How Not to Vampire - Season 2

12. Just a Little Bit More

Protip for Vampires #27: you know that dude you can't keep your eyes off at the bar? Yeah, he's totally a vampire.

I rode the 5AM Express home, my leg jittery and refusing to sit still. Hey, if you'd almost sunk your teeth into your ex-girlfriend's neck, you'd have the same reaction, so stop it with the judging. Even though more than an hour later had passed, I couldn't stop thinking about the steady pulse throbbing in her neck, the heady scent of Jaime's shampoo and skin calling for me. My mouth filled with saliva at the thought of how sweet her blood would taste...

"I bet she tastes like vanilla..."

The sound of my voice surprised me, and it was enough to shake me out of my reverie. I blinked rapidly, trying to get a sense of exactly where I was. Had I dozed off again?

I locked eyes with the attractive short, heavy-set Pakistani girl who sat on the seat across from mine in the back of the bus, and realized to my horror that I must have been staring at her. The way that she uncomfortably clutched her large purse to her chest and purposely looked away from me, said everything I needed to know. I had broken the number one rule of riding the Graveyard Shift Morning Bus: do not make eye contact. Read a poster a hundred times if you have to, but do not make eye contact, you fucking creepazoid.

Still, she was kinda cute, as hidden as she was in the depths of her standard issue black winter coat that I swear they handed out to every Toronto citizen on their sixteenth birthday. It was the bangs that did it for me, cut neatly across her forehead to frame her features perfectly. I tried to smile to show her I was harmless, but from the way she shifted uncomfortably and shoved her hand deeper into the purse, the damage was already done.

"You can stop staring at me now," Girl-with-Bangs hissed, her eyes darting furtively to the scattered riders on the bus, most of whom were only half-awake. One older gentleman was snoring quietly three rows-up, face pressed against the glass; the three Sandras (regulars on the bus), sat together halfway up the aisle, bodies rocking with the steady rhythm as the bus moved from stop to stop. No one would be coming to help her.

"I wasn't staring, honest," I said, flustered, still trying to put her at ease.

"I do not taste like vanilla," she hissed in a moment of bravery, totally calling my bluff. My heart sank and I almost groaned with embarrassment. "Ice cream is not even sexy! Who the hell even says shit like that?" Girl with Bangs demanded.

I realized even now I could hear the runaway thumpity-thumpity-thump of her heart racing in her chest, her irresistible musk filling my nose.

So what does she taste like then?

I tried to shut that thought down quickly. What the fuck dude? Seriously?

"Look, my mind was a million miles away. I honestly didn't realize what I was doing," I stammered, trying to be a little bit charming. Could I salvage the situation and come out like the good guy? If I'd had a Magic 8-Ball, the response would have been: All Signs Point To No.

"I'm going to taze you now," she announced. "Sorry, not sorry."

"Wait, what?"

She whipped her hand out of the purse and pushed a small black device at my exposed hand. I watched with detached bemusement, realizing that it was one of those handheld tasers that were extremely illegal to own in Canada. One of those fun facts I know due to Claude's life in the criminal underworld. Illegal or not, my muscles didn't care: they stiffened as 30000 volts of electricity shot through my body. It was a bold move on her part, especially announcing to me that she was going to actually taze me, but damn it was effective. Much more effective than a kick in the balls.