Eleventh Grade Burns(13)

She rolled her eyes slightly. “Duh. Kissing you.”

Suddenly Vlad was very aware of how close she was standing. Still, he didn’t back away. Not yet. “But... why?”

Snow smiled. “Because I like you, Vlad. Why else? I don’t go around kissing just anyone, y’know.”

He didn’t say anything, didn’t move. And his inaction made him feel terribly guilty. What would Meredith think of him making out with Snow after he’d broken her heart in front of the entire population of Bathory? She’d be heartbroken. She’d be furious.

Snow leaned in again, her lips tempting him. Vlad pushed her back—a little more forcefully than he had intended—and growled. “Stop. Just stop. Just ... let me think.”

She immediately relaxed back against the wall, following a direct order from her vampire master.

Vlad stepped back, pacing some in the dark alleyway. “I think you’re confused, Snow. This ... this isn’t a ... a ...”

“Relationship?” she offered.

Vlad nodded. “You’re my drudge, my food source. You shouldn’t be kissing me. You don’t really like me; you’re just confused.”

She shook her head, serious. Hurt lurked in her dark eyes. “I knew and liked you for a whole hour before I became your drudge, Vlad. If you don’t want me to kiss you, why not just order me not to?”

But that was the problem. Vlad didn’t know what he wanted. Not exactly.

On one hand, it felt really nice to kiss Snow. But on the other ... there was Meredith to be considered, and whether or not he was ready to be with another girl so soon. Not to mention that probably the only girl he’d feel safe being so close to right now would be Snow. She didn’t seem to mind his urge to feed. But Meredith might. And he missed her. Missed seeing her, missed kissing her, missed holding her hand.

Plus, he wasn’t entirely certain that he deserved to kiss any girl after the pain he’d put Meredith through at the Freedom Fest. He deserved little more than to be kicked in the face with baseball cleats.

He looked at Snow—pretty, small, sweet, understanding Snow—and shook his head. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t do that again, okay? Not ... not yet. I’m just ... I’m not ready.”

Snow nodded slowly, thankfully not pointing out the obvious—that he hadn’t ordered her not to kiss him ever again. She looked a little hurt, but Vlad turned away before he could examine her expression further. He yanked the door open and was enveloped by the sounds of the club. To his immense surprise, Henry was sitting on the edge of one of the velvet sofas, talking to Kristoff.

With a raised eyebrow, Vlad crossed the room, slugging Henry in the arm lightly. “What’s going on?”

Henry’s eyes widened at him. “Dude, who busted your lip?”

Oh no. Snow’s blood.

Vlad kept his cool on the outside, casually rubbing at his lip with the back of his hand and mumbling something about tripping, but Henry didn’t seem to be buying it, so he shrugged and said, “Lipstick.”

At this, he earned a glare from Kristoff, who didn’t approve of the idea of Vlad making out with anyone in their little circle. In fact, Vlad was pretty sure Kristoff didn’t want Vlad in their little circle at all. Henry shook his head with a look of disapproval. Vlad shrugged. After all, who was Henry to judge what girls he kissed. “Are you ready? I don’t wanna be late for the movie.”

Henry muttered, “Are you kidding? I was ready to leave before we walked in the door.”

October left the dance floor, nearly breathless. “Where’s Snow?”

Vlad shrugged with one shoulder, fighting back the enormous guilt that was creeping up his spine. “She’s ... around.”

Then, before anyone could speak, Vlad tugged Henry off the couch and through the crowd, up the ramp, and out the door. After they were in the car and driving down the road to the mall’s movie theater, Vlad asked, “So what were you and Kristoff talking about?”

Henry furrowed his brow for a moment, confused. “Oh, you mean David? We were just talking about some of the stuff that happened when he lived next door to me in the second grade.”

Vlad blinked. How could he and Henry have known each other their entire lives and he had no idea that Kristoff, once David, had ever lived next door to Henry? Shaking off the surprise, he looked out at the night, at the streetlights and taxicabs. It briefly crossed his mind that they were merely three or four blocks from the Stokerton council, but he didn’t worry. Otis had assured him that D’Ablo and the rest of the council were busy with preparations for the coming trial—Otis’s trial. Even though it wasn’t scheduled until the spring.