I nestle closer to my mom, both of us quiet and snuggled on the couch. It feels nice, reminding me of home and my childhood. 

Her voice is full of concern as she almost thinks out loud, whispering, “It’s probably wise to take the day off if you can. You get thirsty enough with the rations… Maybe I should come visit again when it’s the day you’re due for more blood. I don’t want you having a hard time at home either, especially if you’re alone.” She brushes her fingers through my hair. 

I nod, agreeing, “That would be really helpful. I didn’t realize how isolated I was until I was burning at the bus station. I was really scared.”

“I know, baby. I know how scary it is. And painful.” She puts her arm around my shoulder, pulling me closer to her. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“Yeah, me too. I really want to thank Asim. He seriously saved me. I don’t know what would have happened if I hadn’t run into him or he hadn’t stopped to help. I feel so useless sometimes, you know?” I hate admitting it, but with my mom it feels safe to be vulnerable. She’s seen me at my worst, and this doesn’t even come close. 

I’m not sure if that’s a comfort or not. 

She squeezes me as she asks, “...Is Asim your crush—?”

I sit up instantly, shooting her an irritated glare. “No! God, Mom! We were just having such a nice moment, I was feeling comforted, and then your mind immediately goes straight back to the guy I kind of like?!” I can’t stop myself from scoffing. I’m even smiling a little. 

“There is no “kind of” here, Micah. Let’s not kid ourselves.”

It’s comical how focused she is on finding out more information about her son’s mystery crush. 

“Mom.” I say it in a way it draws a hard line in the sand, but I know she’s going to find a way to dip her toe past it. 

She puts her hands up in surrender, trying to look innocent. “Okay! Okay! I’m sorry! I was just curious!”

I grunt, shaking my head in disbelief at how determined she is. “Asim just works on the day shift and I’ve only met him twice!”

“Well, it’s good to have options.”

“Mom!” I laugh, internally screaming as I blatantly explain, “I told you! He happened to be at the bus station where I was having my reaction, which was seriously lucky for me. He got me a ride and accompanied me here to make sure no one gave me issues. You know. In case they had a problem with me.”

Her expression breaks my heart, but she sounds level as she says, “I get it. I’m sorry you have to worry about that, even here in the city. But, it sounds like you have such nice people to work with. I’m so happy and grateful for that. I miss you so much, but it’s nice knowing you’re a little happier here than you were at home. Your boss sounds nice, you’re making friends, you’re falling in love… I’m proud.”

I look toward the ceiling like I’ll find internal strength there before I stare at her again. “I haven’t fallen in love. You’re exaggerating.”

“Mm, we’ll see!” She grins. 

I nudge her lightly with my elbow. “Maybe the real reason I left home was because of all the smothering need for info on my dating life.”

She chuckles and I’m glad she knows I’m kidding. “You love me anyway.”

A soft noise of contentment leaves my throat and I murmur, “Yeah. I do… Thank you for coming, Mom. Seriously. I don’t know what I’d do without you. The whole thing just turned into a breakdown, but I’m really sorry I worried you.” I put my head in my hands, leaning over my lap as I rub over my face to try and relax it a little. 

It’s only now I notice I can’t feel my fangs anymore. They probably retracted last night, but it makes me feel better knowing I look a little more normal. 

My mom grabs my attention again as she says, “I know, sweetie. Don’t worry about me, alright? Let’s just worry about you.” She rubs my arm and clears her throat; I wonder if she’s tearful again, but if she is, she’s good at hiding it in her voice. “So… Work?”

I nod, raising my gaze to meet her dark eyes. “Yeah. Work.”

She beams at me and I can feel pride radiating off of her. “Okay. Want me to make cookies or something? You can bring them in to share with your colleagues. Might be a nice gesture?”

“That’s a great idea. I can help if you want—”

“Oh, no no no. It’s a good thing you haven’t touched this stove since you moved in. I can tell because the apartment’s still standing.”

“Okay, I set the stove on fire like one time,” I counter, pointing at her like somehow it will help my argument. 

She pushes herself up off the couch, holding my gaze with a look of utter skepticism. “It was twice, and that’s two times too many. You’re lucky the fire didn’t spread and burn down our whole house! No, you stay away from the kitchen. I’ll make the cookies. When does your shift start?”

I watch her walk around the kitchen like she lives here, looking in the drawers. I can see her quickly figuring out how absolutely empty and unstocked my kitchen is. It’s different from home, since she has to cook for Dad. 

She opens the fridge like she’s still expecting to find ingredients. My stomach sinks as I see her flinch. She’s bathed in harsh, fluorescent light, red reflected in her eyes as she stares at the blood packs. She looks haunted and I can’t tell if it’s because of her past… or mine. 

I clear my throat and she closes the fridge door; it’s like I’ve broken a trance. 

“Shift starts at six,” I say, wondering if she’s disappointed in me that my kitchen is so barren. But maybe that’s more self-criticism; I don’t have a reason to cook or bake like she does. It’s just me, and all I consume is blood. Bagged blood, as she constantly reminds me of. 

She smiles at me though it looks forced and stiff. “Oh! We have loads of time, then. I’ll need to get a few groceries delivered. And I’ll wash your uniform for you in the meantime. We can do some unpacking, too.” She gives me a look with raised brows; she knows I’ve been putting it off and now I can tell without question that she disapproves. 

