Chapter 5
Toby
I had managed to eat myself into a chip coma last night and mostly ignore the disturbing email. In the light of day, it all seemed kind of silly anyway. Writers got advice and weird opinions from people all the time. People said things online they didn’t mean and would never say in real life.
Yup. I was hoping that was the case and that I never heard from the creep again.
I’d probably tell my PA at some point, but right now I was in the zone. I had a couple thousand words done this morning already, but I was currently in the hot vampire’s point of view. He had walked in on a bit of a blood bath, but I didn’t actually want the main character dead. If the walls were painted with his blood, would he still be alive? I mean, sure, I could use magic to explain a lot of stuff, but I didn’t want to be totally unrealistic.
The doorbell rang, and I took my computer with me to the front door, pondering the scene I was writing. I remembered at the last moment to look out the peephole before opening the door.
Ah, Serial Killer Neighbor was here. Perfect.
I opened the door, asking, “How much blood can a person lose before they die?”
“Depends on the human’s size,” he responded.
I motioned him in, saying, “My guy is average height and weight.”
“Hmm. Probably about 85 ounces before death. Although the human would probably pass out around 65 ounces or so. They’d be cool and clammy and pale looking at that point as well,” he added.
I looked at him, vaguely disgruntled. He must have noticed, because he stopped, looking a bit awkward. Gah, even awkward looked sexy on him. So unfair.
“Listen, ounces mean nothing to me,” I said. “Are we talking enough to spray the walls and have pools of blood on the ground? Or is that much blood everywhere unrealistic?” I asked, sitting at my kitchen table and starting to type again.
“Oh,” he laughed, sounding relieved, although I didn’t know why. “Yeah, 65 ounces is about a half a gallon. So think about if you took a half a gallon of milk and threw it onto the walls a cup at a time. If it was a small room, you’d have more than enough to have a coating on the three walls, and it would naturally drip down and pool on the ground. That’s assuming there were numerous injuries that sprayed blood, of course.”
“Of course,” I answered, adding that description to my writing. I stopped then, looking up at him. “Three walls?” I asked.
“Well, yeah, because I assume whoever was making the human bleed would be standing in front of the fourth wall, so that area would not be as blood coated. Although the person who did the torturing would definitely be coated in blood. Of course if it was one major injury to make the human bleed out you wouldn’t have blood everywhere. There would be a focused spray,” he said.
“An evil vampire is doing the torturing,” I said absently, still typing. “But yeah, I don’t want a focused spray. This is extended torture, so I’m going with lots of smaller wounds,” I mumbled.
“Of course, not all wounds spray. They’re just as likely to drip as to splatter,” he added helpfully.
“Shit,” I said. I hadn’t thought of that. “I really wanted blood on the walls when the vampire love interest comes in.”
“Well, with so much blood pooling on the ground, and so much blood obviously on the human—” he started.
“Witch,” I interrupted.
“—on the witch, then,” he went on, “I’d think the bad guy could easily smear blood on the walls with his hands. Or even kick it up with his feet. Vampires are supposed to like blood, aren’t they? I’d think an evil one would enjoy getting messy.”
“Oh, yeah, perfect,” I responded, my fingers flying. “Help yourself to coffee or whatever,” I mumbled vaguely. I knew it was probably rude, but he had just given me a great idea, and I had to get it down.
I wasn’t sure how much time had passed when I finished my scene, but I looked up and Serial Killer Neighbor—Dex, I mean (I really had to stop calling him Serial Killer Neighbor in my head)—was sitting at my kitchen island and drinking a cup of coffee. There was another cup across from him, and my hammer was laying on the island next to him.
Ah, that must have been why he stopped over.
I blushed then. Shit. I was the worst host ever. How long had I made Dex sit and wait for me?
“Ah, sorry. I was just in the middle of a scene, and sometimes I get a little lost in my head, and—” I started.
“It’s fine,” he smiled.
God, he was sexy when he smiled. I got up and walked over to the island, trying to be casual as I leaned against it next to him.
“You’re cute when you’re absorbed,” he added.
Fuck. I might die of a heart attack right here in my kitchen. My sexy, possibly-serial-killer neighbor thought I was cute? Fuck.
“Ah, ok. Thanks. Cute is good. Yeah. Good. Cute. Uh, anyway, you must have come to return my hammer, right?” I mumbled, walking over and picking up the hammer. “Because I left it with you. Or actually, you took it from me. Not in a bad way! I mean, to, like, stop me from hurting myself. Not that I do that. Hurt myself, I mean. Not on purpose, but you know power tools,” I babbled.
