“So, I guess Rule One would be that you’re not allowed to fall in love with me.”
“Oh, yeah?” he asked, sounding amused. “What about you falling in love with me?”
I scoffed. “Why would I fall in love with you? You’re just a hot, closet-nerd vampire with a bazillion dollars and a Harley. There’s absolutely nothing attractive about you.”
“I’m repulsive, I know.”
“Yep. Rule Two,” I continued, “is that if we’re gonna be smoochy or huggy or whatever, there should be a formula.”
“A kissing formula?”
“No—well, yes. More like an algorithm or something. X number of displays of public affection per week, multiplied by holidays and special occasions, divided by well-timed lovers spats and whatnot. We could make a chore chart.”
“What is a chore chart?”
I laughed politely, and then realized he was serious. “You don’t know what a chore chart is?”
I think he may have nodded, then realized I couldn’t see him, and finally said, “No.”
I leaned back, flabbergasted, then tried to figure out how to explain what I thought every American kid already knew.
“It’s a piece of paper you stick to your fridge with magnets. It has chores, on a chart, for different days of the week. So ours can be that, except for PDA Mondays and Wednesdays you give me a peck on the cheek, Tuesdays are extended hugs, Thursdays are real smooches, and Fridays we have off—or something. We can give ourselves stickers.”
I was blabbing on about the stupid chore chart, but I was blabbing because it was finally dawning on me that I’d be hand in hand, lip on lip with this guy for who knows how long, and I barely knew him, and the thing was, he was attractive. He’d be so easy to like. Even without the money and the Harley and the expensive sweaters, he was just a cool dude. And he was a nerd. He was a huge nerd. And socially awkward. I loved it. I didn’t love him—but I could. I could see myself maybe falling in love with him, one day, and since that seemed to be strictly forbidden, and just a bad idea anyway, I needed rules. I needed a buffer between this act we were putting on, and what I was really feeling. I needed a frickin’ chore chart.
“All right,” Adrian said finally, “you draw it up and I’ll bring the stickers.” There was a pause, and then he asked, quite seriously—“Is there a certain kind of sticker I should acquire?”
I pretended to think about it. “Gold stars are always a good choice—very classic. Or you could buy Valentine’s Day stickers. That would be appropriate.”
“Got it.”
I knew with absolute certainty that he would show up to school Monday morning with a full assortment for me to choose from. He was very literal and endearing like that.
“Any other rules?”
I was about to say no, but then thought of something else. “Just one,” I replied. “Don’t lie to me. This is my life, and it’s very weird right now, and I need you to promise that you won’t lie to me.”
There was a moment of silence. Then—“I promise.”
I stuck my hand out blindly in his direction, and felt him grab it. We shook on it awkwardly and I settled back in my seat, feeling as though I’d taken a step in the right direction of gaining control of my life.
We’d listened through two full playlists on his phone by the time Adrian pulled the truck to a stop. He unbuckled my seat belt and pulled me across the bench seat and out his door.
“I am capable of independent movement,” I explained, in case he had any doubts.
“True, but it’s more fun this way.”
I tried to glower through my blindfold. “Can I open my eyes yet?”
“No.”
I heard him crunch through the snow to the back of the truck. I turned in a small circle to follow the noise of his movements.
“You’re cute when you do that,” he called to me.
“When I do what?”
“Turn in a circle like that. It’s kind of penguin-y.”
“Great,” I called back. “Just what every girl dreams of being told by their inhumanly attractive, immortal vampire protector: they look kind of ‘penguin-y.’”
“You think I’m attractive?”
I heard something land at my feet and I flinched, lost my balance with one leg, slipped on a patch of ice with the other, and was halfway falling when I suddenly found myself suspended in midair. I had no idea how Adrian had gotten to me so quickly or so quietly but, well, it was Adrian.
I pointed at my face. “Now can I take the blindfold off?”
Adrian propped me up again. “Yes, you may.”
I dragged the cloth off my eyes and blinked into the bright white snow. I didn’t recognize where we were. Definitely not in town anymore. If anything, we were higher in the mountains. I couldn’t even pick out a road, just the tracks of Adrian’s truck through the snow.
And that’s when I spotted it.
“Oh, hell no.”