Page 28 of The Good Vampire’s Guide to Blood & Boyfriends
SWIMMINGLY
brENNAN’S PHONE
Brennan
Nellie I’m freaking.
Nellie are you around?
Can’t call.
Nellie
What’s up? Are you okay?
Brennan
I think I’m gonna do something not good?
Nellie
Brennan what are you talking about is everything okay question mark question mark?
Brennan
I like this boy.
Nellie
You like a boy
You scared me! Oh my god. I know, why is that a problem?
Brennan
I’m gonna,
Kiss his face?
Nellie
Yes
Brennan
He’s really nice.
Nellie
Yes
Brennan
I just feel like he deserves better.
Nellie
No
Brennan
He doesn’t really know me yet.
Nellie
Maybe
But shouldn’t you give him the chance to?
Brennan
I want to.
Nellie
Then kiss his really nice face.
You’re allowed to want things.
Brennan
Ugh.
It was cold, so by the time they reached the Dolson Center and stopped in front of the big glass doors, Cole’s cheeks were flushed, hands shoved in the pockets of his coat.
“The rec center?” Brennan asked. “It’s a little late for a workout.”
Brennan wasn’t a big gym rat—he loved running outside, with a route and scenery and sunlight. But, absently, he thought about returning to test his vampiric strength and speed with more accuracy.
“I used to smoke with the night janitor,” Cole said. “He keeps a spare key hidden.”
Brennan still wasn’t sure why they were there, but he kind of liked not knowing. He’d never been big on surprises but something about Cole’s smile made him want to go with it.
Cole produced a key from somewhere and unlocked the door, both of them giggling into the cold air.
The Dolson Center was vast, open, and modern.
A smoothie joint was at one end and gym equipment sprawled across the first floor, with a balcony that overlooked everything else.
The walls were windows, looking out into the grassy quad.
Cole beelined across the gym toward a door on the far side, and when he opened it, the smell of chlorine assaulted Brennan’s nose.
An Olympic-sized swimming pool stretched out in the middle of gray tile floors, light filtering through the water and making the whole room glow blue even though the overhead lights were off.
Cole’s sneakers squeaked and echoed against the tile floor, and he held the door open for Brennan to walk through. He grinned. “Care for a late-night swim?”
That smile. What else could Brennan do but follow?
But before he could, Cole was turning, grin wavering, fiddling his fingers together.
“I mean, we don’t have to swim,” he said. “We can just put our feet in, or not at all. I just—the vibes here are pretty awesome, right?”
It hadn’t occurred to Brennan that Cole could be as nervous about this unspoken thing between them as Brennan was. And that seemed wrong, as wrong as Cole crying in the library had been, and Brennan couldn’t have it.
So he dropped his backpack, dropped his coat, and said, “Oh, we’re swimming.”
They stripped down to their underwear and Brennan kept his eyes to himself, except for when he didn’t, and both of them were laughing like children. Cole reached for his hand as they jumped into the pool together.
The water was cool but not cold, and Brennan broke through the surface, Cole’s fingers entwined with his. Cole had freckles on his back, Brennan noted. He was all lean muscles and delicate skin and he laughed as he pushed his hair back from his eyes.
Cole splashed Brennan, and Brennan splashed him back, and they went back and forth splashing until Cole started trying to dunk him, which devolved into Cole clinging to Brennan from behind, arms wrapped around Brennan’s shoulders, somewhere between a piggyback ride and an intimate embrace, Cole’s chest against his back.
Brennan had mercy on his poor gay heart and gave in, dunking them both in the water instead of reveling in it.
When they resurfaced, Cole swam around to face him again and shook his hair out like a dog. It was wilder than ever from tussling in the water, and his freckles stood out against the water droplets rolling across the canvas of his skin.
“Man, I wish we had some music,” Cole said, treading water, hands gliding in an entrancing pattern.
“Yeah, what’s the mood?” Brennan asked, swimming lazy lines back and forth across the deep end. “More indie stuff I’ve never heard of?”
Cole at least looked sheepish when he said, “Fifty-fifty chance for something unbearably indie or, like, Taylor Swift, because I’m only human.” He lit up, and went on, “I have this amazing record collection. You should see it sometime.”
“I’ve never listened to music on vinyl,” Brennan admitted, but he loved how Cole lit up from the inside when he talked about it. He stopped swimming at the edge, anchoring himself to the wall.
“Well, you definitely have to come listen, then.”
“How’d you get into that? Record collecting?”
