He was the library vampire.
All around me, the moms seemed to straighten in their chairs and suck in their stomachs simultaneously. I couldn’t even blame them for the unified hair fluffing. If I’d had any idea I was going to see him again, I would worn something besides a t-shirt and jeans tonight... even if he had seen me in t-shirt and jeans before. But I would have at least worn a tinted lip balm or something.
I ran a hand through my thick auburn hair. Yep, it was frizzy; there was nothing I could do about it.
For a moment, it was like a scene from one of those movies, two people making eye contact across a crowded room while time slows and sound makes way to the dramatic swell of a hundred violins…more advanced violins than the ones I was currently hearing. I could see the moment he recognized me, and his face filled with a delight that made me dizzy.
And now that he wasn’t looking directly at me, that dreamy movie feeling faded away and I was full-on panicking. I’d never thought I would see him again. I had no idea what to do. What would I even say to him after class was over? Should I say anything at all? The tone of our last conversation had been decidedly flirty, and I don’t think I’d ever had more than one flirty conversation with a man. At least not one I was interested in, as opposed to some poor blind date I’d been corralled into by my pack—and on the rare occasions I flirted with those guys, I was generally trying to make them uncomfortable enough that they would find a reason to end the date early.
The ease with which I had spoken to him in the library was a fluke brought on by adrenaline and gratitude that I wasn’t suffering a book-related concussion. And was it even worth the risk of talking to him? The kids would be sure to mention to their parents—or God forbid, their grandparents, my Alphas—that I was having flirty conversations with their vampire music instructor.
I slumped back in the uncomfortable plastic chair. What if I was making entirely too much of this? What if I was just imagining this whole thing on my side and he was just a gregarious personality who treated everybody like they were interesting and delightful? What if this was some weird vampire thing where he was just trying to bite me so he could brag to his friends about this time he fed from this gullible, back-country werewolf?
As if he could hear my thoughts, the vampire turned and smiled, like he was relieved to find me still sitting there.
I couldn’t just run away again, right? That was technically child abandonment. Jolene would definitely notice if I dropped her car off at her house without her kids in it.
“Wow, um, I’ve never seen Mr. Bonfils smile at anyone like that before,” Namita said.
“He’s usually pretty reserved,”
“Do you know him?” another mom asked to my left. I glanced around and saw
that several of the mothers were watching me with interest…and resentment. Great, because I needed to level up the difficulty in getting to the car after class.
“Oh, I just met him once at the library,” I said, shaking my head. “No big deal. We barely spoke.”
“He was at the library?” a third mom murmured, chewing her lip. Somehow, I got the feeling she was planning her own excursion to the local book depository.
I hummed in a non-committal tone. It was official. I could never go back to the library. I’d just infested it with aggressive music moms. I checked my phone again and pretended to stare at the screen for the next hour, instead of the library vampire and the way his jeans clung to his rear.
The class ended and Mr. Bonfils spoke to the students about an upcoming performance at a community meeting. I hurriedly packed my belongings into my backpack. I wondered if I could get away with scooting across the floor to the kids’ cases and packing their stuff up as quickly as possible. But none of the other parents moved, so I just sat there, watching. He was so…careful with the kids. He spoke to them gently, never getting too close. I understood the instinct. I tended to be overcautious about contact with humans, even the ones I liked. With super-strength, all it would take would be an ill-timed movement of my hand to result in