out and patting her head as she approached him for attention.
You’re adorable, Quin wanted to say. But he refrained.
Barely.
Mabel shivered even as Kit lavished her with pets.
“Bit miserable out here tonight,” Quin said. “I’ll have to get her inside soon. Don’t want her getting too cold.”
Kit lifted his hood, meeting Quin’s eyes. “But…I only just got here,” Kit trailed off, leaving an awkward silence between them that Quin was desperate to break.
“Were you feeding?” he asked, wondering why Kit had shown up later than usual.
Kit averted his gaze. “No.”
Quin waited a beat to see if Kit might expand on that statement, but nothing else was forthcoming. “Do you need to feed tonight?”
“No.”
“Okay. So, if you don’t need food, and we all need to get out of the rain, how about you walk us back to mine and come inside? Get dry, get warm. I’ve got a fire I can put on,” he added, hoping it would sweeten the deal.
Kit remained silent for a few long seconds, one hand holding up the brim of his hood. The rain came down heavier, droplets pitter-pattering as they hit Kit’s raincoat.
“I suppose there can’t be much harm in it,” Kit said.
“Wonderful,” Quin gushed. It was a disproportionate response to the lukewarm acceptance, but he meant it.
He led the way, giving Mabel’s leash to Kit when he wouldn’t stop trying to smuggle treats to her as they walked. They came to Quin’s house after a quarter of an hour, both of them hurrying for the last few minutes as it started to pour.
Mabel zoomed up his garden path, pulling Kit along with her as she made for the front door. When she got to the stoop, she turned expectedly to Quin.
“Yes, yes, I’m getting my keys.”
The second he unlocked the door, Mabel dashed inside, her leash falling to the ground.
“Sorry!” Kit gasped. “She pulled on it, and I was worried I might hurt her if I didn’t let go.”
“It’s all good,” Quin said, smiling reassuringly as he stepped in behind her. “She has the run of the place. I just happen to live here, too.”
Kit gifted Quin with a gracious laugh at the oft-repeated joke, but the vampire still hovered outside the doorway.
Quin realised his mistake. “Oh! Come in. Or, uh, I formally invite you inside. How does this work?”
Kit walked over the threshold, wellies squeaking. “That’ll do.”
The three of them were now standing in Quin’s small separate entryway, which he used as a dump for dirty shoes and to stop Mabel from tracking mud all over the floors. Not glamorous, but it was useful.
“I’m going to warn you in advance that I haven’t finished decorating,” Quin said.
He’d been there for almost two months, so was still changing the decor and getting furniture in his own style.
He’d spent so long living with Lark that he wasn’t even sure what he liked himself.
Online shopping also bored him out of his skull, so, for the moment, his house was only the bare bones.
“I would say I won’t judge, but we’re both aware that would be a lie,” Kit said.
“For that comment, you can only blame yourself for what’s coming.” Quin whipped off Mabel’s dog jacket, leaving her free to shake out her coat over the two of them. Kit let out a cry of indignation as she sprayed them with water, but it was that or run back out into the rain.
Kit gave Quin a withering look when he chuckled at his plight, but Mabel was delighted. Her tongue lolled out as she stood at the door to the hallway, tail wagging.
“Why,” Kit asked in a monotone.
Quin shrugged as he took the towel he stored for such situations and gave Mabel a cursory drying off. “Blame Mabel, not me.”
“But why would I do that when she’s done nothing wrong?” Kit asked.
Quin pushed open the door to the hallway, Mabel running ahead, and gestured for Kit to follow.
“Kitchen is the last door at the end,” Quin said.
Kit pulled off his wellingtons. It left him in the thickest, fluffiest cream socks that Quin had ever seen. He was quite jealous, in fact, of how cosy they looked.
Catching Quin’s stare, Kit folded his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes. “Please don’t tell me you have a thing for feet.”
“Uh, no,” Quin said.
“No, you won’t tell me, or no, you don’t have a thing for feet?”
“The feet thing,” Quin said as he undid the laces of his boots.
Kit hummed disbelievingly, then walked through the hall, following Mabel on light feet. Okay, so Quin might not have a thing for feet in general, but he appreciated Kit’s feet in a completely normal and non-fetish-like way.
Besides, he hadn’t even seen Kit’s toes yet. He could have ugly toes.
Kit wouldn’t have ugly toes though, Quin reasoned as he went towards the kitchen. They’d be small and cute, just like the rest of him.
He scolded himself for continuing to be weird about Kit’s feet as he strode into the room.
It was high on his list to renovate, as he wasn’t a fan of the pine wood counters or cabinets.
He’d also have to update the cooker, as it was an ancient piece of equipment that heated his food more quickly on the left-hand side than on the right, and the sink was irritatingly narrow.
There was no dishwasher either, which was an utter crime and led to Quin ordering takeaways far more often than was good for him.
Kit stood at one cupboard, holding up a can of Mabel’s dog food, inspecting the label as she danced underfoot.
“Has she had her dinner yet?” Kit asked.
Other people might have been offended that Kit’s first act inside the house had been to root through the cabinets, but Quin liked that Kit felt so at ease.
“She has,” he answered. “Don’t listen to her whining. It’s time for her bed, not another meal.”
“Is this the best stuff you can afford?”
“Are you telling me I’m poor?”
“I’m saying that I saw some of this all-natural food online that was meant to be the healthiest. Kinda pricey, though.”
“Link it to me. I’ll take a look.” Quin clapped his hands. “Mabel, bed.”
She turned her pleading eyes on him, but he gave her the staredown. She trotted off to her dog bed in the corner, turning in a circle half a dozen times before settling down.
“Good girl,” Quin said. “Living room?” he asked Kit.
“Is she going to be okay in here all night by herself? Isn’t it cold?” Kit was staring at Mabel, worrying his lower lip.
Quin pointed to the pile of blankets next to the dog bed. “She’ll pull one of those over her if she wants it. She’s more than fine, I promise.”
Kit didn’t seem convinced, but passed by Quin to get into the dimly lit hallway.
“Just on the right,” Quin directed. They filed into the room; a large space dominated by Quin’s flat-screen television, a sofa and matching armchair, the small fireplace, and not much else.
Kit went straight over to the mantel, picking up the framed picture Quin had been meaning to fix to the wall above it.
“Your hair was so long,” Kit said. Quin came up behind him, looking at the photograph as if he didn’t know every detail already.
A dozen members of his family smiled back at him from the image taken near the peak of Cader Idris, and though Quin couldn’t see his own face behind his windswept mop of hair, he knew he’d been smiling too.
“I refused to have it cut until I was fourteen,” Quin said, huffing.
“I think I’m supposed to say you looked cute, but you kinda resembled a mini-Sasquatch.”