Boys That Bite (11 page)

19

The Coven-England Style

Ten minutes later, we pull up to an old English manor. An ancient scary-looking one like you always see in the movies, with wrought-iron gates and scads of unhappy ghosts going around and haunting everyone. But Magnus assures me the vampires who live here keep the place clean of any sort of poltergeists. The interior of the mansion is less ostentatious than the American coven. It's also not underground, which means all the windows have had to be boarded up to make sure no sun-shine slips in. An old vampire (I mean, they're all old, technically speaking, but this one actually has the liver-spotted hands to prove it) greets us, bowing low to Magnus. "Well met, good sir. I hear you will be taking over Coven Six," he says in a low, respectful voice. His accent reminds me of the ones you hear vampires use in the movies. Like from Transylvania or something. Magnus returns the bow. "Indeed. But first I must attend to some important business in Glastonbury. So I do thank you for allowing us weary travelers a place to rest." It's so interesting to me how formal vamps are when they chat with one another. It's like there's some secret vampire-speak they've all mastered. Then again, I guess in the era when they were growing up human, that's how people really talked. They probably prefer it and only learn slang to keep up appearances among mortals. "Of course. It is an honor to host you and your blood mate," the grandpa vampire says. The tux he's wearing totally screams Dracula wanna-be, but I'm not opening my big mouth this time. I mean, really. For all I know, the guy is Dracula. Drac escorts us down the hallway and up a large winding flight of stairs. The place looks very badly kept up, to tell you the truth. There's cobwebs everywhere. If I end up stuck as a vamp forever, I'm living in the luxury New England coven instead. Way more my style. The doors to the bedrooms look like vaults in a bank, each with its own keypad lock. Drac picks a door, seemingly at random, and enters a code. The door swings silently open into a blackened room. Magnus bows low again. "Thank you, my good sir," he says. Drac returns his bow and then retreats down the hall. Magnus ushers me into the room. Where there is only one bed. "Urn." I scan the room. "Hmm." "What's wrong?" Magnus asks, shutting the door behind us. He's standing directly behind me, and I can feel his breath on my neck, which is a tad disconcerting. I step into the room to add space between us. "Doesn't Drac have a second bedroom? I mean, this is a mansion, right?" "Drac?" Magnus repeats, raising an eyebrow in question. I blush. Forgot that was just my nickname for the guy. 'You know, our illustrious host." Magnus grins. "He does look a bit like the legendary Dracula, doesn't he?" he admits. "We all used to tease him about that in our younger days . . ." "Um, can we walk down memory lane later, Mag? Right now we need to concentrate on the big picture," I interrupt. I don't mean to be rude, but there's a pressing issue to be dealt with here. "We have one room. One bed. And two of us." Magnus nods. "Indeed. I am sure our host has assumed that we would share a bed, as we are blood mates, after all." "Well, we all know what assuming does, right? Makes an ass out of you and me." "I'm sorry, Sunny. But if I were to ask him for a second room, it would raise far too many questions. Questions that might undermine my newfound position as coven leader." "Ah," I say, realizing what he's saying. "So if you were to say you screwed up and did an unauthorized bite on some poor innocent girl like me, then people might say you're unfit to be king?" He nods. "Indeed. And while I do not relish the idea of taking over the coven, it would be better that I do so than to let those seize control who do not have the coven's best interests at heart." "Gotcha," I say. "So we have to play loving blood mates in front of the other vamps." “ Basically, yes." "And that means sharing a bed." "Yes." For a moment I wonder if he's lying. Just making it up so he can be in a position to get his groove on with me. But then, that's a huge charade to come up with just for a little booty call. And really, he doesn't seem the type to have to trick his dates into bed, not with his looks and appeal. "Okay, fine," I say. "We'll share a room." "I can sleep on the floor," he volunteers, going all knight-in-shining-armor chivalrous again. I shake my head. "I appreciate the gesture, but there's no need." I gesture to the bed. "It's like king-sized plus. I'm sure we can both fit comfortably on it." "Okay. If you're sure." "Yup. Positive. And speaking of beds ..." Even though I just woke up a short time ago, I already feel sleepy again. I kick off my shoes and crawl under the covers on the left side of the bed. In turn, Magnus pulls off his shirt, revealing those killer abs that make me drool every