Don't get involved. Don't let this guy in. Just don't.
He didn't need a friend.
Stu flagged down a waitress. A no-nonsense woman, her steel gray hair pulled back into a bun, she set down two glasses of water on the table. Flipping open her receipt book, she flashed Stu a genuine smile, erasing years from her face. “What can I get you folks?”
The waitress's wide, toothy grin was all for Stu. Amazed at the effect Stu had on women, no matter what their age, Aric checked his scowl. He sat back and slipped on his glasses to read the menu. More and more, he realized he didn't need them. Now he wore them for show, or maybe because he refused to acknowledge the obvious—he was turning into a freaking bloodsucker.
“We'll have coffee, scrambled eggs, and wheat toast, dry.” He turned to Aric. “That'll be easy on your stomach.”
So much for the menu.
But he didn't care what he ate. He slipped it behind the napkin holder and put away his glasses. The waitress came back with a thermos of coffee and left it on the table.
Stu poured two cups, then shoved one across the table toward Aric. “So you have no idea who was following you?”
Aric shrugged. “Probably just my imagination.”
“What about that weird smell?”
“It could have been from an herb or some flowering shrub.”
“Yeah, but—”
“It was nothing, so drop it already.”
Stu relented. “Okay, fine.” He took a sip of coffee, then set down his cup. “I couldn't make sense of those formulas scribbled all over your papers. Are you studying science or something?”
“It's really not that interesting if you're not into it.”
“How do you know what I'm into? For such a brainiac, you assume a lot.”
“I'm getting my PhD in molecular biology, studying molecular mechanisms of various blood cells. Now are you happy?”
“That sounds awesome. So you're smart.”
Aric frowned at Stu's smile. No shit, I'm smart, he thought, but he bit down on his lip to keep from saying something harsh. What did this guy know of hitting the books?
Stu kept talking. “But you seem too young to be working on your PhD. Are you some kind of Doogie Howser?”
“I'm twenty-six,” Aric snapped. “What does my age have to do with anything?”
“It's just…I thought you were younger than me, and I'm only twenty-two.”
Irritation flared in Aric, but he couldn't blame Stu for taking him to be younger. Most people did. It didn't help that he had a scrawny body and had been called girlie more times than he cared to remember. He hated his looks, but at least he'd always been smarter than his classmates. That saved him from being a total loser. As he grew into his gangly frame, guys began to take notice. Too bad it all went down the toilet after that fateful night in Prague.
Maybe it didn't matter in the long run. He never had much luck when it came to relationships. Always choosing the wrong guy for the wrong reasons. He'd believed Devon had been the one, the guy he'd been searching for, someone he could share his life with. And like a grand fool, he'd handed his heart to him on a silver platter—and Devon devoured it.
He had to loosen up, not get so worked up over what Stu said. What did he care, anyway? He'd eat, leave, and never see this guy again. It was time to put the spotlight on Stu.
“Are you going into the NFL?” Aric couldn't give a rat's ass, but he had no idea what to say to a jock. “I've read that scouts are already sniffing around you.”
“Yeah…” Stu lowered his eyes. “It's expected.”
Aric's brows knitted together at the indifference in his answer. He thought Stu would be more enthusiastic.
Stu tapped his ring on the rim of his coffee cup. At first Aric thought it was a class ring, but on closer look, he could see it was embossed with some sort of heraldic form. Before he could comment on it, Stu surprised him—again.
“I want to get my lit degree. I have one more year before I'd even consider the draft. I'm going to England this summer on an exchange program.”
“Don't they play a different football over there, like soccer?”
“I'm studying poetry, not playing sports.” Stu's eyes scrunched as his mouth turned down. “You're really rude, you know that? Not all of us on the football team are dumb jocks.”
“Sorry, yeah…” Aric looked down at his fidgeting hands. “I didn't mean…uh…” He looked up. “You're a poet?” Yet he couldn't visualize Stu as one. Maybe it was his athletic build. Poets were supposed to be anemic-looking, pale men—more like himself, actually, and he smiled at that thought. He couldn't quote Shakespeare to save his life. Were his assumptions about Stu way off base?
Losing the momentum of the conversation, he wished the waitress would bring their food. He could really use a distraction right about now.
Stu crossed his arms on the table. “I want to teach at a university.”
“Professor Hamilton.”
Aric smirked, imagining female students flocking to Stu's class, fluttering their eyelashes at his every word, being drawn to the power of his light manner and openness—much like himself right about now. Stu's attractiveness was like a drug, and just like a drug, a dangerous addiction.