Fuck. Brain to mouth emergency. Emergency alert. STOP TALKING!
Only brain or mouth didn’t get the memo, because I picked up the hammer and added, “Although a hammer isn’t really a power tool, but it’s a tool, and yeah, me and tools, we don’t play nicely.”
I might have been gesticulating with the hammer in my hand, because suddenly Sexy Neighbor was up and had grabbed my hand right before I managed to smack myself with the hammer.
I chuckled weakly, muttering, “Case in point.”
Only then I was distracted, because somehow Sexy Neighbor’s body was really close to mine, almost caging me in against the kitchen island, and his hand was on my hand, and I could feel the heat coming off of him.
“You’re really hot,” I mumbled. “Oh god! I mean, like, temperature hot! You’re really temperature hot. Not that I’m saying you’re ugly or anything! Because of course you’re hot appearance wise too. I mean…”
Fuck! I groaned and closed my eyes, although Sexy Neighbor looked more amused than anything else, and his hand was still on mine, and his skin was really warm, and it was making my whole body warm, but in a really good way, and if he moved any closer, he was going to feel exactly how good he was making feel.
I opened one eye, and yup, he was still there, and he still looked mildly amused, although he took a deep breath in then, like he was gonna say something, only his eyes widened and suddenly he didn’t look so amused. He looked… double fuck—he looked intense.
“Are you gonna kiss me?” I asked, because brain to mouth filter was still apparently broken, and he totally looked like he might kiss me, although maybe that was my brain running away into fantasy land again.
“Would that be acceptable?” he murmured, and yes his face was definitely closer to mine, and he was inhaling deeply, almost like he was smelling me, only instead of being creepy, it was insanely hot.
“Yeah. Yes. Totally acceptable. Definitely acceptable,” I muttered.
Then I was cut off, because his lips pressed against mine. His hand must have taken the hammer from me and put it down, because my hands were free to wrap around his back, and one of his hands was in my hair, pulling my head back for a better angle. The kiss started gentle, and then he licked at my lips and I opened my mouth to him. His tongue slid inside, and god, he tasted like campfire and spices. I groaned as our tongues tangled together, and he pulled back slightly to nip at my bottom lip.
I pressed my body against his, and he was hard everywhere , and fuck if I didn’t moan again. I tried really hard not to hump against him as his mouth ravished mine. It was pure bliss—tongues and lips and teeth occasionally nibbling—and when he pulled back, I was breathing heavily and barely able to hold myself up.
“Fuck, you’re a good kisser. That’s totally going into my scene,” I mumbled.
Then my eyes shot open, mortified.
Luckily, Sexy Neighbor just chuckled.
“I’d be happy to provide inspiration for any of the scenes you need to write,” he murmured.
With that, he gave me a soft peck on the lips, smiled at me, and turned and walked out of the kitchen. I heard my front door close behind him.
“Holy shit,” I mumbled. Was I in a coma? A fever induced dream? In what universe did a sexy neighbor come in, tell you everything you needed to know to complete your current chapter, then kiss you senseless?
Damn, I was horny. I was also incredibly inspired. I adjusted myself then sat back down at the table, ready to write a really fantastic kissing scene between my two MCs.
By the time I finished my sexy scene and came up for air, reality hit me.
Sexy Neighbor had kissed me.
I hadn’t imagined that, right? It had actually happened? And then he had just… walked out. Like it was perfectly normal to randomly kiss your neighbor.
What was I supposed to do now? Would there be more kissing? Because, yes, please. Was I supposed to call him or something? Or stop over at his house? Could I pretend I needed to borrow a cup of sugar? Was that way too 1950s?
My god, I was so bad at dating. Not that this was dating, because I’m sure Sexy Neighbor wouldn’t be interested in dating a reclusive writer who was awkward at best. But if this was hooking up, I was bad at that too. I mean, yeah, I’d done some random hookups in college, but most of those involved parties and alcohol and very little actual conversation. Plus, I had the benefit of knowing I probably wouldn't run into those guys again if I made a complete fool of myself. That was totally not the case with Sexy Neighbor. I’d have to see him everyday.
Fuck.
I grabbed my phone and texted Josh and Sebbie. This definitely required a night of gossiping and drinking.