City of Blood

24

Once I got back into the car with our packed bags, I could see how zoned out Callum was and he wasn't going to be good to drive. Even though his eyes looked okay and didn't have pink overtaking the whites, I think the knowledge that he's known the person who turned him (and nearly killed him) for months is a lot.

That's why I'm currently driving down the freeway to get to the coast. Thankfully, Portland isn't too far from the coast and most people aren't driving to the coast this early in the day on a weekday, so the roads are clear. The Oregon coast is cold and I know people always have to wear sweatshirts, but I've never been there because of Dad's refusal to go on trips.

We're finally into early December, so I doubt it's going to be dry. I'm not too upset about the idea of rain; I don't think Callum wants to do long walks on the beach and spend time outside. I think he just wants to get away from the city and from everything going on. It'll be nice to have a break from all of the chaos back at home.

Callum got us a small beach house for the week in Cannon Beach. He said he booked it for a week and we can go back early if we need to, but I don't plan on it. If Callum needs a week away from Portland, then I'm happy to stay away for the week. He's had my back since the day we met, and I want to support him the way he's supported me.

"Fuck, my head hurts," Callum mumbles, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Your eyes aren't pink," I say, smiling when I finally see the sign that leads to the road toward Cannon Beach. I don't drive much, since usually Callum does or Ramsay did when I rode with him, so I'm excited to get out of the car.

Callum hums. "I know it hurts because I'm tired and stressed," he informs me, pulling his knees to his chest. "I just want to complain."

"Complain, then," I encourage, reaching over to stroke the top of his knee. "I like your voice."

"Even when I'm whining about my head hurting?"

"I complain all the time about random things," I point out, which is pretty true because I do bring up random things to complain about. Usually conspiracy theories or things that just irk me for no reason, and it's pretty fun to debate them with Callum.

Callum smiles softly, and I turn my head to make sure I can see it. His soft smiles are cute and make him look less intimidating, since he's often the intimidating and in-charge one in our relationship. Or, at least, he was before I got off of the suppressants because now my more domineering side is coming out and showing itself.

"The next exit is the one you want to take," Callum says, laying his head against the window. "I feel like eating human food tonight."

"What're you feeling, babe?" I ask, taking the exit and slowing down since the sign indicates that the little town center is a twenty five speed zone.

Callum hums. "I'm in the mood for, like, a disgustingly greasy pepperoni pizza. Dr. Pepper. Some of those cheesy breadsticks because the garlic ones bother my tongue... fuck, that sounds so good." He directs me through the town center and to the house we're staying at.

Thankfully, since it's not a busy weekend, Callum had no problem finding a cute little house just a few minutes from the beach. It's a part of a bunch of properties owned by one person, so we stop at the reception desk to get the keys to our place before walking to the car and taking our bags.

The house is pretty small, with a small kitchen, a living room, a small space with a table for eating, and two bedrooms upstairs, one with an ensuite bathroom. Callum takes our bags to the bedroom and I unpack the cooler with blood bags and put them in the fridge. I get on my phone and look up pizza places in the area before calling one and placing an order.