Emily's favourite coffee shop had a predominantly supernatural clientele, but they served the strongest coffee in the district (mainly because it took a lot of caffeine to sustain a lycanthrope) and it was only a block from her apartment.
When she arrived, it was a full twenty minutes early, but she had a lifetime of law enforcement training behind her, compelling her to double check her surroundings.
The girl working the night shift was a vamp, but wasn't showy about it: her hair was strawberry blonde and sat in a pile on the top of her head, but she had a cute little black bow shaped like a bat holding back her bangs. She shot Emily a little grin, exposing just a hint of fang.
"Your usual?" the girl asked, already ringing it into the till. Emily came into the shop almost every day, so most of the staff knew her and her order.
"Actually, add on an extra tea," she said with a little grin. "I have company."
The barista made an impressed little sound. "A hot date?" she teased.
She shrugged, but her expression said it all.
The barista just laughed.
While she waited for her drinks, Emily scanned the rest of the coffee shop's patrons. A young girl sipped a latte in an overstuffed chair by the window, head bobbing along to the music playing over her headphones where they plugged into her pointed ears.
Across the cafe, two elderly bearded men argued rather loudly in a language Emily didn't understand. There appeared to be approximately twenty-seven packets of sugar on the table between them.
The only other occupant was what was either a very tame werewolf or an unsupervised husky lapping at a spilled frappuccino on the floor tiles.
Feeling reassured, Emily settled into one of the booths near the back with her drink and a well-loved copy of Mother Night. She knew she'd never read a word of it, anxious as she was, but it was better than staring impatiently at the door.
By the time Alex arrived, the werewolf/husky had fallen asleep under one of the tables and the old men appeared to now be consuming the sugar packets directly rather than stirring them into their coffees. Emily, on the other hand, had worked herself into a nervous wreck.
Catching sight of her, Emily perked up, waved awkwardly...then immediately wished she hadn't.
Settling into the seat across from her, Alex smiled shyly. "You look nice," she murmured.
Emily laughed. "Thank you – I may or may not have spent the majority of the afternoon aggravating my roommate by asking for her opinion on my outfit."
Alex smiled softly. "I have to admit, I don't do this a lot," she confessed. "I wasn't entirely sure I'd work up the courage to walk in here."
"That makes two of us," Emily agreed. "It's been awhile since I've been on a date..." She shrugged, but didn't elaborate.
Alex didn't ask – she had her own reasons to hold back, so she wasn't going to pry.
Alex laughed as Emily related an anecdote about the time she'd mistakenly added stinging nettles to a dish she was cooking instead of pepper and her face had swollen up so badly she couldn't see.
With an errant flick of her hand, Alex sent her mug of tea crashing to the floor with a splash of hot liquid and a smash of china. Alex winced, shrank in on herself in embarrassment of her wayward gesticulation, afraid of drawing too much attention to herself.
The only one who seemed to have noticed was the sleeping werewolf/husky who lifted its head to glare at them, before promptly returning to sleep.
One of the baristas – the one who had previously been sleeping upright, leaning on the mop – shuffled over to clean up the mess. When she bent to pick up the shards, she cut herself, hissing in pain as blood blossomed across her palm.
The scent of blood hit Alex instantly, the metallic tang tickling her senses, hitting the back of her throat. The reaction was instantaneous. Her pupils dilated, her pulse sped up, her fangs lengthened. She could feel her self-control slipping and she struggled to control herself, the impulse to fang out entirely too tempting. It was all she could do to remain in her seat when her instincts were telling her to get the blood into her system at all costs. Trembling with the effort to resist, she gripped the edge of the table, gulping down air in an attempt to get the taste of blood out of her throat.
Emily's lips moved, but Alex couldn't hear the words.
When she didn't respond, Emily repeated, "Are you okay? You look a little nauseous..."
With a shaky laugh, she tried to insist, "I'm fine." The words came out strained and raspy, betraying her attempt to convey the opposite of what she felt. She tried again, "I'm fine."
Emily raised a brow, face compassionate. "Are you afraid of blood?" she asked quietly as if trying to keep a secret. "Lots of people are..."
She opened her mouth to insist that wasn't the reason, but then changed her mind. She nodded. Afterall, she'd been presented with a believable excuse for her reaction that didn't involve her having to come out of the coffin.
She didn't know why she was lying to Emily, but even if she'd only been undead for three years, she'd already figured out that not every human was accepting of vampires. And she really wasn't in the mood to go full vamp in front of a cafe full of people.
She'd heard stories of vampires losing control in public and being full-on lynched. Granted, most of those stories were from decades ago... Usually these days the poor vamp would just pack up their possessions, change their name, and move across the country.
Emily reached across the table, eased Alex's fingers off the edge to hold her hand. "It's okay," she reassured. "Why don't we go for a walk?" she suggested. She didn't let go of her hand.