Page 114 of The Good Vampire’s Guide to Blood & Boyfriends

Cole shrugged from where he’d lost another two inches slinking down into his seat. “It’s not a big deal.”

Of course. Cole didn’twantit. But why hadn’t he told him? When had this happened?

“Well, it may not be corner offices and executive assistants yet, but you’ll work your way up,” Christopher continued, oblivious to Cole’s turmoil. “That’s the good thing about business. It’s good old-fashioned, honest hard work.”

They had no idea Cole hated it. His degree, the life waiting for him after college. They didn’t seem to know Cole at all.

“I think the library is pretty honest work, too,” Brennan said, mouth moving faster than his brain. “And Cole’s really good at it.”

“Yes, I’m sure he excels at shelving books. He learned the alphabet in kindergarten with everyone else.” Christopher and Deb tittered together like it was hilarious.

Brennan’s grip tightened around his glass.

“You know, I’ve been at the library my whole time at undergrad,” Cole said, tentative, “and I’ve been thinking I might like to finish off at least this year there, so—”

“But how would you balance that with the internship and school?” Deb asked. “You can’t let your grades fall behind.”

“I know, of course. I guess I thought… maybe I don’t need to do the internship.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Cole,” said Christopher. “Of course you do. It’s the next step if you want to succeed in consulting.”

Cole’s shaking fingers squeezed Brennan’s under the table.

“Maybe I don’t want to do that atall.”

And, wow, okay. They were doing this now.

“What are you talking about?” asked Deb. “This is your future, baby.”

“I know,” Cole said. “That’s why I thought I could have a say in it. And I’m not—I’m not just saying this, Ihavethought it through. Iknow business is not what I want to do and I feel like I was pressured to choose a path.”

“What are you going to do, then?” Christopher demanded.

Cole withered. “I don’t know yet.”

“It doesn’tsoundlike you thought it through.”

“I thought maybe I would take a gap year. Get a normal job while I figure things out. Work at a coffee shop or something.”

Deb gasped.

“Just for a little while! Or, I dunno, maybe making lattes is fulfilling and I stick with it. Would that really be the worst thing?”

Deb started crying.

“Cole, give it a rest,” said Christopher, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re upsetting your mother.”

“You’re throwing your life away”—Deb sniffled—“like Noah did.”

Cole reared back like he’d been slapped.

Then something magical happened. Cole straightened in his seat, gaining some six inches of height. The defeated frown that had been on his lips all dinner hardened into a line of determination.

“Noah made his choice. And so have I.”

His words hung heavy in the air for a long moment. Across the restaurant, a family erupted into “Happy Birthday.” The whole song dragged by, Deborah and Christopher staring at their son with matching blank expressions.

The restaurant erupted into polite applause for whoever’s birthday. And then, in the relative silence that came after, Deb’s quiet sobs turned to a low moaning wail.