Just My Type

by Lucy Bexley

She barks a laugh. “Oh, Annie. You’re so cute. I’m not anywhere near as exciting as all of that. I’m just a vampire.”

I always thought killing people was the closest I could come to feeling alive, but I was wrong. It’s this. It’s Annie beneath me and the echo of her heart in my chest.

“Lucky us that it’s scarf season.”

“Hold your horses, ma’am.” “Annie, I haven’t driven a chariot in years.”

I’ve ignored my fair share of red flags before—I once dated a white woman with dreads for three months, after all—but how would I ever really get over… vampire?

Lmao not the white woman dreads

I can’t believe how many houses you have the keys to.” “I know. It’s a good thing I’m reformed. Or getting there. Who knew evening dog walker would be a vampire’s dream job?”