‘I’m sorry…’ I say, and she nods and looks away, but there was a second half of that sentence. It’s just that I’m not sure I can form the words. Because I’m sure as hell not sorry for that kiss.
‘Florence…’ I try, but again, nothing follows it. Maybe I simply do not have the words, and I can’t tell her with another kiss, because she’s gathering her things together and standing up. And I’m panicking because I want to say something– something with gravity, something so eloquent and important that it’ll make her stop in her tracks and kiss me again. But I’m not an eloquent and important kind of guy. I have about as much gravity as Pluto.
So, I don’t say anything.
‘It’s ok,’ she says, and then she smiles. I’m confused because I’m well-versed with women claiming they’re ok, but Florence seems like she actually is. It’s certainly as genuine a smile as I’ve seen on her.
That’s when I realise.We weren’t meant to be doing this. She doesn’t mean because of me, she means because ofher.She doesn’t date humans, because humans age and die and break her heart. And there was me, ready, willing and able to do the same damn thing.
And so I force a smile onto my face and hold my hand out. ‘Friends?’
She considers my hand for a moment before she smiles and shakes it, oblivious to the surge of feeling that rockets through me as our skin connects. Maybe one day– maybe one day soon– I won’t be a human either. Maybe we can revisit this.
And until then, I’m going to be the best damn friend Florence Everett ever had.
* * *
My heart is in my throat when I walk through the blood clinic doors. I’m panicking about the blood situation, for sure, but I think I’m more anxious about seeing Florence again.
It’s been three days since we kissed and I haven’t heard a word from her since, so I wondered if the appointment time I was sent from the clinic might have been her way of getting in touch. But when someone almost immediately calls my name, I find it’s not Florence at all. It’s Cam.
‘Quinn,’ he says, shaking my hand firmly. ‘Good to see you again.’
I try to hide my disappointment that I’ve been greeted by entirely the wrong vampire, and grin at him in return. ‘Just upsetting that it’s under these circumstances.’
He laughs. He has a great laugh– warm and robust. It really works with this Young Santa vibe he’s got going on.
‘I won’t take much of your time today,’ he says. ‘We’d just like to repeat the tests we did before to see if things are stable. It might give us a better idea of what you can expect in the coming weeks.’
In all honesty, I don’t really take in what he’s saying, which is probably for the best because if I have properly processed what Cam just said, my anxiety levels would be through the roof. Instead I’m distracted because I noticed his use of the word ‘we’ and my immediate thought was that maybe Florence is around after all. Maybe she’s just with another patient and she’s going to appear anytime now. Maybe I’ll see her on my way out and she’ll mouth a secret message to me over the heads of the people in the waiting room.
Or maybe, I think, my heart falling to my feet, she’s avoiding me.
In my defence, I really do try to make my enquiry about her whereabouts subtle, but I’m sitting on that torture chair and Cam is snapping the blue thing around my arm and he’s saying vaguely sinister things like ‘nice and bouncy’ and ‘just a bit cold’ that I’m sure he means to be reassuring, but actually just make my heart hammer like crazy. So I do try, but what actually happens is that I blurt out, ‘I thought Florence might be here.’
And, even worse than that, Cam laughs. The bastard laughs, and then he sticks a needle in my arm, and I’m not sure which of those things makes me hate him more.
Ok, fine, I don’t hate him, he’s just doing his jobandhe’s helping me out. I’m not myself when I’m in this chair.
‘She’s not on shift this afternoon,’ he says, glancing over at me for a second. ‘I actually thought she might be with you.’
My panic intensifies. ‘I, um… what?’
‘Quinn, relax.’ He grins, swapping out the vial of blood for an empty one. I can hear it bubble as it begins to fill and it turns my stomach. ‘I know the two of you have been spending time together. You don’t need to ask my permission. I’m not her dad. She’s actually older than I am.’
That shocks me out of my spiral. ‘She is?’
He huffs a laugh. ‘That was your cue to say, “Oh no, Cameron, you don’t look a day over fifty-five.”’
‘Sorry,’ I mumble. I’m starting to sweat a little now. Cam snaps the last vial out and I look away, just in case I accidentally catch sight of one of the samples and fly into a blind panic.
‘Medical anxiety, eh?’ he says gently, but I shake my head.
‘Blood phobia.’
His eyes widen. ‘Oh.’ He slips the full vials into the pocket of his scrub top and flashes me a sympathetic look. ‘That’s unfortunate, what with the?—’
‘Yeah,’ I interrupt, pressing my finger onto the cotton wool ball in the crook of my elbow while Cam tears off some tape.