Page 14 of The Good Vampire’s Guide to Blood & Boyfriends

“Just, uh…” Brennan started. “Kind of a lot happened with that meeting. I don’t know how to make sense of it. Do you…?” He didn’t know how to finish the sentence without sounding pathetic. Do you wanna hang out with me?

Cole didn’t miss a beat. “I’m off as soon as I finish this cart.”

Brennan glanced down. There were only a few more books left.

“Okay,” Brennan said, grabbing one of the remaining books. “Then let’s get waffles.”

The Waffle Den was a twenty-four-hour breakfast dive outside of campus, alongside a Walmart, a gas station, a cannabis dispensary, and a single stoplight.

Small-town charm with access to urban adventures, the Sturbridge University marketing bragged. It was a pretty way of saying they lived an hour away from the nearest hospital.

Most people who went to the Waffle Den were either intoxicated, on their way to intoxication, or recovering from intoxication; it fulfilled a need for both late-night munchies and morning hangover cures.

It always smelled like burnt coffee, pancake batter, grease, as well as cigarette or marijuana smoke, depending on the time of day.

“I love this place,” Cole said. “It’s the closest thing to a Waffle House y’all Northerners have.”

And that was exactly why Brennan liked the place.

“I lived in Ohio for my sophomore year of high school,” Brennan said.

His mom had gotten a job at the University of Cincinnati.

“I had a study group that met at the Waffle House every week.” It was the closest he’d gotten to having real friends in high school.

At the end of the year, when his mom’s contract was up, she had them up and move again.

“Sounds like me and Mari and Noah.” Cole smiled. “We used to wreak havoc on that poor Waffle House. I befriended the waitress. I wonder how she’s doing.”

They got a booth. The place was small and mostly quiet. A lone cook shuffled along, flipping things on the griddle behind the counter, while one punk-looking couple at a table, all leather and brightly colored hair, talked quietly.

A grouchy woman in her forties took their order, brought them coffee, and returned to a book of crossword puzzles. Finally, Brennan got Cole up to speed.

He told him about the meeting, the café, Sunny and Nellie, and the other new vampire, Dom, who had almost definitely killed someone. Which everyone except Brennan seemed to be fine with.

“How am I supposed to be cool with that?” Brennan finished.

Cole sipped delicately at his latte and eased it back on the table, tilting his head.

“Maybe it was self-defense,” Cole suggested.

Brennan’s own coffee—which he’d taken to drinking black since turning—had been quickly drained. He turned the mug back and forth in his hands.

“Maybe,” Brennan said. “But she could also be a ruthless murderer.” He brought his fingers to his mouth in a pantomime of a vampire’s fangs that probably looked more like a walrus.

“You said she was crying. It sounds like she’s a person who made a mistake.”

“A mistake is like, ‘ Oh no, I accidentally spilled coffee on the book you loaned me,’ not, ‘ Oh no, I accidentally chomped down, drained your blood, and killed you.’”

“She clearly feels bad about it. I bet she’s just like you, trying to figure this thing out and be better.”

Something about the idea of that girl being like him sent a shiver down his spine. That was exactly what he didn’t want. Even if they were both vampires, that didn’t mean they had anything else in common.

“What about that girl? The one who’s missing? What if she’s involved?” Brennan said.

“Well, there’s no reason to think vampires were responsible besides the timeline, right? So why take it out on Dom when you don’t know anything for sure?”

“How can you assume the best about a complete stranger?” Brennan accused.

Cole shrugged. “Hurt people hurt people.”

Brennan pushed his coffee mug to the side. “What?”

“Hurt people hurt people,” Cole said. “It’s something my teacher used to say. People don’t just do bad things out of nowhere. People hurt people because they’ve been hurt.”

Brennan frowned. “That doesn’t mean they didn’t still do the bad thing.”

“All I’m saying is, you could give her the benefit of the doubt.”

“It’s a miracle you haven’t been murdered in the streets,” Brennan said. “If someone told you they had puppies in their van, would you look? Do you have any email affairs with wealthy faraway princes you want to tell me about?”

“I don’t think it’s naive to think well of people,” Cole said, and his voice had a steely edge that made Brennan bite his tongue. Naive, he’d spat out, and Brennan realized he’d hit a nerve.

“I don’t think it’s naive,” Brennan said quickly. “I just—don’t get it, I guess.”

“Get… being positive?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s fucking depressing.”

“Well, I’m fucking depressed!”

Cole’s eyes went wide, and then he burst out laughing. “You know, I don’t think I’ve heard you curse before.”

“I usually keep it in my head. My mom is a professor, so she is very much of the belief that cursing is a lack of creativity or precision, or something like that.”

“And here my mom didn’t let me curse ’cause it was impolite, now look at me. Cursing left and fucking right like a goddamn sailor.”

“Doing it creatively and with precision, too,” Brennan said.

“You just need practice.”

