Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Charlie
Vamp Blues
After Kip made sure that I was okay for the hundredth time, he drove me back to my apartment and dropped me off.
On the drive, he seemed forlorn and quiet.
It was a huge juxtaposition to his normal, goofy personality.
I tried to reassure him that it was okay, but nothing seemed to help.
I didn’t like the silence coming from his side of the car.
But I decided to stop pushing it, and give him time to adjust. If I’m not upset with him, I don’t think he should be upset with himself.
However, no one can control the way he feels except himself.
I know that Kip thinks I should be more upset. And I am…but at the situation, not at him. I don’t believe that he had any control over his actions. I saw his eyes, and he wasn’t behind them during the attack.
However, I will say that if it was anyone but Kip, I’d write them off. But Kip…I can’t walk away from him. I can’t even blame him or stay mad at him. It’s…weird. He bypasses all of my usual defenses.
In the moment, when he was latched onto my arm, I was terrified. But not necessarily of dying. More of Kip realizing what he did and hating himself. I can’t stand the thought of that. I’ve never been so invested in someone else’s emotions.
Anyway, that was yesterday. I gave him space after he dropped me off, thinking he needed it. Since then though, my texts have gone unanswered. The first two were left on read, but after that, the rest are still sitting on delivered.
Charlie: How’s it going?
Charlie: Are you okay, Kip?
Charlie: Please don’t be upset with yourself. It was a mistake.
Charlie: I know you’re busy beating yourself up, but it’s not necessary.
Charlie: We’ll just be more careful from now on. It was a stupid thing of me to do, and it was my fault.
I sigh, staring down at the texts, willing a response to come from Kip. I feel connected to the guy, especially after what we went through together yesterday. We were already on our way to becoming friends, maybe more, and then we forged a trauma bond on top of all that.
And it’s crazy but…I miss him. He has a way of making things fun and bright.
I’ve been stuck alone inside of my gray little world, and he brought the first bit of color I’ve seen in a long time.
And I know, okay, I know, that I should be more afraid of him, especially after last night.
But I’m just…not. It goes against all reason, all sanity.
I feel like my heart knows his in some strange way.
Maybe it’s supernatural? I mean, who really knows how this shit works?
I just found out yesterday that vampires are real.
Maybe there are more supernatural things at play that I don’t know about.
Isn’t it a thing in some supernatural lore that there are ‘fated mates’?
Okay, now I’m going off the rails a bit. I snort out loud. Fated mates? Really, brain? You start liking a guy, and you automatically jump to him being your fated mate? What is this, a romantasy novel? Please.
What the hell has gotten into me? I’m Mr. Moody Broody, Mr. Pessimistic.
Nothing ever goes right for me, and life isn’t all sunshine and rainbows.
Okay, so I had one really weirdly awesome day with Kip, followed by some intense trauma at the end of the night.
That’s bound to fuck with anyone’s psyche.
That’s all this is. It’s all the trauma of almost being drained by a vampire. A hot, muscly, sweet, goofy, vampire.
“Charlie!” Someone snaps their fingers in my ear.
“What?” I spin in my office chair.
“I’ve called your name like five times.” Nancy, the puker, says. Her arms are crossed and she’s snapping her gum in irritation.
“Sorry, I was focused.” I reply, my face heating a bit.
“Yeah, you look hard at work.” Nancy rolls her eyes. “Listen, my computer won’t turn on. Can you fix it?”
“Is it plugged in?” The amount of times that people don’t check to see if something is plugged in before coming to me is a lot more than zero. Ninety-nine percent of my job is plugging cords into outlets and hitting the power button. Not kidding.
“Doy, I checked before I walked over. I’m not stupid.”
You sure about that, Nance?
Guess what? It isn’t plugged in. “Really, Nancy? You didn’t actually check, did you?” I grumble under my breath as I crawl beneath her desk to plug in the PC tower.
It’s like magic, I plug in the power, hit the button, and ta-da! The computer boots up. Imagine that.
“It didn’t work for me when I did that.” Nancy pouts.
“Mhmm…well, it’s probably my I.T. magic that did the trick.” My tone is laced with sarcasm, but Nancy doesn’t seem to pick up on it.
Seriously, when I went into IT, I didn’t think it was going to be me hitting power buttons and plugging in cords. I thought I was going to be doing something more…intensive? Grand? Something that takes more than one singular brain cell?