time, then joins me in bed, keeping his distance on the right side. So now we're in the same bed, but chasms apart. And while I freely admit I've never shared a bed with a guy, even platonically, it doesn't seem that weird. And I completely trust Magnus, for some unknown reason, not to do any funny business. "Get some rest," the vampire says, turning over to his side to face me. "We're going to have a busy night tonight finding the Grail." "I will," I say, yawning. I cuddle into my plush feather pillow. This bed is truly deluxe and I feel suddenly very warm and safe. "Thanks." "You're welcome," he says simply. Then he smiles a sleepy little smile and my insides involuntarily go to mush. "I am happy to do it." "No, I mean for everything," I babble on, not quite ready to shut my eyes for some reason. Not quite ready to stop looking into his beautiful blue eyes, if we're being completely honest here. "You've got a ton on your plate with the whole taking over the coven thing. And bringing me here to England on what could be a total wild goose chase is probably the last thing you wanted to do this week." He reaches over and brushes a strand of hair from my eyes. "It's no bother. Really." "You know, Magnus," I say, feeling warm and cozy from his touch and for once deciding not to fight the tingly feelings. "You're really a nice guy. If I did want to be a vampire, you'd totally be my first choice for blood mate." He smiles again, though this time I'm half convinced his eyes look a little sad. "Go to sleep, Sunny," he whispers, leaning over to kiss me softly on the forehead. "Go to sleep." I do.

20

A Rave Mistake

I sleep like a rock and wake on my own when the sun sets, feeling well rested, though ravenously hungry. I open my eyes. Somehow in the middle of the day, Magnus has shifted in his sleep and is currently lying with his arm draped over me, spooning me into him. Surprised at the nearness and more than a bit uncomfortable, I squirm out of bed, waking him in the process. He rubs his eyes sleepily. "Is it nighttime?" he asks. I glance at the bedside clock. "Yup. Eight p.m. on the dot." I wonder if he has any idea I was just in his arms. Hopefully not, as that would be très awkward. "Excellent." He rises from bed and grabs his shirt from the floor, pulling it over his head. "Time to head to Glastonbury." Since we've both slept in our clothes, there's not much getting-ready time and moments later I follow him out of the bedroom and down the stairs. "What's Glastonbury like, anyhow?" I ask as we step outside the mansion. The limo is still waiting for us, go figure. I wonder if the driver got any sleep. "It's a very quiet village, home to many artisans and spiritualists," Magnus explains as we get into the limo. "Quaint, actually. A pleasant holiday spot for most tourists." "Cool." I always wanted to visit one of those stereotypical English country towns, with stone cottages and antique shops. "Once a year they have a major festival with big-name musical acts," he continues. "The crowds descend on the town in droves. Usually more than a hundred thousand people show up, if you can believe it. They camp for three days in a field, listen to music, dance, and do God knows what drugs. It's meant to be quite insane." "Sounds cool. When's the festival?" "Oh, they don't hold it until the end of June or so. Never in May." I frown, disappointed. "Too bad. It sounds like a blast." "Believe me, it's for the best. With a hundred thousand people crowding the town, the druid order makes itself scarce. We'd never find them and thus never find the Grail." "Oh. Well, then I guess it's a good thing it's not that time of year." Obviously, getting the Grail is much more important than partying at some big English rave. "Indeed." "Still, it would have been kind of cool to see. A hundred thousand people standing in a field, all one with the music. You don't get that in America." Magnus pauses for a moment, then says, "If you really want to see it, I can take you in June, if you like." I glance over at him, completely taken aback. Is he making postvampire plans with me? Does he honestly think we'll be hanging out with each other after I turn back into a human? Is it even possible to keep some kind of relationship . . . friendship going between a vampire and a human? And if it is possible, is that what I want to do? Do I want to keep hanging out with Magnus after I've been rehumanized? I've only known him a few short nights, but if I'm being completely honest here, I do kinda like having him around. He's funny and interesting and loyal and chivalrous, and yummy as anything. What's not to like? Then again, what will I do when he eventually gets assigned another blood mate? Will he drop me like a hot clove of garlic when the Council assigns him a real, willing partner? His true queen? And how will I deal with that? No, I decide to myself. It's better to make a clean