My Vampire Bromance

Chapter 1: An Unexpected Gift

He's sitting across the bar from me. Drink in hand—dashingly handsome smile. Large, dark brown eyes set in a pale, long, and gently pointed face. His long black hair is tied back, a strand of it falling across his gracefully arched brow as he twirls it between his fingers, eyeing the woman hungrily at his side. How I long to be like him.

Honestly, I have wanted to be like him for a while now. Every Friday night for the last two months, I have watched him work his magic on women effortlessly. At first, I was jealous. Now I just want to know how he does it. No matter how crowded it is in this bustling hole in the wall, no matter how loud the horrid live music is while young college kids yell and laugh at each other, he manages to snag one to three girls every time. What I wouldn't give to be just like him.

After one month of watching him, I tried to get up the courage to talk to him. But every time I think it's the perfect moment... I am just a little too late.

Two weeks ago, I approached to ask him what his secret was to get the prettiest girls. Before I could ask him, he stood up with one linked to his arm and walked away. He left me standing stupidly in front of his empty seat, wondering if he was trying to ignore me or if he didn't see me at all. The latter wouldn't surprise me. No one really noticed me anyway, and if they did? Well, then they just pretended I didn't exist. It made me feel like a schoolgirl constantly getting rejected by boys she thought were cute. It had happened so much now that I was becoming numb to it.

Maybe it's my glasses that sit awkwardly on my face, the gold round frames of them at odds against the squareness of my jaw. Perhaps it's my unruly wavy blonde hair that I'm always pulling back into a bun, not wanting to be bothered to brush or style it. Or maybe, it's that I am just not handsome. I know that I'm too pale and skinny to be thought of as attractive. If I ate and went out into the sun more, my troubles might be less.

Most likely, it's my clothes. I dress like some guy who thinks the nineties are still in style. My jeans sag too much. The green plaid shirt that I wear constantly falls out of my pants and over my belt, giving me an air of untidiness. Sometimes I tuck my shirt into my belt instead of my pants accidentally.

In my freshman year of college, I tried to talk to a girl in my literature class. She took one look at my clothes and laughed at me before blowing me off. I struggled to tuck my shirt back in the right way when my professor stopped me. He laid a hand on my shoulder and said, "What's done is done, Phillip. There's no use trying to correct it now." I was left embarrassed by the whole situation. I hadn't tried to ask out a girl since.

I let out a sigh. Picking up my glass of water, I pretended that it was vodka and took a drink. It's useless. That guy will never stoop to talk to me, much less help me out with my dating woes. What the hell am I thinking? I took a sip from my drink and looked up at the stranger across the way over the top of my world literature book. For the briefest moment, the dark-haired man across the bar locked eyes with me. I quickly averted my gaze, stunned by the intensity of his eyes as they traced my face.

I lowered my head, afraid of what the consequences would be for staring at him. I buried my nose further down into the pages of my textbook, jumping as I felt the scrape of a wooden chair beside me. My heart began pounding in my chest. I refused to look up from my reading.

My glasses slid down my nose as I began to sweat. Surely it wasn't him who was now sitting beside me. No. No, it had to be someone else. Anyone else. I fumbled my book as I went to push my glasses back up my nose.

"It must be hard to juggle glasses and a book," a female voice said at my side.

"Huh?" I said stupidly. I looked beside me to see my friend Jenna pulling out a chair. She sat down, grinning widely at me. A look across the bar let me know that the pale stranger was still sitting there, now stroking the woman's hair who sat beside him. I counted my blessings that he had not come my way. But then again, why should he? I am no one.