Why do I still work here?
You know what, maybe I’m buying too much into this thing between Kip and me. We hung out once. Sure, we exchanged blood, and it seemed kinda fucking intimate, but maybe that was wishful thinking.
I’m brooding in bed, the TV on playing random classic horror movies. I’m really trying not to pout, but my damn head and heart aren’t on the same page with this whole Kip-uation.
I’m not usually one to get high on a work night, but I think the only thing that’s going to help settle my mind is a weed gummy. Sometimes my brain won’t quit talking to me, and on nights like this it’s super unhelpful and depressing.
As I stand up, my phone rings.
Kip?!
I dive back onto my bed, and end up knocking my phone off, sending it flying to the floor. Scrambling over the side, I find it just underneath the bed.
Flipping it over, I sigh, it’s not Kip. It’s Mom.
I debate for a solid few seconds on whether I should answer or not, but then that makes me feel like a shit son.
I haven’t talked to her in weeks now. Growing up, it was just Mom and me.
We’re all each other had, and now that I’ve moved away I hardly talk to her. And I haven’t been home in years.
“Hey, Mom.” I plaster on a smile when she appears on the screen.
Mom holds the phone too close up to her face, giving me a view right up her nose.
“Well hello to you too, Charles. I almost thought I didn’t have a son anymore seeing as he never calls me anymore.”
Oof, the full first name. I probably deserve that.
“Sorry…I don’t really have an excuse.” I respond quietly. There’s no point in lying to her, and there’s no excuse for me not picking up the phone to at least text her.
She pulls the phone back slightly, narrowing her brown eyes at me. It’s the only feature we have in common. The rest of me I got from my deadbeat Dad. He left when I was three, and we haven’t heard from him since. But Mom and I did just fine on our own.
“Charlie…” Mom says softly. “You look like shit. What’s going on, pumpkin?”
I snort. She’s never been one to beat around the bush. She won’t sugarcoat anything, but at least you know she’s always going to tell you the truth. Even if it hurts.
“You know, work stuff.” I sigh.
“Mhmm…and that’s all? Only work stuff? No…boy stuff?” She raises an eyebrow.
I came out to Mom when I was thirteen. She was the first person I told that I was gay.
You always hear about the horrible coming out stories where the kid is kicked out of their house, disowned, bullied, or whatever else.
But that never happened with me. Mom, although brash, is also loving with a huge heart.
She even told me that she always knew, and was just waiting for me to tell her.
For being small, my hometown, Willowhaven, was actually really accepting, well for the most part.
It’s kind of an artsy and eccentric little community.
I’m grateful to have grown up somewhere like that.
Minus my senior year of high school, Willowhaven was great.
And even though I was desperate to move to the city once I turned eighteen, I still miss home sometimes…
as long as I don’t think back to high school.
Being away from home has made things clearer for me.
Willowhaven was exactly that, a haven. I think about moving home sometimes, but I’m afraid at the same time.
The reason I ran from there at eighteen still lives in the town, and he probably hasn’t changed.
“Okay, maybe a little boy stuff.” I grumble.
“But it’s no big deal. I thought this guy and I had a connection, but now he’s ghosting me.
It just kinda sucks, you know? The one time I open myself up to someone, and they leave me in the dust. I guess it’s better that it happened now than later.
At least I wasn’t in love with him or anything.
It was one date…or hang out…or whatever. ”
“Pumpkin…” Mom replies gently. “I’m going to give you some hard truths.”
“As if I’d expect anything else from you.”
Mom stares me down through the phone. “You’re going to get hurt in life, Charlie.
That’s the way things go. It’s shitty, but that’s the way it is.
But if you never put yourself out there, you’re never going to experience the good things life has to offer either.
I know that you have trouble opening up after what happened with Jeremy—”
I cut her off. “Nope, nope, nope. We’re not going there Mom. This has nothing to do with that.”
“Charles Adam Benson.” Mom whips out her stern voice.
“Sorry, Mom.” I reply bashfully.
“I think that it has everything to do with that. That’s why you don’t date. That’s why you only have three friends.”
I wince. “Ouch, don’t hold back now, Mom.”
She sighs. “I’m just saying, pumpkin. There must be a reason you decided to open up to this boy. You don’t trust easily, Charlie. Even if this boy isn’t the one for you, don’t give up hope. You’ve got to put yourself out there. You deserve to find your guy.”
