Birthright

Daniel looked through the peephole. No one was there. He was about to walk off, convinced it was a prank, when sense got the better of him and he checked again, this time going onto his tiptoes to get a better angle. “Oh. Hey. Short girl.” He undid the latches and opened the door. “No, you can’t crash on my couch, but you can come in.” The vampire walked to the pile of unsorted laundry on his armchair and found a Ramones t-shirt, which he pulled over his head. Even though Theresa didn’t swing his way, he was convinced he needed clothes on in her presence or she might give him a titty-twister or comment on his lack of sufficient chest hair.