Stand Alone Books

Ru’s phone pinged with a new message from Tommy.

Looks like another one, sorry.

The text was attached to a photo of the cover of a magazine featuring Ru kissing his ex-boyfriend Kris and then a smaller picture of Kris kissing another guy. Headline for that one was Vocal Growth Star Jilted!

Six months and still front page news.

He sighed. Leaving California hadn’t helped. Here he was in the cold autumn of Minnesota, alone, but stalked by the conservative media who thought anyone under eighteen didn’t deserve to recognize their sexuality.

He was gay. He had known for years. The mistake of telling his father when he was eleven etched firmly in his mind. Why did love make him a bad guy?

Being one member of a boy band that had traveled the world a few times and won a hefty number of awards, he was required to maintain a wholesome image. At least that’s what his former recording studio had told him.

Wholesome didn’t mean kissing another guy, even when he and Kris had been exclusive for almost two years. So, while it was okay for other celebrities to come out and show pride, anyone under the magical age of eighteen was ridiculed, cast out, and treated as a pariah of the community.

Overnight his world had turned from parties and stardom to infamy and ruin.

Do you need me to come stay with you? Tommy texted again. A former bandmate, and a good friend, Tommy hadn’t cared when Ru told him he was gay. He did offer to kick the crap out of Kris after the guy had set them up to be photographed together, outing Ru to the whole world, only to then cheat on him. Would Ru’s heart ever stop breaking at the memory?

Ru texted back, He never really loved me, did he?

A second later the phone rang. Ru answered it, knowing who the voice on the other line would be. “I’m on my way to the airport,” Tommy said.

“You don’t have to come all the way out here for me. I’m fine. Virtually unrecognized here.” Though Ru hadn’t done much other than venture to his Uncle Dimitri’s restaurant. He was going to put on ten pounds before the week was over. “I’m just laying low. Trying to work on some music.”

“And not over that bastard Kris.”

Maybe. But that part of his life had ended. In fact, so much had changed that Ru found himself more lost and depressed than he had most of his life. He’d always known exactly who he was and what he wanted. He’d never been more alive than when he was on stage, surrounded by cheering fans and bright lights.

His father had pushed him to become the musician he was with years of piano and guitar lessons, high-end tutors, and business sense. Ru found passion in the music and had made himself famous, trusting his dad to always be there.

Only that hadn’t happened. He’d been abandoned for something he couldn’t change. How many girls had he dated trying to be like everyone else? Fake smiles, and awkward moments of holding hands and rare kisses marred his past. His relationship with Kris had been the most natural and normal he’d ever felt.

At least until the end.

Ru had been on his own a while now. Still loving the music and building his life around the fame he’d crafted. But now he wasn’t so sure he wanted to remain on that road. The constant flash of the camera, the endless judgment of strangers, and the never-ending loneliness, was that all that was left for him? Was that what he’d worked so hard and given up his childhood for?

“I don’t want to talk about that.”

“Okay, so tell me how your meeting with the big M went.”

Ru smiled. “She was amazing. Probably had no clue who I was, but it was good.” His publicist, Katie, had arranged the meeting to try to bolster Ru’s spirit. The woman was a miracle worker, but even meeting his idol could only lift him for a little while.

“You been working on any new songs? I don’t know what we’re going to do without you writing them all for us in the group.” What Tommy didn’t say was that AJ, another bandmate, was already on the search for a new guy to add to the ranks of Vocal Growth, as Ru had been released from the group when he’d been outed.

“Released” was a nice term used in the media to make it sound like he’d had a choice.

“Haven’t really been inspired.”

“I’ll be there in a few hours. Maybe we can hit the clubs or something.”

“It’s really cold here. You know that, right?” Ru couldn’t imagine wearing most of his club clothes out in this weather. He’d have to find some fancy coat that would cover it all just to keep from freezing his nuts off. “How do you go clubbing in Eskimo gear?”

“It’s what, fifty degrees? You big baby. Just wait until January. See you in a few hours. Maybe go to Dimitri’s or something. I don’t want you home alone.”

They hung up, and Ru glared at the picture of the magazine cover. He dialed the driver he’d hired, left the borrowed apartment—Tommy’s, actually—and headed out, unsure of where he would go. Anywhere had to be better than alone. Binks opened the car door for him, though Ru had told him a hundred times it wasn’t necessary. God, it was so cold here.

“Where would you like to go, sir?” Binks asked.

