My Guardian Vampire

The maître d came up to us, probably alerted by Amber and Tonya's informal punk apparel, and Tonya and he exchanged brief, quiet words before a waiter escorted us up a winding staircase. My desperate looks of confusion to Tonya and Amber went unanswered, and my mind went into a panic—was I being sold to slavery? Forced to finally work of my freeloader’s debt? A punk’d show for the poor and insignificant?

"There he is," Tonya whispered in my ear, pointing over to a table. She hadn't had to however, as my eyes had somehow been drawn to him the moment we had entered onto the landing.

My breath caught as I saw him. I was unsure if during the day I had somehow forgotten how he looked, or if he looked better than before, but I was surprised at the new air that surrounded him. He saw me and stood up, looking dead ahead at me, unmoving from the table. I felt as caught in his stare as a prey in front of their ready, hungry carnivore, the rest of the world melting away as my instincts tugged at me. Instead of fighting or flighting, however, I froze—unsure of what to do, the questions speeding in my head far too many and fast catch onto even one.

Tonya or Amber, I didn't know which, put a clutch purse in my hand.

"Good luck Green," Amber said, and she and Tonya left. The waiter motioned for me to follow him, kickstarting my feet as he led me to the table, my heart beating ecstatically faster with each step.

We got to the table after a year or so, Billie Joe still standing there motionless.

He definitely looked even better than before.

His outfit was unwrinkled as if it had just been pressed, his tie as perfect as I had left it this morning. He had an exact 5 O'clock shadow, to the very second, it looking perfect and his skin looking smooth. His hair was also done perfectly, gelled in a way that for the first time said he had actually tried with it—and it had gone well.
His eyes seemed even better than everything else however, though nothing had apparently changed about them. They just seemed to... sparkle.

"Ali," Billie Joe said, a thousand words in one.

"Billie," I responded back, smiling. The waiter pulled out my chair and paused patiently for me to take my seat. Billie leaned over the table and lifted my chin, kissing me softly. I blushed after we broke apart and took my seat, the waiter pushing it in for me.

"You look beautiful," Billie said, taking my hand from across the table and rubbing it. I couldn't help but smile widely.

"You look handsome," I replied, and Billie Joe gave me a smirk—so beaming and confident it jumpstarted my heart.

"Handsome? You think so?"

"Maybe," I teased, laughing softly under my breath. He laughed and picked up my hand, kissing it sweetly.

"You really are absolutely beautiful," he said. I could feel my blush deepen and I bit my lip, flustered by the pressing of his compliment.

"Thanks," I murmured, looking away.

"You don't believe me?" It was then that I took in the room—ladies that could have been, and likely were, the focus of billboards and advertisements were dotted around the room, laughing, talking—fitting in seamlessly with this world. I might not have been the worst looking person in existence, but even against the average I failed to compare—and against the elite, here, I was totally lackluster against their shine. I shook my head slightly, still looking away from him, to the floor. He squeezed my hand, as if to pull me back from these thoughts. "You should read some of the thoughts of the guys in here; I wanted to kick that waiter in the balls."

I giggled, looking at him.

"Thank you. I mean it," I said, looking at him. He smiled.

"You deserve it," he said, and I rolled my eyes playfully. The waiter came over, standing by my side of the table, just by my chair.

"What can I get you, miss?" he asked, looking down at me. I remembered what Billie said and grew the uncomfortable urge to cover my chest. I hadn't even picked up the menu yet. I quickly grabbed it, flashing an apologetic smile as I opened and scanned it.

Shit. It was all in Italian.

"Oh, I'll be ordering," Billie said, leaning over and putting my menu back on the table. The waiter did not move, simply looking at Billie Joe.

"We will have the Minestra di fragola, Agnello ed asparago, Champange rosso, e finire Torta al cioccolato."

"Very good, sir," he said, bowing and leaving, not before flashing a smile to me, making me blush. I saw Billie Joe send a death glare at him, causing me to laugh. I took his hand it held it comfortingly.

