“All cleared.”

Vincent’s voice makes me jolt, and I sit up straighter in my chair, opening my eyes. I flinch at the bright lights, blinking rapidly as I try to get my sensitive vision to adjust. My heart is pounding a little and I realize I must have dozed off while he was off getting tests and imaging done. 

I look up at Vincent, seeing he’s still dressed in a hospital gown. I realize quickly that that’s about to no longer be the case as he undoes the ties and pulls the gown off. 

Flustered, I feel my face heat and my breath huff as I try to get a grip on what’s happening. We’re in a private hospital room and I’m in the most uncomfortable chair I’ve ever sat in, my back is killing me, it’s blindingly bright, and my boss—who’s glowing like a freaking angel under all these fluorescent lights—is stripping right in front of me. 

It’s like the weirdest dream I could have had is suddenly my reality and I’m just trying not to get a boner as I stare at him, dumbfounded. At least I’m still wearing that damn mask so he can’t see my mouth gaping. 

I know I should look away. He’s the CEO, stripping off some shapeless sheet my grandma might wear to bed. There shouldn’t be anything sexy about that… But now he’s suddenly standing here in front of me in nothing but a pair of very tight briefs and I can’t stop my stare from lingering. 

His muscles are sculpted and his skin looks tantalizingly smooth. He has a few moles on his back that feel secretive and I can’t stop my mind from wandering as I wonder where else he might have them. There’s a scar on his left shoulder blade that looks pretty gnarly and I wonder if he was in an accident or had an operation or something. Overall he’s just… beautiful. 

Stupid perfect, handsome, dreamy, son of a bitch, I think to myself, almost angry that he looks so freaking delectable and I’m sitting here, sweaty in a dirty janitor jumpsuit that barely hides my scarecrow physique. And not only is he so aggravatingly handsome… He’s so damn kind; it makes my heart throb. 

I drop my gaze but it’s a mistake because my line of sight is magnetized to his crotch and I feel my eyes get wider, brows lifting. I knew he was hung from the last unfortunate moment I stared at his crotch after knocking over the damn recycling bin, but the way his briefs tightly hug his package leaves no room for misinterpretation. 

Now I’m just silently fighting against my own arousal. Don’t get hard. Don’t get hard. Think about something sad. Sad puppies. Puppies don’t like you. That’s so sad, Micah. Keep thinking about it. I look at my feet and imagine some cute fluffy creature cowering there, because that’s heartbreaking to me. 

I love animals, but they do not love vampires. Especially dogs. It’s like they can sense us and think we’re predators or something. It sucks. 

“Hey, are you okay? You’re pretty quiet. Did you hear me? I said I was all cleared. No concussion.” Vincent sounds cheerful and I can feel his dark eyes boring into me. 

I blink up at him, trying to look nonchalant and keep eye-contact. God his eyes are sparkling, he’s grinning at me and that’s dazzling, too. My heart feels physically strained, like it hurts to look at this man. 

Clearing my throat, I try to pull myself together as I ask, “So the doctor already came to talk to you? Did they check out the cut on your head?” 

How long have I been asleep? It can’t be that late… I wonder, and check my phone. It’s already 7am; this is usually around when I head to bed, before the sun starts rising, at least in winter. I wonder if I’m even more tired from the stress and unexpected physical workout Vincent gave me. 

I blush as I realize how that sounds in my mind and try not to picture anything inappropriate. At least let me get home first, I find myself begging. I’m begging my mind and dick to behave because I strongly suspect they’re conspiring against me. 

Vincent distracts me as he says, “Yup. No concussion or skull fracture. Just a few staples to close the cut.”

My pulse jumps as I ask, “They already did that?” I’d had a secret lingering hope that he’d ask me to hold his hand or something when they put in staples, but I guess I lost out on that chance. He probably wouldn’t have asked me to anyway; stupid fantasy.   

I wait for Vincent to get dressed and discharged. 

Once he is, we leave the room and head back to the emergency exit since it’s the closest. I’m so tired I just want to go home and sleep, but I also don’t want this night to end. It’s been nice, getting to be with Vincent. I feel a little closer to him, though I can’t let it go to my head. 

Next shift I’m sure we’ll just go back to being boss and employee where I try not to embarrass myself. That’s how it’s supposed to be anyway. 

We near the doors and Vincent says, “Thank you, Micah. It was nice of you to take care of me so diligently. I’m sorry for the trouble.”

I look up at him and my heart throbs again. I’m so fucking head-over-heels for this man it’s ridiculous and debilitating. I want to think I was cooler and more rational before I met him and was infected with this lovesick illness that poisoned my ability to come off as a normal person… but I wasn’t. 

Clearing my throat I say, sincerely, “Please don’t thank me. I still feel terrible for causing you so much trouble. I’m really sorry.” 

“Don’t be. We’re even now.” He shoves his hands into his pockets, pausing to look at me for a moment before he breaks our gaze and says, “I texted Nigel while you were asleep. He’s here to pick me up, so you don’t need to worry about driving, though I do appreciate it. Can I give you a ride home?”

