The Right Vampire: A Romantic Halloween Story, Page 2

with those sexy red lips.

  “Todd,” Mindy says and Dracula # 2 – sorry, Todd – turns around.

  He’s on the youngish side, soft where Dracula # 1 was hard, short where he was tall, dull where he was exotic. But his smile beams to see me and his hand shoots out to shake mine.

  “Haley?” he asks, voice kind and soft, like his warm green eyes. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

  Mindy, suddenly distracted by a misfiring bubble cauldron amidst the line of foam headstones in the corner, drifts away and I seize my opportunity to ditch Todd.

  “It’s the funniest thing,” I gush, inching toward him so he can hear the sordid details over the cheesy Halloween music thumping in the background. “All Mindy said was that you’d be dressed like a vampire and so, honest mistake, I pounced on the first vampire I saw and…”

  I use my plastic witch broom to point toward Dracula # 1 who, true to his word, is leaning against the bistro table casually, sipping his sour vodka apple shot like something out of a sour apple vodka ad and wriggling the long, sexy fingers of his free hand at me. “… and, well, we kind of hit it off.”

  Todd’s face falls; like… if this were a horror movie it would be lying in a puddle at his size eight feet. “Oh,” he says, before recovering with a smile not quite as bright as the one that first greeted me after Mindy’s introduction. “Sure, hey… this party’s only big enough for one Dracula.” He says it in a kind of sing-song way, like he’s quoting a movie, and his green eyes light up.

  I’m so relieved he’s letting me off the hook I lean in and whisper, “Thanks for being so understanding, Todd.”

  As I pull back he says, “Sure, Haley,” in a way that sounds so friendly, so gracious and kind, I almost – almost – hesitate. I mean, Mindy was right: he IS a nice guy. Just, not… the right guy. Not tonight, not this night.

  Then he brightens and says, “Happy Halloween. Give my regards to the ‘right’ vampire, okay?”

  And I breeze away, hardly hearing because… freedom! Sweet, sexy, sour apple freedom is mine. No more bad blind dates. No more nervous fumbling for dialogue. No more wondering if I’ll let him kiss me at the door.

  I’ve finally hit the mother lode and now he’s mine; mine all mine! Forget about kissing me at the door, now I just need to figure out what to make him for breakfast tomorrow morning!

  The “Right” Vampire sees me coming and brightens, and I gush like a zebra being pulled apart between two battling lions. (Okay, not the best comparison, but… you know what I mean.)

  Usually I’m on the sidelines in these love triangles. What usually? I’m always on the sidelines in these love triangles. On the sidelines in love, period. But tonight must be my night, because as the sexy waitress swirls around the table again with her half-empty tray, Dracula # 1 reaches for two more cute little plastic skull glasses.

  Nodding at me casually, he slides mine over just as I reach the table. His timing couldn’t have been better if this was a scene out of a movie.

  “Welcome back,” he says, eyes glassy as he downs his shot, skipping our usual toast. “How did the ‘wrong’ vampire take it?”

  “Like a pro,” I brag, sipping on my shot and relishing its sweet and sour apple flavor and how it might taste when our tongues mingle and our teeth clatter when we romantically, erotically, inevitably kiss.

  And kiss and kiss and kiss some more.

  I imagine the moment, and what might come after, wondering if he’ll want to keep his cape on and whether or not I’ll let him use his fake fangs to bite down on my warm, naked throat.

  “He barely missed a beat,” I brag, as if I have a black belt in breaking guy’s hearts.

  “Maybe to your face,” he grunts, the slight hint of boastfulness in his voice as he waves his empty shot glass toward the dance floor. “But it looks like he’s pretty shook up.”

  I turn, glancing reluctantly, to find Todd has turned back to the buffet table and is putting a spider web cupcake on top of a pumpkin shaped paper plate. He moves slowly, head down, cheap plastic cape dragging from his slumped shoulders.

  He drifts from the buffet and, before I turn back to the right vampire, I watch as Todd finds himself a seat for one along the wall, balancing his paper plate on one knee while he tries to open a white paper napkin shaped like a ghost.

  Dracula # 1 snorts. “He looks like a kid in junior high who’s too afraid to ask a girl to dance,” he says.