Cole shifted in his seat, bringing one foot up on the booth so he was curled with one knee tucked to his chest. Brennan had never seen someone so unable to sit properly in a chair.

“Your mom’s a professor. Does she teach here?” he asked.

“Nah. New Hampshire,” Brennan said, souring. “Dartmouth.”

“Damn. Impressive.”

“Yeah,” Brennan said, but it was hard not to let bitterness creep into his voice. “She’s very good at academia.”

“Oof, and lemme guess, not so good at parenting?”

Head hung down, Brennan said, “Jeez, do I radiate mommy issues?”

Cole laughed again, sharp and loud.

“No! No, that’s how my dad is, so I caught the vibe. If I were to describe him, I’d say he’s”—Cole wiggled his fingers—“‘very good at business.’ Same tone.”

“Oh. Well. Yeah.” Brennan shrugged. “School was always her priority.” With some years of therapy, Brennan was starting to accept that.

Cole lifted his coffee mug in a mock toast. “To shitty parents and generational trauma.”

Brennan clinked his empty mug against Cole’s and smiled.

The waitress returned to drop off their food and Brennan salivated. Their plates were full of oversized waffles, eggs, bacon, and hash browns. Even though he drank blood now, there was still something about the appeal of diner junk food.

“My brother used to put the hash browns, bacon, and eggs on the waffle, fold it in half, and eat it like a taco,” Cole offered as he started to dig into his food.

Brennan paused, took in his plate, imagining it. “Was it good?”

Cole shrugged and drowned his waffle in a syrupy death. “I have no idea.”

It seemed as good an opportunity as ever to find out. He piled everything onto his waffle, folded it, and took a bite. He put the taco down and chewed thoughtfully.

“It’s pretty good,” Brennan agreed, and only then noticed the stricken look on Cole’s face, as if Brennan had produced a copy of Twilight and ripped it in half right in front of him.

“What?” Brennan asked. “Did I not do it right?”

“No that’s—exactly how he did it.” Cole blinked a few times until the faraway look in his eyes went away. “You should give the other vampires a chance. Dom included.”

Brennan’s brain tripped over the change in topic. “Uh,” he said. “Okay.”

“Because if she does mean well, and you don’t give her a chance, you’re the one fucking up. And if you turn your back now, you might not get a shot to change your mind. I’d give a chance to someone who doesn’t deserve it over losing them for good, any day.”

Cole was too kind and good to be hanging out with Brennan, but he refrained from voicing the thought.

Something in the pinch of Cole’s lips said he was speaking from experience.

Brennan wanted to understand it—he was starting to worry he wanted to know everything about Cole—but instead he nodded and tucked into his food.

The conversation turned light again, Brennan telling Cole about the nightmarish pamphlet situation while Cole laughed and asked questions. It felt surprisingly normal, just two college kids at a waffle joint at three in the morning. No secrets or elephants in the room.

This was what making a new friend was like, Brennan realized. He’d forgotten.

“Oh, I forgot to mention,” Brennan said as the diner’s door shut behind them and they stepped back into the cool night air.

The quiet parking lot was illuminated by a single streetlight and the glowing Waffle Den sign.

Cole’s shoulder brushed his. Brennan reached for his bag and shuffled through it.

He found what he was looking for, and presented it to Cole.

“I finished Twilight, ” he said. “It was… illuminating.”

They stood toe to toe, Brennan shoving his hands in his pockets, Cole fiddling with the pages of the book. Brennan couldn’t help leaning forward, like Cole was pulling him into his orbit.

“Yeah? It was actually helpful?”

“Oh, definitely not. But super informative about the Twilight craze I missed out on,” he deadpanned. “Answered so many questions I did not need answered.”

Cole’s lips parted into a grin. Was Brennan imagining it, or was Cole leaning forward, too? Not for anything, not with intent, but in the slight way you do when you want to be closer to someone. Brennan hadn’t experienced intimacy in a hot minute, and he wasn’t entirely sure he was breathing.

“I’m glad I could do that for you?” Cole laughed. Brennan got a swoopy feeling in his stomach like the first time he’d ridden a roller coaster: do that again . “Does that mean you want New Moon, or no?”

Brennan blinked away the haze in his mind of Oh no he’s cute and said, “Yes, absolutely.”

Cole kept smiling and Brennan would read every trashy vampire novel in the world to keep it that way.

“You could come by the library tomorrow and I’ll get you a copy?”

“Okay,” Brennan said. “I’ll see you then.”

brENNAN’S PHONE

“Sturbridge University Meme Center” Facebook Group

NOT A MEME!

Incoming freshman Evelyn VanMeter has been MISSING since September 4 after moving in. Her roommate, family, and the school have not been able to get in contact with her and we’re trying to get answers! Does anyone know anything???

[In attached photos, Evelyn smiles into the camera. She has a round face, dark hair. In one photo, she has a pink scrunchie around her wrist. In the other photo, the pink scrunchie pulls her hair back.]

brENNAN’S JOURNAL

Well.

Fuck.