break of it. Once I turn back into a human, that's it. I'm severing all ties. Forgetting vampires even exist and going on with my normal boring everyday life. "Um, Sunny? You know what I was just saying about taking you to the festival?" Magnus says, interrupting my whirling thoughts. I glance over. He's staring out the tinted window. Okay, here goes. Time to make the break. I swallow hard. "You know, Mag, you really don't have to—" "I think we may see it after all." "Huh?" Magnus leans back into his seat. "Look out the window." I scramble over him to cup my hands over the glass and peer outside. Then I gasp. The festival, it seems, has been moved up a month. Everywhere I look, there's people. All types of people. Young people. Old people. People with dreadlocks. People with mohawks. People dressed in designer clothes and people dressed as Goths. Hippies, ravers, stoners, metalheads. All swarming the streets with sloshy plastic cups of beer. "Oh my gosh," I cry. "The festival is . . . now?" The second I voice the question I realize how obvious the answer is. We're in the middle of a swarm of people. I sink back into the leather seat. Great. Just great. I make it all the way to England and it just happens to be on the one day of the year when the druids I'm seeking go into hiding. Once again, my lack of luck astounds me. "Wow. This sucks," I say mournfully. "Indeed," Magnus agrees, as always not the most optimistic of blood mates. "What are we gonna do?" "Well, there's no way to find the druids in this mess," he says, peering out the window again. "They'll have gone underground. We'll just have to wait it out." "But it's Thursday night. And I turn into a vampire on Saturday. That doesn't give us much time." Magnus reaches over and squeezes my knee. I know he means it to be comforting, but it's totally not. "I know, Sun," he says. "It's a complete disaster. I'm so sorry." I look out the window again, feeling the tears well up in my eyes and drip down my cheeks. Of all the unfortunate things to happen, this has got to be the worst. My one chance for redemption has been ruined by a massive flock of English raver kids. Don't they have school? Don't they have lives? Why are they here, set on ruining mine? I try to resign myself to life as a vampire. It won't be that bad, will it? I mean, I'll have riches beyond my wildest belief, unimaginable powers. That'll be fun, right? And hey, if we're being honest here, sunshine is completely overrated. As is college. And getting married and having a family. And . . . Oh, what's the use? No matter how you slice it, this absolutely blows. I don't want to be a vampire. I'm sure it's a fine lifestyle choice for some people. But it's just not me. The sobs come in full force now. Choking, rasping gulps of sorrow that rack my body. Soon, I'm crying so bad I'm actually shaking. All this time I've held out hope that somehow the process could be reversed. And now that I know I'm doomed, the magnitude of my situation hits me like some Acme anvil in a Road Runner cartoon. This sucks. This totally sucks. This totally, utterly, and unbelievably sucks. Suddenly I feel arms around me, pulling me away from my dark pit of despair and enveloping me in a warm, safe embrace. I press my head against Magnus's shoulder and just let him hold me as I cry. Let him stroke my back with his fingers as I choke out my sobs. "Shh, shh," he soothes. "It's going to be okay." "It's not going to be okay," I cry. "I'm going to be a vampire forever." "That's not necessarily true," he whispers. "We can find a way. Or wait till the festival is over. The place could be completely evacuated tomorrow, which would give us plenty of time to find the Grail." I sniff, wishing I had a Kleenex to wipe my nose. I hate getting all slobbery like this. I pull away from Magnus's hug, so I can look him in the eyes. He gazes back at me, solemn and concerned. "You really think we have a chance?" I ask, brushing the tears away with my sleeve. He nods slowly. "I do," he says. "And Sunny, I don't want to sound negative here, but even if we don't, which I don't think will happen," he adds, probably in response to my crumpling face, "but worst-case scenario," he reaches over and cups my face in his hands. I suck in a breath. "I want you to know that I won't abandon you. I won't leave you to fend for yourself. If you have to stay a vampire, I promise you now, I will be your blood mate in every sense of the word. As long as you want me or need me, I will keep you safe. You don't have to be afraid. I will never leave you." This promise, this confession, this ultimatum from the beautiful creature in front of me is almost too much. My heart breaks and soars all at the same time. I don't know whether to throw up or throw my arms around him. "Th-thank you," I murmur. "That means a lot to me." He doesn't reply. Well, not with words anyway. He just leans in and kisses me.

