He sets the drinks and a box of popcorn on the counter. We’re close now, the scent of his skin like pine, everything about him earthy and grounded and real. He extends one hand to me, maybe for my money, maybe for something else, but I won’t reach out for him. I’m afraid if I put my hands on him, I might never let go.

“What else would you like?” he asks.

“I don’t need anything,” I whisper, even though it isn’t true. My stomach raw, I need the very thing he could offer.

His eyes are still on me, but I can’t stay here. The door swings open, and I’m outside, rushing back to the Buick empty-handed, back to Bee.

When I get to the car, the second film’s already started. I was in there longer than I realized. I settle down in my seat, sinking so low I hope no one can see me here.

“Did you meet his grandson?” Bee asks absently, her gaze fixed on the screen.

I hesitate. “Unfortunately.”

A hideous silence settles between us.

“Again?”

“I didn’t mean to,” I say, as though that’s a defense.

Bee folds her nervous hands in her lap. “It’s all right,” she says. “It’ll pass. It always does.”

These words hit me hard in the chest. It always does. This has happened before, and Bee knows it. She knows what I’m capable of.

For the next two hours, I stare at the screen, seeing nothing, feeling nothing except for him. Michael’s scent clings to my body, and even from here I can hear his heartbeat inside me, sweet and strong and faster than before. I have to bite down to keep my teeth from sharpening.

The movie ends, and I don’t wait for the lights to come up. The Buick lurches over the gravel and overgrown grass, but when we get to the exit, a shadow darts in front of us. Michael. He comes around to the driver’s side, holding something.

“You forgot these,” he says.

He passes me a box of popcorn and the two Cokes I left on the counter. The drinks are piss warm by now, but he probably thinks they’re fresh. His eyes still glazed over, he’s been in a haze ever since I left the lobby, floating on cloud nine where I put him.

“You’ll be back tomorrow night, won’t you?” he asks, leaning a little closer.

I wet my lips, the echo of Dracula stirring inside me. But before I can move, before I can do anything I’ll regret, Bee puts a light hand on my arm.

“Sure, Michael,” she says, smiling. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”