Vampires must be real – every day I meet at least one person who sucks the life out of me. A feat for someone who is a self-declared hermit.

  “What is it, Michael? I haven’t even sat down yet, and you’re over here.”

  Brown strands kept slipping forward into my face. I flipped them back with a huff. I must schedule that haircut after work; maybe I’ll make it a personal treat.

  Michael was very much a “bro,” by which I mean he was energetic and used that energy to talk up everyone. And everyone seemed to love that energy. Everyone but me. I did not understand how someone who was constantly a ball of sunshine could keep it up. The thought alone of talking to everyone the way he did made me tired.

  Ignoring my attitude, Michael’s face brightened at my appearance, his wide smile blinding. “You’ll never guess what happened, Drew!”

  I sat, masking with a practiced deadpan. I haven’t even had my coffee yet…

  “I’m getting promoted! Isn’t that great?”

  No, that isn’t great… Not even close!

  “Now I’ll be sitting across from you. We’ll be neighbors!”

  Wait. Surely, surely I had misheard. This incompetent fool got promoted ahead of me and I no longer have my desk to myself? But wait, if Michael is moving to my desk…

  “Drew, I’d like you to start training Michael on his new duties. Make sure you stay on top of your own tasks, too. Lord knows this department couldn’t run without you.”

  Trevor, the manager for our floor, had come up behind me, making me spin around quickly in my chair.

  This must be Hell. This can’t be happening!

  Without waiting for a response, the tall man walked away from my desk as if he had only commented on the weather and not dropped a bombshell on me.

  I rushed out of my seat after him, following him into his office and shutting the door. “You’re just buttering me up because you’re not the one who has to train an office bro how to be an editor. How the hell did that guy get promoted in the first place? He’s an idiot!” I felt heat coursing through my veins at the injustice of it all.

  “Hush up! You’re so mean, Drew. Honestly, it’s a wonder people approach you at all except that you’re so good at your job. Why do people talk you up?”

  I scowled. “I’m sure I couldn’t tell you. And they wouldn’t if they could do their own jobs and live their lives without hand holding.”

  “Enough, Drew. Don’t you see what this could mean for you? If Michael takes over your job, you can move up!”

  Take over? Move up? What’s up from QCE? It was practically just invented.

  He sighed, “I’m sorry for springing this on you out of left field. I got hit by the request out of nowhere myself from higher up, and you’re literally the only QCE in the entire company.” He nodded out the window of his office, “Now go back to your desk, your trainee is waiting.”

  With a grunt I turned to start back to my desk, where an overly enthusiastic Michael waved at me before chatting up yet another person.

  Why does the golden retriever have to talk to every passerby?

  “Tell me, will I be compensated for training him on top of doing my own work?” I snapped at Trevor as I opened the door to his office.

  I muttered, praying for an escape clause. But no matter the thoughts rushing through my head, every step took me closer to my desk, closer to my doom.

  Michael was all smiles as I returned to the desk and sat.

  I looked up at him. Way up.

  Forget golden retriever, he’s a Great Dane. The guy’s huge!

  “Drew, I had no idea that you were going to train me, too! How awesome is that?”

  “So awesome, Michael,” I responded, rotating my chair towards my screen. He continued to just smile at me, saying nothing. So, I said nothing.

  My current position was actually custom-made for me. I had started out as a writer of simple contracts here in Seattle, but everyone in the office kept coming to me for advice and help with their own projects. Management noticed and created a Quality Check Editor, or QCE, position for our floor.

  Now, all kinds of documents came my way and it was my job to help show where edits needed to be made before being sent off to the clients, whoever they may be. Maybe it was my ability to hyperfocus on things, but mistakes jumped out for me in a way that they didn’t for others.

  Michael apparently didn’t like the awkward silence. “So,” he started, clearing his throat, “What’s the first thing you recommend we do? You know, how do we start the day?” His smile dimmed a fraction, the persona falling a little.

  That’s a slightly more tolerable level of sunshine.

  “First things first, you get me a coffee. If I’m going to train you, the least you could do is get my morning coffee.”

  “Sure thing, boss!” he beamed.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  I cringed. “Don’t call me boss.”

  His smile faltered, “Okay, uh, sure thing, Drew.”

  He stood there, lingering.

  I didn’t look up from my screen. “What is it, Michael?”

  “You didn’t tell me how you take your coffee. I’d rather get you what you like as opposed to just whatever is left in the pot.”

  Huh, well that was… nice, I guess.

  I tried not to look confused as I glanced at him. I hesitated, ultimately deciding it was worth indulging him. “One cream, two sugars. Thanks.”

  Maybe my initial assessment of “idiot” was a little strong… We’ll see how my coffee is and go from there.

  I turned back to my computer, determined to get at least a little work done while Michael was off on his little coffee run. God knows how much work I’d actually be able to get done now that I’d have the happy doggo, whatever his breed, talking up a storm on the other side of the desk.

  I supposed I’d start with him helping with the easy, tedious stuff for the day since I’d had absolutely no warning that I’d need to train someone on my specific job today let alone any time soon.

  Maybe he’ll get lost on his way to the breakroom or something. It made for a nice daydream anyway. It was on the same floor, a straight shot from the desk actually. No way for even the dumbest of dudes to get lost on that journey.

  I ground my teeth, still feeling irked. I had to pinch my arm again just to make sure I was indeed here and this was indeed happening.

  Michael came back with two coffee mugs in hand, handing one to me. His fingers were freezing despite the very warm mugs – odd.

  “Now what do we do?”

  …The man hadn’t even sat down, and he was asking for the next task.

