Page 16 of The Good Vampire’s Guide to Blood & Boyfriends
brENNAN’S PHONE
Dr. Mom
I saw you have a B in your Social Theory class. Is everything okay?
Brennan
I’m fine.
Brennan
You can ask me questions about it if you want
Cole
oh you mean like
an interview
with a vampire?????
Brennan
That was awful but I respect that you saw an opportunity and took it.
They were sitting somewhere in the stacks, shelving cart forgotten a few feet away, when Cole finally took him up on it.
They sat on the floor opposite each other across the aisle, their backs against the bookshelves, the books that had originally distracted them spread open on the floor.
Brennan had to remind himself that Cole was like this with everyone, the fierce undivided attention.
Brennan just wasn’t used to it, was all, which was why his gaze made him feel warm.
“You’re sure you don’t have any telepathy?” Cole asked, narrowing his eyes at Brennan in faux suspicion.
Brennan leaned his head back against the bookshelf and peered through his lashes at Cole, trying to force his thoughts to become clear.
“Nah,” Brennan said. “Unfortunately not.”
Cole made a disappointed little sound and played with a fidget cube. That was another thing Brennan was learning about Cole—he always had something to do with his hands, and often an extra fidget toy to offer to Brennan if ever he wanted.
“Can you turn into a bat?” Cole asked, then giggled.
“Can I—” Brennan startled out a laugh. “Can I turn into a bat ?”
“I know, it felt silly as I said it.”
“Don’t you think I would have led with that?”
“No, I certainly do not think you would have led with that!”
They both laughed in the privacy of the stacks. Brennan loved the quiet, the warmth of their laughter, because it felt so normal. Despite the topic, when Cole and Brennan were talking at night in the library, Brennan felt like he was just a normal kid, flirting with the cute librarian.
Not that he was flirting.
But he wasn’t.… not flirting.
It was objectively a terrible time for romance, and Brennan knew that, so he didn’t bother entertaining the idea. But he could soak up the nice moments of normalcy for as long as they lasted.
The library was empty, really empty, for once, except for the few other library aides manning their various stations across the building.
Cole stopped fidgeting with the cube and put his hands in his lap, sitting up, legs crossed, full attention on Brennan.
Brennan straightened, self-conscious where he sprawled out on the floor.
“Have you told anyone else?” Cole asked quietly. “Your parents?”
Brennan averted his eyes, wet his lips, pressed them together. He hadn’t told anyone.
It was hard to talk about anything personal without going back to March. Like, if Cole asked what Brennan wanted to do postgraduation, he’d end up telling him that he didn’t plan that far ahead because he hadn’t expected to live past eighteen.
He didn’t know how to explain to Cole that he didn’t want his mom or Cole or anyone to worry about him because of all the stuff in March.
So he said, “Nah, my mom’s a vegetarian, she’d disown me.”
Cole frowned, like he knew Brennan was deflecting and wasn’t sure whether to call him out on it.
Brennan seized the pause to fumble for a distraction. “Oh!” Brennan said, snapping his fingers and going to his backpack, digging through for a thick volume he’d pulled from his personal bookshelf. “I brought that anthology, if you still wanted it.”
“Dude, of course I want it. I think I can read a couple poems after I put you through Twilight .”
Brennan presented the poetry anthology to him. It was an old copy a teacher had given to him when he said he wanted to learn more about poetry, now worn and dog-eared, littered with highlights and notes in the margins from years of revisiting.
“Oh, dope,” Cole said. He said things like that, unironically. Dope. Sick. Tight. It was probably the least attractive thing about him, and it was still somehow charming.
Cole made grabby hands until Brennan passed the book over, and Cole immediately started leafing through the pages. Brennan tried not to flinch at Cole looking at his angsty notes from high school, but Cole was grinning like it was Christmas morning.
“This is so fucking cool, Brennan, thanks,” Cole said. He had a way of saying things with a level of sincerity that cut straight to your soul. It made Brennan want to light himself on fire.
“It’s no big deal,” Brennan said, because it seemed like the thing to say, and because admitting his angsty poetry collection was his pride and joy would make the whole thing even more horrifyingly personal.
“Anyway, the ones with a star in the table of contents are the ones I think you should start with. Like a starter pack.”
“I’m gonna read it cover to cover,” Cole said. “Scout’s honor.” He held up three fingers in a salute.
“Oh, you would be a Boy Scout,” Brennan accused. Cole had the whole always be prepared thing down pat with the small pharmacy he kept in his backpack.
