I'll Be Here All Life | ✓ | ONC 2021

[2] Flirting with a Fairy

By the time Abby and I leave the bar, I have already amassed a bit of interest on LINGR. Most of the conversations don't pan out, just "down to fuck?"s. When I finally return home at around 2 am, I have an unread message from a fairy named Fred.

Fred: You're cute for an undead person ;)

If my heart could thump, I think it would. When I was human, text flirting never failed to set off my heart and sweat glands, in a good way. Swallowing, I take off my hat and jacket, setting them on the counter of my apartment. I go and open my casket, wrinkling my nose. It certainly smells like it needs a good cleaning day, but I'm the only one who lays in it at the moment, so no biggie. I slide in, lying down, and keep the top part open. Lifting my phone above my face, I type back.

Vick: It's hard being a glamorous vampire, but I try to avoid sparkling like Edward Cullen

I put my phone down on my chest, eyes wide. Am I really doing this? Well, Abby did say I needed to venture out and meet some new people. Even if things don't pan out—

But damn. If my comedy set sucked tonight, what's to say that my text flirting skills have suffered in the three months I've been a vampire too? With quick fingers, I lift the phone up, only to see Fred has already responded.

Fred: You better—sparkling is my thing ;) You know, being a fairy and all that

Winky faces are a good sign. Winky faces are a very good sign.

I giggle and continue texting Fred. He's funny. We text about Buffy the Vampire Slayer and whether I measure up to the vampires written in that show. When I say, 'Of course,' Fred calls me a 'vampire poser.' I don't know why, but I find it cute. At 7 am, I put my phone down, fold my arms down in my chest, and close the casket top as the morning sun beats in through the window brightly, a smile on my face. He wants to meet me for a walk whenever I wake up. Nothing more, nothing less.

I've always been a night owl, so I catch a few hours of sleep in the morning hours, then spend most of the day chilling in my casket. (Since I'm still a fledgling, I can sleep, but the desire to sleep wanes bit by bit each day, which sucks because sleeping is my go-to move when I'm feeling depressed... which is almost always.)

Then I begin to get ready to meet Fred by mid-afternoon. I brush and floss my fangs and other teeth. They gleam under the luminescent light of the bathroom, my bathroom light that flickers and makes me think I'm in a horror movie. I guess I'm the antagonist of the horror movie now, though, huh?

I dress in a long yellow skirt, rainbow suspenders, a cute long-sleeved red polo, and my handy smiley-face hat. After I've gathered my keys and wallet into my waist bag, I go to my refrigerator door and open it. Abby was kind enough to hook me up with a blood supply every week so I didn't have to attack people at random ("That's not what we all do," she said in response to me the first time I uttered that, rolling her eyes). Still, even though the literal taste buds on my tongue perk up at the sight or smell or touch of blood, I suppress the urges quite well. I don't know, I think the thought of sucking on someone's neck or wrist or wherever to suck their life force out of them isn't appetizing to me.

Geez. I'm even a failure as a vampire.

This is what Abby says: she thinks I'm one of the worst vampires she knows. "But you'll learn," she always says afterward in an attempt to appease me. "When you find the right donor—the right human—the two of you can get a lot of pleasure out of the bloodsucking experience." Every time she says this, I scoff. It's easy for her to say: she has three cis male humans at her beck and call. Apparently, they're all her sexual partners too. I shudder thinking about it. For me, nourishment and sexual pleasure shouldn't necessarily mix...