Chapter 2: How Not to Make a First Impression

Ming's POV

"Ancient mating rituals often involved elaborate displays of prowess and desirability..."

Professor Siri's voice droned on, but I wasn't paying attention. I was too busy staring out the window, wondering if Kamon was still at his drafting table and trying not to think about how I'd just destroyed priceless pottery while stalking him.

"Ming," Ploy whispered, poking me with her pen. "You're doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"Staring into space with that dreamy expression. It's disturbing."

I turned back to my notebook, which was completely blank except for the words "Mrs. Ming Kamon" written in tiny letters at the top. I quickly scribbled them out.

"Pay attention," Ploy hissed. "This could be useful for your... situation."

"What situation?"

"Your complete inability to talk to boys without destroying ancient artifacts."

Professor Siri was now showing slides of cave paintings. "Notice how the male figures are depicted performing feats of strength to attract potential mates..."

"See?" Ploy whispered. "Educational."

"I don't need to attract a mate," I whispered back. "I need to survive a normal conversation without revealing I'm half-vampire."

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

The lecture finally ended after what felt like seventeen hours. As we packed up our bags, Ploy turned to me with that look again—the one that meant trouble.

"So," she said casually. "Ready for that ride to my dad's garage?"

My stomach dropped. In all the pottery-smashing chaos, I'd forgotten about her evil plan.

"Actually, maybe we should reschedule—"

"Nope! No backing out now!" She grabbed my arm and started dragging me toward the exit. "You want to meet Kamon properly, right? Well, today's your lucky day!"

And that's how I found myself twenty minutes later, standing outside the busiest garage in this part of Bangkok, wondering why I'd ever agreed to this insane plan.

"You're up to something," I said, watching Ploy hum cheerfully as we approached the entrance.

"I have no idea what you mean."

"Ploy."

"Ming."

"You're being weird."

"I'm being helpful!" She grinned at me with way too many teeth. "You want to meet Kamon, right? Well, consider this your formal introduction!"

My stomach dropped even further. "What did you do?"

"Nothing! I just... may have mentioned to my dad that you were interested in cars."

I stopped walking. "I am NOT interested in cars!"

"You are now!" She grabbed my arm and dragged me forward. "Come on, it'll be fun! What's the worst that could happen?"

Famous last words.

Ploy's dad owned the busiest garage in this part of Bangkok. The smell of motor oil and metal hit me as soon as we walked in, along with the sound of tools clanging and engines running. My enhanced vampire hearing picked up every single noise, making me wince.

"Papa!" Ploy called out in Thai. "I brought Ming!"

A man in oil-stained overalls emerged from under a car hood. Uncle Somchai was exactly like Ploy—small, loud, and way too enthusiastic about everything.

"Ming! My favorite archaeology student!" He beamed at me. "Ploy tells me you want to learn about engines!"

"I... what?" I shot Ploy a death glare. "I never said—"

"She's very interested in... mechanical things," Ploy said sweetly. "Especially how they work."

Uncle Somchai clapped his hands together. "Perfect! Kamon can teach you!"

And that's when I saw him.

Kamon emerged from behind a motorcycle, a wrench in his hand and a streak of grease across his cheek. His dark hair was even more disheveled than usual, and his simple t-shirt showed off arms that were definitely stronger than they looked.

He was gorgeous.

He was also staring at me with those intense dark eyes, clearly confused about why the girl who'd been crashing into pottery displays was now standing in his workplace.

"Uh... hi," I managed to squeak out.

"Hello," he said quietly, his voice deeper than I'd expected. He had that careful way of speaking that shy people do, like he was choosing each word carefully.

An awkward silence stretched between us.

"Well!" Uncle Somchai said loudly. "Kamon, this is Ming. Ming, this is my best part-time worker, Kamon!"

"We've... sort of met," Kamon said slowly, his eyes still on me. "You're in archaeology, right? I think I've seen you around campus."

He's noticed me? My heart did a little flip.

