Savannah

I shouldn't have worried about my first date with Greg. Not only was he a total sweetie with the best manners I'd ever seen in a guy-opening doors for me, asking what movie I wanted to watch and where I wanted to eat afterward-but he didn't even get grabby at the end of the date, and only kissed me on the cheek at the door when he took me home.

The best part of the date was how much he made me laugh. I'd never realized before how little I laughed.

So when he asked if he could see me again, I said yes. And this time, I didn't hesitate.

And then somehow the summer just flew by. I didn't get to see my friends much, what with the church and science camps and family vacations that went on all summer, and the Charmers practices and fundraisers filling up my own schedule. Not to mention seeing Greg at least twice a week. In a lot of ways, he was even easier to talk to than they were. He had nothing against the Charmers, so he didn't mind that I was a manager for the dance team.

A detail I hadn't quite told my friends about yet.

I knew eventually I'd have to tell them. But I was waiting for the right time, or the right setting, or...something. Okay, the truth was I just didn't want to have to deal with their negative reactions about it until I absolutely had to. Just because they didn't like the dance team didn't mean I had to share their view.

I did tell them about Greg, though. They seemed mildly curious about him and wanted to meet him officially when school started back up.

By the time school began in mid-August, Greg and I had been dating for two and a half months. And I still hadn't told them I was a Charmers manager. Which was exactly what I was deep in thought about when I reached our usual table in the cafeteria for lunch only to find Greg already there waiting for me.

We hadn't really talked about who would sit where each day, so I was a little surprised and worried as he kissed my cheek. None of my friends had ever had a boyfriend sit with us. Probably because none of them had ever had a boyfriend, at least that I knew about. Would they be okay with Greg joining us today, or should he just say hi then go eat with his own friends?

"Oh, hi, Greg." I held my smile in place even as three pairs of curious eyes stared at us.

"Hey." He gave me a sweet grin, then turned toward my friends.

"Oh, right." Quickly I introduced everyone, appreciating how he made a point to say hi or hey to each girl. Michelle giggled her hello. Carrie gave a cool nod in response. Anne just stared at him with one eyebrow raised.

"So, listen, do you ladies mind if I sit with y'all today?" At their blank looks of shock, he held up both hands as if in surrender and added, "I swear I won't butt in every day of the week. Maybe just every other day, if that's all right with you?"

I expected Michelle to answer first. She liked everyone but the Brat Twins.

Instead, Anne was the one who said, "Sure, pull up a chair. I'm sure we jocks can all find something to talk about together. Right?"

Carrie laughed in agreement, and half the tension melted from my shoulders.

We all dropped our stuff at the table.

Then Greg turned to me. "Ready to grab some lunch?"

I nodded and walked beside Greg toward the lunch line in silence, feeling as if the whole cafeteria was staring at us the entire way. Even as a Charmers manager, I was still pretty much a nobody for the gossip mill, so it must be because of Greg.

We didn't say anything as we waited in line then chose our lunches. The great thing about hanging out with Greg was that, not only was he really easy to talk to, but he also didn't mind the occasional silence.

As we neared the cashier, he said, "I keep thinking it's because you're nervous around me, but I just realized...you're not like most girls, are you?"

My shoulders stiffened, my heartbeat instantly kicking into overdrive. "What do you mean?"

He shrugged. "Most girls would be talking nonstop by now."

The air eased out of my lungs. I forced a smile. "My grand mother says you learn more by listening."

"Uh-huh. And yet we've been dating for nearly three months now. So what's left to learn about me?"

It was my turn to shrug. "Does anyone ever fully know anyone else?"

His eyebrows shot up, but he didn't say anything. We paid for our lunches. Greg went first then waited for me to pay for mine. Once I had and we moved a few steps away, he smiled at me and said, "Well, when you figure out what else you want to know about me, just ask, okay?"

Too bad I couldn't be so open with him in return.

"Want me to grab you a soda?" he offered, jerking his head at the soda machines twenty yards away. "Orange, right?"

"Sure. Want me to take your lunch for you?"

"Good idea. Thanks." He handed me his tray, leaning in to kiss my cheek in the process. My cheeks burned as we headed in opposite directions.

"He is cuuute!" Michelle squealed as soon as I reached our table.

I had to laugh and nod in agreement as I sank into my seat.

"And polite." Carrie sounded surprised.

"He's a former Boy Scout," I added, then had to pause. Was that...pride I was feeling? Good grief. I was turning into a total Neanderthal, thrilled to show off my "catch." And we girls always griped about boys and their trophy girlfriends.

Shaking my head at myself, I joined my friends in digging in to our lunch. It was necessity, not lack of manners. With only a twenty-minute lunch break, we didn't have time to wait for Greg's return before eating.

A few minutes later, Greg jogged back to the table with our drinks. "Sorry, stopped to tell my friends where I'd be today. I promised them I'd try to talk you into meeting them tomorrow."

