The holidays flew by, and before long it was a brand new year. Mora called me into her office one afternoon. “Please, sit down.”

  I certainly felt a lot more comfortable around Mora than around Trevor, but sometimes I missed my old, rowdy floor – it didn’t seem so bad in hindsight. This floor was more subdued. Maybe an older crowd, or just fewer bros.

  “I know you were promised a promotion of some kind when you trained your replacement. This probably doesn’t feel much like one, does it?”

  I tried not to sound ungrateful. I felt nervous as I admitted, “Well… no. I'm doing the same thing for the same pay.”

  Mora nodded her head. “I understand. And there is an opportunity for you to advance, if you’re interested.”

  “I’m definitely interested,” I readily said, sitting up a little straighter. My ego flared that she’d think me ready for a promotion.

  Mora smiled at my reaction. “Good. What do you know about the position of floor manager?”

  “Like you or Trevor are?” I asked to clarify. She nodded. “Not a whole lot. I know that they keep the floor running as a whole unit by making sure everyone is doing their part.”

  “That’s a succinct way to put it. There is an opening coming up for floor manager if you’re interested in interviewing for it. I can help you prepare.”

  It would be a big change from what I was currently doing. I’d be going from working mostly alone to being in charge of a whole floor. “I’m going to need to think about it.”

  I don’t know how I said it with a steady tone. Inside, I was quaking at the thought of taking on that kind of role.

  “Of course. You let me know soon what you decide.”

  I walked back to my desk, my mind trying to wrap around the idea of possibly becoming a manager. For an introvert, it sounded like hell. But the pay was better.

  Michael would make a great manager, but he's new to QCE – he’s not likely to go for it.

  I sat down, wiggling my mouse to wake up my computer screen.

  Okay, time to focus.

  I opened up a document, trying to concentrate.

  Hours later, I closed my laptop and shut down the desktop. I packed my laptop to take home, not knowing if I’d need it for something. I pulled on my coat, slung my bag over one shoulder, and headed to the elevators.

  Riding down, I thought back on my conversation with Mora. My hands started shaking – I shoved them into my pockets.

  On the main floor, I saw Michael walking up ahead. I ran to catch up to him.

  “How was your day?” I asked conversationally.

  Michael seemed to always have some kind of work story – ridiculous, hilarious, scandalous – and a talent for telling it.

  “A little long. Keenan and Gilbert do not know how to format to save their lives…” He told me how these particular two had been giving him trouble since the beginning. “Like, how do they even keep their jobs? The only reason their work ever goes out is because I’ve had to fix almost everything.”

  “Damn, that sucks. I remember their work and I do not miss it. There’s this one guy on my floor though who, no matter what I do, cannot understand the concept of double spacing. It’s one little click and ta-da, but no. I don’t know what to do with him.”

  We crossed the street, snow falling lightly around us. It crunched under foot in places where it hadn’t already been stepped on, and in some places the walkway was slick from how compacted the snow had gotten. I walked carefully but at a normal pace, watching my feet as much as I was looking ahead.

  In due time we got back home.

  I unlocked the door and Husker scurried under the bed. The Christmas miracle seemed to have been a one off, but it gave me hope.

  Entering, I turned on the light and dropped my keys onto the small entry table. The two of us shrugged out of our coats, hanging them up to dry.

  “What should we do for dinner?” he asked.

  “An excellent question, my friend. Let me see what’s in the fridge.”

  I started walking that way and there was a knock on the door. “I’ll get it,” Michael said over one shoulder.

  I was looking through the fridge when I heard my mother’s voice piercing the air. “Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my daughter’s home?!”

  I ran to the front door. “Mom! Stop! This is a friend! He was invited here.”

  Unlike you.

  “What are you doing here, Mom?”

  “What else, to make sure you’re not starving!” Her voice was still elevated, as she had yet to calm all the way down.

  “Mom, why don’t you come inside, alright?”

  She glared at Michael as she stepped inside and walked past him. She went straight to the kitchen with her oversized bags.

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  “Just so you know, you always come right before my day off. My fridge is usually fine.”

  She threw a, “Bah,” over one shoulder as she began to unload her giant cooler bags into the fridge. “I’ll bet you haven’t even had dinner yet, huh,” she directed at me.

  “Believe it or not, that’s what we were discussing just before you showed up, Mom.”

  She made a dismissive noise, continuing her task until the bags were empty and my fridge and freezer were very full. “You need to eat, you’re too small!”

  Not this again.

  “Ma, I’m within a healthy weight range for my height. You don’t have to worry.”

  Ever since my eating disorder that started my first year at college, it felt like my mom became obsessive about making sure I eat. But it had been years since I showed any anorexic patterns, she didn’t need to keep doing this.

  She protested, “I’m your mother, it’s my job and my right to worry after you.”

  I threw my hands up in an I give up gesture and turned to Michael.

  “Looks like we have plenty of options now. My mom comes by every so often to do this: bemoan the state of my fridge and feed me. It’s always very random.”

  I yelled over one shoulder, “She does have a phone, she just never bothers to call or text before she comes.”

  I heard a, “Bah,” in response.

  I shrugged, “Why don’t you go ahead and get changed, I’ll stay out here with her.”

  Michael nodded and walked to his bag to get clothes before going to the bathroom.

  I went over to my mom after the door was closed. “What the hell, Mom? Why were you shouting at him right out the gate? You didn’t even know if I had invited him or not, and you were extremely rude to him!”

  She threw out another, “Bah,” choosing to ignore her poor actions.

  “Don’t you bah me about this, Mom. I’m serious, I feel offended on his behalf! I want you to apologize to him after he’s out of the bathroom.”

