RUSH: A Vampire, A Witch, A Secret, A Rush. by Cassandra Webb Page B

keeps dancing around us, as if a fight isn’t just about to break out.
    “No,” I agree. No, I don’t want to get into a fight.
    My dance partner turns, looking for the first time at the girl and her boyfriend in the background. “You don’t want to fight us,” he says, and his tone sends shivers down my spine.
    The girls face drops, like sand melting under a wave. Her aggression is gone and replaced with fear, a lot of it.
    She kind of nods, then scampers away, her boyfriend is already nowhere to be seen. The space where she was standing is filled with ignorant teens and young adults of all shapes and sizes.
    “Nice work,” I find myself saying, but I’m wondering if I shouldn’t also scamper. “You can predict drinks and scare off idiots.”
    He turns to me, leans in and his lips brush close to my ear. “Want to get out of here?” he whispers, with a tone like a butterfly fluttering against ice crystals.
    “And you can read my mind too?” I say.
    His crimson eyes offer a spark of excitement then he’s gone; melded into the crowd. I catch a glimpse of his black coat on the landing and rush to catch up with him; slipping the last of my drink into the spiky red heads hand as I happen past him.
    “Crazy dude,” the guy’s muttering, talking about us I wonder? But he doesn’t see us, doesn’t even catch a glimpse of the blur that we are.
    I know why I can move like this, rush, because I am part witch. But the other guy, goddess I need to find out his name. Calling him the other guy makes me feel like I have a school girl crush on the first person I laid eyes on. I don’t… but I need to catch up to this guy. I need to get close to him again.
    My mysterious dance partner stops and leans back against the wall; as if he’s in for a wait.
    “What? Worn out already,” I jest, walking past him and lavishing the crease of surprise between his eyes.
    “Wait,” he says, gripping my wrist.
    Goosebumps run up my arm and I wish I hadn’t pulled my sleeve right down now. How cold would his touch be on my skin? His fingers feel like a slab of granite was placed into the deep freeze. Who is this guy?
    “This way,” he says.
    Together we move towards a side exit. I consider the ticket in my pocket and my bag in the locker, but my bag’s probably safer here than wherever this guy’s taking me and I can return tomorrow night for it.
    I smile because I already know how this is going to play out. He’s going to take me back to some basic bachelor pad, I’m going to get his clothes off – yum – and if I’m lucky we’ll both watch the sunrise through his window panting and covered in sweat. That’s when I’ll steal a shower, because I don’t have any home to go to and I am not sneaking out of his place feeling like stale sex, and then I’ll leave… wait no I’ll raid his fridge first. I am definitely going to need to eat after keeping up with this guy.
    We’ll say something about things being hush, no relationship wanted, and going our separate ways never to see each other again. And then tomorrow night I’ll come back for my bag and happen to bump into him again.
    It’s perfect… and perfectly crazy. Why the hell am I fantasying about hooking up with this guy twice. I don’t do twice. Twice is like developing a relationship and I can not have a relationship. I’m wanted in twelve states, I’m outlawed by my own people and I have no money, no skills, no way to get a job. I’m just counting down the months before I have to skip country – there’ll just be nowhere in the US left for me to hide. I am not the kind of person that any guy wants to get to know.
    But I can have tonight.
    He shoves the door open and moves towards the nearest motorcycle. I hesitate, holding the door with one hand and holding myself up against the frame. I’ve only had half a beer and half a spirits. I can’t possibly be this drunk.
    Then again, being drunk is a good excuse for thinking crazy fantasies about some