“I want to go somewhere there are people, but where no one will recognize me. Not shopping or whatever. I don’t know.” He needed to get to a bookstore and find something to read. He’d forgotten his book reader in San Diego. But a bookstore meant people who would want photos and autographs or even point and stare. Libraries had books, but he didn’t think he’d ever been in one. His homeschool instructor had issued him a MNSCU—Minnesota State Colleges and Universities—pass, which allowed access to almost any library in the state. “Is there a good library around here? Not a public one—too many people—maybe a college one?”

“Would you like to stay in the city or head to the suburbs? The suburbs will likely be less crowded.”

True enough. “Anything near Dimitri’s?” Tommy had been right. He didn’t want to be by himself. Maybe he’d stop in to see his uncle for dinner. God knew the man treated him more like a son than Ru’s own father ever had. Though Ru still hadn’t seen his uncle since his outing had happened.

“Yes, I know of the perfect place,” Binks said, and off they went.

Ru paid little attention to the scenery they passed. The trees were pretty, all colors, and skies mostly clear. He should have felt inspired, but he hadn’t written a note since arriving almost two weeks ago, and it worried him. Usually the music came easily; he’d just sit down and there it was. But ever since Kris—well, their breakup, if a public outcry could be called a breakup—he hadn’t written a damn thing.

How many times had Kris called, asking to talk to him, begging for forgiveness? Ru just felt numb. The months ignoring him made it hurt less, but the media never seemed to let it die. So he’d fled. Run from his warm and usually welcoming home in San Diego, where all his friends were, to Minnesota, and the quiet downtown apartment Tommy owned.

To be honest, Ru had lost a lot of friends. Not because they hadn’t known he was gay. Everyone in his circle had been well aware of the fact. No, people stopped calling him because he was in disgrace. The record label threw him out; his bandmates pretended he didn’t exist, except Tommy; and his former friends had moved on to whoever could get them into the parties with the brightest and most popular celebrities.

The more he thought about it, the more heartbreaking it became. Not just losing Kris, but realizing that all the people Ru had considered his makeshift family had really just been playing him. How was anyone supposed to get past that?

Staying downtown put him near all the clubs, live music, and a handful of private production studios he could rent. Tommy’s apartment had a small studio built in just for late-night jam sessions. Ru had already signed contracts to record a solo album, his true lifelong dream, with another record label. His new producer didn’t care he was gay and was unwilling to go back into the closet. Ru’s voice spoke for itself, and his songwriting was legendary. Yet, since that day almost six months ago, he felt empty, void of the magic of music that had once thrummed through his veins.

Tommy suggested Ru spend time away from the spotlight. Ru remembered the conversation pretty well:

“Maybe just get away for a while. Find yourself.”

“Who even says that?” Ru groused, irritated by his best friend treating him with kid gloves. At least Tommy had remained his friend.

“The guy who has watched you grow up a music machine. I saw how your dad pushed you, and then, when he left, it was like you were hell-bent on making yourself a brighter star than he’d ever imagined, just to show him up.” Tommy took out a suitcase and began packing Ru’s stuff. “I think you need some time to figure out who Ryunoski Nakimura really is. Not the guy on the cover of magazines, but the guy with the wide smile and shy heart.”

Ru sighed. “You sound like a Hallmark card. Where am I supposed to go? The whole world knows who I am.”

“They know who you show them you are. I’m not even sure I know who you are.” Tommy waved away Ru’s protest. “Don’t get pissy with me, you know what I mean. And you can go to my flat in Minnesota. The town is big but quiet. Sort of like a mini-New York without all the paparazzi. We’ll just make sure no one knows where you’ve gone. Even if people recognize you, they’d be really nice about it. It’s what they call ‘Minnesota Nice.’”

“Isn’t it snowy there?”

“In late September? No. Sometimes you’ll see a bit of snow in October, but nothing really sticks ‘til December. And if you’re still there, you can go skiing. You like skiing.”

“I liked sitting by the fire with Kris when we went to Denver. I hate the cold.”

Tommy reached over and pulled Ru into a hug. His embrace warm and snug. “I don’t think you realize the tone in your voice when you say his name. It’s like your heart breaks each time. You can’t keep living like this, seeing him at promo stuff or parties…”

“No one invites me to parties anymore.” The depression was really starting to eat at him.

