No Life Kid 13B

“First course is served.”

The voice filled the room as Zander’s sniper-wielding butler materialized with said course in both hands, a silver tureen in his hands like it was a holy relic or something.

“Roasted butternut squash with crème fraîche.” Walter glided around the table, near frictionless in a pair of polished black Oxfords.

Uhh-huh. Despite Jessica’s wide eyes, Zander Cray just watched the performance as he leaned back in his oak dinner chair as he held back the urge to roll his. Bisque… okay. 

Apparently, soup was too normal to say.

Jessica looked at the bowl placed in front of her like it was a hissing snake, eyes darting to the small arsenal of silverware crowding her plate as her mouth moved silently. “Ummm, wow, this smells… totally amazing, Walter.”

“It is prepared to Miss Armstrong’s usual standard.” Walter’s answer came smooth as he poured her a glass of sparkling cider. Apple, of course, Zander’s favorite.

Those wide eyes flicked up, a question sitting on her lips. By the time she was ready to get it out though, Walter had already vanished back into the shadows of the kitchen. “Who’s Miss Armstrong?”

The question hit Zander’s ears, spoon halfway to his lips, as Jessica aimed it at him.

Is that… jealousy? Zander bit back a snort as he looked up at Jessica. “Alexis Armstrong is my personal chef. She used to be my great-grandfather’s… same as Walter.”

Jessica blinked slowly. “…oh.” 

For a second, the only sound in the cavernous dining room was the clink of Jessica picking up a spoon and setting it back down, clearly still unsure which one she was supposed to use.

Zander closed his eyes, a closed-mouth smile across his face. “Outside in.” His own soup spoon swirled the reddish-orange liquid in his bowl, the blood thickening his bisque far more than Jessica’s non-hemophilic meal. “Or pick whichever one you want. It’s just soup, so don’t overthink it, babygirl.”

Jessica did just that and took her first spoonful, eyes widening further as the first taste of bisque hit her tongue. “Okay, shut up.”

“Wasn’t talking.”

“No, I mean…” Jessica gasped, mouth open. “This is actually insane. Like, seriously? Who cooks like this at home?”

“Alexis,” Zander forced down a swallow of the bland bisque. The soup was good of course; rich, creamy — heavy on the cream — and the blood reduction definitely helped, but it was still old blood.

Stale blood.

“Lexie gets bored if she’s not proving she’s a demon in the kitchen.”

As the meal progressed, the stiffness in the room began to bleed out, replaced by the clatter of stainless steel on china and the steady flow of cider. The salmon arrived in minutes — pink, flaky and perfect — enough to make Jessica forget her nerves as she dug into it.

“So…” As she took a long sip from her glass of cider, Jessica’s cheeks flushed a bright red, the scent of fresh blood rushing through her face somehow making the stale blood infusion more and less tolerable at the same time. “My mom… oh, oh my God, she really can’t wait to meet you, y’know? I’ve told her so much about you.”

Zander nodded slowly. “So much, huh?”

“Yeah!” Jessica’s fork waved eagerly around her, almost stabbing at her face as she jabbed it with each syllable. “Like, she’s gonna absolutely freak when I tell her about this dinner. Don’t tell her I said this but she thinks you’re dealing drugs or something. Not even kidding.”

A raised eyebrow was his main response as Zander pushed a piece of salmon from place to place around his plate. “Yeah?”

“Totally serious.” Jessica leaned forward with a giggle on her lips that wasn’t entirely a match for her words. “She was like, ‘Jessica, no teenage boy has a butler.’ That’s a direct quote, by the way. Half the time, she’s worried you’re gonna get me in trouble, like… I dunno, arrested or something.”

Zander let out a laugh that was as low and rusty as any he’d ever made. “I’d never let you get arrested. I might be a little eccentric, but I’m a good boy at heart, Jess. And that’s a quote you can take back to Mama Stanley.”

“Eccentric, huh?” Her hand went to her hair, tucking a strand behind her ear as she snorted with a laugh. “You wear sunglasses inside all the time—” 

Zander rolled his uncovered blue eyes. Almost all the time.