Was meeting his friends a big deal? It felt like it, but then again, Greg was my first boyfriend, and I was completely clueless as to how it all worked.

"Um, sure, I'd like that." Working not to grin like an idiot, I focused on popping the tab on my soda. Something clinked against the side of the can. Oh, crap, my Charmers bracelet.

Anne glanced toward the noise, did a double take then grabbed my wrist. "Hello. Anything you want to mention?" She held up the team-logo charm with her other hand like it was dirty underwear.

"Um, yeah. I...I'm a manager for the Charmers this year."

The air heated up over our table in a matter of seconds. I could practically see it turn red and start to boil, fueled by Anne and Carrie's combined fury. A matching sensation of heat flowed over my skin, despite my usual efforts at shielding all the emotions around me. Ouch.

Maybe Greg's presence would at least make them bite their tongues until they had a chance to calm down and get over the news.

"Oh, congrats!" Michelle's smile faded as she glanced at Anne then Carrie. "Or...not?"

"The Charmers?" Anne spat.

Or maybe they could care less what Greg thought of them.

"A manager?" Carrie added, her voice even louder. Several people at neighboring tables turned to stare in our direction.

"Shh, keep your voices down," I muttered, my cheeks warming up. "You two are acting like I committed a crime or something."

"Committing. Present tense," Anne corrected. "You've lost your mind, Sav. Why in the world would you want to have anything to do with that bunch of spoiled brats?"

"And as a manager, too. That's just another name for 'gofer girl,'" Carrie said.

I sighed. This was exactly why I'd held off telling them about it all summer. "It's not like that. And they're not like that, either. Even you guys have to admit you never found out for sure who started that rumor last year."

The JV and varsity JHS Maidens volleyball teams were convinced the Charmers had spread a rumor last year that all the volleyball players were lesbians.

"Oh, please." Anne dropped my wrist as if it had morphed into weeks-old garbage. "Who else would have started it?" She flopped back in her chair hard enough to make her ponytail bounce. "I can't believe my best friend just signed on to be a fetcher for the pampered-princess club."

Enough already. "That's not fair, Anne. The Charmers actually work really hard. You should have seen them practicing this summer. And did you know they're about to start twice-a-day practices, both at six-thirty in the morning and every afternoon after school? Even varsity volleyball doesn't practice that much."

Mrs. Daniels had given the team this morning off since it was the first day of school. But tomorrow we all started the two-a-days. I was so not looking forward to having to be here at six-fifteen every weekday. Making it here by eight last year had been tough enough. At least I wouldn't be expected to run and dance and leap around at that hour of the morning.

"Varsity soccer doesn't practice that much, either," Greg said in between bites of pizza.

"Maybe the Charmers have to practice more because their dancing sucks more," Anne said, shooting him a dark look.

Miraculously, he smiled and shrugged it off.

Rolling my eyes, I flopped back in my chair in silence. I wasn't going to argue anymore about this. They didn't have to like it, but they would have to get over it. I did not live my life to please my friends, much as I cared about and appreciated them. I was already doing way too much bending over backward for my family and the vampire council.

"I'm done. See you later," Carrie announced a few minutes later to no one in particular as she grabbed her things and left.

"Don't worry, she'll calm down," Michelle whispered as she jumped up and grabbed her things. "Nice to finally meet you, Greg." She gave a hasty smile and wave before she took off after Carrie.

"Carrie will get over it," Anne said on a sigh. "But I might not." Which meant, of course, she would. Eventually. Sighing, she picked up her books and tray. "See you later, Stanwick." He raised his cola in reply, his mouth too full to speak.

She gave me one last glare. "See you tomorrow, gofer girl."

"Bye," I muttered.

I watched Anne stomp off. Should I go after her and apologize? For what, though? For not checking with my friends before picking an extracurricular activity? Give me a break. I did not need their approval.

Though it would have been nice to have it.

Awkward silence filled the table for several minutes as we watched my friends leave the cafeteria. Hopefully they would chill out by tomorrow.

"Guess we'll be finishing up here alone today?" Greg broke the silence first as the chaos of the lunchtime crowd flowed around us.

"Yeah. Sorry about that. I guess I should have told them before now." I prayed the blush would fade from my cheeks soon. Preferably immediately.

He leaned over and bumped shoulders with me. "Well, you sure know how to clear a table."

I laughed. "Blunt much?"

He shrugged with an apologetic smile. "I'm told it's curable, but the pills aren't working lately."

Shaking my head, I finished eating then wiped my mouth and sighed. "They'll get over it. Eventually."

"Why don't they like the Charmers?"

I explained the rumor to him. "But no one ever found out for sure who started it. Now they just hate all the Charmers automatically." I caught Greg's confused look and laughed. "Ridiculous, I know. I think it's really just a team thing. Like chow the cheerleaders hate the Charmers and girls' volleyball teams, and vice versa. A few of them are brave enough to cross the lines and have friends on the other teams, but mostly they all seem to think their own team is the only good team to be on."

