My Vampire Bromance

Chapter 3: Not What I Expected

A week later, I sat at the library desk, checking out books to one student after another. Finals were in a couple weeks, and everyone was scrambling to get their term papers done last minute. After a less than savory week, I was happy to be designated to just checking out books. I was tired of fixing the printer and copy machines. Sometimes I couldn't tell if people were just breaking them constantly to get on my nerves.

On Monday, I wore the new clothes Jenna got me, but after girls kept pointing and snickering at me, I reverted back to my old habits, too embarrassed to keep up the charade.

"C'mon, Phillip!" Jenna wailed. "It's a good thing! You look cute!" I bit my lip at the lunch table in the student union and looked over at Clark for help.

"She's right. The clothes do help your image a lot. You've been getting a lot more looks today. Just try it out for the week, Phillip," Clark told me. He patted me on the shoulder as I tucked my head into my chest. More girls passed us, pointing at me, and I couldn't help but not want their attention.

Jenna leaned toward me, "I thought you wanted a girlfriend, Phillip?"

I looked up briefly at her, "I don't know Jenna. All the attention is freaking me out." It was, freaking me out. I had no idea how to handle it. What I thought that I wanted and what I was feeling right now was entirely at odds.

The next day I arrived back the way I usually dressed, baggy jeans, oversized plaid button-down, torn-up shoes. My hair remained the same knotty mess as always.

The rest of the week went on as usual. I went to class, listened to Jenna and Clark as they railed me about not wearing my new clothes. I fixed way too many copy and printer issues. After a while, I lost count of the things I did.

I was more than happy to be behind this desk, dressed shabbily, grabbing no one's attention. I felt more at peace that way, which was good because I felt anything but peace every night when I went home. Every night, I bit my lip as I looked at the bookmark given to me by the man at the bar. Every night I played through the scenario in my mind of how I was going to approach him this Friday. How I was going to talk to him.

Now that he had officially acknowledged my presence, he would talk to me, right?

A book flew into my face from across the desk, "I need to check this out, please." I looked up to see Samantha Peterson from my Anthropology class waving a copy of the class textbook in front of my face. She'd been checking the thing out all semester, refusing to buy it. I wondered why. Her family was well off enough.

I remember the first day I sat next to her in class. She'd huffed at me, told me poor people should feel privileged to sit by her. I stayed silent beside her, pen in hand, my notebook on the desk as she took out her computer, flipping her long brown hair over her shoulder, hitting me in the face with it. When I didn't react, she'd turned to me with wide bright green eyes, expertly mascaraed and eyelinered, and said, "Why are you so close to me? Seriously, move over!" I shifted in my seat a little. She huffed again.

The two of us sat in class next to each other all year, our only interactions solidified by, "My computer died. I need paper and a pen. Ugh, I forgot my homework, do you have an extra copy? Shit! I forgot to study," then side-eyeing my paper for the next two hours during the midterm.

I forced a smile, looking up at her highlighted brown hair and made-up face. "Of course."

Samantha tapped her foot at me, "Hurry up already. I have shit to do."

I beeped her book into the system, rechecking it out to her for the tenth time. Really there should be a limit. I handed the book back to her, trying not to grimace. She was pretty, but her personality was horrible. "Thanks," she said, pursing her lips, then left. I silently thanked whatever god there was out there that Samantha hadn't prattled on about how crap I looked like she always did.