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“Pure drivel, sure,” I said. “That’s why you’re collapsed on my couch. Because social interactions annoy you.”
“Fine, then your way is better: tying yourself into knots attempting to befriend humans who haven’t returned your offers?” Connor asked.
“It’s not that they haven’t returned it,” I said. “It’s just that everyone is busy. Like Shelby and her daughter, Mia. Shelby’s always running around for Mia’s activities on top of regular housework”
“If you say so,” Connor said. “Did you have such a hard time making friends in school?”
“I was homeschooled with my siblings and cousins.”
“And you still managed to go on dates?” Connor asked.
Surprised he’d remembered our conversation at Book Nookery, I shrugged. “We occasionally had large classes with other kids. All the guys I went on dates with were from those classes, and I saw them frequently while growing up.”
It was all true—though it probably looked very different than Connor was picturing, as the large classes were all with other slayer kids. (They were more like seminars so we could learn how slayer families could effectively work together, and gave us a chance to practice group combat.)
Getting along with slayer kids wasn’t difficult since we had the same background and similar family cultures that focused on weapons and fighting.
I’d fast learned when I moved to Magiford that humans weren’t typically into daggers, knives, or arguing about the best way to field dress a wound.
In a way, it’s that difference that makes humans so wonderful.
Instead, I’d learned that my neighbors discussed things like rescuing frogs from the apartment complex’s pool, exchanged recipes, or talked about local events.
There was something beautiful about the way they embraced life. I still missed swapping techniques and talking weapons with my cousins, but I also wanted to join the humans in their conversations.
Disgruntled, I sawed at my burnt shortbread.Maybe it’s about time I give up on cooking, though, and try a different human hobby?
Connor gave a drawn-out sigh as he adjusted my couch pillow for his comfort. “You humans are all so weirdly sentimental. In the end it always destroys you—mark my words.”
“It’s being sentimental—letting yourself feel joy and pain through things like friendships—that makes life beautiful and worth living.” I started prying the burnt shortbread from the pan, dumping the pieces in the trash.
I thought Connor would roll his eyes and maybe pretend to gag or do something else to show his disapproval, but he was quiet.
He stayed silent so long I actually looked up from the mess I was making. I was scattering burnt crumbs everywhere. I’d need to clean my kitchen again after this. “Connor? You okay?”
“Of course,” Connor said. “Just ruminating that humans don’t understand how lucky they are, and how steep the price of immortality is.” There was something about the way his voice sounded—clipped and almost bitter—that was odd for a vampire as young as him.
I set my pan down and studied Connor, trying to interpret his blank facial expression.Is this something I need to push and engage with him? It seems like a sore spot, and I don’t want to walk thoughtlessly through any hidden pains he might have…
Connor made the decision for me. He glanced over at me and smiled—all charm once again. “Listen to me—I sound like one of those ancient elder geezers, croaking about how the world was better back in the Age of Enlightenment when everyone was busy dying of dysentery.”
“Sounds like you’ve heard that talk a lot,” I said.
“Too much,” Connor agreed.
I pried the last bit of my burnt shortbread out of the pan and trashed it, dusting my hands off afterwards.
Hmm, yep, he wants to change the topic but just in case…
“You know, Connor, if you ever want to talk, we can,” I said.
“I thought that’s what we were doing now, talking?” he asked, his voice still charming.
Well, that’s a rejection, and that’s okay. At least I told him.
“We are,” I agreed. “Do you know what wecouldbe doing?” I asked.
Connor eyed me. “Something I’m not going to like?”
