37. Ari
Ari
Istood there for ten minutes. Just outside his door, but far enough away that if someone were to come along it would look like I was admiring the rather delightful portrait of someone old and dusty that hung adjacent to his door. In the end I couldn’t quite muster the courage.
He made his feelings clear in Wales. He doesn’t want me and I’d only be forcing him to articulate that, to say it out loud so it can fester between us.
Would he tell me that we work together and it’s basically workplace harassment?
What he tell me he’s far too young for me and it’s wildly inappropriate?
Would he tell me I’m not his type? That he doesn’t date vampires?
Would he tell me he just doesn’t like me in that way?
No, the shame of it would be too much and we have to work together. This way is better.
But he found a way to creep into my room and into my dreams and I woke up this morning to find my nightdress bunched around my waist and my hand resting on my hip.
I was slick as I trailed a finger between my legs, a small gasp as I touched myself and tried to convince my own brain not to think about the human man next door.
About the way his tongue would feel on my thigh, or the touch of his lips, or the spurt of hot sweet blood as I bit into the neck he offered willingly to me.
I struggle to meet his eye as we meet in the dining room for breakfast just after eight. It’s even more awkward than the morning of the bank meeting. This time I’m imagining the taste of him, the way I think he would buck as I sink my teeth into him.
No. No. No. This will not do. We’re here for work.
We still have a few hours to practise our pitch before we present to the investment panel this afternoon and I push down all my feelings, all my naughty treacherous horny feelings, so I can actually concentrate on the job at hand.
I nibble on the edge of a croissant, feeling my nerves starting to beat their wings against my chest.
“We’re going to nail it,” Brody tells me with a smile. “This isn’t a repeat of that kinda disaster with Andrei, where he basically only gave us a chance because of you.”
“Because of Clara,” I correct him. “To be honest, Andrei has always been a little off with me.”
“Because you’re not pure blood?”
“I am.”
“But your mum was human.” Confusion streaks across his features.
“My stepmother. Technically. But I have no memories of my biological mother. She died when I was six months old and left me with my father who had literally no idea what to do with a baby.” I don’t elaborate on the details of her death; I don’t want to make things even more awkward this morning by talking about her murder.
“Oh.” I can see from the look on his face that he isn’t quite sure what to do with this conversation and to be honest I can’t really blame him. I don’t talk about my family.
I’ve learnt over the years it only makes people feel uncomfortable. But I know Brody will want some information, so I move on to safer ground. “She was the love of his life.”
“Your biological mum?”
“No. My step-mum. Dad hired her to be a nanny for me and then… well, from the moment she moved into the house they didn’t spend a single day apart. Until she died, I mean.”
“How did she…” he’s respectful enough to trail off towards the end of the question, even though of course I know exactly what he’s asking.
“Just old age,” I reply. It was hideous. Watching her getting older and older and more and more fragile. It was like she turned into glass. “Anyway.” I need to change the subject. “Let’s go over the pitch one more time. There’s too much at stake this afternoon.”
“Stake,” he says and giggles to himself.
I join the giggle. It breaks the ice, moves us away from the seriousness of the previous conversation and I’m grateful to him for doing so.
We are the second to last to pitch and my nerves are in shreds. Some of the other presentations are so slick, so polished, it’s impossible not to compare us to them.
“Why are they all so good,” Brody hisses in my ear from the wings as we wait to go on.
“I don’t know.” Honestly, is there some kind of vampire pitching school everyone else knows about?
“Fuck.”
“Yep,” I agree with him.
But then he shakes himself, almost exactly like a dog would and his face breaks into a smile. “We’ve got this, you know,” he tells me in this impossibly chipper tone that makes me instantly suspicious.
“Have we?”
“Yes.” He nods a few times as he bounces on the balls of his feet. “Only Fangs is genius. We’ve done all the prep. Andrei gave us the personal go ahead to come and present. The odds are stacked in our favour.”
For a moment I’m also convinced by his show of bravado. But we both know that deep down he’s lying to himself and to me. We don’t have this. But we have got a good idea and we’ve done a lot of preparation and we deserve a chance.
“OK then,” I say and mimic his foot bounce.
“Put your arms out like this,” he tells me, making a stance that look like he’s about to launch into the chorus of “YMCA”.
“You look like a prat,” I tell him.
“Prat?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.
“The classics are still good,” I tell him. “Although my personal favourite is plonker.”
He laughs. “Plonker is a good one. But anyway. Do it. Put your arms out.”
I do as I’m told. “Why?”
“It makes you feel invincible.”
“Why?”
For a second his face drops. “I don’t actually know. I just read it somewhere.”
“It sounds dumb.”
“You shouldn't knock it until you’ve tried it,” he says with a grin. “Sometimes you just need to try something new.”
I’ve never been great at trying new things.
Mum was always telling me not to be dismissive, that you can never know if you actually hate something until you try it.
But I’ve always been quick to judge. I hate sprouts.
I hate jazz music. I hate swimming – although that one is actually true, vampires on the whole are terrible swimmers and I’m no exception.
I hate human guys. How many times have I told Clara that I’d never date a human.
Told myself that the idea of drinking for pleasure just doesn’t do it for me.
But then Andrei announces the next pitch and we’re on, Brody’s hand on the base of my spine to gently push me forwards. I send a message to my face to smile and I hope it listens, that my expression isn’t twisted into the hideous rictus grin I fear I’m sporting.
I spot Clara in the audience and am filled with a sense of relief. She gives me a thumbs up and I relax further. I didn’t know she’d be here, but at least now I can basically deliver my pitch to her and try to forget the rest of the audience.
The presentation is a bit of a blur. All that remains in my memory is a montage of moments: flashes of Brody smiling and talking, the front row of the audience leaning forward slightly in their seats, smiling as they listened to him; a question about the financial projections to which I delivered a perfect answer; a little “oooh” rippling through the crowd as we showed the mock ups of the profiles.
As I finished speaking, Clara began to clap, leading the audience in a round of applause and cutting off the chance for anyone to swoop in with another question that might derail the whole thing.
Brody and I head back to our rooms on a high. “That was amazing,” I tell him.
“No, you were amazing.” He picks me up and spins me around. I squeal and try to bat him away but my efforts are half hearted. He puts me down gently. “Do you think we did enough?” he asks, his voice soft.
“I don’t think we could have done anything more.
” And I’m not lying. Secretly I think we smashed it out of the park, but I’m trying to at least keep a thin veneer of the demure and mindful.
Otherwise I might start singing from the rooftops.
And that type of overexuberant behaviour is definitely not the vampire way.
There’s something about spending time with Brody that brings me out of myself, that makes me feel that there’s a whole world out there.
A whole world full of possibilities. Full of hope.