My Vampire Plus-One

by Jenna Levine

“The truth is, I quite like making you happy.” He shook his head. “I’m frightened to think too much about what that means, because I honestly can’t remember the last time I wanted to do anything for another person, simply for its own sake. And without having an ulterior motive.” His eyes, when they met mine, were so intense I had to look away. “But for you, I would brave a blizzard just to see you smile.”

Lol ok buddy

“The problem with young people is not that they’re lazy. It’s that they think they have unlimited time. So they postpone the fun parts of life thinking they can get to those later. Only at the end do they realize how badly they squandered…well. Everything.”

Telegram sent from Maurice J. Pettigrew, Treasurer of The Collective, to the Board of Directors Located quarry. Stop. Was not fishing at all! Stop. Fled to Wisconsin with human!! Stop. We made slight detour en route to tour cheese factory roadside billboard advertised as “Best Cheese Curds in Whole Gosh Darn World.” Stop. Have long been fascinated by cheese. Stop. How it’s made. Stop. How and why do cheese curds squeak? Stop. Want to know science behind it. Stop. Tour should be quick. Stop. Once finished, will bring prey to ground. Stop. Will bring gift from factory shop as apology for delay. Stop.

These are adults who are centuries old. My little brother is more mature than this

“He also said that leaving you when he did is one of the hardest things he’s ever done. He placed special emphasis on the word hardest, but out of concern for my own sanity, I refuse to analyze why that might be.”

“Go away,” Reggie shouted from within. “I’ve finally got the stickers where I like them.” Stickers? “It’s me.” A pause, and then the unmistakable sound of a person trying to shove a bunch of things underneath the bed. “Just a minute!” he squeaked.

I stared at him. “You chat with people online?” “Not people,” he clarified. “Bullet journalers.

Reggie let out a quiet moan. “You’re so hot when you talk taxes,” he breathed.

wtf

“No,” Reggie said, at full volume. “I wanted to dress exactly as I liked for this meeting. I’m done hiding.” Exactly as he liked turned out to be a brown gingham skirt paired with a T-shirt that said, Don’t Blame Me, I’m Todd! and black combat boots.

kill me now

“But I love doing makeup.” That shouldn’t have surprised me, knowing Reggie. “You do?” He pulled out an eyebrow pencil and drew a line just above each of my eyebrows. “I do,” he confirmed. “Doing stage makeup was one of my favorite pastimes in the 1970s.” He set the pencil down on the counter and grinned at me. “There. Now look at yourself in the mirror and tell me that you don’t look fabulous.” Fabulous was not the word I would have used to describe my appearance. My hair was so teased and sprayed I would have looked more at home in an ’80s hair band than Gretchen’s wedding. And he’d used more black eyeliner on me than I’d worn cumulatively my entire life.

he's gay