Page 112 of Vampires of Eden

So, good for me.

All this fucking personal growth when all I really want to do is eat his ass.

I did yoga alone this morning because when I knocked on Alexander’s door, he didn’t answer. He was probably sleepingoff the wine. It tickles me that he’s vulnerable to the effects of alcohol. Of course he is.

I’m sitting at the kitchen table and halfway through my second cup of tea when I sense his shimmering presence stirring and drawing nearer. With my pulse fluttering in my throat, I look to the door, anticipating.

Soon, Alexander peeks his head into the frame, then cautiously steps into view. He runs his fingers through the heft of his hair, sweeping it back. “Good morning. Did I miss yoga?”

“You did,” I say over my mug. “Are you hungover?”

“No.” He moves closer, then stops. “A little embarrassed, but otherwise fine. I… apologize. For last night.”

I take a sip, then set the mug on the table and in between my palms. “What are you apologizing for, exactly?” Is he sorry about being tipsy? About fisting my hair when I never let anyone touch my hair? Does he regret offering me the most heartfelt and sincere compliments I’ve ever received in my life?

Which part?

Focusing on the stove, he takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry that I keep being such a fucking mess. I’m sorry that you have to keep dealing with it.” He cuts his irises toward me as if to make sure I’m listening. The vulnerability in his gaze warms my chest and makes my throat tight.

I tap my fingers against the smooth porcelain of the mug as a mild distraction to calm my heart rate. “I don’t mind, Alexander. You know that I like you and… you said we’re friends, right? You’re not nearly as burdensome as you make yourself out to be.”

He steps toward the table until he’s standing behind the chair across from me. With his hands rested on the wooden back, he hesitates. “How much do you like me?”

Confused, my eyebrows lift. “How much?”

“Yes.”

“As in feet and inches? Or centimeters?”

“No,” he chuckles. I laugh too.

“What do you mean?” I repeat.

He shakes his head, grinning. “Never mind—that was a stupid question. Just forget about it.”

“It’s not stupid. It just requires clarification.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He steps backward and toward the kitchen door. “Are you still teaching me how to prune the vines today?”

“You’re changing the subject,” I observe as a strange sense of urgency fills my chest. “If you talk to me and tell me what you mean, then I can?—”

Leoni rounds the corner into the kitchen and passes Alexander. “Hola, mis amigos—Are we having a meeting? Is there tea? Can I have some?”

“Suuure,” I say, rolling my shoulders to release the influx of heavy tension. I stand from the table.

“Are you two still planning to prune this morning?” she asks, grabbing a mug from the cabinet and pouring herself tea. “Can you carry on in the same row where I left off yesterday?”

“Yeah, alright, we’re heading out now.” Slightly annoyed, I stalk toward the door, addressing Alexander as I move. “Let’s go.”

He chuckles, saluting as I pass. “Yes, sir.”

It’s another blue-sky morning with a light breeze. It makes the green leaves spanning the vineyard flutter in the sunlight like clustered swarms of butterflies. By the time we get the tools we need for pruning and walk down the designated row, the tense mood we had in the kitchen has dissipated.

Down to vineyard business.

“Can you see the way that the leaves on the cordon here are much thinner compared with this stretch?” I ask, pointing between Leoni’s finished work and where we’re planning to carry on.

“Yes,” Alexander says, standing beside me and gesturing. “The leaves are fuller here.”