  I shrug, wincing at the gleeful tone in his voice. “He’ll get over it,” I tell myself. “It’s just… it’s just a blind date. No biggie.”

  But he hears and says, “What, you act like you’ve never broken someone’s heart before?”

  “I haven’t,” I snap, putting down my half-empty plastic skull. “Of course I haven’t. Why would I? That’s just… cruel.”

  He waves the sexy waitress over again. Though, to be fair, she’s been lingering just out of sight, as if waiting for his signal, this whole time. He takes two more skull shots from her and winks as she shimmies away, rear end round and ripe in her too short pleather skirt and sexy white stockings.

  When I turn back to toast, I see I’m not the only one looking. What looking? He might as well be devouring those sexy white stockings, and the even sexier legs they cling to.

  “Ahem,” I clear my throat. “You were saying?”

  “To chance encounters,” he says, eyes glassier now, tongue a little thick as he reluctantly turns back to me.

  “And second chances,” I purr, bending just slightly to expose the cleavage poking out of my too-tight witch bodice.

  He ignores them and savors his shot, eyes wandering the party as I linger, sipping my too sweet drink. It’s lost a little of its magic now and, in my absence, I can’t help but feel that Dracula # 1 has, too.

  “I never asked your name?” I pounce, getting his attention.

  “Drake,” he says without a trace of irony.

  “Really?” I ask, chuckling in disbelief. “Like, short for Dracula?”

  He turns to me, eyes a little sluggish and voice just shy of impatient. “Huh?”

  “You know: Dracula? Drake? That kind of thing…” My voice trails off as I watch his glassy eyes drift back to the sexy waitress. I watch them watch each other, a feeling of dread growing in my stomach as their eyes linger in a smoldering, daring stare.

  She’s much more his style, I think, watching her slither and strut past, his eyes following every inch of her long, endless thighs and the way her button down white collar reveals most of her epic, flawless young rack.

  I sigh and put down my shot, untouched, waiting for his attention. When it finally returns I force a smile. “It’s okay,” I offer, giving him the out I can feel him reaching for.

  “What is?” he asks, fixing me with that crooked smile; the same one he’s just given her.

  “We had our fun,” I say, voice sounding like a shrug. “Now we’ve got a great story to tell around the water cooler on Monday morning, but… you don’t have to hang with me tonight if you’ve got other… plans.”

  He nods, almost gratefully. “Not at all,” he says unconvincingly. “I just thought, you know, maybe you and me and Monica could—”

  “Monica?” I huff, looking around for some other hussy dressed like a witch.

  “You know,” he says, pointing his skull shot glass at the sexy waitress with the sexy stockings and the sexy rack. “Sexy waitress costume lady. She’s been giving us the eye all night. I figure, if we play our cards right…”

  I back away, as if his head has just split in two and a twelve-legged monster is trying to call out and suck out my brain.

  “Oh. My. God,” I sputter, heart pounding as Monica reappears, sliding her tray down familiarly on my side of the just deserted table top. “Oh. My. God.”

  “Where you going?” she asks, sounding about all of nineteen – maybe even younger. “Drake and I thought we could, you know…”

  But I’ve turned by that point, stumbl
ing onto the dance floor and hiding among the writhing bodies grinding and groping to a hip-hop version of “Monster Mash”.

  Mindy is nowhere to be seen and as I whirl, stomach clenched, heart pounding, palms sweaty, I see Todd smile from his seat along the wall.

  I inch toward him, looking around to see if maybe he’s smiling at someone behind or beside or next to me but, no… his eyes meet mine and he nods, waving me over surprisingly graciously for a guy I just dumped less than ten minutes ago.

  “Thank God you’re still here!” I gasp, sinking into the seat next to him as he turns to face me.

  “What’s wrong?” he jokes, nodding toward the bistro table. “Things didn’t work out with Dracula # 1?”

  I follow his gaze and watch as Drake and Monica merge their sour apple infused tongues – and teeth and lips and half their faces – like I’d been hoping to do only moments earlier.

  “Oh God,” I murmur, feeling queasy as I turn back to Todd, clutching my bodice as if I might hurl all over his ghost shaped napkin. “Oh. Dear. God.”

  He chuckles, but in a familiar, harmless way. “Can you ever forgive me?” I ask, putting a hand on his knee before quickly taking it