The arm grabs me like I’ve hit a clothesline. It stops me instantly before I touch the rays of sun coming through the glass of the pharmacy storefront. My umbrella clatters to the ground, the bright silver coating reflecting the light in a way that makes it blinding. 

I wince, shielding my eyes as I look down instead to the arm still firmly around my waist. 

The first thing I notice is the sleeve of the man’s clothing. It’s the fine, dark material of a well made blazer. My eyes flick to his wrist, taking in what I recognize as a very expensive watch. Then I look at his hand. 

It’s much larger than mine and looks strong. I can see his tendons flex and thick veins pop. They make my mouth water. 

Pulling my gaze away from the blood beneath his skin, I blink up to see my savior. 

Butterflies erupt in my stomach. It’s a deeply instinctual, uncontrollable sensation as I realize how damn attractive the man holding me is. It’s wildly unfair. 

His dark, piercing eyes stare at me through his nearly pitch black hair; gentle curls fall around his thick brows. I can tell he’s older than me and far more handsome with his chiseled features. His strong jaw looks freshly shaved, his high cheekbones striking. He’s probably a good head taller than me, I barely reach above his shoulder. It gives me the perfect view of his throat where I can see his pulse jumping.  

I distract myself again, looking at his attire. He’s so well dressed, in his tailored suit and crisp buttoned down shirt. I’m captivated by his tie for a moment; it’s a pretty blue, like the sky just before sunset. 

Then I see how his clothing is creased and crumpled against me and I feel disgusted at myself for letting him touch me; I’m a sweaty mess. I try to make myself feel better and assume he’s an arrogant, selfish man that probably has a poor attitude and a superiority complex…

But he saved me. 

Even after that belligerent man outed me for what I really am—a vampire—this stranger still saved me. 

It makes my empty heart still race.   

The man’s brows pinch as he leans down slightly and asks with a panting breath, “Are you alright?” He’s still holding onto me, pulling me against him for support. 

I don’t mind. I’ll enjoy it for however long it lasts.

My wild fantasies are short lived as I realize the man that tripped me is still raving. For a few moments I was able to drown out the sound of his grating voice, maybe it was the adrenaline, but now my ears are blistering with his tirade: “What the fuck did you catch him for?! He’s a vampire! Let the bastard burn—!”

“Did you call the police?” The man holding me asks the security guard. He sounds angry, his deep voice rumbles through his chest, I can even feel it in my back. 

My gaze flicks to the security guard, who nods, but gives me a cold glare. Like somehow I’m the problem. My hands are shaking again and I can’t move as I stare at my feet. I think about pushing the stranger off, collecting my things, and running, but somehow the man holding me feels safe. Like with his hand on me, he’s my shield. So, I stay put and don’t move. 

The security guard seems to annoy my savior. The man holding me grips me tighter and his voice rises as he barks, “Then take him somewhere else! He’s disturbing your customers! He just assaulted someone!” 

The security guard seems reluctant but mutters something to my aggressor, forcefully leading him toward what looks like an employee office; he’s still ranting, his voice carrying through the store. 

I follow him with my eyes until he’s through a heavy door and gone. 

It’s only now that I realize how many people are staring. People have stopped shopping just to look. I can hear them whispering, murmurs swarming around me like wasps, all buzzing and making my head feel full. 

The man lets go of me, stooping down to pick up my umbrella. 

I’m glad I didn’t drop my bag. Though there’s a zipper at the top, I can only imagine that the man who tripped me would have stomped on my blood packs if given the chance, and I need those. I clutch the bag to my chest for a moment, trying to take deep breaths and calm down. 

 People are still looking and whispering, but they seem to be resuming their shopping.  

The man hands me my umbrella. I hesitate before taking it, holding it firmly in my gloved hand. “Th-Thank you,” I stammer. I’m still shaken by this whole experience. I wish I hadn’t come outside, but I didn’t have a choice… and I hate that I didn’t have a choice. 

