Chapter 13
He picked up his phone and saw his dad’s unamused face filling the screen, bobbing slightly as he paced around their family living room.
Panicking, Charlie hit ignore. But even as he dove back under the covers, he could tell it was too late; he was up, and after ten minutes of grumpy denial, he decided that he might as well have an early morning.
There were fewer emails waiting for him to get through—that was nice. He decided to go for a walk to take in the sunshine, mentally plotting a path to his favorite Mexican place for breakfast.
It was unsettling, as he walked, to realize how strange it all seemed—the sight of Brookville under the daylight.
This was his hometown, and these were street corners he’d walked past hundreds of times; but they looked different now, crisp and warm and bright.
It all looked different since he’d started spending so many of his hours with Lorenzo, under the moonlight.
If he lived a thousand years, he would never forget Lorenzo taking him into his arms last night, even if that was, unfortunately, the only way in which Charlie had been taken.
The moment he’d realized that Lorenzo was going to go along with his ridiculous plan, the air had been knocked out of his lungs; and then Lorenzo had touched him, molded their bodies together, brought his fangs oh so close to Charlie’s throat—and it was like a damn Bridgerton cover started playing.
He would never forget the drag of Lorenzo’s hands against his back, pulling him closer; the heat of Lorenzo’s mouth; the dampness of his breath against his throat.
He felt branded there. It was the worst kind of ache—the tendons of his shoulder felt tense and raw, the skin of his neck tender.
Like he couldn’t stop bracing himself for something that would never come.
He couldn’t stop replaying it in his head, tormenting himself—the almost-bite. The bite that nearly was.
And he couldn’t stop wondering—what would have come next, if it had been real?
He got an outdoor seat at El Varadero, and waited until the waiter had left after putting in his order before he succumbed to his shameful curiosity. Charlie pulled his phone out and searched—
Fuck. What was he supposed to search?
Dying with embarrassment, he tried vampire bite real :reddit
The first result read: My (M, 29) girlfriend (F, 351) won’t bite me bc she hates the taste of aspartame, but I can’t give up diet coke, I just can’t
He sighed, and clicked to the next result.
HELLLLP!! I’ve been betrothed to the dark prince of the underworld against my will, what are my legal remedies ???
Vampires real or conspiracy theory
Oomfs said Hozier is a vamp, can anyone confirm?
Vampires sun real
Vampire bite kill?
What it vampire bite feels like?
That one at least seemed promising. He opened the replies.
go get bitten gurl! find out
Painful, I’d imagine.
Many predators secrete a chemical that makes their bites painless, or numbs their victim’s flesh. I can only assume that vampires would have something similar, as evolutionarily . . .
He sighed, before his eye caught on a random reply that had only a handful of likes.
blissful
Suddenly the air was punched from his lungs, and he flipped his phone screen-down onto the table.
He had to get a grip on himself. He pulled his laptop out and started trying to get some work done.
A Mexican restaurant in Brookville was a long way from a Manhattan coffee shop, but he should have been able to get some decent writing done here.
The cobblestone streets were picturesque, the air soft and almost meditative.
Charlie had always wondered how Brookville had become one of those small towns, the kind that had such a distinctive life of its own.
He may have resented its dreary familiarity just because it happened to be the place of his birth, but just like how New Yorkers could always tell when a TV show had actually been filmed in the city or when it was Vancouver, he felt like he’d always be able to recognize a street corner in Brookville.
And Lorenzo had been in this small town long before Charlie was even born, despite the fact that he’d always felt as if he was the local in their relationship. But he wasn’t, not really. And Lorenzo hadn’t reacted well the one time Charlie had tried to ask how he’d come to live here.
But that had been a while ago. Surely things were different now. Maybe he could ask again.
He was desperate to know.
He was startled out of his guilty lust haze by Ava DMing him. theres my rockstar!!! she said by way of greeting. burning up the charts! breaking the internet!!
Ava, he typed. I love the sentiment, but I hate every word you just said.
She sent him a tongue-out emoji and shared some files. here’s your latest column back. love it!!! that letter was NUTS—and I want to see this hot guy hahaha
He rolled his eyes. Well, think of a horny headline.
She got back to him right away. let’s brainstorm!
He sighed. I’m actually trying to get some work done on a new column.
boo! she wrote back to him. you re not allowed to be this crabby when youre almost literally rising phoenix-like from the ashes??!?! WOC is a hit!
Her dots were still going. He was about to put down his phone when she added: btw—when are you coming in to capitalize on it??
Coming in? he wrote back, his heart thumping.
to brag to the owners about what a fucking champ you are!! Ava wrote, as if this were obvious.
She was all sunshine and encouragement, but Charlie felt as if a coarse knot was forming in his chest.
She was right—Wise Old Crone was a hit. And as that reality started to sink in, so too did his guilt, which was becoming harder and harder to ignore.
Crone was a hit because of what he was doing with Lorenzo. What he was learning from Lorenzo. What he was taking from him, if one wanted to be uncharitable.
And why did he deserve charity? He was lying to Lorenzo. Scheming to profit from their relationship. Their friendship, whatever.
I’ll find some time to come in, he wrote vaguely.
He slammed his computer shut as soon as he saw Ava drafting dots in reply. He didn’t want to hear it.
He’d started to think about when he was going to come clean to Lorenzo.
He had to eventually, right? If nothing else, the column’s increasing popularity would make the secret harder to maintain.
Oh, no one knew who the Crone was in real life, but every time his phone pinged with some sort of notification, he could feel the truth creeping in.
The sun started to smart on his neck as it crept further and further into the sky. He’d find a time to tell Lorenzo the truth, he thought—when he could tell him without making it all sound so terrible. Until then, he’d stick to the darkness.