Jenny looked up at him from underneath her lashes, but I couldn’t read her expression.
“I was wondering—well, to be honest Jenny, you’re stunning. I was wondering if maybe you’d like to model for me? I mean, I know that sounds weird, but it’s totally clothed, it wouldn’t creepy or anything. I can’t pay you much, but I do have some money set aside.”
I could see Jenny immediately tense. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”
He looked surprised and a little hurt. “Why?”
Her eyes fluttered wildly around the room, reminding me of a trapped bird. “Meghan’s into this sort of thing. Go talk to Meghan. I’ll go get her.”
She stood and made a bid for freedom and he simply put his hands on her waist and prevented her from moving.
“Jenny,” he said, backing her toward the fridge with his sheer overwhelming presence. “If I wanted Meghan, I would have asked Meghan. I asked you.”
For a moment, I thought they were going to kiss, which was crazy, they’d just met a few hours ago. Well, they’d probably known of each other their entire lives, but I doubted they’d ever really talked much before tonight, unless there was something I didn’t know, but it didn’t seem likely from the tone of their conversation.
But they didn’t kiss. They stared at each other for a long moment and then Mark stepped back. “Just think about it, okay?” Jenny nodded.
I made my way back to my sleeping bag and crawled in, completely flabbergasted by what I’d just witnessed. I briefly considered telling Trish, but discarded the idea. She’d either kill Jenny or kill Mark. Probably Mark.
Besides, it was absolutely none of my business.
But it was very interesting.
*
“You sleep like the dead,” Trish commented, pouring herself a bowl of Cap’n Crunch. It was ironic, because I’d had a nightmare in which I’d died quite grossly from some sort of flesh-eating bacteria. I was happy to be awake. The rest of the girls were lounging on their sleeping bags, munching on bowls of cereal and watching cartoons. It felt like I was in second grade again. It was awesome.
Trish held out the Cap’n Crunch. I grabbed it and sat up, glancing over at Jenny surreptitiously. She seemed more relaxed than usual, and maybe it was just my imagination, but she looked like she had some color in her cheeks, too. In my head, the whole scene last night seemed kind of surreal, but then I remembered the fact that I was dating a vampire who wasn’t allowed to love me and couldn’t die and revised the level of weirdness for Jenny’s situation.
People started wandering off after breakfast. Aunt Rachel came to pick me up at one, after I promised Trish that I’d come back for her New Year’s party, and bring Adrian. Meghan made a special point of saying she’d come back if Mark was going to be there.
At the very least, it would be an interesting New Year’s.
I hopped in the shower once I got home and threw on one of the new green sweaters Rachel had gotten me for Christmas. I could hear my phone ringing from my bedroom, and hurried in to answer it.
“Hello?”
“Hi, it’s me. Just wanted to let you know your studio is all set up.”
I blinked. “Already?”
“Did you want to come over tomorrow and see it?”
I breathed for a moment. I hadn’t made anything since well before my mom’s funeral, besides the little embroidered pictures for the girls, and those didn’t really count. He seemed to sense my hesitation.
“It’s just a tour. Don’t feel pressured to use it anytime soon.”
I let the breath out. “Yeah, I’d like that.” I was about to say good-bye when I remembered—“Oh! I promised Trish we’d go to her New Year’s Eve party. Is that okay?”
He sounded amused. “Sure.”
“Good. There’s something I want your opinion on once we get there; it’s too hard to explain now.”
“Now I’m curious.”
“Then you know what it feels like to be me.”
He laughed. “Fair enough. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Don’t you mean tonight?”
“Yes,” he conceded. “To be fair, though, I see you every night. I don’t always see you tomorrow.”
I laughed at him and we said good-bye and hung up.
I couldn’t tell Trish about Jenny and Mark—but I could tell Adrian. He was a master of discretion, and more importantly, he was impartial. I’d tell him what I’d seen, and then have him observe Jenny and Mark at the party, and see if Mark’s intentions were pure. Part of me was freaked out that maybe Mark was not Mark, and that Mark was Adrian’s dad, and that they’d gotten it all wrong and Jenny was the one in danger, somehow, not me.
For now, I settled on reveling in Christmas vacation. First: bake cookies. Second: eat them all. Repeat as desired.
*
“I’m nervous,” I said the next day as we were driving to Adrian’s house. “Tell me not to be nervous.”