Trust a Vampire? You've gotta be kidding me.

Trust a Vampire? You've gotta be kidding me. Ch. 4

Sad chapter! Hold in your tears men!

Kidding. I changed my mind. NEXT chapter is sad. Didn't want to make it too long so I'm splitting this and next into two! Instead of makin yall wait another day.

But to make amends, you'll learn something about Trace!

Have a handkerchief just in case for happy tears! :)

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I threw on some random clothes I hoped were clean. Probably not. But I didn't care that much anymore; I was too excited. Trace was just going to have to deal with my stank. Him and his stupid overly sensitive nose. I grabbed a pair of faded blue jeans from the floor. Something poked my thigh as I put them on. I dug in my pockets to find $2.16 worth of change. Go me! The other pocket produced a little, crumpled up note. It was a reminder to do laundry. I laughed to myself as I put it back in my pocket. I was probably going to forget to do laundry again. I forget things a lot.

I stumbled over a pile of clothes into my closet to pick on of the few clothes that were still on a hanger. I slipped on a sea blue shirt. It had butterflies imprinted all over it. I liked it, but it was getting a little too small for me. I was debating whether to brush my hair, but decided against it. I wasn't going anywhere today, and I definitely wasn't going to get all dressed up for Trace's sake.

I rushed down the hall and took a left into the kitchen. A lounging Trace rose his eyebrow in curiosity at my shining face. I really needed to calm down. I took a mental breath and walked in with a small amount of composure. I was in too much of a good mood.

"What? No good morning?" Trace pouted. He was reclining in a chair at the small table we had in the corner of the kitchen. An empty bowl sat in front of him. I wondered for a moment why it was there. He was probably just too lazy to get up and put it away. A newspaper was in his hands that I doubted he had been reading. The shit was probably just doing crosswords. In half a second.

"I hit you with a bat. You call that a good morning?" My voice was heavy with sarcasm. I pushed Trace's feet off my chair and plopped myself down in the vacant space.

"You could have done something worse," he said cheerily. "You could have lit me on fire." He was really happy for some reason. It was so unnatural of him and I wanted to slap him back to his normal self.

"I hate optimists," I retorted. "But thanks for the idea. Maybe I should try it out sometime." I was liable to later, but not at the moment. I was in too good of a mood. You don't realize how rare of an occurrence that was. I was Ms. Grumpy to Trace, just as he was Mr. Ass to me. It's not my fault. He raised me, so all of my faults are from him. Like my (his) language problem. I just took it and improved it.

"I regret mentioning it now. I'll remember to sleep with my eyes open from now on," Trace smirked.

"Okay, enough small talk! What's my surprise!" I pleaded. I wanted to know NOW. He didn't talk. He just pointed to pantry that held our cereal. I stomped my foot and held my ground with a glare.

"Eat first," he ordered shortly, looking back to the crossword puzzles.

"Maybe I'll light you on fire first." I went over to the counter and began to rummaged through drawers as if looking for a lighter. I heard Trace let out an exaggerated sigh. "Drama queen," I muttered under my breath.

"I heard that, pessimist." That was another loving nickname he often called me. Not that he was much of an optimist. We weren't yin-yang, cause if we were, I'm pretty sure one of us would have been dead by now. Fuck the balance bullshit. I had a natural dislike of overly happy people. Not that I had ever met one.