“That’s why it’s a good time to go. Find some new scenery, maybe even some new friends. People who won’t judge you by how many magazines you’re in or how many awards you’ve won.” Tommy sighed. “Do you have any idea how much it hurts me to see you so lost? You’re like my kid brother, and the world just took a dump on your head. So now I want to beat up the whole fucking world.”

“Not good for your image.”

Tommy squeezed tighter for a moment before letting go and returning to packing. “I don’t care about that. Life is more than the image you project to the world. I just want you to heal a little. So pack, please, and forget about Kris. He didn’t deserve you.”

Ru had made his way to the Twin Cities, Minnesota, hoping, just a little, for a chance to restart. When he really thought about it, he realized he’d never really loved Kris. Sure, he’d liked the man well enough. Kris had been kind and good-looking. He knew lip service like few others, but that’s all it had really been. He knew exactly what to say to get Ru to agree to just about anything. Only now did Ru look back and realize it was because he had been affection-starved after his father left. He’d thrown himself at Kris to fill the gap in his soul that Tommy couldn’t seal alone. Ru had tried to use Kris. And in kind, Kris had used Ru.

Kris wanted Ru’s fame, and without any talent of his own, figured using Ru to get it was what he needed; thus the career-ending picture. Well, maybe not career-ending, but it sure felt that way at the time. The phone calls never stopped, flashes of thousands of cameras, people screaming things about him being damned. Even fans abandoning him because he was obviously “perverted” and “evil.” Ru had never imagined that by seventeen he’d be the world’s biggest scandal. What would they all think if they knew AJ lip-synced at almost every concert because the guy couldn’t dance and sing at the same time? How had Ru being gay made him such a bad guy?

The car pulled up to a small community college, ripping Ru out of his brooding. Next door to it was an even smaller high school. Ru recognized them only because Binks described it to him. In his part of California, the schools were all a mass of tiny buildings, each classroom its own little freestanding structure. Here they were like massive apartments attached by tunnels above and below ground. Sort of like the way schools looked like on TV, only with fewer windows. Cooled for the warm summer months and heated for the wicked cold Ru already felt coming. Several floors and long hallways of classrooms lined with lockers—it just all seemed so odd to him.

Binks opened the door and waved his hand to a building on the right. “That’s the library. Three floors, great selection of music titles as well as current fiction, and only about ten minutes from Dimitri’s. Do you want me to tell your uncle you’ll be coming by for dinner?”

Ru shook his head. “Nah. I’ll tell him when I get there. Stay close, please.” He headed into the library, marveling at the walls of windows and towering stacks of books. Everything was numbered. Ru stopped at the information desk to ask for directions to the music section. Once the librarian had pointed him in the right direction, he wove his way through the stacks, reading through titles until he found a few books to browse. For a community college, they had a really large section on music.

There were people everywhere, many sitting at tables or on computers. A handful of students had even gathered around a large fireplace in the center of the library, acoustic guitars in hand, playing and singing softly. No one rushed to shush them, and everyone really just seemed intent on minding their own business. Ru made his way to a table near the back, next to one of the giant windows, and set down his stack of books.

The view was nice. There was some sort of courtyard area outside with benches, trees, and even a few pergola-looking things. Rainbows of leaves lay scattered about, and he wondered how peaceful it would look when it was all blanketed in the white of winter. He’d done the ski-trip thing a few times with Tommy, but had a feeling that actually living here during the winter months would be a world of differences.

He sighed, shoving aside all the mental gymnastics that blocked his brain, and opened a book. The noise of the people around him, comforting, and eased his depression, though he couldn’t really interact with them. A simple reminder he wasn’t as alone as he felt. He hoped keeping his head down would be enough to prevent anyone from recognizing him.

He was halfway through a biography about Madonna when he heard someone sit down at a desk nearby. Somewhat afraid he’d been discovered, Ru looked up. The young man had the blondest hair he’d ever seen on a guy, which was saying a lot since Ru was born and raised in San Diego. But it was a fine, white shag that fell around his face. The guy’s profile was lovely, all angles until the softness of his lips broke it up. Ru must have been staring too long because the blond glanced his way.

Ru buried his face back in his book, trying to slow his anxious breathing. The kid was beautiful. Giant brown eyes, soft and sweet, lips thick and expressive, skin pale and light bronze all at once. He looked innocent, sweet, too pretty to be real, and yet seemed oblivious as he wasn’t fussing with his hair, and didn’t appear to be wearing makeup.

