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“What’s he been up to?” I ask, regretting not making a bigger mug of blood. Getting comfy, I settle back and let Mum go on for a bit about the War of Winter Home Maintenance that is currently occurring on their street.

It’s not too dissimilar to the War of the Street Verges three years ago when Dad and Donatevic were literally fighting over maintaining council property, all the way up and down the street. It only ended when the whole street got together and staged an intervention to get them to knock it off .

“How’s it going on the job hunt? Any hot leads?”

I cringe at the enthusiasm in her voice and lick the line of blood running down the side of my mug.

“Nothing so far. It’s been quiet. It’s hard to find things that fit, you know?” Especially when you aren’t looking. I stopped after I got the job at ORA. Not that I’ve told her that. I don’t want to hear the disappointed “Oh love” I know I’ll get. I’ll start looking again. Eventually.

Mum tsks and makes all the right comforting sounds. “But you’re alright, love? You don’t need anything?”

There is a hint of worry in her voice as she finishes up, and it makes my heart squeeze. Even though she can’t see me, I shake my head.

“Nah, Mum, I’m good. Thanks though.” My phone buzzes against my ear and I see it’s a message from the group chat Bedeer added me to. “I gotta go, though. I’ll call soon, okay? Love you.”

We get through our goodbyes and I check the message.

A bunch more have come through already. It’s super overwhelming.

I have never been in a group chat before.

I mean, I had friends back in Twin Heads, but they were all individual friends.

And considering how often I’ve talked to them since moving, we weren’t even that close.

I rub my feet together like a cricket and pull the throw blanket over me.

Nights in this apartment get so cold even I can feel how freezing it is.

Thumbing my way back through the messages, panic hits for a moment when I realise they are planning to head out for the night and Bloody Temptations has been thrown into the mix.

Thankfully, Willan nixes that idea and insists that they go anywhere but there—Gods bless that mage.

After a little bit of loving bullying by Jesminda, they settle on a more high class cocktail bar on the other side of the city to catch up with some of her other friends.

I read their messages with the detached interest of an observer until my name pings in the group.

Lusce

Yo, @Finn - you coming or what? Stop lurking like a weirdo.

I blush furiously, caught between feeling like a jackass and elated that they’d thought of me. Well, Lusce had-he sent the message. But everyone else seems to be giving it the thumbs up.

The fuzzy warmth of acceptance fills my chest, my teeth biting into my lip to rein in my stupid little smile while I quickly type out my message.

Sorry guys, can’t tonight. Next time?

Lusce

Got a better offer have you? * winky face emoji*

Bedeer

Pfft - what’s better than us?

Jax

Rejected! You’re breaking my heart!

Jesminda

You guys are losers. Have fun @Finn but next time you have to come so you can save me from these dorks

Lol, thanks guys. Just got stuff I need to do. But next time, definitely. Just let me know when and where.

The group chat descends into plans for their night and then eventually just Bedeer and Jax bombing the group with increasingly bizarre memes, so I don’t feel bad about muting the chat.

After messing around a little too long on my phone, I realise that I distracted myself from my nervous excitement a little too well—I am going to be late.

Well, late for my imaginary timeline anyway.

I try to keep my cool as I rush my way through my shower, but I’ve been cool probably three times max in my life and I’ve obviously used up all my credits.

I get soap in my eye in the shower, making it look violently red.

And then, because my bathroom is tiny, I manage to whack my arm on the door handle, leaving a wicked looking mark there. What a waste of blood.

The magic continues when I go to pull on my brand new outfit—all black obviously—and I realise they’ve left the security tag on. And then because it takes so long to figure out how to get that off, my hair air-dries all funny making it go fluffy and basically impossible to style.

It’s the nerves. They are making my dork factor increase by a thousand fold. After I break my favourite mug—knocking it clear off the table while reaching for it—I decide to quit while I’m ahead and leave now.

My bus to the city is blessedly empty. I shove in my earbuds, listening to a podcast to distract me from my nerves. It works, even when the bus pulls up at my stop and I hop out, walking the few blocks with my hands in my coat, with the collar tucked up high against the icy wind.

It’s not until I’m outside the big black doors, with the glowing neon red vampire mouth that the nerves hit me again. I stand there for far too long, staring at the blacked out doors, but at least there are no door staff tonight to watch my embarrassing indecision .

It’s now or never, I reason, and a hard lump forms in my throat. Then I swallow against it, taking a shaking step towards the door. One step, then another, and I’m hauling the heavy door open. It’s time to be brave.