It didn't take Jane long to regret her decision. In fact, the regret hit her the second she followed him into the room.
The maroon wallpaper was a nice touch to the dark wooden furniture, but all she could think of was… the decoration of a "love room".
Peter went straight to the desk and opened a drawer. He reached inside and pulled his hand out so fast Jane only caught a glimpse of a thin object with an edge.
What did he grab? Paper? Sticker? The thing she was thinking?!
Jane was fighting off her racing thoughts as Peter approached. She scooted to the edge of the bed, and the mattress bounced back like a silent protest.
"Take off your blazer."
"What? Why? Isn't it a bit too fast?" Jane nervously said. His face was serious, too firm and scary for a situation that required more gentleness.
"Haven't you agreed to this already?" his voice softened.
"Yes… but… but not now. I'm not prepared yet." Her voice climbed an octave as she leaned her upper body as far away from him as she could.
"No need to be scared, I will do the work," he said. His voice was gentle, but his fingers were already crawling on the lapels of her blazer.
"No… no… I warn you… I… I will punch you… with my instinct!"
Jane shook her head while clutching the collar of her shirt. Her eyes darted to the ground, calculating which angle would be less painful and more "truthful" to drop.
The world took a turn, but it wasn't the direction she planned. Peter lay beneath her. His face was all she saw, breathtakingly beautiful, the face of an angel.
Her heart stopped beating, and her eyes dried from opening for too long. Swallowing hard, Jane rolled off to the side. Her breath hadn't caught up to her lungs yet, but she stood up and brushed over the non-existent wrinkles on her blouse.
Peter bowed his head to hide his face, but his shaking shoulders gave him away. He raised his head; his eyes sparkled from the tears of amusement. "I was starting to think I wasn't attractive enough for you. Good to know I'm not the problem."
"You? Not attractive enough? Have you even looked at a mirror?" Jane sat back down next to him.
"Maybe I don't see it. That's why I can't live without someone to remind me," Peter said. Silence spread between them as his eyes held onto her, waiting for a reaction.
"I can't tell if you're joking. But I guess eyes make good reflections, especially dark eyes, she said, nodding to her own words before remembering her own eye color. "This is not a suggestion. I'm sharing facts only."
Peter chuckled. His shiny teeth brightened up his face like a flower in spring, and Jane caught herself staring again.
He stood up and walked over to the dresser. When he came back, Jane saw he was holding a long tube connected to an empty bag. Oh. So she was the one with uninnocent thought.
"Roll up your sleeves," Peter instructed while preparing the sterile tools. When he finished, Jane stretched her arm out in front of him. Scrawny like a branch of a tree, sickly like the color of the fingers grabbing around it.
Peter leaned in closer, lifting her arm up and down, his eyebrows knitting together.
"What's wrong?"
"Your vein is a bit harder to find."
Jane remembered being poked for the third time by her old school nurse, yet a stream of blood still shot into the air. And that was when she was fully human.
"Drink this."
Peter handed her a glass of warm water, then filled the glass again and pressed the warm surface against her arm.
"Done yet?" she asked after 10 minutes.
"No. Not for another 20 minutes."
"Can I hold it?"
He didn't let her. Instead, he told her to lie back for blood flow. They sat in their own presence for a few minutes, until Jane realized that she couldn't sleep.
"So your family owns the drugstore chain?" she asked.
"Yes. What about yours?"
"My mom is a housewife. My dad… I'm not sure what he does. Architect, maybe. He just goes out a lot."
In Jane's vague memories, he used to stay at home much more. Then the fights turned home into something not so "homely," and he only came back once or twice a year. She hated the person they became when they fought, and hated that they truly stopped fighting after being apart.
"Do you have any brothers or sisters?" Jane steered the conversation back to Peter.
"Two older brothers. You?"
"I have none, which is bad because I have no one to share the chores with."
A soft, genuine smile landed on his lips. It had been a long time since he'd had such a mundane conversation.
The needle successfully went in and out, leaving behind a bag full of blood. But even after Peter exposed the equipment, his eyes still lingered on her bare skin. Jane calmly unrolled her sleeves and pointed at his blazer.
