My Roommate Is a Vampire(34)

His face fell. “Perhaps not.”

“And so,” I said, piecing everything together. “You need a roommate because you need someone to help you navigate the modern world.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “But I need to do more than just navigate it. It is imperative to my survival that I blend into my current surroundings as best as possible. Or at the very least, that it is not too obvious that I am an anachronistic vampire living in the entirely wrong century.”

“Because . . .”

“Because it can be . . . dangerous, for someone like me to stick out too much. Deadly, even.”

What could be dangerous to a vampire? Weren’t vampires supposed to be powerful immortals who killed humans for sport? I waited for him to clarify, and for a moment he looked like he wanted to say more. Ultimately, though, he must have decided against it, because he simply leaned back in his chair, eyes on his untouched coffee.

I still had a zillion questions, though.

“Okay, but . . .” I shook my head. “Why me? Why am I the roommate you chose to live with you?”

His eyes widened.

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“No.”

He shrugged. “Who better to teach me about life in the twenty-first century and help me adapt to a modern Chicago than a young human like you who glides effortlessly through it?”

He met my gaze. His dark brown eyes were so soft and inviting.

I could get lost in them, I realized. My stomach did something that felt like a somersault.

Dangerous.

No, I yelled at myself. We are not going to be thinking about how hot and sad Frederick looks right now.

“Also,” he continued, “you were the only person who replied to the ad.”

Of course. The two-hundred-dollar price tag probably scared everyone else away.

“Okay, but . . .” I cleared my throat, trying to pull myself together. “Why couldn’t you just live with Reginald? He seems to be managing the world okay.”

“Unthinkable,” he said, flatly. “Reginald may be more familiar with the modern era than I am, but he is also the reason I am in this predicament. Additionally, he is chaos incarnate. Before you moved in with me, I was entirely dependent on his assistance. It was at least as terrible for both of us as you might imagine. The practical jokes he played on me, even while I was still in a coma . . .” He shuddered, then shook his head. “Though I concede that without him, I would likely have starved during my century of slumber. Or been run over by a car within an hour of my reawakening. Or been captured by vampire hunters.”

The room started spinning again. “Vampire hunters are real?”

“They were real a century ago. But in Chicago? Today?” He made a seesawing motion with his hand. “There are rumors that they are still out there. Though I admit I do not know how reliable those rumors are, especially since I suspect Reginald started most of them.”

“Ah.”

“Right,” Frederick agreed. “Cars, however, are absolutely real. I wish very much to avoid being struck by one while going for my nightly constitutional.”

“Would . . . would that kill you? Getting hit by a car?”

His mouth quirked into another half smile. He had to know how potent those were. “Probably not. But I suspect it would not feel very good.”

I couldn’t help but smile back at him at his dry attempt at humor. “Yeah, I can’t imagine it would feel good for anyone.”

“Maybe I should suggest that Reginald attempt it and ask him to report back.”

That got a small laugh from me despite everything. Frederick’s posture visibly relaxed, and his smile grew. He really had such an incredible smile. It lit up his entire face and made him seem . . .

More human, I realized suddenly.

That brought me back to reality.

This was ridiculous. I couldn’t let myself get distracted by my attraction to him. I still had so many questions, and it felt like the more answers he gave me, the more questions I had.

“I should have told you the truth from the outset,” he said again, eyes on the floor.

The contrition in his voice was unmistakable. “Yeah. You should have. My roommate was a vampire, Frederick. And I had no idea.”

His eyes fluttered closed, the corners of his lips turning down a little. When he looked at me again his dark brown eyes were apologetic. “I hope you can understand why I was initially reluctant to share the truth of my situation with a complete stranger.” He paused. “Or, at the least, that you will one day find it within yourself to forgive me for starting things off so badly.”

He looked away again, chastened.

“I . . . think I understand,” I began. “And I might be willing to help you, if you still want my help.”

He sat up straighter in his chair. “Really?”

“Possibly,” I clarified, holding up a hand.

I thought of how he had made me feel while we lived together—with his gifts of fruit and cookware, his warm glances, and his sincere interest in my art. And my financial situation was no better now than it had been when I moved in with him two weeks ago; the two-hundred-dollar rent would come in just as handy now as it had before.

Even still, I needed to do some more thinking. This whole situation was objectively surreal.

“I understand,” Frederick said.