* * *
As excited as I was to get to the campus on time, choir rehearsal dragged once I got there. Without the orchestra practicing with us, we met in the smaller choir room. Instead of being caught up in the music that time, I could only spot the flaws in the performance. Every missed beat, every note that fell flat drew a wince from me. My body still amped with energy from Bishop’s blood, the last thing I wanted to do was stand in one place for an hour and a half.
Maybe I was eager to get back to Bishop and his lessons, or maybe I was worried he might pull another one-eighty on me and shut the door in my face, but I couldn’t wait to get out of there. I found myself inching closer to the door as Professor Matthews gave us his closing remarks, slipping out the first instant he released us.
“Hey.”
Bishop stood beside the door, leaning casually against the building. He’d cleaned up a bit since I left him. The scruff was gone from his cheeks, his goatee neatly trimmed. He wore his usual dark jeans and motorcycle jacket, the form fitting gray t-shirt stretched across his chest.
“Hey,” I stepped away from the door and out of the path of students filing out. “Did we have a change in plans?”
“I decided to take care of some things later. You’re still up for going out tonight, right?”
“Of course, I can’t wait!” It was hard not to sound desperate, but I wanted it in the worst way. I couldn’t help but feel drawn to Bishop. Maybe it was part of what we’d shared earlier that night, but I was at least as eager to spend time with him as I was to learn how to hunt. I fell into step beside him with a huge smile on my face. I was horrible at playing hard to get.
“Your accompanist is terrible.”
“He’s at the top of his class,” I protested on Alan’s behalf.
“Then his class sucks.”
“Hey, not everyone can be a vampire prodigy. I bet he’d sound amazing too if he was hundreds of years old.” I nudged him with my elbow, enjoying the light topic. It was nice to see he had a sense of humor after all.
“Alright, alright, point taken,” he grinned. “You were the best one in there though.”
You could have knocked me over with a feather at the compliment, no matter how outrageous it was. “You could pick me out of the whole choir, huh? That’s pretty good.”
“Actually, I could. You’re better than that, Anja, they’re dragging you down,” he shook his head, hands shoved deep into his pockets.
“To be fair it is a kind of a depressing song, it’s not all that surprising we were dragging tonight.” The German piece Lass dich nur nichts nicht dauren wasn’t one of my favorites, it put me in mind of a funeral dirge.
“Depressing? How do you mean?”
“It’s so slow and then all the Amens, who can get excited about singing a bunch of Amens?”
“It’s a song about faith and hope. It’s the exact opposite of depressing,” he protested, to my surprise.
“We must be talking about a different song.”
“Lass dich nur nichts nicht dauren. Let nothing ever grieve thee, what’s depressing about that?” He acted as if his was the only right opinion in the world. “Be true in all endeavor and ever ply bravely; what God decrees brings joy and peace.”
“Boy, you really do know the song,” I blinked, impressed, and he gave a careless half shrug.
“I’ve heard it sung a time or two.”
“Big Brahms fan, huh?” Another shrug was all I got. There seemed to be a limit on the questions he would answer about himself, so I changed the subject, eager to keep the conversation going. “I don’t know what I’m going to do about school. I can’t keep missing classes like today. How long did it take you to be able to stay up during the day without lapsing into a coma?”
“I didn’t even try for the first hundred and fifty years.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“No, it was a different time. People didn’t keep the same hours we do now unless you were a servant. Especially for someone in my line of work, it was expected that I’d keep late hours. I just stayed up later than most.”
“What line of work was that?”
Bishop stepped off the curb, directly in front of a black and green motorcycle that looked more expensive than my mom’s car. “Get on,” he ordered, straddling the sleek instrument of death. It bears mentioning that I’d never ridden on a motorcycle before.
I let out a long breath. “You don’t like to talk too much about yourself, do you?”
“You want my help, right?”
“You know I do.”
“Then hop on before I change my mind.”
I scrambled on behind him, conscious of the fact that I flashed a lot of leg as my skirt inched higher in the process. Bishop noticed it too, I caught him looking at my legs.
“Is that what you’re going to wear?”
“What’s wrong with the way I’m dressed?” True, it was a little risqué for me, but I hadn’t felt out of place in the bar.
“Nothing. It’s just… I thought you would have stopped at home to change before your rehearsal.”
“I didn’t want to be late. I do want to take a shower, wash the smell of smoke from my hair, would that be alright?”
“We’re going to a bar, it’ll get smoky again.”
“So?” I was prepared to give up the argument for fear of his changing his mind again, but he capitulated.
“Fine, just don’t take too long. Hold on tight.”