Chapter 10: The Magnetism of the Hallway

They reached the heavy double doors leading to the parking lot. The afternoon sun hit Noah’s skin, and though it didn't burn him as the myths suggested, it felt heavy, exposing. He knew he should walk away. He knew he should find Veronica and tell her they needed to leave Covington tonight.

Instead, he stopped by a brick pillar and turned to her. His heart—or the memory of where it used to beat—ached.

"I know this seems... fast," Noah started, his voice dropping into a lower, nervous register. It wasn't an act; he truly was nervous. It had been decades since he’d asked a girl on a date without the intention of feeding on her. "But do you maybe want to go out to eat sometime?"

Katherine froze. For a heartbeat, Noah was certain she could hear the silence in his chest. Then, her face transformed. A genuine, radiant smile broke across her features, and she nodded slowly. "I’d like that. I’d like that a lot."

"Awesome," Noah breathed, feeling a surge of something that felt dangerously like hope. "When are you free?"

"How about Friday night?" she suggested, her eyes sparkling. "The first week of school is always the longest. I’ll need a reward for surviving it."

"Friday is perfect," Noah agreed. "Six or seven?"

"Six is better. My dad is a bit of a stickler for curfews, even for seniors."

"Six it is. I’ll pick you up then."

Katherine let out a bright, melodic giggle that made a group of passing freshmen turn their heads. "And how exactly are you going to do that, Mr. Mystery?"

Noah blinked, genuinely confused. "What do you mean? I have a car. It’s an old Bronco, but it runs."

"No, silly," Katherine laughed, stepping closer into his space. "You don't know where I live. Unless you’re planning on driving up and down every dirt road in Virginia until you see me standing on a porch?"

Noah felt the heat of a phantom blush. "Good point. I’m a bit out of practice with the logistics."

"Here," Katherine said, reaching out. "Give me your phone. I’ll put my number in, and I’ll text you my address tonight."

Noah pulled his phone from his pocket—a modern device that still felt like alien technology compared to the telegrams of his youth—and handed it to her. He watched her fingers tap across the screen. Her skin was so full of life, so temporary.

"There," she said, handing it back with a wink. "Friday it is."

"It's a date," Noah replied, his voice a low, honeyed rasp.