I tiptoed through the minefield of fallen books and sheet music, careful not to step on any of the fragile covers. As much as I would have liked to score points with Mrs. Stubblefield and help clean them up, I should have been home already. My parents started asking intrusive questions if I put off going home too much. They had no idea what I did with my time outside of the house. If I didn’t go to a brick-and-mortar building—preferably one owned by family members, where I could be closely supervised—I didn’t have a real job, as far they were concerned. And any time I tried to explain I had an Internet-based job, they immediately jumped to thinking I was doing something inappropriate or that I was just goofing off. My daddy made a lot of comments about “those dumb dragon games” I played online. I didn’t actually play online games. No judgements - they just weren’t my thing. But if that’s what he wanted to believe, fine. I made a pretty good living and with no rent to pay, I had a considerable nest egg and could afford little extras like my laptop. And it was a lot more fun than working at my Uncle Hank’s butcher shop. It was certainly less bloody.

As I scurried away to the study carrel, I heard scuffling from the other side of the bookshelf. I unlocked the door and stuffed all of my belongings into my backpack. When I came out, the vampire was standing by the front desk, holding both boys by the collar, immobile as they tried to squirm away. He was speaking to Mrs. Stubblefield, giving the boys a gentle (by vampire standards) shake occasionally to make a point. I tried to catch his attention to at least wave goodbyes, but he was wholly focused on Mrs. Stubblefield…or maybe her eyebrows. They were like two gray, hairy exclamation points on her forehead. I knew I had trouble looking away when I talked to her.

My phone buzzed again. Another impatient text from Mama. “Where are you?! You better answer this phone now!!!”

I winced. Mama was not one for text speak, but she was one for excessive punctuation.

I glanced back toward the checkout desk and the handsome stranger with the velvety voice. Who was I kidding? Why would I need to stay to talk to him? It wasn’t like this attractive stranger was going to ask me out for…did vampires drink coffee? It didn’t matter. I doubted I would see him again. My life was too complicated for that sort of connection. I needed to get home, and quickly.

With one last look at the vampire’s back, I hurried out of the library and into the street. It would take me about twenty minutes to jog home—ten if I ran at full speed.

My pocket buzzed and somehow, it sounded angrier.