"Yes! I mean, yes, I study archaeology. Old things. Very old things. Dead things, mostly. Not dead people! Just... artifacts and..." I was rambling. "Pottery."

His eyebrows rose slightly. "Pottery?"

"She loves pottery," Ploy said with barely contained laughter. "She's very... hands-on with her studies."

I wanted to strangle her.

"That's... interesting," Kamon said, and I couldn't tell if he was being polite or if he genuinely meant it.

"So!" Uncle Somchai interrupted. "Kamon, why don't you show Ming how the motorcycle engine works? She's very curious about mechanical things!"

"I am?" I said weakly.

"You are!" Ploy confirmed cheerfully.

Kamon looked between us, clearly sensing something was off but too polite to say anything. "Sure, I guess. If you want to learn."

He led me over to the motorcycle he'd been working on. It was sleek and black, and I had absolutely no idea what I was supposed to be looking at.

"This is the engine," he said, pointing to a bunch of metal parts that all looked the same to me.

"It's very... engine-y," I said intelligently.

He glanced at me sideways. "Are you actually interested in motorcycles?"

"Honestly? Not really." The words slipped out before I could stop them. "I mean, they're nice! Very... round. And shiny."

"Round?"

"The wheels are round."

"...Right."

Another awkward silence. I was absolutely nailing this first impression.

"So why are you here?" he asked quietly.

I opened my mouth to make up some excuse, but something about the way he was looking at me—not judgmental, just genuinely curious—made me want to tell the truth.

"My roommate thought it would be a good idea," I admitted. "She's very... enthusiastic about my social life."

"Ah." He nodded knowingly. "Ploy seems like the type."

"You have no idea."

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. It was the first real expression I'd seen from him, and it made my stomach do weird fluttery things.

"Well," he said, "since you're here anyway, do you want to learn something actually useful?"

"Like what?"

"How to check if your scooter oil needs changing. I'm assuming you have a scooter?"

"How did you know?"

"Every college student in Bangkok has a scooter."

He wasn't wrong. "Mine's been making weird noises lately."

"What kind of noises?"

"Like... angry cat noises?"

This time, he actually smiled. A real smile that reached his eyes and made him look about a hundred times more handsome, which I didn't think was physically possible.

"That's probably your engine," he said. "I can take a look at it sometime, if you want."

"Really?" I tried not to sound too excited and failed miserably.

"Sure. It's not a big deal."

But it was a big deal. To me, anyway. This quiet, mysterious boy who barely spoke to anyone was offering to help me with my scooter.

"That would be amazing," I said. "I mean, helpful. It would be helpful."

He nodded and turned back to the motorcycle. "So this is the oil dipstick..."

For the next twenty minutes, Kamon patiently explained basic motorcycle maintenance while I tried to focus on what he was saying instead of the way his hands moved or how his voice got softer when he was concentrating.

I was doing pretty well until he leaned closer to show me something.

"See this part here?" He pointed to some metal thing near the engine.

I leaned in to look, and suddenly we were very close. Close enough that I could smell motor oil and something else—something warm and distinctly Kamon that made my vampire instincts go haywire.

"Yeah, I see it," I whispered.

He turned to look at me, and suddenly we were face to face, only inches apart. His dark eyes were even more beautiful up close, and I could see little flecks of gold in them.

My fangs started to tingle.

Oh no.

"Ming?" he said quietly. "Are you okay? You look..."

"Fine!" I squeaked, jumping backwards so fast I knocked over a can of motor oil. "I'm fine! Just... allergic to... metal!"

"Allergic to metal?"

"Very allergic! Life-threatening, actually!" I was backing away toward the exit. "I should probably go! Before I... break out in hives!"

"But—"

"Thanks for the lesson! Very educational! See you around campus!"

And then I ran.

Actually ran out of the garage like my life depended on it, leaving behind a very confused Kamon and a can of motor oil rolling across the floor.

I didn't stop running until I reached our dorm room, where I slammed the door and slid down it dramatically.

My fangs were still tingling.

This was a disaster.

[End of Chapter 2]