“Ah-tsew!”
Nayzak loves the autumn, really, truly does. Her heavy wool coat is powerless against the force of the wind that presses up against her skin. But she finds this atmosphere far superior to the oppressive heat of the summer.
She’d spent the whole day carving pumpkins with her students and her hands still hold a faint yellow stain, even after all the time she’d spent scrubbing herself clean. They’re clammy and stiff as they clutch the warehouse gate.
She gives her car a glance, its windows turning foggy in the moist chill. She almost turns around and drives back home to her warm couch and her big fluffy blankets. She’s got a whole catalogue of scary movies to work her way through and only so much time after school to do so. Her eyes lay firm on the exterior of the warehouse, following the vines crawling across the faded brick which have turned sickly yellow in the cold. Her purpose sits heavy on her heart. She has to do this…
Her nose tingles and from her lips emerges another—
“Tsew!” The sound is swallowed by the still wood around her.
But it also really could have been a phone call. She sniffles, rubbing the round tip of her nose with the back of her hand to warm it up.
Her boots clap against the pavement as she approaches the entrance to the warehouse, scurrying into the building for shelter from the bitter wind. The interior offers very little relief from the cold. The windows have poor insulation, and the door doesn’t close very well. Never mind the fact that this level is meant to disguise the true facility within.
Still, the change in temperature causes a jitter in her nose and—
“Athew!”
She scrambles in her purse for a wad of tissues to stop her snot from running.
A smooth, melodic chuckle echoes in the dark empty space, scaring the skin off Nayzak’s bones. There’s hardly any light in the building and Nayzak feels completely exposed, standing in the middle of the warehouse floor. Her heartbeat accelerates, thudding painfully against her ribs
A figure emerges from the shadow, too dark to see completely, but close enough that the silhouette is familiar. The word she wants to say is “Morgan” but what comes out is—
“Ahh…tsew.”
Morgan snorts and closes the distance. “Relax, Cupcake; it’s just me. Your sneezes are so tiny and cute.” Nayzak gives her an indignant frown, which likely looks ridiculous with the mountain of tissues pressed up against her red face.
Nayzak holds the wadded-up tissues to her nose and profusely wipes. “You didn’t scare me,” she insists, unable to stop her voice from carrying a nasally tone.
“Mhm. Sure.” Morgan sighs and places her hands over Nayzak’s icy cheeks, injecting some much-needed warmth into them. “Why’d you come over here. Don’t you have—uh—papers to grade or something? Anyway, you should have called first. Ava’s not here.”
Nayzak bristles. She and Ava haven’t spoken since Ava turned her down quite decisively what must have been weeks ago. And rejection has not been as unbearable an agony as she’d anticipated—at least not from Ava.
“I wanted to talk to you.”
Morgan’s face changes: her nonchalant smirk turns to an expression of genuine surprise. “Me?”
Nayzak sniffles once more. Maybe it’s the closeness, or the fact that she can barely make out the features on Morgan’s face, but something has changed about her. Her grey eyes glint with a softness that Naz finds herself wishing to capture. The thought of it quickens her heart and she swiftly looks down at her shoes. And maybe Morgan’s mind, filled with the same uncertainty, goes to the same place, as she slips her hands off of Naz’s cheeks.
“Can we go inside first? It’s freezing.”
With a hum, Morgan concedes.
It is only when Nayzak’s teeth are no longer chattering, and she can see Morgan clearly that she feels her resolve begin to dissipate. The two of them step into the warmth of the living room and Morgan already looks like she doesn’t want to be there.
“Well, then,” she starts. “What is it you wanted to say?”
Naz tugs her coat around her. The chill is beginning to leave her nose and cheeks and she can almost breathe again. She sighs hesitantly, feeling the weight of Morgan’s gaze on her. An intensity that once felt comfortable now feels like it’s going to swallow her whole.
“Did I do something wrong?” she says weakly. “I know I can’t always tell if I’m being inconsiderate or careless. Sometimes I’m clumsy with my words, but Morgan, you’ve been so distant lately. I’m not imagining that, right. I’m not crazy. I know you’ve been distant.”
