Blood Like Poison For the Love of a Vampire - By M. Leighton Page 0,7

bold in a good way, in an exciting way. The way he looked at me, I felt like the only girl in the world.

He didn't smile and he didn't move a single muscle. He just stared at me, like he was seeing right into my soul. I sat perfectly still and let him.

"Ohmigod, Ridley! Could you be more obvious?" Trinity's tone was a little louder and sharper than need be and it carried all the way down the table. I knew she was trying to get Drew's attention.

I jerked my eyes away from the fathomless brown ones and turned a frown on Trinity.

"Obvious? About what?" I assumed my most casually confused expression.

It was important to remain calm and appear casual no matter how not casual I was feeling. I hid every iota of emotion behind a carefully schooled mask of confident nonchalance. It was essential.

"Who's that?" At Drew's question, I felt like sneering. Her plan had worked perfectly.

"Who?" I looked up questioningly. I didn't need to ask to whom he was referring; I knew, but I did so just to prove my point: that I had no idea who they were talking about.

"That guy over there," he said, tipping his head toward the stranger. "The one that's about to get his teeth handed to him."

My eyes darted back to the mesmerizing ebony ones, but I looked quickly away before I fell into their depths again. Then, with a shrug that belied how jittery I was, I said, "I don't know."

"Hey," Summer said, throwing her two cents in. "That's the guy from yesterday, the one who was totally stalking you."

"No one's stalking me, Summer," I snapped. The look of shock on every face in my line of sight had me instantly regretting my impulsive display of emotion. "You watch too much Gossip Girl," I added with a carefree laugh.

Faces relaxed somewhat, but I knew it wasn't quite enough.

"So who else is going to Caster's party?" I asked, knowing that was the only thing more interesting than me having a stalker. If I didn't nip it in the bud, something like that would be fodder for the gossip mongers for weeks, maybe months.

Everyone but Trinity and Drew fell right into party talk, just as I'd hoped they would. Trinity was too sharp for that, though. She's got a nose for deception. She can smell evasiveness at fifty paces. And Drew, he was a naturally jealous guy, so they were both a little harder to throw off the scent than the others. Finally, though, after a few tense seconds, my casualness won the day and they took the bait. Much to my relief, they pitched in with everyone else on the subject change.

Mentally, I sighed and tried to put lingering obsidian orbs out of my head - tried being the operative word.

********

Chemistry: the last class of the day and by far the most boring. You'd think Chemistry would be one of the most interesting subjects and, really, it should've been. In this instance, the problem was the teacher. We had a mind-numbingly boring one named Mr. Dole. I pondered the incongruity of it on the way to class; anything to keep my mind off of him.

With a sigh, I turned in through the door, taking my usual seat at the second long black science table beneath the window. I threw my messenger bag up on the table and slouched down in my chair. I just wanted it to be over so we could go to Norton, cheer at the away game and get home. I was in no mood for extra time on my hands and that's what I'd surely find under Mr. Dole's tedious instruction.

In Mr. Dole's class, no one sat at the front two tables in the room. It was a well known fact that they were semi-dangerous. Mr. Dole spit a lot when he talked and it was nothing to get sprayed in the eye or, heaven forbid, in the mouth if it happened to be open. We all kept a good distance whenever possible. One of our best defensive measures was boycotting the first two tables.

Today, however, there was a black messenger bag lying atop the table to the right and in front of mine, at one of the off-limits tables. I