“Kinda hypocritical, no?” I regret the words as soon as they leave my mouth. “Shit, Mom…”
Her eyes line with silver. Fuck, I really am the worst. She’s going to cry because of me.
“No, you’re right.” She sniffles. “Maybe you learned to be closed off from me. And maybe I should take my own advice. You know what, maybe we should take the advice together?”
“Yeah…maybe…” I agree, not really intending to follow through. “Listen, Mom, I love you. I gotta go though. You know, work night and all that.”
“Okay, pumpkin.” She nods her blonde head. “I love you too. Think about what I said, alright?”
Sure, Mom. I’ll try.
It’s now Wednesday, and I have had it with my texts to Kip sitting on delivered. In between pushing power buttons and helping people type in their passwords correctly (and them claiming it somehow magically changed overnight), I’ve become an internet sleuth.
I’ve never been much of a social media guy. I find it tedious, and quite honestly, fake and depressing. Everyone puts on a persona when they use social media. When you’re online, you can be anyone you want to be. You never see the truth behind someone…well, with one exception. Kip.
His profiles reflect his real life personality with one-hundred percent accuracy.
His Instagram is filled with pictures of the gym he works at, him in workout gear, and inspirational quotes.
Inspirational quotes as in things like that picture of the kitten hanging from a tree branch that says ‘keep hangin’ in there! ’. That’s such a Kip thing to post.
But he hasn’t posted since last Thursday, which was before he turned.
During my lunch break, I swung by the gym where he’s a personal trainer, Pump Palace, to see if he was there.
Newsflash, he wasn’t. And hasn’t been in since Thursday.
He called in with a case of ‘severe diarrhea’.
The receptionist went into explicit detail about Kip’s bowel movements, and I can only guess that he got all the gory, disgusting details from Kip himself.
I left my name and number, stating that I was looking for a personal trainer and was interested in working with Kip.
So, that was a no go. And since he hasn’t posted anything new on his socials, I have no leads.
As soon as the clock hits four, I’m out of the office, practically sprinting to my car.
My newest idea is to try and drive the route he took to drop me off at home Sunday night.
The problem is, I wasn’t quite paying attention to the roads while he was driving.
When I wasn’t trying to cheer him up, I was lost in my own head.
So there’s a large chance I’m going to get nowhere with this.
Before I pull out of my parking spot, I send another text to Kip.
Charlie: Come on, Kip. You’ve got me worried. Please just let me know everything is okay, and I swear I’ll leave you alone.
This one also sits on delivered, go figure.
I drive around for hours, trying to retrace the route, but I’m not naturally inclined in terms of directions. Around nine at night, I give up and go home.
Texting Kip? Bust. Social media stalking? Bust. Driving around trying to find his apartment? Another fucking bust.
But, I’ve got another idea. Kip will need to feed again at some point, and since he’s not contacting me, he’s gonna have to go out and find someone. And what better place than the vampire club, Blood Rose?
I really didn’t want to have to resort to this like some sad stalker, but I can’t just let it go.
I’ve never really cared much for anyone, besides my small group of friends, but I care about Kip.
More than I probably should. I have a feeling my sudden obsession with the himbo vampire is only going to end in my own heartbreak. But is that going to stop me? Nope.
I’m not sure stalking was what my Mom had in mind when she told me to open myself up to people, but here I am anyway.
As soon as I’m inside Blood Rose, I throw up my hood and find a table up on the balcony with a good vantage point.
I’m like a detective on a stake out. If watching the interaction between Kip and Tyson is anything to go by, I know that Kip doesn’t want Tyson’s help with anything after the betrayal.
That means Kip has to come here at some point to feed, because he’s not going to pick a random person to attack. That isn’t Kip.
It’s been four days since Kip fed from me. He’s a new vampire, so he has to be getting hungry, right? How often do they need to feed?
I sit for a couple hours, watching the front door of the club for Kip. I’ll come back every day if I have to.
I’m about to get up and get a refill (of soda, you think I’m going to drink alcohol on a stake-out?), when there’s an electric tingle that flashes across my skin. It’s like everything stops around me, and sound ceases to exist, as my eyes are pulled back to the door of Blood Rose.
There. He’s here.