21

He Did the Mash. He Did the Monster Mash

It isn't like our first kiss, the one out in the parking lot of Club Fang. That was a kiss full of lust. Of empty passion between two strangers who knew nothing of one another. And it isn't like the kiss Jake Wilder gave me just before I jetted off to England. That was, admittedly, a bit on the sloppy side. This kiss is different. It's impossible to describe. At least not without sounding like someone out of my Aunt Edna's romance novels. So I stay still for a moment, simply enjoying the softness of his lips moving against mine, forgetting for a moment all my pain, my worries, my fears, and just relaxing into his embrace. Taking in the strength and reassurance his mouth is offering me. (Okay, maybe I am stepping into romance heroine-speak for a moment, so sue me.) And then, against my better judgment, I kiss him back. For a moment, we are one. Tasting, touching, loving one another. There are no longer human-vampire cohabitation issues. Just two individuals who feel the undeniable need to connect with one another on a kind of base, intimate level. Insert major dreamy sigh here. He pulls away first, blushing furiously. I notice blood tears leaking from the corners of his eyes before he brushes them away. "I'm sorry," he mutters, turning to look out the window. "I shouldn't have done that." I stare at him for a moment, unable to speak, knowing that whatever I say next will turn the tide of our relationship forever. I realize my fingers are clawing at the leather seats and I release my hold. I think of the possibilities. If I stay vampire, there's no reason we can't hook up, right? I mean, we're blood mates; our DNA is compatible to spend an eternity with one another. And after all, if I'm stuck as a vamp, there's no one I'd rather be stuck with than sweet, perfect, caring Magnus who kisses like a god. By the same token, if I do manage to regain my humanity (and let's be honest, that's plan number one), would it be realistically feasible to keep such close ties to an immortal creature of the night? Seriously. I mean, what would it be like to have a vampire boyfriend? As far as I can imagine, it could never work. We couldn't get married, for one. (What would he put on the marriage license as his date of birth?) And after a few years, I'd start growing old and he'd stay looking like a teenager forever. What would people say to an aging sixty-year-old woman with a handsome teenage boyfriend? (Well, besides "ew" anyway.) I mean, the whole Demi and Ashton thing is weird enough. This would be much, much worse. And then there's the blood mate issue. The Council will eventually assign Magnus a new, proper blood mate. Someone to spend eternity with who won't grow old and complain about her arthritis. And what am I supposed to do then? Make it a threesome? Somehow I doubt Mrs. New Blood Mate would be down with that. Nope, there's no way around this. It's not going to work. And it's probably better to pull off the Band-Aid all at once, as they say, rather than slowly prolonging the torture. Stop myself. Stop him. Stop this budding relationship now— before I'm in too deep. Before I find myself in love or something equally ridiculous like that. "I think we need to concentrate on finding the Grail right now," I say firmly, crossing my arms over my chest. I hope I look confident and in control, 'cause inside all that's raging is doubt and confusion. I hold my breath, waiting for his response. Is he going to be pissed? Or beg me to reconsider? But all he does is nod and I can see his hard swallow. "Of course," he agrees, clearing his throat. "We should most certainly be concentrating on that." I squeeze my eyes shut. Gah! This is so, so hard. Suddenly all I want to do is throw my arms around him and continue where we left off. Kiss him senseless all night long. But that would be really stupid. Impulsive gratification that would lead to a lifetime of regret. I can feel him staring at me, his beautiful blue eyes boring into my skull, as if he's attempting to read my mind. I suddenly realize I never did determine whether he had the power to do that. I hope he doesn't. I don't want him to see all the confusion swirling around in my head. "Well, since we're here," I say at last, determined to switch to a safer, less painful subject, "maybe we should go out and enjoy the festival." Magnus glances out the window again, looking as if I just asked him to dine on the blood of a garlic farmer. I don't blame him. I'm sure the last thing he wants to do at this moment is wade through a crowd of drunken revelers, taking in the sights like some undead tourist with nothing better to do. "Never mind," I say, taking it back. Screw it. I don't want to make things worse. Plus, how much fun could we really have in our depressed, mopey states? "It was a dumb idea." "No, no," Magnus protests, looking back at me, his expression completely unreadable. "It's a rather good idea, actually. You'll probably never get a chance to experience such chaos again. Might as well make the most of it, right?" He tries to