Page 11 of Hungry for the Vampire

I parked and I texted Roman to get his apartment number, grabbing my bag and heading in after his quick response. I tried to slow down my heartbeat, but that was hopeless. He was on the second floor, and I hustled up the steps and around the corner to find his door open and Roman standing there, filling up the whole damn doorway.

"Jared," Roman said, and that little smile arrived. "Please come in."

It was an invitation I jumped to accept.

Chapter 8

"This is really nice," I said, my eyes going wide as I looked around Roman's place. It was huge for an apartment, like four times the size of mine. The kitchen was super modern and clean as a whistle, with granite countertops and a towering silver fridge. I eyed the abstract landscape art on the walls. "Did you decorate?"

Roman shook his head. "It came furnished. Todd and I arranged our own bedrooms, that's all."

"So..." My tooth snagged at my lip as a wave of nerves overcame me. "You think we can talk about what's going on?"

His lips went thin; tense. "I suppose that we should. But have you eaten? I thought we could have dinner together before this...discussion."

"Dinner sounds good. What did you have in mind?"

"Ah. Todd will sometimes cook, if we cook." Roman put a hand behind his head. "But I bought something prepared at the store for us, it just has to go in the oven. A lasagna."

"I love lasagna," I said.

He brightened. "Good. You can set your bag in my room if you want, it's at the end of the hall on the left. I will start dinner."

Roman walked past me into the kitchen, leaving me dumbstruck. He wanted me to put my bag in his room, what did that mean? Was he expecting me to stay in his room? In his bed? What if—

No, no, no. I wasn't going down this road. He didn't mean anything by it, it just made sense for me to put my stuff in his part of the apartment. I wanted to talk to him about what the hell was going on with the wolves, and that was all I was going to let myself bring up. The other stuff...that could wait until this was all over.

I went to the last room in the short hall and open the door, peering into Roman's bedroom. His blinds were shut, and the room was dark. Almost black, like the inside of a coffin. But as my eyes adjusted, the warmth in the room began to show. He had a velvety red bedspread, a deep burgundy color that looked soft and lush. I realized the walls weren't painted black, but a very dark charcoal, not reflecting much light. Across from his bed was a dresser, a very nice one. Just at a glance I could tell it was polished, carved wood, not something your typical college student picked up at a department store. The desk next to it was more plain, flat and modern, but still nice.

I set my bag down by his nightstand, off to the side so he wouldn't trip on it. I didn't know how long I had stood there gawking, so I quickly turned around and went back to the kitchen.

Roman was staring down at the oven, his brow furrowed. He had one hand on his hip. I'd been so busy staring at his face that I hadn't really taken in the rest of him. He was wearing sweatpants, gray ones, cinched at the ankles. He wore black house slippers, which I hadn't noticed before. They suited him. His black T-shirt was loose and comfortable, hanging down easily.

"Something wrong?" I walked up next to him.

"Sort of." He turned his furrowed brow to me. It was a cute look.

Stop, Jared. None of that.

"I may have made a mistake." Roman grimaced slightly, nodding toward the timer. "I thought the lasagna would only take a few minutes to heat up. According to the instructions, it's more like...forty minutes."

"Oh, no big deal," I said, giving him an easy grin. "I'm not that ravenous."

"Okay." Roman crossed his arms. "So we should talk, then."

"Y-yeah. Yeah." I looked over toward the couch. "Wanna just hang in the living room?"

"That's fine." He stepped past me, almost hurrying. He seemed nervous. Whatever was going on, maybe it wasn't easy for him to talk about. I didn't want to pry, but I figured we both knew that I deserved to get filled in.

Roman sat down on the couch, and I sat with him. It was reminiscent of the party, only now there weren't fifty other people around to distract us. No music or haze in the air. Just us in his living room, with his roommate out of town, and dinner on a slow-ticking clock in the kitchen.

"There's something I should tell you," Roman started. He wasn't looking at me. He had his hands on his thighs, the fingertips digging in.

"Whatever it is, I'm not going to be like, mad," I assured him. I didn't enjoy seeing him like this, especially since it was probably because of me and however I'd complicated his life. "I am...really curious, though. Seeing you these last couple of days, doing what you did, I just—I've never seen anything like it."

Now he did look at me, an almost furtive glance. "I should not be spending time with you, Jared. Not like this."

"...what do you mean?"