Fatal Attraction: I Just Want to Be Near Him

I'm a vampire hiding out in human society.

Because I avoid human blood, I'm pretty much always running on empty. That's why I look like a pale, pint-sized goth with a pair of fangs and stand just over five feet tall.

Ditch the old vampire tropes; I can chill with a beer and barbecue loaded with garlic or play heroes with preschoolers without care.

Blending in almost perfectly, I attend college, lead a normal human life, and even pull shifts at a popular bakery.

Yes, even a looker of a vampire has to hustle to pay the bills.

I've got the brains and the brawn, but even four centuries haven't taught me to sugarcoat my words or deal slickly with people.

I'm blunt—so much so that if it weren't for my good looks, as my bestie Ava keeps saying, I'd probably catch more beatdowns than lectures.

Once, while strolling past the basketball courts, I watched our team fumble shot after shot. Couldn't help but let out a disappointed, "Our guys just can't cut it, can they?"

My timing couldn't have been better—or worse. The team overheard during their break, and a few glares came my way.

They looked ready to throw down but cooled off when they realized I was just a harmless girl.

One quipped, "Sweetie, you're out of your league. We're not half bad."

Another chimed in, "Look, missy, you're barely half the height of that hoop."

The third continued, "Got a bad arm today, but watch me next time—I'll school you."

Amid the back-and-forth, one guy made a discreet exit.

That's when I spotted him—none other than Jason, hiding like he owed me money.

"Jason! Playing hide and seek?" I teased, calling out to the guy who was now crouching behind his teammates.

Jason Wright, the boy next door with a stellar rep: top-notch manners, killer grades, easy on the eyes, captain of the varsity basketball team, and head of the student council. Always a bridesmaid, never the bride on the exam leaderboards.

Me? I'm always the one edging him out for the top spot.

We didn't mix much, except for that one time at a meeting where a friend teamed us up for a video game challenge.

Our buddy warned me before the game that Jason wasn't much of a gamer. I figured he was just being modest—like I sometimes claim to be the underdog before I go and surprise everyone.

I gave him a knowing nod. "Gotcha."

He squinted at me. "Something in your eye?"

Enough chit-chat. Game on.

At first, I was dumbfounded. Then, seeing his gaming skills, I was downright astounded. It's tough to see someone struggle so badly. Annoyed, I had to ask,

"Seriously, Jason, are you even old enough to see a PG-rated movie? These moves are kitten-soft. Even the stray cats back at my dorm play better. Hey, it's not just about not killing anything. Think about your team—they're counting on you!"

As I sent that, his avatar bit the dust again, and mine followed suit.

That was the last straw. I yanked off my headset and shot him a look of disbelief from across the room.

"Really, Jason? I mean, come on, use your dexterity!"

I kept my voice low, but the message was clear and it didn't take long for others to start whispering. A quick glance around confirmed they were all catching the drift.

Jason's cheeks flamed up. He wanted to say something but clammed up instead, shooting me a look that was a mix of hurt and frustration.

The gossip mill didn't waste any time. By the end of the day, "Jason can't hack it" was the talk of the campus.

He'd avoided me like I was the plague ever since. Maybe he thought I was bad news.