The man gives me a smile that’s like a shot to my heart. It’s dazzling and radiant and should come with a warning label. Maybe this was what my sister meant when she rambled about dreamy men. I get it now. I would absolutely have dreams about this man. 

“It’s not a problem. I’m sorry you had to deal with that uneducated asshole.” He chuckles a little and I can tell he’s trying to lighten the mood. He still looks concerned, which I think is nice since he doesn’t know me. He seems sincere, and kind, which is more than I usually expect from people I encounter in the wild. 

I let out a shaky breath. It was meant to be a laugh, but I don’t have the stamina to pretend. I’m still flustered and upset. Most of all, I feel ashamed. I don’t know what to say, I feel so awkward. I’m not used to talking to people and I just want to go home. 

I’m about to say goodbye when the man says, “Do you want to stay and talk to the police? I can provide a witness statement if it would help—”

“No!” I don’t mean to say it so forcefully, but my pulse is racing again. I’m so thirsty I feel dizzy, and all the layers of clothes I’m wearing are only making it worse. I clear my throat, trying to sound calmer as I mutter behind my mask, “I don’t want to get involved, and I don’t have time. I have to get home and get ready for work.” I don’t know why I’m telling him this, I doubt he cares. I almost told him it was my first shift at a new job, but I’m not sure why I almost said it. 

Maybe he’s just nice to talk to. I spend so much time alone, hating social interactions… But he feels safe. 

The man grunts, stuffing his hands in his pant pockets. Somehow it makes him look more handsome and muscular. His clothes pull against his broad chest and buff arms. It makes me even more envious as I’m basically a walking scarecrow. 

It’s only now that I notice he has a plastic bag over his arm, heavy with what looks like energy drinks. I suppose business men have to work long hours. I wouldn’t know.  

He hesitates for a moment before he asks, “If you’re sure. Though it’s really not an imposition. He assaulted you.”

“He tripped me,” I counter, trying to downplay it. It just makes me feel worse. I know I should stand up for myself, but I can’t see what good it would do. It would just waste everyone’s time, and it’s not like I got hurt. 

The man fires back quickly, “It was a hate crime. That’s serious.”

I’m silent, not looking at him. He’s right, but I still don’t want to be involved. 

Swallowing, I hike up my bag on my shoulder and say, “Thank you for catching me. I have to get going.” I go to step around him and make for the exit when he gently touches my arm. 

It makes me look up at him and my stomach flutters again as I meet his eyes. They’re so dark and warm, like deep, shining bronze. He looks almost desperate as he says, “At least let me drive you home. It’s such a clear day, and my windows are tinted. Besides, you said you were in a hurry.”

My eyes are wide. I wasn’t expecting the offer. I remember I’m wearing sunglasses and a mask, so he can’t see my face, which is good because it would give away my utterly stupid expression. I feel like a fish, gaping at him in shock. 

I don’t answer right away as I have an internal deliberation. My instant reaction is that I should decline. It’s a short walk, and I don’t know this person. I’m not sure I want him to know where I live… But, I don’t really want to turn him down, either. What’s the difference between accepting his offer and using an app? There are lots of ride-hailing services. People get taxis. You’re an adult, Micah. You can say yes. My small, positive self-talk is enough to convince me. 

Trying to sound confident, I say, “I actually live pretty close, but if you don’t mind, I’d appreciate it.” At least it will keep me out of the sun. 

He gives me that dazzling smile again and my chest feels tight. 

“Great! I’m just parked out front.” He lets go of me and now my arm feels cold and tingles. I didn’t realize his warmth would reach through my many layers of clothing. 

He walks ahead of me, and—with my protective gear in place and my bag on my shoulder—I follow him. 

Grimacing, I’m careful to angle my umbrella toward the sun. Being out in the scorching light again, I’m even more grateful he offered and that I accepted.

