I scowled, but got out, shutting my door. Before I could even make it to the sidewalk, Adrian caught my hand.
“I’ll see you at lunch,” he said quietly. He bent and kissed me lightly on the cheek like he had the night before. All too soon his fingers left mine and he walked off.
I floated to Mr. Warren’s room and hovered above my seat. What on earth was happening to me? I was one of the least romantic people I knew. I didn’t get whimsical over a kiss on the cheek. I was probably just still in shock that Adrian wasn’t gay. And the whole vampire thing. And that we were fake-dating, which I still didn’t really understand, at all. Trish walked in and plunked down next to me.
“Ready for the quiz?” she asked.
“The quiz?” I repeated stupidly.
“On the last chapter of the novel?”
Yesterday, I would have shrugged and been perfectly happy failing. Today, somehow, I felt awake—I felt alive—and I cared. Maybe it was that everything Adrian had told me made me feel like the world was bigger than it was before. Maybe my life—my future—wasn’t as closed in and cut off as I’d imagined. Maybe the cheek-kiss was affecting my brain.
I spent the next ten minutes skimming the last chapter, trying to remember what we’d read. When Mr. Warren passed the quiz around, I guessed on maybe half the questions and slunk off to second period.
An eternity later it was lunch and Trish and I walked to the picnic tables. Just as I was about to sit down, I felt an arm slide around my waist. I froze, blushing instantly. I guess Adrian was really determined to make the fake-dating thing look legit, even at school. I did not, however, expect to feel the brush of lips against my temple. Half the table was staring at us, and in the sudden, rippling hush, everyone turned to stare. The red flush covering my face was burning hot, even though a cold breeze was blowing the snow around in little flurries. Trish stood opposite me, lunch in hand, mouth hanging open.
I cleared my throat and that seemed to trigger everyone back into motion. When we sat, Trish kicked my shin under the table and gave me a meaningful look.
Later, I mouthed.
She scowled at me, but didn’t say anything. I looked around and spotted Norah at another table. There was a crowd of freshman girls around her, craning their heads closer to hear. By the end of lunch, everyone up to the principal would have heard that Adrian and I were dating.
“Something wrong, sugar plum?” Adrian murmured in my ear.
I smiled my most demure smile and leaned close so only he could hear. “I am going to punch you in the left kneecap if you call me ‘sugar plum’ again.”
He just chuckled.
Twenty minutes later the bell rang, and I would have dashed off to fifth period if Adrian hadn’t caught me by the back of my coat.
“What is it with you and running away from me?” he asked quizzically, slinging an arm over my shoulders.
“Maybe you’re hideous, and I can’t stand the sight of your face?”
He looked thoughtful. “Mmm, no, that’s not it.”
I snorted. “Confident much?”
He leaned in close and murmured, “I’m not the one who talks in my sleep about sexy pirate men.”
I paled, horrified. “I did not.”
He grimaced at me in a way that clearly said, Yes. Yes, you did.
We stopped in front of my classroom and he leaned down and slowly brushed my cheek with his lips. I stumbled through history and music, walking with my stomach in knots to study hall. For once, I beat Adrian. I’d just settled in when he stopped and looked at the vacant chair opposite me.
“I take it I’m allowed to sit with you again?”
I tried to keep my face composed, neutral. “Yes.”
He set his stuff down and took out a book.
“Nope,” I said, placing my hand on the cover and sliding it toward me. “Questions first.”
He looked around. “In study hall?”
“Do you seriously think I can concentrate on homework right now?”
He put the book away. “All right—what’s next?”
We were pretty secluded in our little corner, but I leaned in anyway. “What did you mean when you said you were my personal shadow?”
He rubbed his eyes. “It means that you’re in trouble.” I frowned, waiting for him to elaborate. “For instance—that storm? Wasn’t a storm.”
“The storm was not a storm.”
“It was a disturbance.”
I snorted. “In the Force?”
He shrugged. “I mean—yeah, sort of. My father came back.”
“From where?”
He looked at me, equal parts amused and uncomfortable. “From hell.”
I blinked. “Oh.”
“It’s not a fiery lake or lava pit or anything like that. It doesn’t seem to be a physical dimension at all.” He glanced at me, then down at the table, twirling a mechanical pencil in his hands before clearing his throat. “My little brother, Lucian, he’s only been with us for a year. When he was born my father took him. He grew up in hell until he was ten.”
I stared at him, thinking he must be joking. “Your brother grew up in hell?”