Wholesome, the boy-next-door type of guy Ru had been hearing about his entire life. They were probably pretty close in age. For the first time in ages, Ru actually felt something more than sadness, depression, and rage.

Hope.

Their eyes met briefly, and the blond smiled shyly at him. Ru ran his hands through his brown hair a few times. It felt coarse and heavy, just like he did at that moment. What sort of other life would he have to live to end up with a boy like this? Did this pretty boy struggle every day to put forth such a perfect image? Or could he just be who he was?

They played the game a while, glancing up or looking away when a gaze landed. Ru licked his lips more times than usual trying to find the voice to speak up and actually introduce himself to the young man. The guy wore T-shirt and jeans, with a light coat, nothing that said he was a paparazzi or anything other than an ordinary student. But Ru found himself locked in his seat, not sure what to say or how to react each time the guy looked up.

After a few minutes, the blond got up, leaving his books and everything to head to the counter. He talked to the librarian, looking like he had a few questions.

Ru watched him for a minute before rushing to find a piece of paper to leave the guy a note. What if the blond had heard of him? What if he was disgusted and turned around and called the papers or something? What if Ru spent the rest of his life wondering “what if?”

He jotted down just his nickname and his phone number. Maybe the guy would call; maybe he wouldn’t. At least Ru had made his move. He headed into the stacks, hoping the guy didn’t come barreling after him shouting hateful things when he found the note, but he stayed close enough to watch.

The young man returned with a handful of papers. He frowned, glanced at where Ru had sat a minute ago, and opened his folder. Ru knew he’d found the note by the alarmed expression on the blonde’s face. He even looked up and glanced around as if afraid someone would see him. He seemed to be confused by the note. Ru felt his heart break with disappointment and turned to leave, texting Binks as he went. So much for hope.

Igot into my Honda, revved the engine, and took a sip of the coffee Joel, my bandmate, had given me. It was about as bad as coffee could get. Brown water. Hopefully the crud had some caffeine in it. The concert I had played sucked the energy right out of me, and I desperately needed the get-up-and-go.

I tore into a bag of M&M’s with one hand, dropped the contents onto the opposite seat, and began to pop them into my mouth one by one as I headed home. The clock on the dashboard read nearly 3:00 a.m., so it was just after ten. Someday I’d get the wiring fixed so I could reset the clock. Hell, maybe someday I’d have enough money to buy a car that set its own damn clock.

At least the streets were clear. Late nights in New York City weren’t as wild as the TV made them seem. Or maybe it was just that I lived in the crappy part of town. My own building could have been on the list for most likely to be condemned. Homeless filled the area with their little carts of trash and cardboard houses. Barely a step above them myself, I couldn’t pass judgment. Most guys my age still lived at home, so I couldn’t complain much. It had felt right to move out, especially when I dropped out of high school. Passing the GED made me feel like I wasn’t a total loser, but since I wasn’t planning on going to college, I couldn’t justify mooching off my mom any longer.

The dark, empty streets had a lulling effect. I had to get home before sleepiness took over and the real spooks came out to play. I pressed the gas a little harder, wondering vaguely about the article in today’s paper. Some people from an organization called Preservation Group had set some vampires on fire, the seventh attack this month. The teachers in school had never talked much about the group, but the people setting the fire had been kids in their midteens. Guys like me. Well, I guess, not like me.

I wasn’t dead or undead, but the hate group didn’t seem to have many boundaries it wouldn’t cross. Straight, Christian, white folk maybe, but I was none of the above, being Asian American, Buddhist, and gay. If that didn’t put me on their radar, the whole “seeing dead people” thing would. Never mind the fact that when I slept I dreamt of graveyards and a girl who seemed to linger between life and death.

Sighing into the night, I hoped for a peaceful trip home to my cat, Mikka.

Somewhere between the entrance to the highway and the back streets to home, a flash of someone in a white shirt bolting in front of the car made me slam the brake to the floor. I jerked the steering wheel to the left, but overcorrected, nearly sending the car into a spin. M&M’s hit the dash with loud pings, tires screeched, and scalding brown water poured into my lap. I lost the brake and accidentally hit the accelerator while trying to counter steer out of the spin.

The headlights beamed on a man’s astonished face just seconds before I hit him. He rolled up onto the hood. My foot found the brake again, throwing me forward in the seat. The man slid off, lay stunned for a moment, and then sat up slowly. The lights glared into his face, his eyes hidden in the dark. Blood dripped from his scalp.

