‘Romantic,’ he says. I can hear the smile in his voice and it makes me feel like I’m ten feet tall.
‘Of course.’ I use the bag to weigh the nearest corner of the blanket down, which seems to be all it needs to stay put. ‘Also, I’m guessing that you, unlike me, are not impervious to insect bites.’
‘No,’ he says, and then his mouth quirks into a grin. ‘Not yet.’
There’s a leap in my chest as he says it, my excitement about his impending immortality tempered a little by my underlying anxiety. I don’t think I’ll stop worrying until it’s done and he’s ok. But I don’t share that part with him. I don’t want to give him any reason to think everything won’t be perfect.
I sit cross-legged on one side of the blanket and gesture at the space next to me, which he lowers himself down into, more cautiously than I’m used to from him. I wait until he gets comfortable and then I start unpacking things from my bag.
He watches me carefully as I set four LED candles around the edges of the blanket, switching them on as I go. Between the middle two I set a small vase of fake flowers, and then I put a plate in front of him, topped with a red and black gingham napkin. When I look back up at him, there’s an expression on his face I can’t decipher.
‘You made me a picnic?’ he asks, his voice only just audible over the sound of the waves.
‘Yeah.’ I look away, out over the sea, suddenly second-guessing myself. ‘You said you’d miss food, so…’ I trail off, doubt nagging at me. ‘Is it ok?’
He smiles softly. ‘It’s perfect. Thank you.’
I look back up at him, realising as I do that the emotion I heard in his voice wasn’t a bad thing. He seems touched.
Our eyes meet, the warmth of the flickering fake candlelight making his seem more green than usual. The eye contact makes something swell in my chest, like it always does.
He hums a laugh, a small breath of a thing. It sounds like happiness rather than humour. ‘What’s on the menu?’ he asks.
Reaching back into the bag, I pull out the food I brought for him: ham sandwiches, tiny scotch eggs, a pork pie, and fancy crisps from the nice shop in town. I can’t take credit for the selection– that was all Sammi– but in my defence, I rarely eat human food these days.
The garlic bread though, that was all me. I hear his breath catch as he spots it.
‘You didn’t!’
I’m going to hate myself when I want to kiss him later, but seeing the joy on his face right now, I know it’s worth it. He grabs the slice I packed for him and brings it under his nose, inhaling deeply.
‘This is the best thing anyone’s ever done for me,’ he says, gazing at the overhyped toast like it’s the answer to all his prayers. ‘Don’t worry, I’m going to brush my teeth so hard later.’
I snort a laugh. ‘You’d better.’
And then he takes a bite and the noise that comes out of his mouth as he does is absolutely filthy. I’m not ashamed to admit that I watch him eat the entire thing and I don’t even bother trying to hide my hunger. Not for the garlic bread, obviously. For him.
He notices me watching as he licks his fingers clean and suddenly his eyes fly open ‘I almost forgot,’ he says, reaching into his pocket. ‘I brought a little something for you.’
He pulls out a small sandwich bag with four full vials of blood inside it, and puts it in front of me, looking away quickly.
I’m so surprised that I laugh. ‘Where did you get these?’
‘Cam.’ He grins, his gaze locked on my eyes, maybe so it can’t inadvertently drop down to the blood. ‘He was at the bar earlier, and when I said I was on my way to meet you, he reached into his pocket and pulled these out.’ His smile drops, brow furrowing. ‘Does he just have blood on him at all times?’
That makes me laugh again. ‘I think he might.’
Quinn smiles back, but I notice the tug in his expression, the pounding of his pulse in his temples. I scoop the bag of samples and stuff it into my bag where he doesn’t have to see it.
‘I can have these later.’
But that makes his frown deepen. ‘I don’t mind if you?—’
‘It’s ok,’ I interrupt gently. ‘I don’t want you to, you know…’
He leans forwards so I’m forced to meet his eyes. ‘I mean it. It’s something I need to get used to.’ His non-garlicky hand goes to my cheek, his thumb grazing the corner of my mouth. ‘I want to know you, even if it’s scary.’
I frown. ‘Are you sure? We can ease in.’