I wanted Warin. And not as a friend.
He was a vampire, and it wasn’t possible—and even if it were, just the thought of opening myself up to him like that… of being vulnerable with the one person I trusted so completely… it made my skin crawl with fear. I recalled the moment in his arms the night before, when I’d realized how right it felt, how I was supposed to be in his embrace, safe from all the horrors of the world… And the thought of losing that because I couldn’t keep my pants on filled me with more dread than I knew how to deal with.
Thankfully, he had turned my less-than-subtle offer down.
I knew what he’d meant when he’d told me we wouldn’t be dancing among the stars together. He’d said what Sober Liv already knew, but Drunk Liv apparently didn’t care about.
We would never be more than friends.
Groaning, with humiliation and irrational sorrow alike, I finally managed to shove my duvet aside so I could crawl out. There was no reason to be sad—I should have been thankful he’d stopped me from making the worst mistake of my life. There was, however, every reason to be filled to the brim with self-hatred, so at least I had that part down.
I finished my glass of water and staggered to the shower, hoping the spray would wash away my shame. And my hangover too, while it was at it.
It didn’t. Though to be fair, there’s probably only so much you can expect out of a shower when it comes to fixing your bad decisions.
I got into a fresh pair of PJs, because today was so not going to be a grown-up clothes sorta day, and went to hunt down my phone. I’d kind of left Raven behind without a second thought last night, and while I didn’t have a lot of experience with having friends, I knew that was a pretty shitty thing to do.
My phone was on my kitchen counter where I’d thrown it after coming in last night, and the display showed a missed call. From my mother.
This day just kept getting better and better.
Ignoring the little unanswered call icon in the top corner of the display, I quickly typed out a text to Raven, apologizing for leaving without saying anything and asking if she made it home all right. Then I went hunting through my cupboards, only to find them emptier than a vampire’s grave.
Who went for a night out without first stocking up on hangover food? This idiot, apparently.
A beep from my phone broke my contemplations on whether I could afford to order takeaway or not. It was a reply from Raven.
* * *
No worries. Ran into Dennis. Hey, I always wondered - does the D stay cold, or does friction heat things up?
Followed by an eggplant and winky-face emoji.
Lovely. But for someone with her ingrained vampire hate, maybe Raven giving me shit for the way I threw myself at Warin last night was actually a positive thing.
* * *
Nothing happened. Yeah, I saw Dennis briefly too. I didn’t realize he was the clubbing type tbh. Glad you got home OK!
Her response was almost immediate. It was an eggplant emoji followed by a sad smiley.
Two seconds later, another text beeped in:
* * *
Most witches go to Isla. He comes there regularly enough.
* * *
I blinked. I hadn’t realized Dennis was a witch. I told her as much, and asked if he was part of her coven too.
* * *
Really? He owns a New Age shop called Dark Dreams. I thought it was obvious ;) Not from our coven though. Dunno which one he belongs to, he’s kinda secretive about it.
* * *
Well, huh. Apparently everyone and their uncle was a witch these days. Before I could ask her if Skye was in on the supernatural bandwagon too, my phone buzzed to life in my palm, making me grimace with the sharp sound of the factory setting ringtone. I really should change that.
When I saw the name of the caller, I grimaced again. It would seem Mom wasn’t gonna let me ghost her today.
With a heavy sigh, I answered.
“Olivia, did you just get out of bed?”
"Hi, Mom. How are you?"
"You know only bums and drug addicts sleep until the afternoon." The sharpness of her voice more than indicated her continued belief that I was most definitely in the former of those two categories. Not that that was anything new.
I glanced at the clock—four thirty. "I went out last night… and I didn't just get up."
"Oh, God forbid! Are you an alcoholic now?"
"No, Mom. It was just a nice night out with some friends," I sighed, dragging myself over to my couch so I could at least be comfortable while I got nagged. “How’re things with you and Randy, anyway?”
Randy, her boyfriend of nearly a year, was her favorite subject and the easiest way to get her off my ass, and as per usual, my mom happily switched gears without another thought of her alcoholic bum of a daughter’s life.
I halfway listened while she talked and talked, about everything from every excruciating detail about every load of laundry she’d done in the two months since we spoke last, as well as which neighbors she was currently feuding with. The Delawares, turned out to be the answer to the last one, due to their dogs barking in the mornings.
I put The Bachelor on—muted with subtitles—settled in for the long haul.
* * *
When my door buzzer went off some three hours later, I was still on the phone with her.
"Mom, hang on a moment, someone's at the door," I tried interrupting her steady stream of words as I got up from the couch. She ignored me and continued talking about the new dance class her and her boyfriend attended every Thursday.
I rolled my eyes and trudged over to open the door, phone still pressed against one ear. Expecting Roy to pop in for a cup of coffee or to borrow the toilet, I pressed the button and opened my front door, while still mm-hmming into the phone.
Only the man on the other side of the door wasn’t my giant bodyguard. It was Warin—with a pizza box tucked under one arm.
I stared at him with a rising sense of panic and mortification, frantically debating if I could just slam the door in his face and maybe he’d go away so I didn’t have to deal with the shame of it all. However, before I could get my numbed brain to react, Warin said, "Good evening, Liv,” which finally made my mother stop mid-talk.
“Was that a man?"
Great.
"Yeah, that was Warin.” Defeated, I stepped out of the doorway so he could get in.
"Did he spend the night?” my mother gasped in horror.
Doing my best not to groan, I pinched the bridge of my nose and nudged the door closed with my hip. "No, Mom. He just knocked on the door—remember when I said 'just a moment, someone's at the door'…"
“Olivia Teresa Green! Do not take that tone with me! Who is this man who thinks it is appropriate to visit a young woman this late on a Saturday evening?"
This late being seven thirty.
I quietly counted down from ten. “Warin’s my friend. We met a few weeks ago.“
"Yes, thank you, I am aware what sort of 'friend' you’re talking about!" she snapped.