#bananafieldnotes

But trouble had its way of finding him, so much so that he should be used to it by now. Chicago was meant to be a pit stop on the way further out west until he met you. What was meant to be his last day in town, a celebratory send off, led him right to the bar you work at. It smelled of whiskey and sandalwood every time he walked in, and it took him a few times before realizing the sandalwood was wafting from you. Some oil he’d watch you reapply when you had a break from overbearing customers, once behind your ears and twice down your neck and chest. Cinnamon, the smoky spice of the sandalwood, and just enough rose to make it extra sweet. It made it hard for him to control himself around you— he already wanted to take a bite out of your neck, to taste the intoxicating flavor of your blood. Exposing himself to a bar full of people was a bit more trouble than he could chew, so he left you alone. Sort of.

Stack would’ve kept a respectable distance for as long as he lingered in Chicago until you made a move on him. He knew that you’d kept your eye on him every time he moseyed on into the bar, hat tilted and glasses obscuring the white film over his eyes. Without fail, he was dressed to the nines, suave and sexy with his signature touch of carmine. A cigarette or cigar wedged between his lips, smoke puffing out in circles around him. Stack knows how to command a room, and you were more than ready to give him your attention. 

You were touchy with him, and that’s when he knew it wasn’t all in his head. Other customers had strictly professional interactions with you, and oftentimes you wouldn’t even bother looking at them; but with Stack, you came to life. Asking him questions about his life, playfully pushing at his arm if he cracked a joke, batting your doe eyes at him when handing him his drink (that you always made a little stronger than your boss would allow). The safe, respectable distance didn’t seem like something you wanted— and Stack always had a weakness for pretty women like you. Soft, sultry, and sanguine. Dark, thick hair pressed and flipped just like you saw Donna Summer do. It framed your face beautifully, the dark hue of your mane a breathtaking complement to your rich brown skin. A voice that he could loop on a record until his eardrums popped. Hips that he couldn’t help but imagine how they’d feel under his palms, how reactive you’d be to his touch. He could keep his mind running from dusk to dawn on the thought of you alone. 

But Stack never ever considered falling for a human. For so long, he didn’t have to. Mary was meant to be his forever. The idea of starting fresh was mentally exhausting. His soul was nearly eighty-three years old, and he felt too old to go back to the drawing board. It was all too much, he thought, and a human was out of the question. Stack loves hard and falling in love with someone who’s still plagued by their biological clock was no different from self harm. He didn’t want to turn someone into a vampire with the intention of spending eternity together, because even he knew now that forever is fickle. 

“Do it,” you moaned out, sensing his hesitation. “Bite me.”

The events of last night kept replaying as he sat in his living room, the low rumble of the radio heard from the next room over. Bite me? How had you figure it out? Had you been following him, had you seen him feed before? A chill ran through him at the perversion. Smoke was right; Stack had no idea how to watch his own back. 

After your unexpected request, Stack kept fucking you like he hadn’t heard you. There was no way he could comply without investigating further. Up until then, you were a sexy stranger who he denied himself the pleasure of having. All of the gaps in his knowledge of you were empty, blank and waiting to be filled in. No one in his forty years of vampirism has ever sought him out, much less asking to be bitten. He didn’t even know what he wanted to ask you. 

The bar you work at was opening soon, and he knew well enough that you’d be working. Probably wearing something to teasingly remind him of the position you were in just last night. A dress that was a bit too tight against your breasts, giving him the perfect view to admire. You were certainly gonna try to distract him tonight. 

There was only one thing on your mind, and that was changing Stack’s. A brief look of bewilderment crossed his eyes when told him to bite you, but he pretended he heard no such demand since it was so outlandish. Who in their right mind would subscribe to such endless torment of bloodlust and bloodshed? If he had known…

“The usual?” You appear in front of him just as pretty as you wanna be. Powder blue shadow dusting your eyelids and a deep brown gloss to your lips. Your cheeks blushed with an orangish intensity that makes you look sun-kissed even indoors in the dim lighting. Simply put, you look absolutely stunning. 

Stack gaps at you for a moment, stealing his eyes away from you to the row of liquor behind you the second he felt he was over doing it. He nods, “Ice cold beer.” 

The beers were stored in the fridge right next to the bartop Stack was leaning over, effectively cutting your interaction time in half. Sigh. “I miss when you’d let me make you somethin’. Now, you’re running off with your drink before I can really talk to you.”

“And what would you need to really talk to me about?”

You popped the lid off the bottle, handing it over without pulling your hand away. “Maybe about how you’re acting like you didn’t hear me last night.” 

His heart dropped to his stomach as you smirked at him, removing your hand from his embrace to grab his check to close his tab. Doing this so publicly, right in the open of the densely populated venue. Anyone could be listening, and you didn’t seem to care. You trusted the tranquil hum of your voice beneath the low chaos of the partygoers, and your eye contact coaxed the words from your lips to his ears. The molasses of your voice was dripping straight to his cock, and he already knew he was in dangerous territory. 

If he wasn’t careful, he’d surrender to you entirely. His shoulders squared back as he found his confidence once more, taking the reins in his hands. “Alright, I’ll tell you what; if you still want this shit after I tell you everythin’ that come with it, I’ll turn you. But there’s a catch.”

You shrugged, wiping your hands on the tops of your thighs. “Figured as much.”

He pulled the toothpick out his mouth and fixed it between his fingers, leaning closer to you like his next words were a secret. “I’ll only give up the goods on dates, baby. You gon’ have to let me take you out on the town if you want me to talk.”

“Dates. You want… dates?”

“Classy. Romantic. Courtship,” He cleared his throat, looking away from you with a heavy sigh. “Or were you really just tryna fuck ‘n duck?”

A part of him couldn’t help but be insecure about his rustiness. Back in his day, he had game like no other. There was no doubt about it. But being in a committed relationship for nearly half a century had knocked his ego down more than a few notches. Sharing his body with someone hadn’t been something casual for him since before integration, and now that he was back at it, the game was different. He wanted to be crystal clear about his intentions. 

You purse your lips, trying to read the poker face Stack puts on. Dating in exchange for the gift. It was messy, risking your heart in the hands of someone so indestructible. He could make you genuinely fall if you’re not careful, and love is too messy to get caught up in. Not now. As long as he keeps to his end of the bargain, you’ll be right on track according to schedule. “So when do we start?”

“There’s no turning back, you know.”

Whether he meant from his offer or from eternal life, you. weren’t sure. But either way, your answer was the same. “Good.” He was trying to scare you but it wouldn’t work. You’d heard plenty of stories, knew as much of the downsides as all of the good. Where others flinched with fear, your interest was piqued. The world you grew up in was too harsh to fear death. No one believed when you said there are fates worse than death, but you’d laid witness to it. So whatever Stack was trying to shield you from couldn’t be worse than what you’d already seen.