Halloween is Edward's favourite holiday, and he fully realizes how cliched that is.
For those of you who just tuned in: Edward is your typical medical student/necromancer. Kit is the body he found and reanimated as a zombie. (Mariel is just mentioned in this segment, but she's Edward's mentor).
Please note: this is not the finalized, fully edited version of the story. Some changes will occur between now and printing.
You can read more about My Zombie Boyfriend and find other excerpts here.
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The next day, he was sitting on the couch when I got home from class. “Hi, Kit.”
“Hey, Edward.”
Moodiness didn’t seem to be in Kit’s nature. I had been sort of dreading seeing him all day, and it was a huge relief to find that he wasn’t upset anymore.
“I made focaccia bread. It’s in the kitchen if you want it. How come I can’t eat anything but those little guys you make for me?”
My actual answer was “I have no idea”, but I suspected he wouldn’t find that very comforting. He would probably just call Mariel. He had bought himself a cell phone at some point, though who, if anyone, he was calling on it I had no idea. He always had it on him, and it constantly needed charging, so he had to be using it for something.
I ran what I wanted to tell him through my head. I do this a lot. I sometimes have entire conversations with someone without saying a word out loud. In this case, it went something like, “Kit, you’re a unique, magical being. You’re full of potential and mystery. You’ll have to learn as you travel through life.” No, that wasn’t right, either. It sounded like the recruitment brochure for some sort of New Age group.
Even if it was technically true.
I had taken way too long to answer and Kit was starting to look displeased. I had to think of something convincing, quickly. Without any data to back me up. “Okay. Like Mariel and I told you, you’re sort of…unique.” I figured that I could get away with that much. “But, from what I know of other…from people like…for some reason, your body doesn’t process food properly. So, I make you special food.”
Kit nodded, looking slightly less suspicious. I’m pretty sure he was planning on calling Mariel and asking her later. “Am I scary?”
“Only to people who are afraid of preps.”
He mock-lunged at me, moaning, “Raaaaalph Laaaauren.”
I could smell him as he drew close to me, and I wanted to rub my face all over him. He smelled amazing, almost warranting his huge Body Shop bills. I wanted to touch him. I wanted to hold him again. I hadn’t since we spent our strange night together—a night that showed no sign of repeating itself any time soon. Kit wasn’t sleeping, and I had become the most popular student in the medical school with my daily containers of baked goods. I was actually starting to get sick of chocolate chip cookies. This was bizarre enough that I came up with a pseudo-Latin name for my disorder: ancrustulumcioccolata.
There was a bit of an awkward moment that I’m sure was my fault, where our faces lingered dangerously close to one another and neither of us spoke. He pulled away first.
“Want to help me put up the Halloween decorations?” It was the 31st. I usually have my decorations up much earlier, but this year I had been so distracted with Kit that Halloween had almost slipped my mind entirely.
“Sure.”
Together, we unpacked the jack-o-lantern and spider lights, the fake cobwebs, and the Kleenex ghosts. Kit had never made them before, so I insisted that he add a few to the collection.
Of course his looked much better than mine.
“You did all of them when you were little, right?” he asked, clearly trying to make me feel better.
If little was defined as “last year.” “Right.” Would I ever stop being one-upped by my zombie?
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