smile, but it's definitely a halfhearted attempt. "Okay," I hedge. "If you're sure . .." "Sure, I'm sure. It'll be fun." I'd actually believe him, if he weren't wearing a death-warmed-over expression on his pale face. But before I can object, he instructs the limo driver to wait here and opens the car door. "Let's go," he says with what sounds to me like forced cheerfulness. We step out into the night. Into the crowds. Into the craziness. "Here goes nothing," I mutter, not sure why I thought this was a good idea. We struggle to make our way through the throng, buy two tickets from a bearded scalper wearing a Tottenham Hotspurs soccer jersey. Then we head through the makeshift gates and onto the field. And it's there that my jaw drops open in wonderment. Wow. All I can say is wow. Seriously, you've never lived until you've seen a hundred thousand people dancing all at once. The stage appears miles away and the performers look like ants from our location. But that doesn't seem to bother the festivalgoers in our geographic sphere. They're dancing like they've got front-row tickets to the action—bouncing up and down to the music, screaming their heads off, and generally having a grand old time. I grin, feeling my doubt and depression slink away, replaced by a shared vibe of excitement. I mean, how cool is this? We have nothing like it in America. These Brits really know how to rock out. I'm so glad we decided to get out of the car. "Well, this is a bit disconcerting, isn't it?" Magnus yells in my ear, evidently not sharing my enthusiastic sentiments. Then again, as a proper, thousand-year-old vampire, I'm guessing this mania really isn't his regular scene. I, on the other hand, have determined that I'm going to have a good time and he's not going to wreck it for me. 'Cause I deserve it, after all I've been through this week. Yup, I'm now ready to cut loose and stop thinking about all the bad stuff and just get down on the dance floor. (Or grass floor, as the case may be.) And that means Magnus is so not allowed to be the old fuddy-duddy stick in the mud that I can see he's planning to be. We need to put our differences aside tonight. Enjoy ourselves and our unique surroundings. After all, this could be a once-in-a-lifetime experience. I want to enjoy it. So I grab him by the hand and drag him into the midst of the throng. "Dance!" I yell at him, not sure he can hear me over the music. I start bopping to the beat myself, hoping he'll get the picture. He rolls his eyes and stands still for a moment, perhaps calculating how many vampire coolness points he'd lose for getting his groove on at the Glastonbury Festival. Knowing what I do about the Vampire Code, I'm sure raving's considered "behavior not becoming" for the incoming king. But still . . . "There's no one here to see you," I remind him. "And I'll never tell!" I grab his hands and start dancing around him, trying to force him to move. At first he stands there like a stone statue, then slowly starts nodding his head to the beat. Then, other body parts follow. At first he's awkward, just going through the motions. But by the time the next song starts up, I can tell he's getting into it. By midtune, he's totally boogieing down. "Whoo-hoo!" I cry, throwing my arms around him in a big hug. I probably shouldn't be doing things like that, seeing as I'm trying to keep our relationship on a platonic level. But at that moment, it feels like a perfectly normal thing to do. And hey, we're still friends, right? And friends hug. No big deal. I squeeze tighter. "I knew you could do it!" I say in his ear. He laughs. "Bloody hell!" And so we dance. And hop. And twirl. At one point we dance together, clutching onto one another like deranged prom dates. I can tell from the looks on the other ravers' faces that this kind of twosome "old-fashioned" dancing isn't really festival approved. But I don't care. Having Magnus's hands on my waist, spinning me on the grassy dance floor, feels too good for me to worry about what other people think. After what seems like hours of cardio, we collapse, laughing and sweaty and exhausted, onto a nearby grassy clearing that is remarkably free of people. "Whew!" I cry. "That was fun." "Indeed." Magnus lies down on the grass, staring up into the darkened sky. I join him. It's a beautiful night. The moon hangs low and full and is almost orange in its intensity. Perfect temperature and a clear sky, glittering with pinpricks of light. Nice. You know, if I do end up stuck as a vampire for all eternity— never again setting foot under the sun—at least I'll always have the stars to keep me company. "I haven't been dancing in probably eighty years," Magnus admits. "Not since the Roaring Twenties, I shouldn't think." "Really?" I'm surprised. That's a long time not to get your groove on. "Not even at Club Fang?" "Not really my thing," he admits. "Just 'cause I'm a vampire, doesn't mean I'm into the Goth scene." "Yeah. I suppose that makes sense," I reason. "Like why go around dressing in black and wishing you were dead, when technically you already are." He