Cletus, get off Sharlene (cue banjo music)

Mr Dirk Flinthart is mostly culpable for the following. Though you can probably blame the muppets from Teen Book By You who are offering to sell your tween a customized Twilight-lite sparkly-fuckin'-vampire story with whatever names their misguided hormonal hearts desire. Their error, of course, was providing a Free Preview site, where evil bastards could enter whatever names their misguided black hearts desire instead.

Here's the link; as the Monarchs decreed, make yer own fun. Here's mine...

___________________________

Sharlene Slunt is a studious, book-loving high school senior whose safe world is turned upside down when she's drawn to the hero of our story, Cletus McBitey, an immortal vampire whose dangerous 'unlife' is both frightening and fascinating. Their friends Southern Comfort and Rohypnol advise and support this starcrossed pair as they begin a turbulent relationship...

Sharlene and Cletus meet in a library thanks to a falling bookcase...

Sharlene could feel the heavy shelves wobble and tilt precariously. Before she could even think of escaping out from underneath, she heard the sound of sudden footsteps and the slap of wood against flesh. She looked up, surprised. A young man in a dark brown leather jacket smiled at her, one arm stretched mere inches above her head as it held back the skewed bookcase.

“Pardon me,” Cletus murmured with a slight smile, and with a movement as smooth as a dancer’s, he turned and tipped the heavy bookshelves back into their proper position.
Her heart hammering, Sharlene scrambled to stand up. She was so shaken she nearly tottered back off her feet, but the stranger reached out to steady her, his touch lasting only seconds. But it was enough.
“Are you all right?”
Like his clothing, his voice was soft and rich. The light fell gently on him almost like an aura—very appropriate for a guardian angel, Sharlene thought as she pushed away some messy strands of dark brown hair from her face. “Thank you,” she said after a few speechless moments, one hand patting her heart to calm herself. “Those shelves could’ve killed me.”
“You should be more careful,” he chastised lightly. “This is an old building that’s falling apart. I advise greater caution.”
“I know. I usually am—careful, I mean—but I was so happy to find this book…” Sharlene hugged the red leather to herself, flushing under his piercing blue gaze. Why am I babbling like this? “I didn’t even know you were there. Lucky for me you were, huh? You always keep an eye out for klutzy bookworms?”
“Only when there is need, I assure you.” He smiled, teeth reflecting brightly and his broad shoulders casting a shadow over Sharlene. “But you do yourself an injustice. There is nothing wrong with loving books, and you are certainly no klutz.”
The word sounded wrong coming from his lips. He had a strange way of speaking, as if English weren’t his first language, although Sharlene couldn’t identify any accent. She grinned at his gallantry but had to blurt, “That’s ‘cause you don’t know me.”
He just smiled again and she was lost in his stare. And for a second she had an odd certainty that he’d argue, But I do know you...

Cletus gets advice from his best friend, Rohypnol ...

Cletus had been staring out into the stars for a while when a familiar low voice interrupted his thoughts. “Friend, you’ve got to get over this girl.”

He whipped his head around and saw Rohypnol climbing up with practiced ease onto the roof to join him. The other vampire continued, “What’s gotten into you? I’ve never seen you so taken with anyone. Especially a mortal!” Rohypnol spat out the word with disgust. “They are ours for feeding. You treat this one as if she were your pet.”
“No. Sharlene is not a pet. I think I am in love with her.”
“Oh, I see. Forgive me if I have a hard time understanding that one, Cletus."
Cletus shot his friend a glare that could have punctured like a dagger. “You shall not touch her!”
“Calm down. I wouldn’t dare face your wrath. But don’t you see the pointlessness of all this?”
“I’ll tell her, truly I shall. Soon.” Cletus stared up at the unforgiving night sky. “She is a modern woman. Perhaps she might understand?”
Rohypnol chuckled softly. “Perhaps.”
Cletus shook his head, wincing. He did not want to tell her. He wanted to hang on to the fantasy for just a few days more, pretend to be a mortal man. Even if he could never experience the daylight as reflected in her blue eyes or see the sun dance on her dark brown hair.
“What are you afraid of, Cletus? That she won’t understand, that she’ll turn and run?” Rohypnol narrowed his eyes. “Or is it that you think she might accept you for what you are? Afraid of a happy ending? The great and powerful vampire, trembling over a mortal teenage girl. Amazing! Count Dracula is rolling in his grave!”
Cletus had to laugh. It was ridiculous. But still he ached. He could not tell her. Not yet.
Rohypnol bared his teeth in a wicked smile. “I must say, your strength in her presence is admirable. I’m certain that I could not contain my desire to taste of her sweetness.”

Sharlene and Cletus face the reality of their relationship ...

“Did you enjoy the party?” Sharlene tilted her head and reached up a hand to remove her earrings as she watched Cletus in the mirror. That’s another myth gone. His reflection’s as visible as mine.

“Let me,” Cletus whispered, circling her ear with one night-cool finger. “Ah, the party. It was interesting. Your friend Southern Comfort has a great deal of energy.”
“That’s one way to put it! No fear, no speedometer, no brakes. That’s what she’d say.” Sharlene smiled fondly. “She’s a good friend.”
“Yes.” He looked deep into the mirror, seeing something she could not find; he forgot to pretend to breathe, lost in thought. Sharlene waited, curious and concerned, idly admiring the line of his jaw, the sparkle of his blue eyes.
A slow nod signaled his return to the moment. “Southern Comfort has suspicions about me. About what I am.”
Sharlene froze. “Are you sure?”
“She seems to have held her ideas for quite some time, on little evidence. Is she one of those who romanticizes my kind? There are many who seem strangely fascinated with my fictional brethren.”
“Well, Southern Comfort likes vampire flicks, but she’s no Goth.What exactly did she say?”
Cletus repeated the conversation verbatim. “As I said, she has little evidence, but still she persists in her conviction, and I cannot argue. She is, after all, correct about what I do.”
Sharlene stared at him. “Cletus?” Her voice was high and soft. “Would you show me? I mean…what you do? How you feed?”
“I would rather not.” Her face fell, and he had to look away. “If you feel it necessary, I shall. When you are certain. Not until then.” Gentle as the brush of a shadow, he stroked her cheek, kissed her, and vanished into the night, leaving her alone.
Sharlene lay awake long into the night, falling finally into a restless, dream-haunted sleep about Cletus where each ray of sunshine coming through the windows was first his touch, then a brand of fire, alternately pleasure and pain. She woke, sweating and chilled, wondering why she didn’t just turn and run away....

____________________

Appropriate copyright shoutouts to whatever poor suffering hack had to give birth to this literary abortion, on behalf of Book By You Publishing.

The Doctor is OUT to be violently fucking ill.