"I didn't know you knew Italian," I said, and he turned his gaze to me and smiled.

"Yes; I'm actually pretty good with languages. Mike is actually from Italy also, so it came in handy when I first met him."

"Oh," I said, figuring that was why he speaking Italian that morning when I had... Yeah. Kissed him.

The waiter came back, pouring us each a glass of red wine. He first poured one for Billie, and Billie Joe smiled at him, showing his teeth. The waiter didn't seem fazed, looking at me. He then came over and began to pour my glass.

"May I inquire madam's name?" he asked as he poured. I could practically feel Billie's glare, but I smiled up at the poor guy.

"Alexandra," I said, and could feel Billie's glare double.

"Ah, Alexandra. What a beautiful name for such a beautiful lady," he said; taking my hand in is free one and kissing it softly. I couldn't help but laugh as he lowered my hand. "Such an exquisite laugh also. The gentleman here must be very lucky," he said, still not looking at Billie Joe.

"Thank you," I said as I flushed. He nodded with a smile, then took our menus and left—but not before I caught sight of one of the price tags.

"Forty dollars for an appetizer? How much is this costing you, Billie?" I asked, turning to him. Feeling a bit awkward around money matters (especially considering how much I was taking advantage of him), I nearly never asked Billie about money matters. Unlike… certain past vampires I knew, I never saw any of them get night jobs or anything. The few times I did ask, I was always brushed away. This however… had to be wallet-damaging, even for a household that only had one person eating food.

"Well why don't you ask your little lover and see?" he said, unamused.

"Are you... jealous?" I asked, a smirk playing on my lips.

"No," Billie said, looking away but smirking slightly. I took his hand once again, unable to stop myself from grinning.

"Billie Joe, you know I lo-" I said, pausing. Billie Joe looked at me, questioning and hopeful. "Like you," I said, shooting him an apologetic look before looking away. "I mean, you know how I feel."

"I do," he sighed, squeezing my hand back. The waiter came back and placed two bowls of a pink soup on the table.

"That was very quick," I said, surprised and impressed, looking up at him. He seemed to glare at our intertwined hands before turning to me and smiling.

"I made sure the order got in right away," he said, winking at me once before leaving. I laughed, shaking my head and tasting the soup.

"What is this?" I asked, surprised that it was cold.

"Strawberry soup," Billie said, eating some for himself.

"This is the shit!" I exclaimed, and people around me shot strange glances my way, making me laugh embarrassedly. Billie Joe smiled widely.

"Did you know I love you?" Billie Joe said, leaning over the soup and touching my face lightly. I nodded. "I don't feel like I say it enough. This is all just strange for me." He put his hand down and changed to a lighter subject as we ate.

After the strawberry soup came lamb, and after that chocolate cake which we shared. Once we were done, Billie Joe stood up.

"Come on; let’s go outside for a moment," he said, standing up.

"Don't we have to wait for the check?"

"No. I know the maître d, and he knows I wouldn't leave without paying. Not that he'd ever ask me to pay," he grinned, holding out his hand and helping me up.

"Why wouldn't he ask you to pay?" I asked as Billie led me out through the maze of tables, though a glass door onto a balcony outside. There were a series of smaller garden tables, but since it was around 2 or 3 in the morning, there was no one out here. Instead our only company was groups of different flowers, and lots of them. It looked more like a beautiful garden in the country than a balcony in the heart of the city.

I leaned on the balcony, wondering how beautiful all of this would look in the daylight.
Billie Joe came up from behind and wrapped his arms around me, resting his head on my shoulder, turning his face into my neck.

"Ali…” he trailed, his fingers sliding over mine, “I love you. I really do... And I feel I should explain some things to you," he said, and I turned around, very close to him.

"Like what?" I asked, confused.

"Sit?" he asked, motioning to a small carved marble bench by a few pots of small potted trees. I shook my head.

"I can take whatever you need to tell me Billie."

He sighed, and nodded, looking into my eyes.

"Well first you asked why the maître d wouldn't ask me to pay. And it's because... I own the restaurant."