“And then, because it was the middle of the night and I was slightly delirious, that bizarro Comic Sans website from the vampire vigilante group popped into my mind. "I've got it. You're a vampire fugitive, aren't you."
"I..." He cleared his throat. A nervous laugh. "How did you know?"
I snorted. When he'd told me he was a fan of practical jokes, he hadn't been kidding. "Got it. You're a vampire fugitive." I flopped back down onto my pillow and threw an arm over my eyes. "Look. It's late, and I don't really care what your deal is. I just need to know you aren't going to hurt me. Can you promise me that?"
"I swear that I would never hurt you," he said, more earnestly than I'd ever heard him say anything.
"Excellent," I said. "Then we're good." Whatever the real thing was that he was too nervous to tell me, if it didn't implicate my physical safety, it didn't matter. The only requirements for this fake boyfriend role were having a pulse, not being a serial killer, and willingness to go along with my plans.
It sounded like he fit the bill.”