grins. "Exactly." "Well, your first time dancing in nearly a century—how did you enjoy it?" "Very much so. I think I might only wait a decade or two to try it again," he says dryly. I shove him playfully on the shoulder. "Whatever, dude. We're so dancing again in like five minutes' time and you know it!" "Are we now? Well, if you say so, it must be true." I roll onto my side to face him and he does the same. "Come on, admit it. You had fun. You're dying to do it again." "All right, all right. It was quite enjoyable," he says with a small smile. "But don't say a word to anyone back at the coven. I'm trying to build up credibility for my takeover. And I hardly think 'getting my groove on,' as you so delicately put it, will impress many as to my leadership abilities." "Who cares what they think? I mean, screw them! What business of theirs is it what you do in your spare time? Are you vamps not allowed to have fun or something?" He sighs. "Vampire politics are very complicated. And our systems have been in place for nearly a thousand years. Most of our kind are very set in their ways and do not take kindly to modernisms or vampires who try to stay with the times. It's unfortunate, though," he adds after a pause. "I believe our species is missing out on a lot of good nights out." "Well, when you're king you can change all that." "It's not that easy. But we shall see." He reaches over and brushes away a lock of hair that's fallen into my sweaty face. I wish he wouldn't keep doing that. I find it way too romantic for comfort. "You have a great outlook on life, Sunny," he says, softly. "I could learn a lot from you." I can feel myself blushing and have no idea how to respond. "Thanks?" I venture at last. He smiles, but doesn't speak. For a moment we just stare at one another. I wonder if he's going to kiss me again, but he doesn't make a move. He's probably afraid to, seeing how I reacted the last time. Instead he just lies there and watches me with his sad, blue, beautiful eyes. I can't stand it. "I love this song! Let's go dance," I exclaim, jumping to my feet. I don't really love this song. In fact, I'm not even sure what song it is. Or what band, for that matter. But I've got to break the spell somehow and this is the only way I can think to do it. I grab him by the hand and yank him up. He laughs and together we weave back out into the crowds. Soon we're dancing again and I'm relieved to note that Magnus seems to have abandoned his dark thoughts and looks actually rather happy as he moves to the rhythm of the night. *** It seems like only minutes later, but must be hours, when I look up at the sky. The horizon has pinkened with predawn light. "We'd better get going," I tell Magnus. "We don't want to be caught in the sun." "One more song?" he begs. "I love Oasis." I laugh. Gone is the cool, slightly ironic vampire he pretends to be. Now he's a kid in a candy store. Eyes shining. Alive. (Well not technically alive, but you know what I mean.) Mission accomplished. "Fine by me. You're the one who's going to be burned to a crisp," I tease. He sighs. "You're right, of course. Let's go." We head back to the limo, which miraculously is still waiting for us. Guess if you pay someone enough, he'll stick around till Judgment Day. So cool. I would love one of these chauffeur setups to bring me to school and back everyday. Fetch my lunch from the local pizza joint and have it hot and waiting for me at lunchtime. The chauffeur opens the door for us and we climb inside. If I had a limo, though, I'd redo the boring interior. Maybe throw up a few disco lights or something. Make it really fun. Hmm, I wonder if MTV ever pimps these kinds of rides. The chauffeur gets in his side and puts the key in the ignition. Soon, we're speeding back to Chateau du Vampire. "That was so much fun," I say, after a long yawn, sinking back into my leather seat. I'm so sleepy all of a sudden. I guess hours upon hours of dancing in a field will do that to a girl. Not that it wasn't totally worth it. "Indeed," Magnus agrees. "I had a fantastic time. More fun than I've had in centuries." He smiles his shy smile. "Thank you, Sunny." "Anything for you, Maggy," I respond, trying to keep the mood light. I can't bear to have him go all mushy again. It'll ruin all my work to keep things platonic. I close my eyes, pretending to sleep, mainly to avoid looking at him. But even with my eyes squeezed shut, I can feel him on the other side of the limo. His stare. His desire for me. I don't know if it's a blood mate thing or what, but I can feel it radiating from his body. He wants me. I'm sure of it. As sure as I am about Marshmallow Peeps being the best candy in the universe. And if I'm being completely honest here, I want him, too. In fact, I'd like nothing better than to cuddle up next to him
and sleepily exchange sweet kisses and caresses all day long. But I can't. I can't give in. I must stay strong. Break this all off now, before it's too late. Before I fall in love. I open one eye and steal a glance over at him. He smiles at me. Oh God, what if I already have?