Just months before I start medical school in Boston, I decide to let loose for one night. A dark club, a loud band, strong drinks--and the attention of a dangerous-looking man who says he's in the city for only a week.
I know exactly what he is: a...
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John Ransom's smirk taunts me from the cheery family photo.
Tall, thin, sandy-haired; he looks nothing like his gorgeous sister, who is standing so close to me that I can feel the warmth of her body on my cool skin. I long to grab her and kiss that mouth of hers again, but the anger inside me is rising. There's no telling what I'd do to her in this state, so I need to leave. And the interruption by her roommate was unfortunate.
"Matteo? You don't have to go. We can just hang out, or sit in the lounge, or—"
I interrupt Evangeline, probably in a voice too abrupt, too harsh. But I don't care, now that I've seen all I need. "No, I should return home."
She blinks a few times and nods. I follow her out the door, through the hall, and down the stairs. We approach a group of drunk, giggling girls in the lobby who fall silent when they see us. Not only do I glower at them, but Evangeline does, as well.
The guy at the desk spots her and his face lights up, which makes my blood boil even more.
"I'm signing him out," she says as she gestures to me before making in the book with a pen.
"Evan, do you and Kerri want to come to my room later to watch MTV? That new Billy Idol video is out." the kid says.
Evan? Is that her nickname? It's both endearing and too rough for her. I scowl, thinking that Evangeline is such a delicate, lovely name. No, I'd never call her Evan. Not in a million years.
She looks to me, then at him, twirling a finger around a lock of her red hair. "No, uh, I'm kinda tired. Thanks, though."
The kid's expression crumples as if his Christmas has been stolen. Too fucking bad. A little surge of triumph runs through me, which is absurd.
She sweeps past me and opens the door, allowing a gust of frigid air inside that bites my face. It's like a slap, it's so bracing. A strike that jolts me out of my musings over the lovely Evangeline.
I'm about to tell her that she doesn't need to walk me outside, but she's on the sidewalk before I can finish. Obviously she wants some dramatic goodbye, a passionate kiss. I have mixed feelings about this, and rake in an inhale of cold air.
I walk outdoors, stuffing my hands into my pockets. Although I can feel cold, it doesn't bother me. I find it more invigorating than anything, and would prefer to be out here in just a long-sleeved shirt. But centuries of mirroring humans and a faint memory of when I was alive means pretending that I'm chilly so people don't ask questions.
There's no one in front of the dorm other than us, and we stand face-to-face.
"You said you were going home. Did you mean Italy?" she asks.
"No. I meant the place I'm staying. I'm in Boston for a little while longer."
She nods, a little smile tugging at the corners of that sinful mouth of hers. "Well. It was, ah, interesting. Tonight, I mean."
