Eventually, the numbness gave way to something more ordinary: discomfort, urgency…

  Then a different realization dawned on me.

  Shit, I still need to use the bathroom to finish getting ready.

  I didn’t want to go back out; I had said everything I had planned to say and worried that if I was forced to speak again, I might say something hurtful or cruel. My bladder reminded me that there was nothing to be done about it.

  I groaned before opening the door. Michael was in the bathroom, changing. I crossed my arms and leaned against the threshold of the kitchen, waiting my turn. He finally opened the door, brushing his teeth as he did so. He leaned over and spit into the sink, rinsing away the extra toothpaste that had stuck to the corners of his mouth. I caught a glimpse of him watching me through the bathroom mirror – quiet, hesitant. That look, the same one from before… He put his toothbrush down and stepped out.

  I stepped forward, accidentally starting the who’s-going-to-move-which-way game. We did that awkward hallway waltz – left, right, stop.

  I bumped into him as I tried to walk around. His hands automatically held my arms to keep me from stumbling. I looked up, our faces closer than they’ve been since…

  Those eyes. Those deep pools of evergreen with striations of forest green, and around his irises were amber, subtle and golden. They were so beautiful, I couldn’t look away. Michael and I were coming closer together, like magnets held in different hands being pulled toward each other. My eyes dipped to his mouth, pink with that little birthmark on his bottom lip.

  Hold on, Drew. You said yourself that you haven’t forgiven him. Damn it body, not now…

  I broke the spell, blinking hard. I scooted him to the side like a chair that was too close. I looked in the mirror, noting the beginnings of a blush. I lingered after getting ready, hoping that Michael was otherwise occupied, then slid out as quietly and quickly as I could, avoiding his gaze as I went straight to my bedroom.

  “Now that you’re… better,” Michael said anyway, stopping me, “You can go back to work, too, right? I mean you don’t have to go back right away. Unless… you want to?”

  I hadn’t thought of that. I messaged Trevor, letting him know that ‘my health had improved significantly’ and that I could start working again. He responded immediately. To say that he was excited for my return would be an understatement.

  I worried whether or not it was a good idea for me to go to work just yet. Up until now I’d only had contact with one normal person, and I sucked his blood. My track record wasn’t starting off great.

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  We went through our morning routine. Since I showered in the evenings, I would get dressed and let Michael take over the bathroom to get ready. I’d eat my breakfast while Michael got ready, and he’d eat while I finished getting ready, putting on light makeup and fixing my hair.

  “Ready to go?” Michael called toward the bathroom.

  I walked out, “Ready.” We walked, not bothering with excuses. It was getting too tiresome to try to arrive at different times when we were always ready to go at the same time.

  We had been walking for about five minutes when it started drizzling. Typical Seattle. I had my usual warm raincoat and hood, no umbrella needed. Michael had chosen one however, his jacket having a collar but no hood. He had added a scarf around his neck to help stave off the chill. Luckily, it didn’t take us much longer to get to the office, Michael shaking the rain off his umbrella and leaving it in the rack by the door to dry.

  Trevor was waiting by the elevator when we arrived at our floor. He exclaimed, his arms stretched wide, “Drew! Oh my god, I was worried – I mean, you were just gone! That health scare really came out of nowhere.”

  He stood a little straighter, noticing Michael. “And Michael did an admirable job in your absence, no fires to speak of.”

  “Do you really need me back then?” I joked, though inside I was uneasy. How would I fare among a ton of live people? People full of living blood? What if someone gets a papercut, or a bloody nose again?

  Trevor paled a shade. “I don’t want to imagine our floor without you. Come,” he beckoned for us to go on into the office space. We headed toward the desk, and after depositing his jacket and scarf on the back of the chair, Michael headed for the breakroom.

  I peeled off my coat like armor and dropped into my chair, trying to steady my breathing around all this warm blood. Even though I hadn’t developed any powers yet, it felt like I could hear the heartbeats of everyone around me, like timpani drumming a war beat behind my ears.

  Breathe, just breathe. There’s no exposed blood, everyone here is safe, including me. Phew, I’m okay, I’m okay…

  While my senses might not have been enhanced yet, they sure felt like it right now. The smell of warm bodies, all that blood…

  Come on Drew, you need to focus…

  Michael returned with two mugs in hand, setting one on my side of the desk. He started his desktop, checking emails – just like I taught him. We both got to work on triage, separating out what needed to be seen to first. I sipped at my coffee as I looked at my inbox, clicking on the first document and reading, trying to focus on work, only partially succeeding.

  “Achoo!”

  I nearly leapt out of my seat. Sarah was walking by, some folders in hand, when a sneezing fit took hold. She sneezed three times in a row, each one snapping through the air like a whip. My nerves frayed with each sneeze.

  I put a hand on my heart as if to calm it, but it was already the calmest it would ever be. As Sarah sneezed, her throat kept tensing. I swallowed, aware of exactly where the vein was. I took a gulp of coffee, nearly burning my own throat in the process. Michael was right: pain does make for a good distraction.

  Sarah gathered herself, sniffling and straightening her hair, before walking on.

  I turned to my computer, staring at the screen. I went through the motions, trying to find my rhythm again. This desk used to feel like mine. Now it feels like I’m wearing someone else’s coat, and I’m not sure it’ll ever fit again.

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