Chapter 11
1063 Words
Twenty minutes later, I returned to the living room in jeans, boots, the green top, and my jacket zipped nearly to my throat.
Chloe frowned. “Unzip it.”
“No.”
“You look like you’re smuggling yourself.”
“I’m warm.”
“It’s seventy degrees.”
“I run cold.”
Adrian looked up from his book.
A lie.
I avoided his gaze.
Chloe approached and lowered the zipper three inches.
I slapped her hand away. “Boundaries.”
“Cleavage.”
“Exactly.”
Mason sat on the floor beside Moose. He looked at me, then quickly looked toward Adrian.
“You look nice.”
“Mason,” Adrian said.
“What? I was respectful.”
“You sounded frightened.”
“I’m learning.”
Oliver glanced up from the television. “The green works with your hair.”
“Thank you.”
Chloe pointed at him. “See? Normal compliment.”
Oliver nodded. “I ran it through several filters.”
Mason looked offended. “I said nice.”
“You nearly whispered it.”
“Adrian’s staring.”
Silence.
Every head turned.
Adrian slowly lifted his eyes from his book. “I am not.”
Mason looked at me, then Adrian, then me again. “Sure.”
Adrian closed the book. “Where is this party?”
Chloe named an off-campus street.
His expression darkened. “No.”
I stared at him. “Excuse me?”
“That house has had three noise complaints this semester.”
“The semester is two weeks old,” Oliver said.
“Exactly.”
Chloe crossed her arms. “You know the house?”
“I know the people who live there.”
“Hot hockey contacts?”
His gaze turned to her.
She smiled.
I grabbed my bag. “We’re leaving.”
“What time will you be back?” Mason asked.
“I don’t know.”
Adrian stood. “You should know.”
“I’ve never been to this house.”
“Then you should not go.”
I stared at him. “Are you my father?”
The words came out sharper than I intended.
The room went still.
Something flickered across Adrian’s face.
I regretted it immediately. Not because he was right. He wasn’t. But because the comparison felt wrong.
Adrian looked away first. “No.”
His voice had gone quiet.
“Then stop acting like it.”
Chloe touched my elbow. “We should go.”
I nodded.
Mason stood and handed me a wrapped granola bar.
I looked at it. “Emergency snack?”
“For a party.”
“You forget to eat.”
“I do not.”
All three boys looked at me.
I took the granola bar. “Fine.”
Moose pressed his head against my hip, and I scratched behind his ears.
“Don’t let Mason cook.”
Moose wagged his tail.
Mason gasped. “He’s my son.”
“He deserves to survive childhood.”
Chloe opened the door, and cold night air swept into the apartment.
“Come on.”
I stepped into the hallway.
“Evangeline.”
I stopped.
Of course I did.
Adrian stood near the couch with his hands tucked into his pockets. His expression had returned to its usual controlled blankness, but something restless lived behind his eyes.
“I’ll pick you up.”
I tightened my grip around my bag. “You don’t have to.”
“I know.”
“I can walk.”
“No.”
“That wasn’t a question.”
“Neither was my answer.”
Chloe’s smile became unbearable.
I ignored her. “What time?”
Adrian looked at the clock. “Midnight.”
“That’s barely two hours.”
“One.”
“Absolutely not.”
“One thirty.”
“Two.”
“One thirty.”
“Two.”
His gaze narrowed.
Mine did not move.
“One forty-five.”
I considered it. “Fine.”
“I’ll be outside.”
“We may leave earlier.”
“Then call.”
“I don’t have your number.”
He held out his hand.
I stared at it.
Chloe made a strangled noise beside me.
I handed him my phone. Adrian entered his number and called himself. His phone buzzed in his pocket before he returned mine.
A new contact glowed across the screen.
Adrian Blackwood.
Chloe leaned over my shoulder. “No nickname?”
Adrian looked at her.
She smiled brightly. “Yet.”
I shoved the phone into my bag. “We’re leaving now.”
“Evangeline.”
I looked back.
His gaze dropped briefly to the granola bar in my hand. “Eat something.”
The irritation returned.
So did something else.
Something I could not name.
“I will.”
Chloe pulled me into the hallway, and the door closed behind us.
We made it three steps before she grabbed my arm.
“Oh my God.”
“No.”
“The Hot Hockey Vampire gave you a curfew.”
“He negotiated a pickup time.”
“He put his number in your phone.”
“For logistical purposes.”
“He stared at your shirt like it had personally offended his ancestors.”
“He hates most clothing that isn’t black.”
“He waited up for you last Friday.”
I stopped walking. “How do you know that?”
“You told me.”
“I said he was awake.”
“At eleven fifteen with an upside-down book.”
I frowned. “I may have mentioned that.”
Chloe hooked her arm through mine. “Sweetie.”
“No.”
“Your hot hockey vampire is obsessed with you.”
“He is irritated by me.”
“Those are not mutually exclusive.”
I pressed the elevator button. “He wants me reassigned.”
“He offered to collect you from a party in the middle of the night.”
“He doesn’t trust the house.”
“He doesn’t trust anyone near you.”
The elevator doors opened.
I stepped inside, and Chloe followed.
“He is not a vampire,” I said.
She pressed the button for the lobby.
The doors slid closed.
“Sure.”
“And he is not mine.”
Her grin reflected in the mirrored wall.
“Not yet.”
- Writer
