My Vampire Bromance

Chapter 22: What Do You Mean You're...?

"Phillip...Phillip!" I stared at Samantha Peterson's beautiful heart-shaped face. She opened her green eyes wide. They looked like jewels glowing in the sand. I wondered why she was sporting a fake tan this late in December. Summer had already come and gone, perhaps she was missing its rays.

"What?" I asked, coming out of my thoughts. I'd been staring at the clock for a while now. 3:30 pm. The sun would be setting in an hour thanks to Daylight Savings Time ending. By then, Victor would rouse from his slumber and inevitably smell her. It wasn't like he'd never seen Samantha before. He'd come across her in the library when she'd insisted on bringing me lunch last Thursday. He'd said choice words about her character after the fact too. Though the two of us had been wrapped up in the issue of Brinley and the vampire that I'd saved her from, Victor made sure that I knew just how much he detested Samantha.

"Honesty, Phillip, you can do much better than her," he told me. That was minutes before the incident happened in the bathroom, resulting in him drinking from me...kissing me. At first, I thought it had been a fluke, but he'd done it again last night...kissed me. And I'd allowed it, even kissing him back while letting him lay me down on the bed under him while he lifted my shirt and kissed other parts of my body. I'd been powerless against it and honestly was still reeling from it.

Samantha slapped her palm on the table, "Seriously?! What are you thinking about that's got your head in the clouds? Anthropology is not that exciting. I know the test is bad, like over a hundred questions, but like, you got it...even if I don't." She paused briefly, twisting her brown highlighted hair between her fingers. I didn't want to say anything to her about how blonde her highlights had gotten. They were a stark contrast to her brown. Did she get it done between yesterday and today? I shook my head.

"Your hair," I blurted, "I mean, you do. Got it."

"Oh," Samantha looked down, "You noticed it." She sighed, "After Thursday night, I totally forgot I'm not supposed to take hot showers. I was so messed up from that whole thing, you know? And that poor girl who had to go to the hospital after being attacked by the killer. I was worried about you the entire time you ran in to save her, and, well..." she shrugged, "I ruined it. I plan to go to the salon tomorrow, so it's fine."

"Ah," I looked down, biting my lip.

"You were really brave, you know that?" Samantha batted her fake eyelashes at me, and I gulped. "I mean, I wouldn't have been able to do something like that." I stayed silent. Samantha seemed to get the hint that I didn't want to talk about it, but there was something in her eyes that told me she wanted to talk about something else. "You want some coffee? I like, brought you a bag from this little local roasters by my house. As a thank you for studying with me. I feel a lot better now. I think I might actually pass the test now that I have the right answers. It's open book, right?" She turned to look at me, and I took in her outfit for the first time. She was either trying to impress me, or Samantha always wore things like this on a Saturday. I lifted an eyebrow at the bright pink dress she wore. She'd abandoned her high heels hours earlier. Every inch of her was tanned, slightly orange; my suspicions were confirmed.

"Yeah, it's open book," I replied. I looked nervously at the clock, the time nearing four in the afternoon. If I let Samantha make coffee, she might be out of my hair soon. "And thank you for the coffee. That was nice of you."

"I know how much you like it," she said. I held in my surprise. Samantha had only taken the time to sit with me once and talk to me beyond the normal, 'I forgot a pen.' I was shocked she'd even noticed. "You're always bringing coffee to class. You smell good. I mean, the coffee you bring smells good." She smiled sheepishly.

I grimaced. Was Samantha Peterson, of all people, trying to flirt with me? Oh god! How the hell was I going to tell her that I was already kissing someone else and that her preemptive phone number label on my phone would have to go? I bit my bottom lip. "By the way," she started scooping the coffee into the pot from the bag, "did you see my number in your phone?"