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Unconventional

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Christina trails away from her grandparent’s house and into the trees, weaving through the woods until she can see the Rumancek trailer in the distance. As she approaches, she notes that the hammock is occupied, as it often was in the afternoons. Peter was a strange guy, extremely interesting in his own way, but weird nonetheless. Maybe it was because he was a gypsy, or because he was a werewolf (she knew he was, no matter how much he teased her), or perhaps he was just a freak. It happened, some people just tended to be stranger than others, but that didn’t make them any less fun to be around.

 

She pauses in her steps when she hears voices talking to one another, and she quickly realizes that Peter isn’t alone. Christina ducks down and creeps around, hiding behind a tree when she reaches a vantage point that has a better view of the occupants of the hammock.

 

To her absolute shock, Roman Godfrey is stretched out on the hammock in his usual expensive outfit, long legs hanging over the edge of the fabric. Peter is right next to him, his legs not long enough to hang out like Roman’s do. Their shoulders are pressed together, and one of Roman’s arms is pillowing Peter’s head.

 

The two are passing a joint back and forth, Roman takes in a long inhale and after a long moment breathes out a smoke ring. Peter chuckles quietly and says something under his breath, making Roman laugh out loud, this being the first time Christina had ever seen any semblance of happiness on the young man’s face. She wants to know what this is, why these two of all people are involved. So, she steps out from behind the tree and walks closer, the crunch of leaves announcing her presence.

 

“Hemingway!” Peter grins dopily at her, and she brushes off the butterflies in her stomach in favor of focusing on her task.

 

“You two are friends?” She questions, earning a quirk of Roman’s eyebrow as he smokes another pull of the joint between his middle and index finger.

 

“Hemingway?” Roman’s voice is a little rough from the weed, and she finds herself wondering if that’s what it would sound like after kissing her.

 

No, focus.

 

“She’s a novelist, she’s the one that thinks I’m a werewolf.” Peter says with a smirk; Roman’s mouth turns up on one side as he observes Christina in amusement. His eyes held no kindness like Peter’s, he instead watched her like a cat might watch a mouse before pouncing.

 

“Guess that makes me the vampire.” He jokes, looking to Peter for a reaction. The smaller young man lets out a soft giggle, obviously inebriated from the weed.

 

“Sexless threeway.” Peter manages through laughter, and it makes Roman smile even bigger. He drops his forehead against Peter’s temple, crooking the elbow under Peter’s neck so he can pat at the Roma boy’s chest fondly.

 

“You’re not my type, unfortunately.” Roman says, a little soberer now, turning his head and eyeing Christina up and down.

 

“You like brunettes.” Peter objects, Roman twists a finger in the young man’s greasy bangs and tugs just on the edge of gentle to hush him.

 

“I don’t date young, virgins are clingy.” He says casually, Christina can feel an embarrassed blush forming on her cheeks.

 

“Who said I’m a virgin?” She demands, Roman looks to her again and smiles, more malicious than anything else. How someone so cold and callous could hang out with Peter, who despite having a bit of a rude wit to him was rather kind, was beyond her.

 

“I’m a vampire, I have virgin senses and you reek of untouched cooch.” He says mockingly, Peter tries to sit up and Roman presses a hand to his back to help him. Once he’s up, Roman slides off the hammock with far more grace than his smaller counterpart had.

 

“Be nice, Dracula.” Peter scolds carelessly, Roman bares his teeth with a hiss and Peter snorts.

 

“Are you two having sex?” She asks before they can retreat, despite her frustration with them, she wanted to know.

 

“Vampire-werewolf babies, sounds fun.” Peter smacks Roman on the ass, who jerks around to shove at him. Peter laughs easily, trying to grab at his arms as Roman tries to get away. “C’mon, man, this is why she chose the werewolf!” He teases.

 

“She chose the vampire, dumbass.” He ruffles Peter’s hair out of place and then snags his wrist, pulling him towards the stairs leading up to the street. “Let’s go get lunch.” He throws the rest of the joint down and Peter steps on it as he walks by.

 

“Bye, Hemingway!” Peter turns slightly to wave at her childishly.

 

Christina doesn’t miss the way Roman’s hand slides lower to clasp their palms together as they tromp up the stairs. She watches carefully as Roman opens the passenger side door of his red roadster for Peter, who says something she can’t hear before sliding in. Roman shuts the door and looks down at her, his expression stoic and more than a bit unnerving. However, he simply walks around the car, presumably to the driver seat. She pulls her journal away from her chest and opens it, pulling out her pen as the car roars to life.

 

“Interesting.” She says as she grabs her pen, pressing it to the paper.