Bloodlust

— VENICE —

"You pig."

Isaiah looked up at me in horror, mouth parted in aghast. "Don't call me a pig. I'm the sweetest damn cousin you'll ever have."

"You're the only cousin I'll ever have," I corrected. "And don't look innocent. You ate my special cookie."

"It really wasn't that special."

I smacked his arm. "Then why would you eat it?"

"Because you eat that shit like crack. I thought it would taste better."

"It's a protein cookie, ding dong."

"See, that's the problem. Why the hell is that a thing?"

Huffing, I spun on my heel and marched back into the kitchen. "One day of living together and I already want go strangle you."

"That's not very nice," he pouted.

"Then do redeem yourself. I'm going to my room."

He didn't respond as I padded out of the kitchen and moved down the carpeted hall to my new bedroom.

Isaiah and I just moved into our tiny two-bedroom house yesterday. We were practically raised like brother and sister throughout childhood, always going back and forth between each other's houses, so we decided to move in together after he graduated college. I wanted to get out of my parents' house and he needed a roommate.

My mom fought me tooth and nail about leaving. She wanted me to live with her until I got married—which would honestly be never, at this rate. I hadn't had a memorable date since . . . ever.

And anyway, I thought that logic was stupid. I wasn't all that interested in pursuing a relationship when I had no idea what I was doing with my life. I thought moving out would help me grow up and figure something out.

I busied myself by unpacking the last three boxes of mine. There hadn't been much to move to begin with, so I hadn't minded. All of my clothes were unpacked and now hung in the closet.

I still needed to invest in a dresser for my non-hangable clothes. That would have to wait until my first paycheck rolled in. Two of the last few boxes were full of my books.

I'd had quite the library back home, and it felt like a sin to leave them behind. The other box held random decorations: a jewelry box, an inspirational poster about loving each day, a blue circular analog clock, and a ceramic palomino horse.

After I spent an hour or so organizing my room and admiring it, Isaiah came knocking on my door. I rose from where I'd been sitting on my knees and opened it.

"Dying of starvation?" I assumed. It was passed his usual dinner time.

"No . . . well, yes." He rolled his eyes. "But the neighbor's here. He brought over a welcome basket, so I told him I'd get you. I don't want him thinking I'll be his new best friend or anything."

"Why would he assume that?" I scoffed. "He's just trying to be nice."

Isaiah just shrugged and walked off. Sighing, I headed to the kitchen, where I found a tall, lean male back dressed in a black t-shirt and jeans.

The man turned at the sound of my approach and our eyes locked as I stuttered out the most embarrassing "Hi" of my life.

His golden-brown irises pierced through me, reaching down to my soul. His thick, pink lips pulled back into a warm smile and revealed a set of stunning white teeth. Dark hair brushed the top of his forehead, contrasting with his light, porcelain complexion.

I couldn't help but compare him to a pale Ken doll—he was that insanely attractive.

"Hi," he said, seemingly amused by my blatant stare. "I'm Liam. I live next door, to the right. I saw the moving trucks yesterday and wanted to introduce myself. I hope I didn't disturb you."

"Oh, not at all," I assured him. "Sorry if Isaiah was rude. He can get a type of way sometimes. I swear he's still going through puberty at 22."

He chuckled and its rich, indulgent sound made my tummy flutter.

"I'm Venice, by the way," I added. My gaze dropped to the overflowing basket of snacks and welcome goodies on the kitchen counter. "Oh, my god! Thank you for the basket. This looks amazing."

He smiled, flashing me a set of dazzling white teeth. "No problem. I hope you enjoy it," he said with a bashful shrug. "I try to be friendly to the new people around here. This is a good neighborhood and everyone here should feel welcome."

"That's really nice, thank you."

"So . . . where are you and your boyfriend from?" he asked.

Blushing, I laughed a little. "Oh, Isaiah's my cousin. We're just roommates."

"I see. What brought you two to Mount Berry?"