Looking at the parked cars out front, I can instantly tell which one is his. It looks expensive, perfectly polished, and gleaming silver. I can tell the back windows are tinted, and with the make of the car, I would guess it’s with high-quality film. I won’t need to worry about the sun sitting in the back seat. 

The car gives a cheerful beep as he unlocks it. I expect him to walk around to the driver's seat, but he stands by the back passenger door and holds it open for me. “Let me hold your umbrella while you get in.”    

I let him take the umbrella, his hand brushing my gloved fingers. It makes me flustered, but I don’t linger, sliding into the back seat. I instantly feel like I don’t belong. Everything is high quality dark leather and polished wood that’s probably imported from Europe or somewhere overseas. The amount of leg room seems excessive, and there are screens on the back of the front seats, where I can see how out of place I really look.  

I should just try to enjoy it for the few minutes I’m sitting here. 

The man shuts the door and walks around to the other side. 

I jump as he opens the passenger door beside me, getting into the back. 

Startled, I blink up at him before swiftly looking to the driver’s seat to see it’s already occupied by a tall, balding man in a suit. Before I can ask or put two and two together, the man beside me says, “Sorry, this is my driver, Nigel. Nigel, we’re going to drop off my friend here before heading back to the office.” He then looks at me and asks, “Where are we heading?”

He places my umbrella between us before doing up his seatbelt.

I follow his lead, buckling mine as I say awkwardly, “Uh, it’s just down the street.” I give him the address, holding my bag on my lap. It’s only as we start to pull out of the parking space that I glance over at the man next to me. I’m about to thank him again when I hear a small whirring sound and notice the car getting brighter. 

The sunroof is slowly opening, light spilling into the car as it gets closer. For me, it’s like a torture device in some horror movie. 

I shrink back in my seat, holding my breath like it will help, I’m too scared and socially-impaired for a moment to say anything—it’s not even my car.

The man is quick to speak up, saying sternly, “Nigel, keep it closed. Thank you.”

The driver glances at me in the rearview mirror. His mouth is in a hard, stiff line. “Of course. My apologies, sir. I should have asked.” He closes the sun-roof again. 

I let out a breath, relaxing into the seat as the tension leaves me. 

“Sorry about that,” the man beside me says. He looks as equally relieved as me, even going so far as to close his eyes. 

I don’t know what to say or how to start a conversation. I wish so badly I was cooler, or at least dressed in a way that he might think I’m even the slightest bit attractive. I don’t even wonder if he’s gay, in my head he is, just for my own benefit. 

I grip the bag in my lap, trying to muster up the courage to string the random thoughts in my head together and make small-talk. I’m just about ready to ask him about his job when the driver says, “Here we are.”

We’re already at my apartment. 

“Wow, that really was close,” the man murmurs. He leans closer to me, looking out my window like he’s checking to make sure it’s the right place. It is. 

Embarrassment floods me as I look at my pathetic excuse for a rental. It’s like the smallest, shittiest town house imaginable, except I only rent the main floor; the upper floor has a separate entrance around back. There’s no foyer or yard or fence. There’s just a small landing right on the street. A door in a line of other doors, attached to a brick wall without any real separation.   

I unbuckle my seatbelt and grab my umbrella before opening the car door. I unfold the umbrella as soon as I’m able and then get out of the car. Looking back at the handsome man of my dreams, I quietly say, “Thank you so much for rescuing me. You really didn’t have to, but I’m grateful you did.”

The man grins at me and says in response, “It’s my pleasure. Maybe I’ll see you around.” He winks and I almost feel my knees give out. 

With the sun plaguing my every day-time effort, I doubt I’ll ever have the chance to run into him after today, but I don’t say that. “Maybe. See you.” It feels so anticlimactic.

I shut the door with a thunk, and watch the car drive away. 

I’m an idiot. I didn’t even ask him for his name or business card. 

Sulking toward my apartment, I feel like I missed my chance. But I have to shake it off. I need to drink something, have a shower, call my mom… And get ready for my first shift as a late-night janitor.