My Roommate Is a Vampire(29)

Sam put a hand on my shoulder, warm and reassuring. His face softened. Sam the Lawyer was gone now, replaced with Sam the Life Counselor. I’d seen a lot of him over the years, too.

“Let us help you find another place to live, Cass. Your arrangement with Frederick clearly didn’t work out. And while you’re welcome to stay with us as long as you like, at some point I assume you’d like to not be sleeping on our couch anymore.”

I hesitated. The smart thing for me to do, of course, would be to try and find another place to live. That’s what a rational, level-headed person who just found out their hot roommate was a vampire would do.

But I’d never once been accused of being rational or level-headed.

And now, after having some time to think it over, I believed him when he said he would never hurt me.

I thought back to how I’d basically lied to him, too, when I told him in my first email that I was an art teacher. I’d wanted to make the best impression possible when I applied for the apartment and when I moved in. I wanted him to pick me.

Could I really blame him for also wanting to hide the more unsavory aspects of his history, and his most unpleasant personality traits, from his new roommate? Granted, yes—being a vampire was a much bigger deal in the grand scheme of things than exaggerating my job history. But in that moment, I think I understood his reasoning for doing what he did.

“I need to talk to him before making a decision,” I said to Sam. “When I ran out, he told me he . . . he wanted to explain a few things. I left without giving him a chance to do that.”

The sound of running water floated out to us from the bathroom. Scott was awake now, too. He and Sam would soon be off to their respective offices.

“And now you want to give him that chance?” Sam asked, softly.

I nodded. “There are a few things I need to clear up with him.”

“I don’t feel good about this.” Sam was staring at me now, arms folded tightly across his chest. “I bet if you told me the whole story I’d feel even worse about it.”

He was probably right about that.

I quickly kissed Sam on the cheek to distract him, then grabbed my phone and made my way to the front door. “I’m going to give him a quick call, then run a few errands. I’ll be back later.”

“You’re not going to call him here?”

“Nah,” I said, trying to ignore what sounded like alarm in Sam’s voice. There was no way I’d be able to keep Sam in the dark about what Frederick was if I had this conversation in front of him. I pulled on the trainers I kept by the front door. “I want to go for a walk and stretch my legs while I’m talking.”

“You hate exercise.”

He was right about that, too. This time, the note of concern in Sam’s voice was unmistakable. “I’ll be right back,” I promised again, before leaving.



* * *





I decided to call Frederick from the South Side recycling center.

True, the recycling center was noisy. But I needed to make this call from a place of confidence and strength. I was only going to move back in with Frederick if I felt I could handle it, and if it served me. What better way to remind myself that this phone call was me taking active steps towards improving my situation than to have it while working on my art?

But by the time I’d gotten off the El stop by the recycling center, my nerves couldn’t take the anticipation anymore. I stepped into a donut shop with a flashing neon sign over the door that said fresh donuts. It was gloriously warm inside, and I was greeted by the mouthwatering smell of melting sugar.

I made my way to a table near the back, promising myself I could have a chocolate glazed donut if I made it to the other side of this phone call.

I pulled my phone from my bag, reminded myself that I could do hard things, and texted him.

    Hi Frederick

It’s Cassie

Can I call you?



Frederick—a man who hated texting, and who by all accounts should have been asleep at that hour—replied immediately. Like he’d been sitting there all this time, phone in hand, waiting for me to reach out.

    Yes.

I am available now if you are.



I dialed his number. He picked up on the first ring.

“Cassie?” The note of hopefulness in his warm, rich voice was unmistakable.

I ignored the corresponding twinge in my chest.

“Yeah,” I said. “It’s me.”

“This is a surprise. I was worried I wouldn’t hear from you again.”

“I’m kind of surprising myself right now, too,” I admitted. “Until a few minutes ago I also thought you’d never hear from me again.”

A long pause. “What changed your mind?”

Frederick must have been with someone, because I could hear someone saying something I couldn’t quite make out over the line.

“Shut up, you imbecile,” Frederick muttered. And then, in a rush, he added, “Oh, Cassie—I apologize. That . . . wasn’t directed at you.”

I stifled a laugh in my palm. “Who’s with you right now? Reginald?”

“Who else?” He sighed. He sounded exhausted. “Regrettably.”

“I thought you hated him.”