Morgan crosses her arms defensively and leans against the bookcase. “You haven’t been imagining things. I’ve been keeping my distance. But… it’s not because you did anything wrong.”
Nayzak clings to every word, letting them enter the inferno of thoughts that spirals on and on in her head.
“I haven’t?”
“How could you do anything wrong? You’re perfect.”
“Then why?”
The question hangs on the air unanswered as Morgan pushes away from the wall and goes to the window, turning her back to the human. She gently beats her fist on the back of the armchair and shrugs before sighing.
“I’ll keep my distance, too, if you want. Just tell me why.” Nayzak hates the way her congested nose mixed with the weakness of her voice makes her sound like a whiny child.
Morgan stiffens and for a moment, Nayzak feels the icy grip of her anxiety around her neck, squeezing the life out of her. Had she said the wrong thing again?
“No, I don’t want you to keep your distance. I don’t—” She sighs and runs a hand through her thick dark waves. The scent of sandalwood and cinnamon wafts across the room.
Gathering up her courage, Nayzak steps further in, past the bookcase, close enough to reach out to Morgan. She almost does, but her hand is frozen at her side.
“You can tell me anything, Morgan. I won’t be mad.” Her breath is in her throat, clinging off the edge of a cliff, terrified to let go. And one look at Morgan’s face would fix it all. Just one look to know that she means it—she’s not mad, and she doesn’t want her to go away. Her back offers no such consolation.
Morgan lets out a sound that is halfway between a sigh and a groan. “Fuck it.” Before Naz can take a step away, Morgan has taken her by the wrist, keeping her in place. She tilts her head with a look that scrambles the beats of Naz’s heart into a pattern so unrecognizable that she thinks she just might be dying. And if she did die here and now, she wouldn’t even be mad about it.
In the light of the fireplace, the shadows play across the freckles on Morgan’s nose, the dusky rose of her lips. Her eyes glistening like mercury seem to be taking Naz in, enveloping her completely. Something is planted there in the space between them, a seed that takes root in her gut and is nourished by the butterflies that have nestled there, restlessly batting their wings until she cannot think straight.
Morgan’s second hand is raised to cup the edge of Nayzak’s jaw, thumb moving over her lips. Magnetized, Naz finds that she presses her body closer into Morgan’s, leaning into the heat radiating from her body. She tilts her head up to maintain the eye contact, although her thoughts have long since ceased to be coherent. It is now an unseen puppeteer, clenching her heart in his fist, that drives her forward.
She cannot keep her eyes off those lips, which part as though heavy with what remains unspoken between them. And Nayzak tries to stifle the fear that she’s wrong, that what she’s seeing is not really there. That there is nothing between them.
And then they kiss.
They kiss. Lips locked together, tongues brushing against lips, hands caressing faces, bodies flush against one another.
Naz is unsure who even initiated. She must have. The thought was in her mind, running around in circles, screaming, shouting, begging to be acknowledged. She’d wanted this—maybe from the moment she stepped into the room—maybe from the moment she’d put on her coat and gotten in her car.
Or maybe it had been Morgan. Naz had been too timid, unable to acknowledge what is right there in front of her, hiding from that which would make her happy, afraid that the happiness was beyond what she was capable of attaining. But Morgan is fearless, and intuitive enough to realize it before the thought had even entered Nayzak’s mind. She’d been waiting in the cold, in the shadows for Nayzak to come into the light.
The kiss unfurls something inside of Nayzak that had been knotted over itself. The rhythm of her heart steadies and all she knows is the scent and taste of Morgan, building foundations in her soul. She feels the ground torn out from under her when they’re forced to part for air.
Her lips quiver and she feels a sting run along her nose.
Oh, no.
She turns her face away and into her shoulder she—
“Ah-tsew!”
And Morgan bursts out laughing, lighting up Nayzak’s insides. She turns to look at the vampire again and smiles. “Sorry, it’s cold.”
The grin doesn’t leave Morgan’s face, rather lights up wickedly. “That’s alright. I know a few ways we could warm you up.”