I wondered why he was so curious but couldn't help but blabber the truth. This man was like a truth detector.

"We're from upstate, but Isaiah got a job down here and he needed a roommate." I raised my arms with a sheepish grin. "So, here I am."

"Well, let me be your official welcome to the area then."

"I appreciate it. We don't know anyone around here, so it's nice knowing a friendly face," I said. "Are you from around here?"

"No, I'm a transplant also, moved here a few years ago." He crossed his arms, the muscles flexing under his smooth skin. "You could say I'm from all around. Parents moved a lot when I was a kid."

"I'm sure that made for an interesting childhood," I said, which made him laugh although I hadn't intended to.

"Yeah, you could say that. So, what kind of work do you do?"

"I was in customer service before, but I'm still job hunting here. Options aren't exactly bountiful in Mount Berry."

"Small towns, gotta love 'em," he said with a smile. "If I come across anything, I'll let you know."

"Thank you. That's really kind." I bit my lip, hoping my next words wouldn't make things awkward. "Would you like to stay for dinner?"

His smile grew and his brows rose in surprise.

"It won't be anything fancy," I blabbered on at his hesitation, panicking that he maybe thought I was trying to make this a date or something when I just wanted to return his kindness. "I'll probably make chicken alfredo. It's Isaiah's favorite."

"That sounds wonderful," he said, "but I've already eaten actually. Thank you for the offer, though. I should probably head out anyway.

"Right, of course. Sorry for keeping you so long."I wet my lips and headed for the door.

"I think I should be the one apologizing," he said. "I didn't mean to interrogate you. It was nice talking, though."

Placing my hand on the door knob, I paused to smile at him. "Yeah, it was." I opened the door and propped it with my foot. "Thanks for coming by and gifting us the basket. It was really good to meet you."

"Likewise," he told me, his eyes sparkling. "I'll see you around."

"See ya."

After he left, I closed and locked the door. When I turned around, Isaiah popped up out of absolutely nowhere. I shrieked and punched him square in the chest on instinct.

"Ow!" he cried, stumbling back a step. "Damn, you're strong!"

"Sorry! Are you sure okay?"

He rubbed the spot where I'd hit him. "I might need an ambulance after that one."

I rolled my eyes. "Never mind, you deserved it. Why did you sneak up on me anyway? Evil person."

"Because I was going to make fun of you, duh."

Sighing, I turned away from him to peek through the curtains beside the door.

"Gonna watch him walk all the way home?" Isaiah taunted.

"Yeah. It's more exciting than watching your lazy ass."

"It's called selectively productive," he huffed.

"So, what did you think of him?" I asked, folding my arms as I faced Isaiah.

He shrugged. "Seemed alright. A bit overly friendly, maybe, but I only talked to him for a second."

Liam just seemed sincerely nice to me, but I was also not the most reliable judge of character. I always tried to see the best in everyone and I did believe, barring the few that were just truly horrendously evil, everyone had some redeeming qualities.

Unfortunately, my optimism usually came back to bite me on the ass later. My high school crush told me that I tried too hard to get people to like me, so my ego had been deflated all these years since.

Least to say, I never ventured to date after getting my internal heart balloon popped, as I did not trust myself to pick a decent guy.

"Are you gonna make chicken alfredo or were you just saying that to impress him?" Isaiah intrusively interrupted my line of doomed thoughts.

I cocked my fist back like I planned to punch him again and he jumped back.

"Don't hit me!" he cried. "That's a legit question!"

"I was not trying to impress him!" I hissed.

"You definitely were, but okay." He relaxed at realizing my threat was harmless.

"You're not getting a single bite of my cooking at this rate."

"Wait, why?" he groaned.

I shooed him away and sashayed into the question. "The chef demands respect, peasant."

"But it's my favorite."

"Fine. Then don't eat my freakin' cookies next time or I will sentence your helpless self to starvation," I muttered, marching into the kitchen.

"Yes, Chef." He trailed after me like a scorned puppy. "Whatever you say, Chef."