My Roommate Is a Vampire(35)

“Good,” I said. “I need to think about whether providing live-in, hands-on life instructions to a vampire is something I can deal with before committing to doing it.”

Frederick held his hands up in front of his face, frowning at them. “Hands-on? I will admit I had not imagined using our hands as a part of the instruction process. But if you think touching would help . . .”

If I’d been drinking my cappuccino at that moment, I’d have spat it out all over the table. Suddenly, it felt like the temperature in Gossamer’s had increased by ten degrees. “Oh my god. No—it’s just a figure of speech.”

He looked at me. “It’s a figure of speech?’?”

“Yeah. Hands-on just means learning by doing.”

A pause. “Learning by doing?”

“Yes,” I said. “The way you ordered your drink tonight, for example. I’d consider that hands-on instruction. You learned how to order a drink by ordering a drink.”

Recognition dawned on his face. “Oh, yes. I see.” His eyes dropped to his mug.

And then, he leaned in a little closer to me across the table.

A smart person in my situation would probably have reacted to that by backing away and putting more space between us. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. It wasn’t just that he looked incredible, though that was certainly part of it. Despite everything—who and what he was, and the fact that he hadn’t been totally honest with me when I’d moved in—I wanted to trust him.

I did trust him.

But I didn’t trust him enough to let myself be drawn in like that again. Deliberately, and with more difficulty than I would have liked, I made myself shift back in my chair to increase the distance between us again.

He seemed to understand my intent, because he added, “I understand if you still need time to think things through.”

He didn’t sound happy about it at all.

Which made no sense.

“Even if I can’t live with you again, Frederick, you’ll just find someone else who can.”

His eyes went hard. “Impossible. I . . .” He trailed off, then shook his head. “While yes, I suspect I could find another roommate, given adequate time, I will not find anyone who can instruct me so well as you.”

That surprised me. “I’m nothing special.”

His brow furrowed. Something about what I’d said bothered him, though I couldn’t imagine what it might be.

“Over the past two weeks I’ve discovered that in this city of millions, you are one of a kind.” His words carried a quiet intensity I could feel in the pit of my stomach. Suddenly, there was no one in that noisy place but the two of us. The din of the room dropped away, inaudible over the sudden rush of blood in my ears. My eyes dropped reflexively to the table.

The Galaxy-sized coffee mug he was cradling looked positively tiny in his hands.

I cleared my throat. “I’m sure that’s not true, Frederick. I’m—”

“Do not think for one moment that you are replaceable, Cassie Greenberg,” he said. He sounded almost angry. “For you are anything but.”



* * *





I turned my conversation with Frederick over and over in my head all the way back to Sam’s place.

The apartment was dark when I let myself inside. I vaguely remembered Scott mentioning an event that night at his university for faculty and their partners. That must be where he and Sam were.

Given how muddled my thoughts were, I was grateful to have the apartment to myself. I wouldn’t be able to handle it if Sam were there with his nosy but well-intentioned questions.

If I was being honest, I was already leaning towards moving back in with Frederick. But I didn’t want to rush this decision, no matter how badly he seemed to want me to live with him. If I said no, he’d be fine. Regardless of what he’d said, he’d easily find someone else just as qualified to do . . . whatever this was.

He was distraught when I suggested it, even though it was true. Because of that, I owed it to him to give him an answer as soon as I had one and not just sit on this decision.

I glanced at my phone. It was nearly eleven at night. Frederick wouldn’t think it was late if I called him, though. Eleven at night was basically late morning for him. He might think I was being a bit pathetic and overeager, though, since we’d just said goodbye an hour ago.

Then again, maybe he’d be glad I’d made up my mind so quickly.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes.

On the train ride back home I decided that if he could reassure me about one very specific thing, I’d be satisfied. The rest of my questions could wait.

I counted to ten, willing my racing heart to slow. Then I called him.

He picked up on the first ring.

“Cassie.” His voice was bright with surprise. “Good evening.”

“I have one more thing I want to go over with you,” I said, leaping right in. This was not the time for small talk. “If we can agree on a few parameters now, I can agree to move back in.”

The sound of street traffic—a honking car horn, someone laughing—filtered in from Frederick’s side of the phone. He must be out, doing . . . whatever it was he did at night.

I didn’t want to think about what that might be.