“My brother. Noah. He was a year older than me. He was, like, the rebel kid. Loud music in his room all the time, blew off school, smoked weed. The records were part of the aesthetic, I guess.”
“And he… gave them to you?” Brennan prompted, but he had a feeling he knew the answer.
“He killed himself before graduation,” Cole said, the same way he might say he was out of milk. “I kept his records, and now I add to the collection. I started out doing it for him, but it’s mostly for me now.”
Brennan didn’t know what to say.
“Ugh, sorry,” Cole said. “Talk about a mood killer.”
“You apologize too much,” Brennan said. Cole splashed him. “I mean, if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine, but you’re allowed to, if you want. I can listen.” He didn’t say, I want to know everything about you. “Were you guys close?”
Cole smiled and his eyes turned distant. He leaned to float on his back.
“For most of our lives, yeah. He was a year older than me. Me and him and Mari were a trio, we all grew up together. He was always labeled a troublemaker, or whatever, and then Mari was this total genius-girlboss, and I was just, like, happy to be there.
“We weren’t talking, when it happened. So that’s always gonna feel like shit. I thought he was pushing me away but it was all, like, signs. Or whatever.”
“I don’t think it’s fair to blame yourself. You can’t let someone treat you like shit out of fear of them killing themselves,” Brennan said, because talking about capital-S suicide always brought up a seasick sort of feeling and gut reflex for defensiveness and apology.
“It wasn’t like that. You don’t understand.”
Brennan wanted to say that he did understand, but he didn’t know how to explain it all. He wasn’t used to people knowing him. It was safer that way, keeping the ugliest parts of himself separate.
“Yeah. Sorry.”
Maybe that wasn’t fair to Cole. Maybe he deserved a better friend than that, when he opened up about all his stuff, while the things Cole knew about Brennan were stumbled into by accident.
Cole deflated. “No, I’m sorry.”
With a buzzing sigh, the pool lights went off all at once, and they were plunged into total darkness.
They both froze, and one of Cole’s hands gripped his arm. Except—
Brennan blinked a few times, and things came into focus, clear as ever—maybe clearer.
“Shit. Must be on a timer,” Cole said, laughing with a nervous edge.
Brennan wanted to kick his own ass for not being more honest, because now the moment was broken.
“Should we go?” Brennan asked.
“Maybe,” Cole said.
Neither of them moved.
Cole edged closer to Brennan, water rippling around him, blinking somewhere past his shoulder. Cole joined him in floating near the edge of the pool, hanging on to the wall. Maybe it was the darkness, the fact that he could see Cole but Cole couldn’t see him, that made it easier.
“You know, maybe I do understand.” Brennan was sure it confused Cole, but he didn’t say anything, just pressed his fingers harder into Brennan’s shoulder and treaded water.
“Can I be honest with you?” And when that was too vulnerable, he followed up with, “Since you already brought down the mood and everything.”
Cole swatted him.
“You’re ridiculous,” Cole said. And instead of returning to his shoulder, he reached for his hand.
Oh god. Brennan must be more pathetic and starved of intimacy than he thought, because just that was heart-stopping.
This was slow and intentional, not an afterthought as they jumped in the pool.
He was even more grateful for the dark, because eye contact on top of it all might actually melt him down to goo.
“Are you afraid of the dark?” Brennan asked.
“Only if I’m alone,” Cole said. Brennan squeezed his hand. “But come on, you can tell me anything.”
Interesting. Brennan believed him.
Cole inched closer. Maybe he thought Brennan couldn’t see, either. Somehow, that seemed unfair. Like he was cheating.
He closed his eyes.
“I used to want to die, like, all the time,” he said.
There, years of grueling depression summed up in a neat little sentence.
“I know, I seem so put-together, it’s shocking.
” Humor, to deflect, as Dr. Morris so often pointed out.
“But I’ve kind of been depressed and anxious my whole life.
I was existential. Like, ‘We’re all insignificant, nothing matters, life sucks and then you die’ existential. ”
“Do you… still?”
Brennan flexed his fingers nervously where they clung to the edge of the pool.
“Sometimes it’s worse or better. I’m okay a lot of the time now. Therapy does wonders, but for a while there…”
“It was bad,” Cole concluded.
“Yeah,” Brennan said. “I’ve always been depressed and anxious. I think I’ll probably be depressed and anxious in some capacity for the rest of my life. Which, given recent events, will be a long time.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that. I have anxiety. I go to therapy. It’s not a big deal.”