Taylor woke up slowly, to the sound of tree limbs hitting the fragile glass window pane. There were no curtains or blinds covering the window, and so pure, unobstructed light poured into the room. She groaned, rolling over, nearly committing to returning to sleep, when she heard Grandpa Emerson call her name.
"Breakfast!" He hollered, just loud enough to disturb her again.
Sighing harshly, Taylor rose from the bed, covering her eyes with her arm. She had slept in the clothes from last night, her liquid leather skirt ruffled and turned sideways. At the foot of the bed were her boots, slightly tinted orange from Grandpa's dirt driveway. She fumbled with the nightstand, her eyes still shielded from the light, until she found her watch.
Eight in the morning. The salon wouldn't open til ten, there was plenty of time for her to get ready, and her 'family' would be fast asleep by now. Taylor said a silent thank you that she would not have to show up to work dressed like a lady of the evening on only her second day.
She rubbed under her eyes, scraping away the remainders of yesterday's makeup, pulled on her boots, and headed downstairs.
"I've got to head out after breakfast, Grandpa." She said, hugging him tightly, a silent thank you for letting her stay the night. "I found a job!"
"Really? Where at?" He passed her a lukewarm Poptart. Taylor smiled - she should've known better than to think he'd actually cooked something, like her mom used to do. "Don't tell me it's one of those tourist traps down on the boardwalk. They are always hiring though - they can't keep any female employees, what with Max's boys running around like they do."
Taylor nodded, silently noting that, although they were technically Lucy's boys now too, Grandpa Emerson did not refer to them as that.
"No, downtown. At Sherli's Salon, it's the little - "
"Pink building on the corner!" Grandpa Emerson exclaimed. "I know it well. Back in the day, they used to cut my hair. Sherli's no spring chicken, but she's had that shop for years. She's good people."
"She opens up at ten, so I have to get going soon." Taylor's face fell just slightly; she would be sad to leave him. "Can you call me a taxi?"
"Nonsense! You'll take my car." He slid the keys across the kitchen table before she had a chance to react. "It's not like I really ever use it, and it'd be nice to have something of your own, especially in that house. Something you can use to get away if you need to."
His words were very pointed. He was honest when he said, last night, that staying or leaving her family was her decision - but he obviously did not want her to stay. Grandpa didn't want to lose her the same way he had his daughter and grandsons, and Taylor felt a similar connection; the car was evidence of that. She took the keys without a fight, something that was rare for her.
"I really appreciate that, Grandpa, I really do."
He nodded at her, not one for many words, and grabbed the newspaper off the counter, retreating to the bathroom.
"Don't be a stranger Taylor, you hear?"
She hoped she wouldn't be.
The house was silent as a tomb and, in a way, that was fitting. Although Mike had mentioned the boys often stayed elsewhere for the night, there was at least one vampire sleeping here this morning. Taylor could sense it through the silence, her hair standing on end the way it always seemed to when in the presence of the undead.
While she was sure the others slept soundly, Taylor still crept up the stairs so not to wake Sam, who seemed to keep the same sleep schedule as the others in the house. It was a tough feat - during the day, Max had intricate layers of blackout blinds and curtains over the windows and doors, rendering the house entirely black. She flicked on the hall light as she moved, and headed towards her bedroom.
She shut it with a quiet click, pressing her back against it for a moment to catch her breath, her eyes closed. She sunk to the ground, reaching down to pull off her boots and slide out of her skirt, piling them on the floor. She'd have to get a clothes hamper later on.
Only in her thong and cropped tank, she moved towards the window, sliding back the thick curtains in a swift motion. That was the best thing about Max's house, her favorite thing: the view. Her picture window opened up straight onto the beach, which was just beginning to fill up with tourists. By 11 o'clock, she assumed, it would be packed.
From behind her, Taylor heard a sharp, painful hiss. Gasping harshly, Taylor spun on her heels to examine the room. There, in her bed, was David.
He had curled away from the light, his skin pinkish from the glare of the sun, and he was about to cry out in pain.
"Shit!" Taylor cried, rushing to shut the curtains again, and nearly tearing them off their rungs in the process. She paused afterward, allowing her eyes to adjust to the sudden absence of light, until she could see David's figure, still huddled on the bed. "I'm sorry."
A few moments of silence passed, until Taylor started to quietly move towards the bed, half wondering if she'd killed him. What was he even doing in here, anyway?
"David," She touched his shoulder, and he jumped away from her. But she sensed something, a feeling that he needed her more than he was willing to let on, and she grabbed his shoulder again, more forcefully, rolling him so she could look into his eyes.
He looked like he was in so much pain, all because of her. And his skin - his chest, bare under the duster, and his face - were reddish-pink, the beginnings of a first- or second-degree burn. It made her heart clench, her chest ache in a way she hadn't felt before.
"I need blood." He said quietly. "I'm not going to get better until I can feed."
"What were you doing in here, David?"
He mumbled something under his breath, his eyes looking somewhere other than her.
"What?" She asked again, pushing him for an answer.
"I was waiting for you to come home." He said quietly. "I...I wanted to make sure you got in alright."
Taylor's heart warmed, but her brows furrowed. Her entire family - Mom, Mike, and Sam - had gone to sleep after she'd left for the evening, and it had been David - David! - who'd stayed up waiting for her, worried about her wellbeing.
She didn't respond to his remark, merely climbed onto the bed and, grabbing onto the headboard for balance, positioning herself directly over David's face. Except, instead of placing the space between her legs above his lips, she shifted, so that they grazed the upmost part of her tan thigh.
"You know," David said weakly. "Your wrist would've done the trick."
"Bite here." Taylor said, trying to hide how her voice quivered with anticipation, both fear and a fervor of passion. He was so close to another part of her, a part that she suddenly badly wanted him to taste. "I have to be at work in an hour, and I can't have any marks."
Some of the rules of vampirism are slightly tweaked just gently. I.e. - I can't have a hair stylist who works in front of a mirror all day suddenly lack a reflection. Hopefully this doesn't discourage anyone from enjoying this fanfic!
Also, thank you to MusicLuver246 for being my first reviewer, I really appreciate it! And an additional thank you to everyone who's favoriting and subscribing :) xx.