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“I’m full of surprises. Pizza?” Shiny white teeth reveal a perfect smile as he walks toward the box. I nod and try to get my head out of the gutter.

“I hope pepperoni is okay.” Grabbing paper plates out of a cabinet he divvies out two respective slices which I happily take.His large frame looks hilarious as he sits himself on the small stool beside me. Why he’d buy such tiny stools I’m not sure.

“Pepperoni is my favorite. Now if you said something like ham and pineapple then I’d have to kill you.” I pick up the greasy piece and dive in. It’s the best kind of pizza with fresh, stringy cheese and piping hot pepperoni. He laughs and the sound does something funny to my chest.

“Resorting to murder? I like it.” The roguish grin he sports holds a mischievous gleam.

Companionable silence descends, and I find myself enjoying sitting here with Zavier, which is odd given my previous unease, but there’s an aura around him that seems to silence my previous worries. “Where did you move from?” I find myself wanting to know whatever I can about this new neighbor.

He’s already on his second piece and a bit of sauce clings to his lip. Sensing my stare his tongue flicks out to pull it into his mouth. “I’m kind of a nomad. Been here. Been there.” Wiping grease off his fingers onto a napkin he stuffs his face with the last of his slice. “I find staying in one place rather boring. You?”

“I’m a Chicagoan, born and raised. I used to dream about traveling...” His head cocks to the side when I trail off and patiently waits for me to continue. “...But those dreams died when I took this job and assumed partial care of my dad. He has severe dementia, and my mom is…well, I don’t actually know where she is. I have a fear of jetting off somewhere and something happening to him. Even though he’s in good hands at the assisted living facility you can’t help but fear the worst.” Swirling my paper plate on the counter I avoid eye contact. I’m not sure why I just unloaded all of that on him. I don’t typically tell people about my dad, let alone someone who’s practically a stranger. I find myself rubbing my lips, wishing there was some way to stuff my word vomit back inside.

A strong hand folds over mine, pulling my fingers away from my mouth and I look up. The sympathy is his gaze holds me hostage and I couldn’t look away even if I wanted to.

“It sounds like you've done more than enough. You can’t hold yourself back for the sake of others, Celine.” A seriousness settles over our conversation and I’m in awe I’m opening up this way. Something about him invites me in and encourages me to say all the things that weigh heavily on my mind.

Clearing my throat, I gather our empty plates and crumpled up napkins. A stainless-steel trash can sits next to the fridge and I usher our garbage into it. Wiping my hands on my jeans I turn back to Zavier.

“Well, it was nice to meet you.” I force a smile and slowly make my way toward the front door. My shoes remained on the whole visit, so it makes for an easy escape. “Thank you very much for the pizza and I guess I’ll see you around?” Even though I say it, I secretly hope I don’t see him too much. I fear my intrigue of Zavier could become dangerous to my productivity and I can’t have an attachment like this distracting me.

Zavier walks toward me with the stealth of a jaguar and I gulp. The air feels too thick, and I back up into the entryway. He prowls closer and closer until I’m backed up against the door. He doesn’t hold me against it but instead leaves a small breadth of space. I can break away if I want to, but I'm frozen in place.

“You definitely will.” Soft lips brush the shell of my ear. “It was nice to finally meet you, Celine.” His intensity is electric, and I fear if I don’t leave something might happen.

“Goodnight,” I squeak, extracting my body out from underneath him. As quickly as humanly possible I open the door and slip out not risking a glance behind me knowing he’ll still be watching.

CHAPTER 9

ZAVIER

“You should’ve seen her. She was spectacular. I thought dancing with her had me dying all over again and going to heaven,” I gush, remembering Celine’s sweet body pressed against mine. “Although,” I muse, tapping my lip. “If I’m being honest with myself, if there is a God, then I don’t think I’d be let through the pearly gates. You know, for all the murdering and stuff … and the indecent way I think about Celine.”

Silence.

“You know what I mean?” I prompt, knocking my hand against his arm.

Silence.

“Are you listening?”

More silence.

“Hey!” I shout in annoyance. How can my one and only friendnotwant to hear about my love life? Rude.

“What!”

“You never fucking listen to me.” I throw my hands up in exasperation.

“What are we talking about?” He turns his “good” ear in my direction, but frankly I don’t see where it’s any better than the other one.

“Celine, you old coot!” I shout at the old man sitting across from me at the table. “The love of my immortal life,” I add under my breath.

My current chess partner is seventy percent deaf and almost completely blind. I met Tom sixty years ago. We hit it off when I would visit his family-owned bar. They ran into trouble with a gang who was bleeding them dry financially, and I took care of the problem.

We built a natural camaraderie after that, and I always made sure to stop and see him when I was in town. Thankfully, he didn’t notice my ageless appearance due to his impairments. I have to admit it's nice having something constant and unchanged in a world that does nothing but that. Being a vampire is both a blessing and a curse with the passage of time. I’ve come to accept the deaths of my family and friends, but every once in a while, I find a soul I know I will mourn when their time comes.

Tom is definitely one of those rare gems. I’ve never gotten the chance to “grow old” with someone. Only him.