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Authors: Samantha Towle
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There’s no fluctuation in it at all.
And it certainly isn’t an emotional reaction like I would get every time Nathan would touch me. This is physical. Like he has high voltage electricity running through him.
I just don’t understand why. And it’s not something I can exactly come out and ask him either.
‘ Um, Zeff, do you run at a high charge by any chance … you know like do you have electricity flowing through your veins? Well, basically are you sort of some superhuman freak?’
Yeah, I can’t ask him that. I know how it feels to be a freak; I don’t want to make anyone else feel like I do.
The only thing I can do is to just keep my distance, to avoid contact, equalling no more weird shocks. I’ll be gone soon enough so it’ll be irrelevant anyway.
Letting my mind click back into play with my mouth, I say, “Oh, right.” But it comes out sounding a little shrill.
I lift my hand to my cheek rubbing roughly at it, trying to erase the sensation that he’s left spinning under my skin.
“The guest bathroom is first door on the right if you want to clean up?” He tilts his head in the direction of the hallway, just off the dining room.
Moving back he allows me space to pass. Giving him a wide berth, I scurry off to find the bathroom so I can clean up my bloodstained face.
When I’ve finished using his fancy bathroom, I come back out into the living area.
No Zeff.
I scan around for him but can’t seem to get a read on him. I’m sure he won’t have just left. I head toward the still open front door.
When I step through the doorway onto the porch, I see Zeff is sitting on the swing chair, to my right. It was weird that I couldn’t pick up on his whereabouts. Maybe I’m just a little off my game at the moment. Probably all those shocks he keeps giving me.
He glances up, smiling that crooked dimply smile of his. The sun is dipping behind the horizon and it’s casting a clandestine shadow behind him. It’s really kind of bea, Iutiful. The view I mean, not him. Obviously. Not that he’s ugly, but – oh God, you know what I mean.
I really want to get back to my apartment and get the blood I’ve just acquired into the fridge, but I feel like I should go and sit with him for a while; it would be rude not to. Especially also since I can smell freshly brewed coffee, and he might have made one for me. Or is that me just hoping?
Twisting my hands together in front of me, I wander over and take a seat on the swing chair next to him, but leaving an audible gap between us. As I sit down, the chair moves backwards. Zeff steadies it, pressing his bare foot down to the floor.
“I made you a cup of coffee,” he says, reaching over and lifting a steaming cup off the table beside the swing chair. “I put cream in, no sugar – that okay?”
Exactly how I take it. Lucky guess?
“Yeah, that’s great, thanks.” I take it from him but make sure not to touch his hand.
You’d think because I serve coffee all day long, I’d be sick of it, but I’m not. More of an addict than I ever used to be, and I can never say no to a cup nowadays. Especially not one that smells as awesome as this does.
“It’s probably not as good as the Joe you make at the café, but I did my best,” he gives me a cheeky wink.
“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” I take a sip.
Wow, this tastes as good as it smells. Definitely better than the stuff I serve at the café. Quite possibly the nicest coffee I’ve ever tasted.
“This is really good,” I mumble, as the heat of it runs through me, the hit of caffeine doing its job to the fullest. “Way better than the stuff at the café,”
“Ah, now I know you’re just taking the mick, Bunny,” he murmurs, in that drawling way of his.
I stare at him wide eyed and annoyed. He smiles, a naughty glint in his dark eyes. It annoys me even further but I refuse to rise to the bait. I’ve already bit once today at one of his apparent ‘jokes’, so I’m not being pulled in again.
And it certainly isn’t an emotional reaction like I would get every time Nathan would touch me. This is physical. Like he has high voltage electricity running through him.
I just don’t understand why. And it’s not something I can exactly come out and ask him either.
‘ Um, Zeff, do you run at a high charge by any chance … you know like do you have electricity flowing through your veins? Well, basically are you sort of some superhuman freak?’
Yeah, I can’t ask him that. I know how it feels to be a freak; I don’t want to make anyone else feel like I do.
The only thing I can do is to just keep my distance, to avoid contact, equalling no more weird shocks. I’ll be gone soon enough so it’ll be irrelevant anyway.
Letting my mind click back into play with my mouth, I say, “Oh, right.” But it comes out sounding a little shrill.
I lift my hand to my cheek rubbing roughly at it, trying to erase the sensation that he’s left spinning under my skin.
“The guest bathroom is first door on the right if you want to clean up?” He tilts his head in the direction of the hallway, just off the dining room.
Moving back he allows me space to pass. Giving him a wide berth, I scurry off to find the bathroom so I can clean up my bloodstained face.
When I’ve finished using his fancy bathroom, I come back out into the living area.
No Zeff.
I scan around for him but can’t seem to get a read on him. I’m sure he won’t have just left. I head toward the still open front door.
When I step through the doorway onto the porch, I see Zeff is sitting on the swing chair, to my right. It was weird that I couldn’t pick up on his whereabouts. Maybe I’m just a little off my game at the moment. Probably all those shocks he keeps giving me.
He glances up, smiling that crooked dimply smile of his. The sun is dipping behind the horizon and it’s casting a clandestine shadow behind him. It’s really kind of bea, Iutiful. The view I mean, not him. Obviously. Not that he’s ugly, but – oh God, you know what I mean.
I really want to get back to my apartment and get the blood I’ve just acquired into the fridge, but I feel like I should go and sit with him for a while; it would be rude not to. Especially also since I can smell freshly brewed coffee, and he might have made one for me. Or is that me just hoping?
Twisting my hands together in front of me, I wander over and take a seat on the swing chair next to him, but leaving an audible gap between us. As I sit down, the chair moves backwards. Zeff steadies it, pressing his bare foot down to the floor.
“I made you a cup of coffee,” he says, reaching over and lifting a steaming cup off the table beside the swing chair. “I put cream in, no sugar – that okay?”
Exactly how I take it. Lucky guess?
“Yeah, that’s great, thanks.” I take it from him but make sure not to touch his hand.
You’d think because I serve coffee all day long, I’d be sick of it, but I’m not. More of an addict than I ever used to be, and I can never say no to a cup nowadays. Especially not one that smells as awesome as this does.
“It’s probably not as good as the Joe you make at the café, but I did my best,” he gives me a cheeky wink.
“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” I take a sip.
Wow, this tastes as good as it smells. Definitely better than the stuff I serve at the café. Quite possibly the nicest coffee I’ve ever tasted.
“This is really good,” I mumble, as the heat of it runs through me, the hit of caffeine doing its job to the fullest. “Way better than the stuff at the café,”
“Ah, now I know you’re just taking the mick, Bunny,” he murmurs, in that drawling way of his.
I stare at him wide eyed and annoyed. He smiles, a naughty glint in his dark eyes. It annoys me even further but I refuse to rise to the bait. I’ve already bit once today at one of his apparent ‘jokes’, so I’m not being pulled in again.
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