“What does that mean?” Cole asked, indignant.
“I don’t know, you’re very… polite? Very”—he waved his hand around vaguely—“prepared.”
Cole cast him a mischievous smile. “I’ll have you know I was actually a Girl Scout.”
Brennan sputtered for a minute and said, “You were not!” He bubbled with laughter and that buzzing tell me everything about you feeling he was used to getting around Cole. He leaned forward, propping his chin on his fist.
“Okay, yeah, I was an honorary member of Mari’s troop,” Cole said. “But I went all the way through Juniors!”
Brennan’s brain, a useless thing set on destroying him, conjured up an image of an elementary-aged Cole with a Scouts vest and cookies to sell, all smiles and enthusiasm and messy hair. Brennan wondered if Cole was as effortlessly friendly and bright then as he was now.
brENNAN’S PHONE
Brennan
He tries to kill himself???? That’s the climax??? And it’s supposed to be??? Romantic????
Cole
I’m sensing you finished New Moon?
Brennan
What a train wreck!
Give me the next one!
It was too easy to fall into the routine of researching vampirism as if it were for a class, as if the pamphlets were a frustrating textbook and reorganizing them his tedious assignment.
He could look at it with a clinical distance that way, as a subject for research rather than something that actually affected his life.
Dr. Morris would say he was doing the same thing he did with his mental health. But what was so wrong about that? If Brennan could process his emotions without actually having to feel them, he’d count that as a win, thanks very much!
And then there was Cole.
“‘Would I ever learn the outcome of that other fight?’” Brennan read.
Cole, who had Brennan dramatically reading Eclipse by Stephenie Meyer on the walk to Brennan’s place for Bachelorette Night.
It was one of the rare days Brennan had come to the library in the daytime instead of in the middle of the night, Cole having picked up a day shift from a coworker.
Cole was still nursing the coffee Brennan had brought him, listening along and steering Brennan away from obstacles while his eyes were trained on the words.
They would be early by more than an hour, and Brennan was experiencing a threatening mixture of anxiety and excitement at the idea of being alone with Cole in his apartment.
“‘The odds of that didn’t look so great. Black eyes, wild with their fierce craving for my death’—okay, wow, dramatic—‘watched for the moment when my protector’s attention would be diverted. The moment when I would surely die.’”
Cole tugged Brennan’s arm to keep him from walking into a trash can. Another thing Brennan was learning was that Cole was a touchy friend. A hand on the shoulder, the arm, the back, all these casual touches that made Brennan melt into goo.
“‘Somewhere, far, far away in the cold forest, a wolf howled.’”
Brennan paused and stared at the words. “That’s the end of the prologue. What was the point?”
“It’s ominous. It sets the scene, Brennan.”
Beyond the pages of the book, campus was bustling in full autumn swing. All the trees had their New England fall colors on, but the weather was still nice enough for students to be hanging out in the quads with their blankets, hammocks, and Frisbees.
“It’s pointless. And melodramatic, considering readers have no context for what’s going on—”
Cole halted and shot Brennan a glare laced with amusement. “If you don’t respect the Twilight Saga , you don’t deserve it.” He reached to grab the book from Brennan, who held it up and away from Cole, who was just too short to steal it from him.
“Ha! I knew these extra three inches would come in handy.”
Cole stopped reaching for the book and crossed his arms. He gave Brennan a once-over. “Only three inches, huh?”
Brennan deliberately did not pass out. During his half second of floundering, Cole hopped to grab the book out of his hands.
Except—
His hand slipped against the pages and Cole hissed and the sweet smell that lingered under Cole’s skin exploded into the air and that familiar tug pulled at Brennan, mixed with panic because he was in a quad full of people and—
Brennan inhaled. The smell was sweeter than homemade cookies baking in the oven, warmer than freshly brewed coffee. But it wasn’t all-consuming like it had been before.
Brennan exhaled. And he was neither lunging toward Cole nor away from him. Senses piqued, adrenaline rushing—but he’d drunk today.
“The Modern Vampire’s Guide to Drinking Blood Safely and Politely” recommended half a pint per day, or a pint every two days. When Brennan had been rationing, he’d been lightly starving himself. Oops.
He glanced around. A girl sitting on a blanket with her laptop and a stack of books, a couple passing by holding hands, a group of guys kicking a soccer ball. He could hear each of their pulses if he focused hard enough, but none of them spared him a glance.
He wasn’t freaking out. He was in control. Finally.