Garlic Is For Vampires (#Wattys2016)

Chapter 8: Night Attack

My phone rang behind me. I lifted my head from the wall and turned, wiping my wet hand on the towel before picking up my phone and answering.

"Hello?"

"Bree, it's Dylan." He paused. "Are you okay? You don't sound well."

"I'm fine. What can I help you with?" He already picked up his order and the last time we spoke I was with my friends. I invited him to join us, and now it seemed like he couldn't shake me off either. So I gave him my phone number.

In all honesty I wasn't fine. I was light-headed and tired. I woke up super early because of that dream with blood on my hands. No, it wasn't period blood. I didn't have any cuts on me or anything, so I didn't know if it was my blood or someone else's. So I spent the day home because I was tired and refused to go out until I could figure out why there was blood. It couldn't have come from my dream, but it was starting to look like it.

"Well, if you aren't too sick, I was wondering if you'd like to come with me to a fashion exhibit. But I understand if you want to stay home and rest."

I thought about it, and then smiled. "I'm sure I can handle fashion for an hour or two."

"That's great! I'll text you the address and meet you at 7:00. The show starts at 8, but I'd like to have dinner with you first."

"Oh, sounds fun. I'll see you then."

"Same, bye."

We disconnected and I rinsed off before wrapping a towel around myself and burying myself into my closet, looking for something to wear. What did you wear at a fashion exhibit? I found a black halter-neck dress with a lace hem, and some black heels to go with it as well. Then I dried my hair, lotion up, and decided to curl the ends of my hair. I pulled my hair up into a high ponytail, brought out my bangs, and gently curled them, and then brushed them to the side. I proceeded to dab on some light makeup and a pair of earrings. Then I grabbed a light jacket and headed out of my apartment. The art gallery was at least a drive, and it was 6:30. I didn't want Dylan to think I changed my mind about hanging out with him today.

I called a taxi and texted him that I was on my way. He texted back a happy face, and then a winkie face emoji. I sent back the same winkie emoji and leaned back in my seat. Was this a date or were we just going to hang out? Well, when did a guy take you out to dinner and a fashion exhibit only to call it hanging out?

I got to the restaurant just as Dylan was strolling down the sidewalk. I paid the taxi man and got out. Dylan spotted me immediately, a messenger bag hanging from his shoulder. He smiled at me, and then I saw his eyes widen as he took me in. But I strode towards him smoothly, enjoying the way his gaze made my skin heat up.

"You look dashing," I said boldly, stopping in front of him. He was dressed appropriately, and he had trimmed the stubble on his face. He looked hot.

"I could say the same thing," he replied, giving me a gentle smirk. Then he leaned forward and kissed my cheek. "I'm so glad I could be with you today."

It wasn't a, "I'm so glad you could make it" kind of deal. It was "I'm glad to be with you" thing, and I didn't know what I thought about that, but my body felt special. I felt needed, wanted. It was something my body enjoyed, and the sensation coursed through my veins like fresh blood.

"Shall we go in?" he asked, gesturing to the front doors. I smiled and nodded, and he held the door open for me to walk in first. The restaurant was dimly lit but I could see the wallpaper; French script written in cursive, and designs of inventions, drawings of a plant's anatomy, and even sketches of beaches or forests. It was impressive, and small green bottles hung from the ceiling. They all hanging from thin threads.