My whole world stood frozen for that moment. I could barely breathe. My body was stuck in limbo, eyes blinking, heart racing, mind paralyzed in fear.

Finally, the panic gave way to adrenaline. I slammed the gear into park, leapt out, and rounded the car to look at my victim. Crap, my victim. I’d hit someone with my car. If my heart could beat any harder, I was sure blood would come rushing out of my ears.

“I’m so sorry,” I told the guy. He couldn’t have been much older than me. “I’ll call 911.”

From this angle it didn’t appear to be all that bad. The blood trickling down his face already began to slow, and he just seemed dazed. His body didn’t look all twisted and broken like you’d think someone who got hit by a car would be. He was, however, wearing a dark coat and a long black duster. Not a white tee.

I glared back at the main road where I’d seen someone run in front of me before the accident. If that had been a ghost, then I’d just wrecked my car and almost killed someone for no reason. Sometimes I wished spirits just had flashing signs over their heads saying “already dead.”

“What the hell is your problem, kid?” The injured man struggled to get to his feet. The blood at his temple flowed a little faster with the added movement. The glass of the windshield hadn’t shattered, for which I was grateful, but he still looked a little worse for wear.

“You shouldn’t move.” I tried to get him to sit back down. He looked pretty unsteady and gripped my arm to keep upright. “You should sit before you fall over. Let me call for help.”

“You weren’t going fast enough to squash a bug. What kind of idiot drives on the sidewalk? Were you trying to kill someone? Would you like to get in your car and back over me a few times?”

At least he was talking. That meant no punctured lungs, right? What did those doctor TV shows always say was bad? Head trauma? He had that. He stumbled, but I caught him. “Did you see anyone else on the street?” I had to ask. “Like someone in a white shirt?”

“Just you. And I’m pretty sure yours is pink.” He grabbed a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and lit one. The smoke pooled in annoying rings around my head. He relaxed against me, forcing me to take the brunt of his weight. Since I was always the small guy in the room, that was harder said than done.

“It’s orange.” I flipped out my cell phone to dial the cops. “Just relax, mister. I’ll call for help.” The phone barely rang before he had his hand over the receiver, taking the phone away. What the hell? “Let me call for help. You could be seriously hurt.”

“Only my pride.” The heavy glare of headlights made his eyes dark with shadows. “I’m the one who got hit by a car, but you pissed your pants. Is that why you were on the sidewalk? Trying to make it to the bathroom in time? They make a pill for that.”

“It’s coffee! I thought I saw a man in the road, swerved to miss him, and the coffee spilled!”

He tilted my face up toward his. I could smell the smoke on his breath and the blood from his brow. “You don’t smell like alcohol. And your pupils are normal, so no drugs. You could do with a little less glitter and eyeliner. See invisible things often?”

I pulled away, letting him lean against the car, irritated by the tone of his voice. Even now, when the supernatural had become the norm, people still insisted on hiding their heads in the sand. Most of the world was made up of those kinds of people. Not my problem, at least most of the time. This guy was probably one of those.

“Get in the car. I’ll take you to the hospital.” I got in the driver’s side, waiting for him to move. The car still ran, even though it had body-sized dent in the hood.

The guy stared in my direction before nodding slightly and getting into the passenger seat. As soon as he closed the door, I was racing toward the hospital at top speed. He gripped his seat belt. Red highlights in his hair reflected color each time we passed a streetlight. I must have glanced his way two dozen times.

“Stop! Just stop the car! You’re going to kill us both.”

I stomped on the brake. Inertia threw me forward in the seat and made my passenger growl. I let the car crawl its way over to the curb until I could park it out of the way of other vehicles. Only when I cut the engine and took my hands off the wheel did he let go of his seat belt and sweep his fingers swept through his hair—long fingers, like those of an artist. I wondered briefly if he’d get mad if I turned on the inside light so I could look at him. But he was glaring at me. The heat of his gaze made my shoulders tense even in the darkness of the car.

“What?” I finally asked.

“You have pink hair.”

“So?”

“You’re a guy, right? Or an ugly girl with no boobs.”

“Guys can’t have pink hair?”

“Not can’t. Shouldn’t.”

The dig stung, especially since I’d attempted to dye it red that morning, but the pink was what I’d ended up with. “I change it all the time. Last week it was yellow. I’m a musician, a singer. It’s a music thing.”

