Byron really, really liked comedy. More than he ever had, probably, or at least more than he had after we started dating. He headed up to the club almost every night, full of stories that’d make any other grown man want to die. Good thing he was a vampire, I guess.
Sometimes his parents showed up too. They really liked the embarrassing sex stories. Well, embarrassing almost-sex stories.
Seeing Byron made me happy too. It’d always been like that with us. But then he started drawing regular crowds, and his routines would go on longer and longer, and even once Bianca and Lysander’s spawn were gone, we barely got any time together.
Well, barely any time together alone.
But then one night, after attempting about a hundred different hand gestures, I let Byron know that his pants were on inside out. He finished off his story about the time my brother and that cop walked in on us in the spa and made for the bathroom (after I told him with my eyes that he couldn’t take his pants off onstage).
He was gone for so long that the whole place cleared out. Either the bartender didn’t notice I was still there, or he didn’t care.
“Penny,” Byron said. “Are my pants good now? Two of the zippers got stuck…”
“Where’d everyone go?”
“You were in there for a while,” I said. “They probably went home.”
“Penny. My routine was really funny tonight, wasn’t it?”
“It was pretty good,” I said. “But a lot of your act tends to revolve around us almost fucking.” I’d joined an online support forum for the wives and girlfriends of comedians who liked to mine their personal lives for material. I never posted, but seeing other women who had it worse made me feel better. Not that there were many.
“We’ve tried a lot,” Byron agreed. “And failed a lot.”
“Way too many times,” I muttered. “Byron. We’re alone.”
I answered by kissing his neck. I’d gotten used to the uncontrollable giggles by now.
“Penny,” he managed.
“Byron,” I whispered against his neck. “We’re alone. Finally.”
“There’s a lot we can do when we’re alone,” he said as I pulled away. “Penny.”
“And we’re doing it,” I said. “Got it? Home run. No second base, no third base. Home. Fucking. Run.”
“I love baseball the most.”
“Good. But you have to wear your special baseball equipment, okay?” I pulled a handful of small square packets from my skirt pocket and pressed them into his hand. “Put one of these on, uh…Count von Blackwell. It’s really important for home runs.”
His fangs glistened in the dim club lighting when he grinned. “You really love Count von Blackwell too.”
“And I’ll love him even more after a home run. But I’ll be right back–I have some equipment for me too.” Courtesy of Bianca Lyons and her weird gift basket. Did she even order the right thing? …It was probably from that weird shop she liked.
I had to go upstairs to get to the bathroom. After all this time, and more close calls than I wanted to remember, Byron and I were finally gonna fuck. I even checked all the locks on the way up to make sure no one could burst in on us again and silenced both our phones. This was happening.
Thank god we were alone. But I’m pretty sure the sight of Byron…trying to equip Count von Blackwell would’ve scared off any intruders.
“Lucky Fang,” Byron shouted as he tore open another packet with said lucky fang.
“…Yeah, let me do that for you instead,” I said. “With a new one.” After Bianca and Lysander’s spawn, I sure as hell wasn’t taking any chances. His fang had definitely punctured at least three.
“It’s so hard,” Byron said in defeat.
“Wrapping it up or Count von Blackwell?”
But we were a team, and this was happening.
And then we made out. “I love you, Penny,” Byron whispered between kisses. “You’re my favorite.”
“You’re mine too.” Even if I’d probably hate him the next morning, after Count von Blackwell got through with me. Maybe he should be upgraded to Emperor.
And then Byron was too busy with baseball practice to talk much.
“Fang,” I said.
His fangs weren’t all bad, though.
I could pick up the bat too. (I think I’ve been dating Byron too long to know if that pun was intentional.)
Byron…was better at taking charge than I expected. Maybe all those comedy routines about almost fucking me made him think about it a lot too.
“Is that the mic stand,” I said, “or Count von Blackwell?”
“How cold is it?” he asked.
“How big is it?” he asked.
“Definitely Count von Blackwell,” he said. And then…
“Ow,” I said.
“Penny,” he said. “I can’t win at baseball if you don’t let me through the goalposts.”
“Yeah, I think you’re mixing up your sports metaphors. Just…” I tried to relax and think of things other than icicles the size of stalagmites. “Okay. Try again? And aim for the other hole this time.”
“I’m sorry if this hurts,” he said, stroking my cheek. “If it makes you feel any better, my dad taught me a lot of stuff?”
Surprisingly, it did make me feel a lot better. Repeatedly.
Now I knew how those two cakes at Bianca’s wedding felt, except with Byron’s monster D instead of airborne missiles. He sure didn’t waste any time tearing through my fondant and frosting-flowers. Was it even worth the wait–or the pain?
…Damn right it was. Sorry, Lysander–your sister is as freaky as you are, I guess.
“I love your raccoon noises,” Byron whispered. “The most.” But even that couldn’t ruin the mood.
We probably ruined some of the club’s furniture, though. The tarp and cardboard wasn’t the most comfortable place to pop a plasma fruit, so we made sure to pop it in as many places as possible. After all, who knew when we’d be alone again?
It probably wasn’t very sanitary to bang against the bar though.
Or one of the tables that people ate food on, even if the food was already crap.
We probably made it worse by doing it on another table too.
And up against a window, but at least no one ate off that. Probably.
And then in the bathroom, but that was already kind of dirty.
And then I had to take a piss, but we got right back at it. I wasn’t wasting what could be my one good chance to play baseball, damn it.
Even though I was the one without a vampire’s stamina, Byron was the one who tired out first. Not that I could blame him, after a night like that. His mom had given me some stuff for “the pain,” which I now realized should be The Pain, capitalized. But I could wait until we got home.
I’d waited for a lot of things I never realized I was waiting for. But then I found a family, and I found Byron. And I found something that should probably be classified as some kind of nuclear weapon. But most of all, I’d found myself exactly where I wanted to be for the rest of my life.