My Roommate Is a Vampire

by Jenna Levine

“My pots and pans are at the shop. Being repaired.” “All of them?” “Oh. Yes,” he said, nodding vigorously. “All of them.”

I also need to borrow your little plastic money card thing one last time.

A lady with lovely curves, delightful freckles dusting the bridge of her nose, and a mouth that will now haunt my dreams—but a lady nonetheless.

I must apologize to Miss Greenberg as well, of course. Preferably with a gift that adequately expresses my contrition. I will consult Reginald to see if he has ideas on what might be suitable. (He has, after all, long since been in the habit of needing to apologize to women.)

“Please—I can explain. Don’t … don’t get hysterical.” I gaped at him. “I wasn’t getting hysterical before you said that.”

You REPROBATE! How dare you?!

When I think about Cassie never returning to me it makes me sad. Waking up in the evening isn’t exciting anymore now that I know I won’t be seeing her face. So you’re into her, is what I’m hearing Absolutely not. I am NOT “into her.” I just like her drawings. And her everything.

I always did my best thinking at the dump.

“I’m not about to show a vampire an injury that was bleeding an hour ago.” My tone was harsher than I intended, and his face crumpled a little. I fought to ignore the pang of guilt that shot through me. “Just … just trust me when I tell you it’s fine. Okay?” His eyes fell to the table. “Okay.”

SWEET BABY DON’T YELL AT HIM 😭

“Over the past two weeks I’ve discovered that in this city of millions, you are one of a kind.”

“Do not think for one moment that you are replaceable, Cassie Greenberg,” he said. He sounded almost angry. “For you are anything but.”

“How did you know to ask about TikTok, then?” A pause. “I thought it was a new kind of music,” he admitted, a bit sheepishly.

“My name is Frederick J. Fitzwilliam. I require clothing.” The salesperson’s eyebrows shot up. “Clothing?” “Yes.”

This was Frederick, someone who was so formal, so prim and proper, he only stopped calling me Miss Greenberg and began referring to me by my first name after I’d asked him to several times. This was the same person who was so overcome by the sight of me in a bikini he couldn’t bring himself to speak to me for two days.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice strained. His eyes never left my face. “Cassie likes this shirt. I will take one in every color.”

how do you kiss if it has been three hundred years since how can you know if she wants to kiss you is it a bad idea to kiss your roommate is it bad to think about or have sex with your roommate age gap relationships best breath mints

This quote got chopped when it came through to gr but it was a list of Freddie’s google search history 😭

Frederick shuffled his feet awkwardly. “I … might have mentioned a few things I knew about Taylor Swift to some people in the kitchen.” “A few things?” Sam laughed again and shook his head. “Don’t be so modest. Your knowledge of her 1989 era is encyclopedic.”

“You’re a Taylor Swift fan?” Amelia shrugged. “I mean, what’s not to like?” “I agree,” Frederick said, with an enthusiasm that stunned me. “Taylor Swift, who was born in West Reading, Pennsylvania, in 1989, has won eleven Grammy Awards from the National Academy of Recording Arts and Sciences.”

“Who did this to you?” His voice was low, but urgent. “What happened?”

“You are not a failure,” he said firmly. “Anyone who made you feel like one will have me to deal with.”

I smiled a little at the idea of Frederick threatening anyone at all. He might be an undead creature of the night—but as undead creatures of the night went, he was a marshmallow.

“Some vampires have impressive abilities like turning wine into blood, or being able to fly, or turning back time,” he continued ruefully. “Unfortunately, all I can do is somewhat involuntarily conjure fruit when I’m nervous.”

“My rate of production has skyrocketed since you moved in. I seem to be nervous all the time, these days.”

“It’s one of the most ridiculous vampire powers in recorded history. And a pointless one, given that vampires cannot eat fruit.” He rubbed at the back of his neck, averting his eyes. “By the time you knew what I really was, I wanted you to think I was impressive. Not just some clueless accidental kumquat conjurer.”

“You are kind, and generous,” he continued. “Even after you found out what I was you didn’t abandon me, because you knew I needed your help.

“Frederick,” I murmured. I opened my mouth, letting my tongue dart out to taste him. His skin was salt and musk, desire and cool night air. He whimpered.

Frederick crossed his arms across his broad chest, adopting what he likely meant as an assertive stance. The effect was undercut by the fact that he was wearing pajama pants with Kermit the Frog on them that I definitely didn’t buy him at Nordstrom. But it didn’t matter. He was still hot.

I tell you what, between our new prisoner, who’s done nothing since he got here last night but cry and write letters to some human girl, and the police dropping by, it’s been a hell of a week already

Meanwhile I better get some ear plugs or else Count von Romeo in here is gonna drive me batty

(“I got it for him at Disney World,” Reginald had explained. “But I told him I chopped off a werewolf’s head so I’d sound tough.”)

“Of course it went well. Darling Cassie—I never doubted that you would charm them utterly. The way you charm everyone.” He paused. “The way you’ve charmed me.”

Frederick J. Fitzwilliam, age three hundred and fifty-one, was texting using emojis.

Finally, I want to give a special thank-you to my incredible online writing and fandom community. (You rats know who you are.)

RATTIES RISE UP