She may have looked shocked, may have denied that she was tired of us, but the possibility has been mooted, and I just want this evening to be over with. That is to say, the part of the evening I am to spend with her.
I call for the bill, and a waiter flashes a glance at Alyssa's plate, noting her food is all but untouched.
"Was everything all right with your meal?" he begins, his speech slowing as, I suspect, enlightenment tickles at the back of his mind. When his eyes meet mine again, he gulps. My pallor, my own lack of meal in front of me, will give the game away. If he was the same waiter who served us earlier, he'd already know. But he's just a member of staff I signalled to as he passed and is yet to familiarise himself with Alyssa's eating habits and my drinking preferences.
"Yes, it was fine. My companion has just been ill recently, and we've decided to go home."
"Oh." Panic flares in the waiter's widened eyes.
Nothing to do with food poisoning, I want to say. No need to fear a lawsuit. "Sorry to cut the meal short, but if we could just have the bill?"
"Of course." He nods and scurries off with a readiness to please that positively screams fear of what he just figured out I am and a determination that he not be my next victim.
Honestly. Some people think a gay man will try to fuck every other bloke given half the chance.
Similarly, some idiots think a vampire will try to drink from every human they meet. If that was the case, I'd end up sprawled in a gutter somewhere, stomach roiling and distended with the proceeds of my overindulgence.
I have some self-control.
Unlike certain others I could mention.
Hell, maybe he's just being solicitous because he wants a big tip, I reason.
"Are you all right?" Alyssa asks as we leave the restaurant.
I slip my arm around her waist and laugh quietly to myself. "You're asking me that?"
"Yeah. You look pale. Was it what I said about Mum?"
"Of course I'm pale. I've been dead for decades."
"You know what I mean." She zips up her jacket, reminding me of how cold a human would find the evening. I feel the light wind, but no temperature registers, only the sensation of air moving. "Okay, maybe not pale exactly, but frowny. As if there's something on your mind."
"I've been worried about you, that's all. A few times tonight, you were miles away."
"Likewise," she retorts, looking up at me as we walk before linking her arm through mine. Her heels click on the near-deserted street's pavement.
Everyone else is indoors tonight, with very few people outdoors.
"Alyssa, you're the convalescent."
"True enough, but you looked lost in your thoughts on a number of occasions." Her sideways glance, the one-sided smile, makes her look teasing rather than scolding. "Wanna tell me what that was all about?"
"No." I roll my shoulders in a slow shrug.
"Nothing. It was nothing."
"Hmm." She bites her lip, and for a moment, I wonder if she's going to pursue it. She obviously doesn't believe me. I wouldn't believe me. "Oh well."
The shrug Alyssa uses to mirror my own sets my mind at rest. If she presses me and I try to articulate my thoughts to her, I'll mess up---not have a clue how to express whatever's on my mind. Truth be told, I don't know where it came from, this ease with which I keep falling into the past.
"Hey."
She nudges me, and as if choreographed, we draw to a stop near the street corner. "Do you want to, you know?"
It takes a split second for me to realise what she's suggesting. Offering. "Oh." If I was the sort of man to get nervous, if I hadn't been inured against fear long since, this is the point at which I'd gulp back a throatful of adrenaline. "Oh, that."
"And earlier, you thought I was the one who was getting tired of us?"
I want to shrug again, but it would make me look uncomfortable, and I'm the one who's supposed to be setting Alyssa at ease. I'm the one who's supposed to look after her. We're friends, yes, and look out for each other, but I'm decades older, in theory a lot more worldly-wise. "No, not tonight."
"Got a headache?" she teases, winking.
We start walking again, this resumption of movement like pressing the play button on a video after a long pause. No, Nathan. DVDs. People watch DVDs these days. Move with the times, you dinosaur. "I don't want to rush you. You've been ill."
"I'm getting better."
"You hardly ate a thing. That's not the way to keep your strength up."
"And you must need a drink."
Fuck it; I gulp anyway. Slowly, with as much control as I can muster. I don't need to breathe, so it's not oxygen I take in, but the imaginary scent, the fantasy taste of thick, warm, vibrant blood. I know what Alyssa's tastes like but haven't experienced it for a while, so the memory's all I have to experience at this moment. Too, I have other people I could go see.
"No, Alyssa."
"No, you don't need a drink?"
"No, I won't be drinking from you just yet."
"So you're going to continue cheating on me."
She pouts but can't keep the smile out of her eyes.
"Only until you're well again." I try to sound scolding and fail miserably.
"You'd better go find someone then, hadn't you, eh? I can get myself home from here."
"I'll see you home."
"Come on, Nathan. I'm a big girl. I hit my quarter century on my last birthday."
"When you reach three figures, then you can lecture me about age. You're talking to a man who's four times older than you, or near enough."
"Yeah, and you look no more than five years older than me. Bastard."
"Death becomes me; what more can I say?"
"Yes, Granddad."
"Don't get cheeky