I laugh a little as I stand up, defeated. “Okay. You win. I’ll unpack. I have to get my clothes hung up anyway.”

She titters, chiding, “Wrinkled shirts aren’t sexy, you know. Mr. “Anonymous Co-Worker” won’t be impressed by wrinkled shirts fresh out of the box where they’ve been sitting for weeks.”

“Ugh! You’ve made your point! I’m going!” I grin to myself as I walk back down the hallway toward my bedroom. I don’t know if it’s the fact my living room looks a little more lived in or that my mom is here—maybe it’s just that I’m not alone—but the apartment feels warmer. 

I know I fucked up. I know I’ll pay for it later. But, right now… everything feels a little brighter, in a good way. 

*   *   *

“How does the makeup look?” I ask, checking my reflection in the flip down mirror on the passenger’s side of the car. We’re parked outside my office building, under a streetlamp, but it’s still hard to see in the dim. It’s dark and cold outside, the kind of weather I take comfort in.

My worry is that as soon as I walk into the massive corporate building with bright lights and strangers, the makeup covering my scarred face will be far more noticeable than in the shadows of my moms old car.  

Grabbing my chin and careful not to touch my face, my mom scrutinizes me for a few seconds. She beams at me, letting me go in a seal of approval as she says, “Flawless. You can’t even tell,” and gives me a thumbs-up. 

I smirk, nodding, trying to hype myself up. “Great.” I can’t tell if she’s being totally honest or just trying to boost my confidence, but I shut the mirror closed so I don’t have to look at myself anymore. It douses the small overhead light I was using to check my face, and the car interior is dark again as I look at my mom. 

She smiles at me, sympathetic and almost nervous for me as she asks, “Got the cookies? And the hat? Your mask?”

“Yes, yes, and yes.” I pat my tote bag, signaling they’re packed. “You okay driving home?”

She scoffs, unimpressed as she looks at me. “Wow, you must really think I’m old.”

“I don’t think you’re old! I just worry about you! It’s late, it’s a long drive! You’d worry about me.”

She waves away my concern. “Yes, I’ll be fine. Your dad is waiting for me, fending for himself and getting take-out.” She makes a fake gagging gesture. “Anyway, I’m going to listen to my new romantasy audiobook on the drive. See, I’m a cool mom.” She wiggles her eyebrows at me. 

It makes me think of my own terrible audiobook mishap, and I realize this is another way I take after her. “Romantasy, huh? Very cool.” I chuckle a little, thinking she’s cute. 

I’m hit with a glare. “That sounds like sarcasm. You know, I think I paused it in the middle of a really steamy scene. I’m going to hit play in about 30sec at a very loud volume if you don’t get out of the car and get your butt into gear. Go! Don’t be late!”

I look at the car clock, seeing it’s about quarter to 6. It prompts me to unbuckle my seatbelt and open the car door with a reluctant, “Alright! Okay! I’m going.” I get out of the car, shutting the door firmly behind me. My mom rolls the passenger window down and I take full advantage, leaning over to say through it, “But I’ll miss you. Thanks. For everything. I love you, Mom.”

She pouts a little and gives me a touched, sympathetic look. “Awe, I love you, too, sweetie. Have a good shift—”

“Micah!”

I flinch at the sound of my name and instantly bolt up and turn to see who’s calling me. I’m glad I’m facing away from the car so my mom can’t see my face turn beet red. My smile fades and my eyes grow alarmingly wide. 

No no no no no! 

This cannot be happening to me. 

Vincent jogs over to me from a few feet away. He’s gorgeous, in a fitted suit and formal wool overcoat. His clothes are dark like his hair, his eyes seeming warmer as the streetlight overhead hits them and they glimmer. His breath is steaming from between his lips as he pants; I can almost feel the heat.  

He grins at me as he approaches, giving me a small wave. He’s wearing tight leather gloves, carrying a briefcase in the other hand. I feel my heart race as I imagine those gloved hands on me, slipping under my shirt—

Oh my god, your mother is RIGHT THERE, Micah! Rein it in!

“V-Vincent! Hi! I didn’t think I’d run into you. How… How are you feeling?”

He stops right in front of me, way too close for my poor pounding heart. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about it,” he says, subconsciously brushing over the back of his head. I wonder if it’s still sore. 

I try not to think about it; it will only work me up more. “Staying late again tonight? I thought maybe you’d take it easy for a few days and we might not run into each other. Not that I’d expect to run into you, or anything!” 

Micah, please shut up, I think to myself. You sound like a rambling idiot. How does he manage to do this to you every time?!

Vincent grins, a deep chuckle leaving his throat. “Oh, I stay late almost every night. Besides, I was cleared, remember? It’s a desk job, hardly high risk. I was just getting back from having dinner and a short break…” He holds my gaze for a moment before his lips curl around the words, “You should join me sometime. I know a great place.”

My knees weaken and I almost hit the pavement. Luckily the swoon is in my very lightheaded imagination and really I’m just standing there, staring at him. 

I open my mouth, gaping at him as I try to think of what to say, anything really… when I hear a pointedly cleared throat coming from the car.