Chapter 24 Molly #3
The man disappears into the locker room, and I shut the treadmill off entirely, turning to look at Elijah. On the machine, I would guess I’m a couple inches taller than him, and it’s a rare sensation seeing him look up at me.
‘Do you like to run?’ Elijah asks.
‘God no,’ I say, and thrill to see his face fall to shock. ‘It’s kind of the worst, but I’ll go stir crazy if I don’t do some kind of exercise. If there was a pool, I’d probably use that instead.’
‘I like swimming,’ he says. ‘Don’t believe what they say about needing burial soil to cross a body of water.’
‘Noted.’ I wipe down the treadmill with disinfectant wipes while Elijah fidgets with his lanyard, pulling and retracting the key card on its extender, his eyes skirting to and then away from me. If I had to guess, Elijah is nervous.
‘Use your words, Elijah,’ I say as I throw the wipes in the trash.
He opens his mouth as if trying to speak, then closes it again. I raise an eyebrow.
I keep waiting for him to say this game we’ve been playing has reached its conclusion.
That fun though it’s been to tourist around the city and steal kisses in hidden corners of the office, he’s had his fill and is ready to move on to something better.
As we covered, it’s notoriously a horrible idea mixing business and pleasure, but I feel like the rules are different when said pleasure is with a four-hundred-year-old vampire who stole your promotion.
‘Trying to let me down gently?’ I ask, hoping I sound more nonchalant than I feel.
Elijah frowns, the crease between his eyebrows deep.
‘No, no, not that.’ He holds up the bag of food as if it should be proof enough that he’s not trying to let me down, gently or otherwise.
‘I was, well, Kenneth asked me what I’m doing for the break and if I was travelling for Thanksgiving, or if people from the UK even celebrate Thanksgiving, and Dylan invited me to come with him to celebrate the holiday with his family, but it’s not really…
well, his family is less welcoming of my kind than he is. ’
‘I see.’
‘It seems that Thanksgiving is a holiday based in large part around food and the joy of eating a great meal together, and you know, I don’t really do that. And then I remembered that you said you weren’t travelling home for Thanksgiving.’
‘You’re rambling, Elijah,’ I whisper.
‘I’m nervous–you make me nervous,’ he says with a quiet laugh. ‘And I like your outfit.’
‘You already said that,’ I remind him with a smile, and he closes his eyes for a moment, shakes his head and stands up straighter. With newfound resolve, he tries again.
‘Would you like to spend the break together? As friends.’
‘All of it?’ I ask.
‘As much as you’ll give me,’ he says, then backtracks. ‘Or, well, whenever you’re free. When you want to.’
‘Yes,’ I tell him, not even having to give it much thought. As an afterthought, I tack on, ‘As friends.’
Of course I want to spend my time off with Elijah; the other option would be rotting alone on my couch catching up on movies I’ve missed, maybe crocheting an uneven scarf and making a tray of devilled eggs just for me.
I actually might still do those things, but I can’t deny the thought of doing them while Elijah is around makes the whole thing infinitely more exciting.
‘Yeah?’ he asks, the crease between his eyebrows replaced by the smile lines beside his eyes.
‘We are friends, after all,’ I say. ‘Friends don’t let friends spend Thanksgiving alone.’
‘Right, exactly.’ Elijah picks up my braid from my shoulder, touching the bottom before letting it slip through his fingers. I pretend this doesn’t give me full-body goosebumps.
The person who went into the dressing room comes out in workout clothes and walks past us to one of the bikes, and it startles me from this strange moment standing close together in the middle of the gym, Elijah touching my hair.
‘I’m going to shower and change before the food gets cold,’ I tell him. He nods like this is a fair reason to separate and, as I retreat to the locker room, I thrill at the thought of five uninterrupted days of Elijah, for once not chiding myself for my excitement.
It’s just fun, I remind myself while I rush through my shower. It’s casual. As he said, friends.
To: Molly Mason
From: James Johnson
Date: 23 November 2026
Subject: Interested in an opportunity?
Molly,
I hope you’ve been well. What are you up to these days? Saw on your Instagram the story that you got published in Knuckle Butter. Congrats! I read it and loved it. Was so happy to see you’re still writing.
I’m reaching out because we have an opening for a visiting faculty position for fiction, and when I was asked who should apply this morning, I just kept thinking about the hedgehog story I’d just read and how much all of your students loved you when you taught as a grad student.
I just keep thinking you’d be a great fit.
I know you’re probably busy, but are you interested? Would love to bring you in for an interview or meet for coffee to tell you more about it.
James