  A bit much, but better than a slacker, I suppose. Maybe it won’t be so awful.

  “First, you sit at your desk,” I gestured with my head, my hands full with the mug and my mouse. I took a small pause to blow over the top of it and took a cautious sip.

  He made it right? Yeah, that’s one cream, two sugars.

  He promptly went over and sat down on his side of the desk, ready to learn whatever I was going to have to come up with.

  “I usually start the day going through emails and messages, making sure there was nothing that happened since I was last here. If there are issues, I triage which ones need dealt with first as sometimes, separate problems compound. We are here to make sure everything runs smoothly. More or less anyway.”

  I looked at his face, beaming at mine.

  Is he a siphon? I swear my energy is sapping away just being near him. God, I hope his work ethic makes up for his sunshine.

  “How about, for today, you take the DMs, and I’ll handle emails. If you have any questions," I cleared my throat, “I’m here to help.” Then I went back to the email I had been reading before his interruption of blessed caffeine.

  Two minutes went by, nothing but the sound of clicking keys to fill the lovely silence.

  Michael spoke up, “Hey Drew?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’ve got a question.”

  … You have got to be kidding me.

  ? ?? ?

  I had been working for a solid seven uninterrupted minutes when a female voice rang out. “Hey Drew!”

  Everyone called me Drew. What parent in their right mind names their daughter Andrew? Ever since school when all the Ashleys and Jessicas found out my name, I was suddenly “too boy” to play with them, and I wasn’t accepted by the boys for being a girl. It didn’t take long for me to insist on everyone calling me Drew instead. I mean, there was Drew Barrymore – she was a girl and everyone treated her like one. At least, that was my thought process at the time.

  By the time I had thought up “Annie” or “Andy” for a nickname, “Drew” had stuck, but anything had to be better than people calling me Andrew. No matter how long I grew my hair out or how much makeup I tried on, the shunning somehow continued throughout my school years.

  I had gotten used to the solitude, even found comfort in it now, but for years I had tried to do anything I could to fit in. Now, I had my parents nearby who’d come visit from time to time. I had Husker, my cat. Did I really need anything else?

  Sarah – the owner of the voice – was one of the “usuals” who visited my desk during the workday, usually attempting to make conversation with me when I was in the middle of other tasks. A bit strange, acted territorial about her cubical, but kind enough otherwise.

  I had already had a long day and I felt like I’d barely arrived. Now, there was a woman who wanted to just talk and talk and talk.

  “Drew, is it true that you get to train Michael on your duties?” She smiled conspiratorially as if this were indeed juicy gossip.

  I gave her the side eye, not turning my head away from my screen. “... Yeah?”

  “Then our floor will have two QCEs! This is awesome!” she squealed, more resembling a schoolgirl than a woman in that moment.

  “Did someone say that Michael got promoted to an editor position like Drew’s?” a random voice asked.

  Before long, the desk was swarmed with well-wishers for Michael. The area wasn’t cleared for a good ten minutes.

  I had stood and gone to the break room, needing to be away from everyone. For as spacious as the floor was, it felt instantly smaller whenever my space was invaded. And it was invaded often. The droning hum of the vending machine drowned out the noise of all the people around my desk.

  My eyes lost focus as my mind wandered. I wished I was one of those people who could socialize just fine without feeling drained. I wanted to be extroverted, but I was so terribly not. Maybe if I had been, I wouldn’t have been shunned as a child. Maybe I’d enjoy having my desk overrun with people happy to chat.

  Finally, Trevor told everyone to get back to work, leaving the desk suddenly empty of bodies. I noticed and opened the door.

  “Oh, Drew,” Sarah called out as I was walking back to the desk from the break room.

  I sighed then lifted my face, plastering a smile.

  “Yeah?”

  She looked side to side, then leaned in a little too close. I stiffened.

  “You know how Michael is the hottest guy on this floor?” she asked in a low voice.

  I honestly hadn’t paid attention. I gave him a glance over my shoulder. Was Michael nice to look at? Sure, but I noticed and moved on. No need to ogle the poor man.

  I just shrugged, a brow lifting as my eyes returned to her.

  She gave a breathy sigh, “You’re so lucky. I wish I were his trainer,” she said wistfully. “Do you think he’s seeing anybody?”

  How would I know, I wanted to tell her, but I stayed silent.

  She stared at him a moment longer, cementing the awkwardness, before she winked at me and went back toward her cubicle.

  I looked around, ensuring that everyone else had already left the desk. Seeing that it was just Michael again, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I had been partially holding this whole time and walked the rest of the way to my desk.

  I hated being ambushed, and it felt like today was one attack after the next. I looked at my computer screen, a contract pulled up that needed a final look before being sent off. I read through it after assessing the formatting, making sure that there were no spelling or grammatical errors, then reading it through to ensure that it made sense before sending it back with my notes.

  I was about halfway through my second read through when Michael grabbed my attention.

  Click-click-click. Click-click-click. He had been clicking a pen to the beat of the music he was listening to in his earbud. All I could hear, however, was the persistent click-click-click of his pen.

  Seventy-two, seventy-three, seventy-four.

  That’s it!

  I looked over at Michael – he was completely oblivious to what he was doing.

  He caught my eye, luckily missing my own eye twitch a little as he looked down at his hand, then offered the pen to me with a questioning brow.

  Okay, if God won’t listen, maybe the Universe will… Oh great Universe: what the actual f–!

  Thank you for reading the first chapter of Living Blood! Don't forget to comment and follow!

  Here's a special song created for this chapter by my friend HopelessChloromantic with Suno AI. Go check out his story!