“—ot to mention how you’ve got a butler and a personal chef. That’s like Bond villain territory, y’know?”

He just shrugged. “Bit of a jump there, y’know? Bond?”

Jessica shook her head. “My family… we’re not like this. Like, at all. My mom, she’s stay at home, mostly ‘cause my dad works out of state on trips half the time. He’s in Texas right now, half the time.” She looked down at her plate, poking at a spear of asparagus roasted to perfection. “I mean, me and mom, we appreciate his work and all. Just wish he was home more, y’know?”

“I… I know.” He didn’t.

Jessica nodded quickly, head bobbing up and down. “What about you? What’s it like? Suddenly having all this money? Is it… weird?”

“…weird as hell.” That much was the truth. Sleeping in a coffin and enjoying midnight more than the day was its own giant ball of weirdness, let alone everything else about turning into a blood-drinker. “Most days I forget how… how different everything is now, everything about my life. I wake up and expect to be sweating through my sheets back in Miami.”

“Do you miss it? Miami?

That question came as much of a surprise as any other as Zander found himself leaning back, the chair creaking over-so-slightly. “I… I miss parts of it, sure. The energy, the music, feeling like you could be anything anywhere because nobody knew who you even were yesterday. But this…”

One hand swept around the whole of the dining room as he looked directly at Jessica. “This is better. Quieter, too. And Forks has a lot of great sights.”

His eyes didn’t flinch, Jessica’s cheeks flushing a deeper red as she looked down. “Well, I’m glad you’re here, even if both your house and butler are scary.”

“Chocolate fondant…”

Speak of the devil.

“…with a raspberry coulis.” Walter placed the first plate in front of Jessica as he entered, dessert in hand, the smell of rich dark cocoa and the half-cup of coagulated O negative mixed with sugar in his own already hitting Zander’s nose.

“Have you worked for many families, Walter?” Jessica tilted her head back to look at the older man. 

Walter paused, eyes crinkling at the corners. “A few, Miss Stanley. Though none quite like Master Cray.” 

“He’s very… proper,” Jessica’s whisper hit Zander’s ears the second Walter disappeared into the kitchen again.

“Old school British,” Zander hummed, digging into his ‘raspberry’ filling. “He even irons his socks, Jess. I’m not kidding.”

“No way.” Her eyes went wide again.

“Way. I caught him doing it once.” Zander shook his head slow. “He looked me dead in the eye, iron over a pair of black dress socks, and said ‘creases are the enemy of order.’”

Jessica burst out laughing, almost choking on her cake. “Okay, I love him. He’s like a hundred percent scary, but I love him.”

– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –

As the evening wound down, any tension that was left bled out to the point of death as they moved to the sitting room. Walter, in his infinite wisdom, had already lit the enormous stone fireplace for them; logs crackled and popped, the room lit with a warm orange glow.

Jessica curled up into his side on the leather sofa, heels kicked off long ago, and tucked her legs under her. Her head on his shoulder, Zander couldn’t deny that everything felt perfectly normal for once.

It’s been two years, huh. Two years and he hadn’t felt anything like this. Hell, he hadn’t even felt this normal in Miami. It had always been the future and what he wanted to get out of a life that was still decades away. Even as a kid, it wasn’t like this.

Just two teenagers in front of a fire on a quiet night, the smell of woodsmoke and vanilla all around them.

“Thank you.” He blinked as Jessica spoke up, her voice almost muffled as she spoke into his shoulder. “For tonight. For… all of this. Like, you could be anywhere right now, like with anyone and…”

“Hey.”

Zander tilted her chin up with a finger, hazel eyes meeting a bright blue he hadn’t bothered hiding tonight. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

He leaned in.

The taste of chocolate on her lips was nothing compared to the warmth of her skin, the smell of blood rushing to her face and the sound of her heart beating; it was more sugar and sweet than he could handle, enough to make him feel alive. 

No place else.