  She looked up at me like I’d grown a third eye.

  “Mom, you made a mistake, but you still have to apologize.”

  She grumbled something about me being an ungrateful girl and how she doesn’t want to apologize to the big brute.

  “Apologize,” I said in a firm, no-nonsense tone.

  She locked eyes with me as if seeing if I would back down. I stared right back. She eventually broke it off when we heard the bathroom door open.

  Michael paused in the doorway, seeing my mom and me facing off.

  I raised my brow and quirked my head toward Michael.

  Go and apologize, Mom.

  She walked toward him, her eyes still on me for another moment before she faced him.

  “I am sorry for yelling in your face. I am a mother who is very protective, as you can see, and instinct took over.” She held a hand out in offering, albeit grudgingly.

  Michael shook it, saying, “Mrs. Nelson, I’ll never hurt your daughter. She’s my best friend in all of Seattle, and I promise to look after her.”

  She looked skeptical but gave a nod and released his hand. She sent him one last death glare before turning back to me.

  “Andrew Marie Nelson, I am your mother. I will always go full mama bear if I think you’re in danger, you know that. Tonight was just an example of that furious love.”

  I nodded and then gave her a hug. “I know, Mom.” I pulled back, “But he is my best friend and I want you to treat him kindly.”

  My mother squeezed me once before releasing me.

  “Hmm.” Mom looked between us, her eyes narrowed. “Well, I can see all is well and now you have a full fridge. My errand is done, I’ll let you get back to your guest. You said he’s your best friend?” she asked, like it was the first time she’d really heard it.

  I nodded.

  She glowered at Michael once more. I’ll be watching you, her eyes said. She swept out like a storm cloud – no goodbye – leaving behind silence, and a full fridge.

  Michael broke it gently, “Your mom seems to love you very much.”

  I blushed in embarrassment. “She is very overprotective but yes, she does. She was probably embarrassed about how she reacted when you opened the door, hence her very quick getaway.”

  He gave an understanding nod.

  “So,” I needed to change the subject, “You want something to eat? There’s plenty of options now.” We both chuckled. I explained as I looked in the fridge, “My mom comes over randomly to check in and see how I’m doing. She claims she can’t tell how I am over the phone or a video chat and she has to come see me. I think it’s just an excuse.”

  I debated whether or not to tell him, but I decided I would. “I struggled with an eating disorder years ago. Even though I’m completely fine now, Mom still makes me food and brings it over to make sure I’m eating something.”

  I looked up from the dish I was holding. Michael’s eyes held several emotions, but the most prevalent were pain and affection.

  “I’m glad you got better and still have a support system. My sister had a friend who ended up in the hospital from malnourishment. She said her friend could count her ribs from space, she was so thin.”

  He took the dish from me, setting it down and opening it. He continued, “I’ve never dealt with it personally, but I care – and I’m really glad you’re doing better.”

  He scooped some chicken fried rice onto a plate, placing it in the microwave and starting it, then he prepared another plate.

  My heart was full in a way I’d never experienced before. This was what it was like to have a best friend. My eyes started to tear up and I looked down as if inspecting a hangnail to try to hide it. I didn’t fool anyone.

  Michael enveloped me in his arms, “What’s wrong?”

  I cry-laughed, then tried to sniffle back my tears again, shaking my head. I wiped my tears with my sleeve, then let out a quick, hard breath.

  “Why do you do that?” His eyes were tender and wanting to understand.

  I was confused. “Do what?” I croaked through my broken voice.

  He pulled back, concern on his face as he looked at me. “Refuse to cry. It’s not good for you.”

  I scoffed and stepped out of his arms, “Oh, so you’re a doctor now?”

  He was insistent. “I mean it, there’s studies. But beyond that, we are programmed to cry at different times, and it’s better for you to let the emotion pass through your body and get it out instead of holding everything in.”

  “I don’t hold everything in,” I grumbled, my arms crossed in front of me.

  “Oh, yes you do, Drew! No wonder you’re short, all those bottled-up emotions stunted your growth.”

  I let out a burst of sound, something between mock offense and a laugh of surprise. I went to punch him in the arm but he caught me by the wrist.

  “Wait! Drew, you gave me a brilliant idea just now with that punch. We should totally go to the gym together. There’s a self-defense class by one of the trainers at my gym, you should totally go. Maybe by having some self-defense tools you’ll be more prepared for Nikola!”

  All humor in me vanished at the mention of his name.

  “Right. Just saving the world from a vampire god. No big deal.”

  The microwave beeped a reminder, the food having been ready for over a minute. I stepped around Michael and grabbed the plate, putting the other plate in its place and starting the microwave.

  Michael rubbed a hand over his face, then ran that hand through his hair, resting the hand on the back of his neck, squeezing. “I didn’t mean to bring down the mood–”

  “No, no it's just… Sometimes, life feels really, really normal and I forget that I’m even a vampire. Then I realize I can’t feel my heart beating in my chest. Or I get thirsty for mana, or coffee tastes wrong. Something always ends up reminding me that I’m no longer alive.”

  I looked into Michael’s eyes. “I wasn’t ready to die, but he didn’t care, and then you gave me a second chance. But I’m still dead, and my parents have no idea that their only child was murdered and then turned into… this. My murderer is out there and…”

  I froze.

  Nikola thinks I’m buried. Forgotten. But I’m still here, sharpening into something dangerous. I’m not going to be his victim anymore. I’m going to be a threat he doesn’t see coming.

  Michael realized the same thing I had. “You are the element of surprise!”

  No big deal, right? Just my undead revenge arc beginning.

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