“It looks stupid.”

I should have been angrier. Sadly, I sort of agreed, but I didn’t have the cash to buy another box of dye to change it until next week. “That’s a crappy thing to say to someone who’s trying to help you.”

“You hit me with your car. A shitty car, at that. Did you buy it at the junkyard? I’m surprised it runs.” He flicked the butt of his cigarette out the window and ran his fingers through his hair again. “You never answered my question.”

“What question? My car came from a neighbor, not the junkyard.” Though, in truth, it was junkyard material.

An attempt to light another cancer stick failed when his lighter wouldn’t work. He searched the dash for the car’s lighter, but I had thrown it away years ago. “I so need a smoke.”

“You should let me take you to the hospital.”

“I’m not due for a lobotomy yet.” He sat in silence for a bit, staring out the window, then said, “I asked if you often saw stuff that isn’t there.”

The sigh escaped me before I realized we were back to that topic. “No. Everything I see is there. Just because you can’t see it, doesn’t mean it’s not there.”

The silence came back and lasted probably five minutes, feeling more like an hour, before he moved, getting out of the car. “Get out.”

“Why?” I gripped the steering wheel. Being left out in the middle of nowhere without a way home was a very real possibility, and one I didn’t want. Not even in payback for hitting a man with my car. Getting set on fire or beaten to death ’cause I was different suited me even less. He didn’t look like the Preservation Group type, but did anyone really? Guys like me knew when to stay inside, and after dark was one of those times. I’d been shoved in enough lockers and toilets to know better. And those things were mild compared to what I read about in the papers every day.

“’Cause I don’t want to die tonight. Give me the keys.” He came around the car and stood at my door as I opened it. I left the keys in the ignition. The man motioned to the passenger side. “Get in or I’m leaving without you, kid.” He folded his tall frame into the driver’s seat and adjusted its position.

“Genesis,” I said as I slid into the car on the passenger side. “My name is Genesis. My friends call me Gene.” The man stared at me again. I wished I could see him better. “What?”

“I don’t care what your name is.” He leaned over, yanked the seat belt across my shoulder and over my chest, then buckled it.

My cheeks felt hot. “Thanks.”

“Whatever, punk. Who names their kid Genesis? Hippies?” The man started the car, obviously not wanting a response. Soon we’d left our makeshift parking lot and downtown behind. I didn’t tell him where I lived, and he didn’t ask.

“Are you hijacking my car?”

“This piece of crap? Good idea. I bet I can get $200 for it at the junkyard. But I’ll have to push you out. Wait, let me speed up.”

I laughed, because his sarcasm was obvious. Why couldn’t I have met someone like him in high school? I might have stayed. He was snarky and good-looking in the dim light of the car. One of the many reasons I’d left school was because I was different. Not just in seeing things, but in who caught my attention. I’d been beaten up half a dozen times, shoved into lockers, even half drowned in the pool. Most of the time, just being me sucked. Now, sitting in the car close to a guy who could have been the star of some hit teen miniseries, I was thinking maybe being me wasn’t so bad, even if he only spoke to me for a few minutes.

Then there were the other things I saw, like the crazy colors that surrounded people, called auras. Only this guy had no colors—he was just dark. Odd. The darkness still shadowed his eyes in an eerie sort of way. “I can sing for you. Devon says my voice helps chase away the shadows sometimes.”

“Who’s Devon? Your boyfriend?”

“Lead singer of Wild Park. My band opened for them last night. They’ve sold a couple million CDs. They’re more mainstream than we are, kind of pop. Gotta get your breaks where you can, you know.” I paused to study the black edges around his eyes again. “Devon’s got shadows too. Like the ones around your eyes.” The adrenaline was beginning to wear off. “I don’t have a boyfriend at the moment. And my hair is pink ’cause I tried to dye it red, but it didn’t work.”

“Yeah, the hair screams gay.”

“Got a problem with queers? Or are you an asshole to everyone?”

“Only to guys with pink hair who try to run me over.”

So, everyone. At least he wasn’t a ’phobe. “I’m sorry. Stuff like this always happens to me.”

He raised a brow and glanced my way. “You run people over often?”

“Not that. Just stuff.” Between the ghosts, the shadows, and the other crap I saw, something weird was always going on in my life. “I was just trying to get home ’cause I’m tired. Stay away from the shadows and stuff.”

“Doesn’t everyone have shadows? The whole light-reflection thing?”