I desperately want to accept the offer. It would be so easy to just slip into the back of his luxury car and be whisked off to where my bed is waiting for me to fall into it. I’d even get to spend a few more moments with the handsome man of literally my dreams… But then he’d see that my apartment is the same shitty little place that he dropped a dorky vampire off at, after an unexpected meeting at a pharmacy. 

And I’m just not ready for him to know that yet. Somehow having him realize that it’s me is the worst thing I can think of. I don’t want to risk it. I’ve done enough to damage my reputation… And I really want to keep this job. I want him to at least like me a little…

I shake my head, though I immediately feel my own despair cloud over me as I say, “No. No, that’s fine. I can just take the bus.” 

Vincent raises an eyebrow as we stop just in front of the sliding doors, off to the side to make room for those existing and entering the ER. He seems sceptical as he asks, “The bus? From here? Let me give you money for a cab at least.”

My pulse jumps and I feel a twinge. Like I’m being looked down on or treated like some kid. It’s just my own insecurity, but my answer comes out a little harsher as I insist, “No. Thank you, sir. I don’t want to take your money.”

I drop my gaze so I don’t have to look at Vincent, but I catch his brows furrowing as I look away. His voice sounds deeper, softer as he says, “I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m sorry if it came off like that. Cabs can just be pretty pricey right now since we’re downtown and a lot of people will be heading into work. Honestly, I feel bad inconveniencing you. You just spent hours waiting at the hospital with me. I don’t want you to spend an hour or something commuting home when you don’t even have your coat.”

I feel a little guilty for coming off harsh when I hear his concern. He sounds so genuine, and I curse how nice he is. It would be so much easier to stop thinking about him if he was some rich dick. 

He’s right. I don’t have my coat, though it’s not really that cold outside. I should be fine. But somehow I think telling him that would make him protest. It’s actually a little funny. I guess we’re both stubborn.  

I shrug it off, countering, “It was my fault anyway. Really, please don’t worry—” 

“Of course I worry about you.” His face looks a little flushed as he quickly adds, “I’d be an asshole not to.”

What was that? Just now? My heart leaps a little as I replay his words in my mind. It sounds like he’s been thinking about me, but it was probably just awkward wording on his part and that’s why he blushed. It probably doesn’t mean anything… 

I look at the time on my phone, seeing it’s now closer to 7:30am. I should hurry home, and since he won’t give in, I try to end the conversation, saying, “I can take a cab myself. Really.” I have no intention of taking a cab, but maybe he thinks I am, he’ll let me go.  

Vincent narrows his eyes on me a little, but caves as he says, “Alright. If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.” It feels like déjà vu. Another lie in my pocket. It makes me sick, my heart sinking. It’s stupid to lie to him, but what does it matter to him anyway if I take a cab or the bus. It’ll save me a few dollars and then maybe to him I won’t look so desperate and needy. 

We stand there together, warm just inside the doors where they’re blasting the heater.  

I can feel him watching me, and I look at my phone like I’m going to order a ride. Really, I’m checking the bus schedule, mapping out my route home. It shouldn’t take too long. There’s a bus stop just outside the hospital and I know if I catch the next one I’ll be home before the sun rises. 

“Ah, here he is,” Vincent says to himself as he looks up. I see his familiar fancy car pull up in front of the doors and Vincent turns to me. I can tell he wants to offer me a lift again, but he doesn’t. He just smiles and says, “Have a good morning, Micah. See you at work.” He winks at me and my pulse stutters. 

Just let him drive you home! I think to myself, but all I say is, “You, too. See you.”

Vincent steps outside, opening the door to the back seat. He gets in, giving me a final wave before he closes it. 

I watch him drive off, and I’m filled with almost as much longing as the first time. 

As soon as he’s out of sight, I pocket my phone and dart for the bus stop. The cold hits me, but I ignore it, determined and in denial. The bus is already pulling up at the stop, so I sprint and make it. 

It’s a relief, and I quickly scan my transit card as I step inside. I find a seat across from the back doors and let my head thunk against the glass. I feel ragged and exhausted. Everything about today has worn me out. The glass feels good on my forehead… 

I just want to close my eyes.  

***

“Sir. Sir, we’re at the station. You have to get off.”

I wake up to someone shaking my shoulder and my face feels like it’s on fire. 

I jolt, grabbing the side of my face to feel hot, sizzling blisters on my skin. It’s searing agony combined with excruciating itchiness. I want to claw my skin off, and as I raise my hand I feel the skin there start to sear, too. 

I wildly look up at the bus conductor who’s shaking my shoulder. 

He recoils instantly, horror on his face. He stumbles back, gripping the seat behind him like he needs to brace himself. He looks terrified and pale as he stares at me and shouts like he’s calling for help, “You’re… You’re a… Bloodsucker!”

Fuck.