"What's that in your pocket?" Not the best question to ask someone, but she needed to distract him before he could come up with any conclusion about her weird vein.
Peter stopped staring and reached into his blazer. When his hand emerged, there was a thin card between his index and middle fingers.
"Your bank account. Once this batch is sold, you'll have your first few thousand dollars."
Jane held the rectangular piece of plastic in her hand. The matte surface made it feel fancier, or that was the psychological weight of money.
"You can access it during our next break using the details taped to the back," Peter explained, noticing Jane's eyes swept across the writing.
"Thank you," Jane said. Her emotion shone through as her eyes sparkled. "When is our next break by the way?" She smiled nervously. She still hadn't taken a look at the guidebook. She was lazy.
"December 30th," Peter said. "Unless you want to stay for the competition, to cheer for me."
"What competition?" Jane asked, ignoring his invitation.
"We vampires fight against each other. Yours is on the 29th."
"Isn't that when the hunt happens?" Unless she misunderstood it.
"Yes. But I think you'll like this definition better."
"How?" Jane curiously asked.
"Survive the night with no teeth marks, and you get 30 thousand. Plus another 10 thousand for every vampire you hurt. There's also the option to buy your way into a safe shelter, but I doubt you'll choose that route."
"How much?"
"200.000$."
Jane gasped. Her poverty might be the death of her.
"I can help you buy it," he offered softly. "Or enroll as my subordinate so I can protect you."
Everything on his face screamed genuine, from his unblinking eyes to his body turning rigid to her silence. But Jane couldn't accept either offer; they were too much. She wouldn't expect Peter to go against James, risking his own standing for a "fling".
"It's fine. No big deal," she smiled casually. "Go outside. Arlo and Samuel must be waiting."
"You don't go with me?" Peter turned around.
"A bit later."
Jane was impulsive. Jane was insane. Jane was sprinting across campus at 1:30 in the morning just to call her mom.
She stood in the guard booth, her hand unconsciously twisting the cord as one long ring followed another. Jane had tried calling at almost every other time of day, except for this one.
She knew there were nights her mother would go to sleep late. Biting her lip, Jane prayed the call wouldn't go through, and would at the same time. Her mom could be sleeping right now, and waking her up might just be the worst possible thing to do.
"Who's this?"
"Mom!" Jane straightened up, her heart jumped to her throat, hearing the familiar voice.
"Jane? Why are you calling me this late?"
"I… I just… uhm, calling. You always complain about me not giving any updates. So—"
"Yes, but not this late, Jane. You need to sleep earlier and care for your own health. How are you going to care for anyone else if you live like this? Your grades have also been failing. Is this why?"
"Mom, my class was at night. Remember? That's why I moved here. And it was just one failed test. I will catch up by the final."
"How dare you talk to me like that?!" Her mom's voice hardened across the other line. "I'm too busy right now, but when you get back, we will have a talk,"
"I was just explaining, and you don't even ask if I'm—"
Fine.
The sound of a baby crying, overlapping with someone else calling out for her mother in the background. "Katherine, come here."
And the line went dead.
A baby? Did their neighbor just give birth to a baby? It couldn't have been her mother; she couldn't have produced a human in three months. Right. It had to be the neighbor's, and her mom was helping out.
Jane understood how hard it was to take care of a baby; her mother used to remind her of that fact whenever she was being "ungrateful". But there was still no reason to talk to your daughter that way!
The air outside the booth cooled her face as Jane drifted across the pavement like a phantom. A part of her wanted to keep her word to Peter, that she would go back in a bit, the other part just wanted to crawl back into bed.
But Jane kept her promise eventually. Pushing through the doors, she was greeted by a different kind of cold, artificial air, laced with the smell of smoke and liquor.
"What's the long face?" Arlo asked.
"Nothing." But it was clearly something.
"Well, 'nothing' can be chased away with this."
He slid a glass across the table to her and raised his own glass in a silent toast, a short interaction that would dictate the course of her entire night.
That night, Jane cried until she couldn't. It was the last night she ever cried while drinking, and the last time she ever cried for that woman, she promised herself.