“Not the same kind of shadow. Devon’s move. His don’t like me much. Yours are dark like that too.”

“So you see shadows, like a living type of shadow, on me right now, when there’s no light.”

“Yeah. Can you see okay? They cover your eyes.”

He paused and glanced my way with a strange look on his face. A heavy wave of sleepiness poured over me. “You look tired—you should sleep. You’re so not normal. Seeing things that aren’t there. You should sleep.” The guy’s voice faded away abruptly as sleep carried me into vague dreams.

Idon’t know how much time passed before I felt the bed shift beside me and wondered how I’d gotten home. The fact that I obviously wasn’t alone didn’t seem all that worrisome for some reason. Odd, since I wasn’t the kind of guy to bring strangers home, but my brain was a little foggy, so I wasn’t concerned.

A warm body curled up beside me, feeling slightly wet, like just from a shower, and smelling like the outside after a bad rainstorm. I opened my eyes but just saw a shadowy face in the dark close to mine. The moment was sensual and intimate, even though I couldn’t see him clearly.

His lips brushed my cheek, planting small kisses all over my face until finally dipping down to lick at my collarbone. The firm body nestled against mine gave me the confidence to reach forward and touch back. His hair was short, but long enough to grip, and had a slight curl. It felt thicker than most, but product-free and slightly damp. I traced the smooth expanse of his hot, sculpted flesh while his lips found my mine. He could kiss, and I’d never imagined a kiss could be so sweet.

One of his hands tickled my spine, stroking down my vertebrae as though he were counting them. Each touch made me pull him closer for more contact. It didn’t matter that I couldn’t see him. His warmth felt good, the closeness so heavenly I couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. How long had it been since anyone touched me like I was human and not some freak?

Something in my brain told me we were right together. As the slow torture of warmth built and built, wave upon wave, we rocked against each other like we were all that was left in the world. His arms were wrapped so tightly around me I could barely breathe, and that was okay. I could go into the final darkness after a moment like this—let rebirth take me into the next life with one last, amazing memory.

I closed my eyes as his lips found my neck again, this time nipping with a slightly painful sting of teeth. My soul took flight into a blessed state of near unconsciousness.

I wanted to feel him fly away with me, wanted to celebrate the heat of him on my skin and his willingness to hold me. But the encounter seemed to end as quickly as it had begun, leaving me in a waking dream. The loneliness of sleep took me back to where sensual reruns of the encounter circled in many exciting twists.

It had been an unexpected night. I’d never been hit by a car before, and it had hurt more than I thought it would. A couple of broken ribs and a crack in my skull weren’t that big of a deal. My sire had done worse. Those sort of things just took time and blood to heal.

The kid had been easily fooled. Must not know many vampires.

Genesis. Who names their kid after a book in the bible? He couldn’t be some sort of religious freak, not with that pink hair, orange jacket, and the purple eye shadow over his large amethyst eyes. Everything about him screamed gay, from the crazy multicolored hair to the bright blue shoes with mini rainbows colored on them.

I’d been out looking for food, only to be rewarded with a fairy pop princess. He sang? Odd, since his voice was pretty deep for a guy so flamboyant. He was probably into techno or some other bullshit.

Felt good, though. Responsive little thing came alive in my arms and never pushed me away once. Even when I bit him. And sweet Jesus, he had tasted like heaven.

I drank a little too long. Should have pulled away sooner. But how long had it been since I’d actually enjoyed a feeding? In fact, had I ever before?

Anya’s bloody, lifeless eyes flashed through my memory. Yeah, I’d never enjoyed it before. Just because I was a monster didn’t mean I had to like playing the part. I had to eat to live. I got that. Had it ingrained the hard way, unfortunately, but still hadn’t made peace with it.

Only now, while I watched the kid, hoping his fast breathing would even out, I realized that maybe, just maybe, there was more to being a vampire. Maybe I had to drink from flaming musicians to satisfy the craving. If they all gave me peace like this one had, I’d stalk a whole city of them. I could read the headlines now, probably write them myself: “Pretty Queer Boys Everywhere Run Scared from Vampire Stalker.”

I laughed to myself, wondering where the levity had come from. The kid’s breath settled, and he fell off into REM sleep. Maybe I’d given him a good dream or two, even if he’d only been half-awake. Now that he seemed to be safely sleeping and not dead, I lay back to let myself drift off, thanking my fortune for an easy meal and the first company in months.