(8) Trevor Wallace - Dhampir

She’s there. I smile, crossing the street. She looks up, sees me, smiling then looking away. Embarrassed maybe?

“Can an old friend buy you a drink,” I ask as I take the seat next to her.

She shakes her head.

“Come on. Just one?”

“I’ve…” Her eyes meet mine. “I’ve had too many already,” she says timidly. She turns away to stare at the band.

“Then do you mind if I have one while we listen to the music?” I put my hand over hers, squeezing it softly.

“Of course not.” She glances at me again. “Are you sure you want to be here, with me, again?”

Why is it that this shyness, this hesitation in her, makes me feel protective all of a sudden? She’s just another chick. Fuck this. I start to stand. Change my mind. Wave the waitress over to order a beer. “Of course I do,” I tell her after the waitress leaves, smiling at her.

She doesn’t smile back. “I bet you don’t even remember my name.”

“Nora.” That surprises me. I did remember.

Now she smiles. “And you’re Trevor, but you prefer Trev.”

“I do.” I turn to pay the waitress. She glances at Nora then back to me before brushing against me as she turns to leave, giving me that come-on look that available females do so well. I give a small shake of my head and turn back to Nora. “Is the band any good?” She nods.

We continue to sit there, making small talk as we listen to it. And they aren’t too bad. Loud, but that gives me a reason to move closer to her so that we can hear each other talk. I rest my hand on her waist lightly, feel her shiver. Lean to whisper a comment to her. She shivers again. But when I pull back she puts her hand tentatively on my thigh and I cover it with my own.

The band’s set ends just as I finish my beer. I look at Nora. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yes,” she replies softly.