Stu held his cup near his lips, a provocative mouth that was tempting Aric to lean over and kiss it.
“You have a very nice smile,” Stu said. “You'd be more approachable if you showed it more often.”
A wave of heat washed over Aric's cheeks. This guy was causing his temperature to soar to triple digits.
Better to ignore the compliment before I make a total fool of myself.
“Who are your favorite poets?”
“That's a hard one. I guess Byron, Keats, Browning.” Stu leaned back and recited,
“But be not that dull slave, who only looks
On Reason, 'through the spectacles of books!'
Rather by Truth determine what is true.”
Brows arched sharply over those inquisitive eyes, and then Stu said, “Elizabeth Barrett Browning.”
Was Stu implying he was too dull, getting his knowledge from books and not from life experiences? He sucked in his annoyance. “I believe reason is the best way of determining the truth.”
“Spoken like a scientist.” Stu studied him intently. “But you must agree, experience teaches far more than something learned from a book.”
Aric poured more hot coffee into his cup, not sure how to answer. He spent most of his life hiding behind books and test tubes. His life experiences had been limited to spending time at home and going to school. Then he'd met Devon. A brief moment in which his world opened up to the possibility of sharing his life with someone.
There was a brief silence. Then Stu ventured a guess. “Hey, are you part Asian? You have an interesting face.”
Aric didn't want to talk about his heritage; it reminded him of his mother. An ache twisted his heart, and he grabbed for the water glass and took several sips.
“Hey, I'm sorry. Did I hit a nerve?”
Aric set down the glass. He wiped away the condensation with his finger. “My mother was Japanese. I take after her.”
“Was?”
“She died last year in a car accident.” The pain was still fresh, the ache swelling in every part of his body. He tried to suppress the image of her smashed car, a head-on collision flinging her body through the windshield, dead on impact. A drunk driver, but wasn't it always?
“I'm sorry,” Stu said. “My dad died, so I know how awful it can feel. When you least expect it, a memory or a smell, and you're back to when life felt safe and secure and sure. What really threw me was how life could change so quickly.”
Aric shrugged away the lump in his throat, nodding in agreement. He missed his mother at odd moments and when he needed a safe haven.
“What about your dad? Brothers or sisters?” Stu asked.
“My father left us when I was young. I don't have any siblings. What about you?”
“My mom lives in San Diego, and I have an older brother in San Francisco.”
An odd look flittered in Stu's eyes at the mention of his brother. Was it guilt, or some other emotion Aric saw in that brief second? From what Aric could tell, given Stu's open posture and ready smile, Stu was the kind of guy who didn't hide his feelings very well.
To Aric's relief, the waitress chose that moment to serve their meals and place the bill in the center of the table. Any more time spent in this jock's company, and he'd be talking too much about his personal life. He didn't want this. After being cursed by the bite of a vampire, his hunger for blood was followed by the need for sexual release. More and more, with each passing minute, he was seeing Stu as someone who could satisfy those needs. There was no denying the magnetic pull he felt. Stu was a stunning young man. But having a fuck buddy would be irresponsible. Aric couldn't live with himself if someone he slept with was hurt because of him.
They ate in silence. Stu attacked his eggs while Aric pushed his around with a fork and crunched down his toast. Every so often he'd look across the table and study the blond god. The guy was easy on the eyes, but that wasn't all. He sensed something deeper, something provocative about him. Stu challenged his preconception of the type of guy who plays football. Aric always thought of them as brutes. Although he didn't really know Stu, he was coming to know what the guy was not—a dumb jock or an intolerant bigot. How could he be when here he was, sitting across the table from a gay man and sharing a meal with him in front of his friends?
Aric finished half his eggs and pushed away his plate. “That'll do it for me.”
“No wonder you're skinny. You hardly ate a thing.”
“No matter how much I eat, I don't gain weight.”
“Do you work out?”
“Don't have much time. Once in a while I'll go for a run, but I'm usually in the lab, teaching a class, or at home studying.”
Stu frowned, rubbing his finger around the rim of the cup. “That's cool, but you don't have much of a life, do you?”
“Not everyone believes getting drunk and screwing around constitutes an interesting life.”
Stu stopped all his motion, his eyes narrowing. “I don't drink all that much or fuck around. You should stop making snap judgments about people.”
With that, Aric picked up the tab, wanting out of the restaurant and away from Stu, who was reading him a little too well.
Aric did judge people. Finding fault in others kept them at a safe distance. He'd lost his father, Devon, and then his mother. Too many losses. Getting too close to anyone now would be insane. Not with his present condition lying in the balance.
Aric scooted out of his seat and headed toward the register.