When I got inside, I sat the potion down on my bedside table and immediately began to undress, hopping straight into the shower... almost as though I was on a mission.
With the hot water running, I sat down on the floor and ran my hands through my wet hair, the events of the day playing on repeat in my head.
But the longer I thought through them... the more I was sure I was going insane.
"Okay, Ollie," I whispered to myself. "He's a vampire... a literal mother fucking vampire." Somehow I hoped saying it out loud would make it more real. However...
I shook my head as I thought, Am I really talking to myself in my shower?
"Yes, we really are," I replied, then groaned upwards to the heavens, to the shower head, or to the narrator of my life... I wasn't sure. But I immediately regretted it. At once, I got a face and throat full of water, as the liquid gushed down my windpipe, rousing a coughing fit.
After steadying my breaths and realising the shower floor wasn't helping my stress, I climbed back to my feet, squeezed my shampoo into my hands and began to wash my hair, hoping the lavender scent would calm my nerves.
Vampires, witches, shifters, mermaids... Supposedly, they are all real. And the guy I've been crushing on while talking about world building and mythology is a literal creature from the pages.
"What fucking dream is this?" I said pretty loudly. Though I wished it was a dream...
I rinsed the suds out of my hair and grabbed my conditioner, running it through my mids and ends.
Do I care? I then wondered.
"Did you really just ask if you care?" I asked out loud. "The dude is a vampire. Of course you care."
Yeah but... he still just plays piano, goes to the cinema, reads books... Like a normal person.
But he also researches how to kill Hitler-esque vampires in his freetime, and, oh, I don't know, part owns a mansion in the middle of London. And is 95 damn years old. And drinks blood.
But he doesn't drink blood... he takes pills, my shoulder angel—or perhaps devil—tried to justify.
In the end, I concluded with, This is too much.
So I turned the shower off and grabbed my towel to climb out. But as the cool air outside the shower door caressed my face, the scrunchy texture of my hair became apparent.
"For fuck sake!" I exclaimed, as I realised I hadn't even washed the conditioner out of my hair or washed my body. At once, I hopped back in.
· · ───── ∘☽༓☾∘ ───── · ·
After properly finishing my shower (for real this time), I threw on my pyjamas and climbed into bed. But sleep was far from welcoming me.
Rolling onto my side, my eyes immediately sought out the potion on my bedside table, the purple contents swirling around like a lava lamp, glowing in the dark.
If it turns out you don't want to see him again... would you want to forget everything? I asked myself, feeling like I was finally reaching some form of conclusion on one of the many considerations needed here.
Staring at the bottle a moment longer, I heaved a sigh and as I already knew my answer before I thought it.
No. I don't want to forget a thing.
So I flicked my bedside table light on and got back out of bed. Potion in hand, I bounded over to the kitchen sink—almost with haste—before uncapping the vial.
YOU ARE READING
Vulnerable: Book 1 of the Magic Mutations Series | ✓
Paranormal|| WATTYS 2021 SHORTLIST || The day Olivia Byrne met Benjamin Cross, her day was going almost to plan... until he showed up. But it also could have gone so many different ways. In her summer holidays between university terms, Olivia finds herself l...