"And you're one of those girls who cross the line, huh?"

Holding back a laugh, I shook my head. "You know, I could take that the wrong way."

It took him a few seconds to get it. When he did, his cheeks turned ruddy and a cute, embarrassed smile tilted his lips. "I meant..."

Laughing, I grabbed my lunch tray. "Yeah, I know what you meant. But you should know...they're not usually like this. When the Clann kids decided to start ganging up on me in athletics in junior high, Anne and Carrie and Michelle nearly got into a fistfight with them."

His eyebrows shot up.

"They'd just really rather I kept playing volleyball with them instead of doing the Charmer thing."

"You used to play volleyball? Why'd you quit?"

I stood up, grateful the bell was about to ring. "That's kind of a long story." One involving a series of events where I managed to accidentally take out part of a tiled gym ceiling, bloody Carrie's nose and get tangled in the net...all at the same tournament. "I'll tell you about it...later." As in never. No way did I want him to know what a klutz he was dating.

We headed for the trash cans. While I dumped my tray, he asked, "So why don't the Clann girls like you? Is that some sort of a team thing, too?"

"Uh, no, that's a Clann thing," I muttered, just as the bell rang.

"Hey, where's your next class? Maybe I can walk with you there."

I checked my class schedule. "History with Mr. Smythe."

"My bad luck. That's in the portable buildings on the east side. My next one's over in the computer building on the north side. Guess I'll have to settle for walking you to the catwalk."

I had to admit it was a little thrilling when Greg held my hand and led me out the doors and up the steps to the catwalk. No actual tingles from his touch, but the contact was still nice. So was his smile as he said "See you tomorrow" before he kissed my cheek then walked away.

Okay, the boy was yum. I would never faint over him, but he was definitely sigh-worthy. And allll mine.

My first real boyfriend!

A small sigh slipped out of me as I turned and headed the other direction toward history class.

And then I felt it...prickles racing down the back of my neck and over my arms. Ouch. That was all I needed to know who was behind me without even looking. After not seeing Tristan Coleman for two-and-a-half months, and no new vampire/witchy developments, I'd hoped my awareness of Tristan's presence would have gone away. But if anything, I could swear it had increased ten times over. I used to feel only a warm ache tugging at my gut and chest whenever he was within twenty yards of me. This time, it felt more like the back of my neck and arms had somehow fallen asleep and the blood was finally rushing back through all the veins. I had to fight against the urge to rub my skin.

Once again, someone just had to remind me that I wasn't quite normal.

Oh, boy, this better wear off soon. Maybe he was headed for a different class and the feeling would go away.

But when I heard his heavy footsteps follow me down the sidewalk then up the short cement steps and into history class, I knew I was doomed. And then I looked around at the other students in the class and realized just how doomed I was. Not only would I be sharing this class with the prince of Jacksonville, but I'd also be in here every A day with the Brat Twins and Dylan Williams.

And then Mr. Smythe made my year complete by saying, "Okay, kiddies, let's get you all alphabetically seated, shall we?"

I couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry as I took my assigned seat of torture on the front row beside Tristan, the Brat Twins seated directly behind him.

Yes, it was going to be yet another very long year.

Tristan

Talk about a crappy start to the year.

Obviously my protection spell against Stanwick had worn off. Why couldn't the guy just forget about Savannah already? I saw her out of the corner of my eye for the thousandth time in an hour and mentally cursed as my heart slammed into my throat like a caged bear trying to break free. On second thought, I knew exactly why Stanwick couldn't forget about her.

My knees bounced harder under my desk as I considered my options. The solution should be simple. I'd just have to make another protection spell for her. Maybe a couple of them. And I'd drink some coffee or something before doing the spells so I wouldn't fall asleep this time. Although now that Dad had taught me how to draw energy from nature to use instead of my own, I doubted that would be a problem.

At the moment, I had too much energy. I should have grounded at lunch when Emily asked me to after I'd seen the soccer jerk walk with Savannah to the lunch line. But then they had exited with their food, and Stanwick had kissed her cheek. And I'd lost all ability to think as my gut dropped somewhere down to my toes. The sick feeling had only grown stronger as the two of them, apparently a couple now, had sat together at Savannah's table with her friends.

How long had they been seeing each other?

I knew then that I should leave, go outside and ground as much energy as I could. But I couldn't tear myself away from the sight of the two of them laughing together, talking with her friends, the casual way the soccer jerk touched her hand or shoulder or put his arm around her. And she let him.

She liked him. Maybe even loved-

Acid rose up in my throat, and I had to look away, pretend I was listening to the other descendants talking at our table, to think about anything but the nightmare that was taking place just yards away from me.

But when the bell rang, no matter how much my gut was twisted into knots, I still found myself following them out of the cafeteria. I exited the doors and started up the walkway just in time to see Stanwick kiss her goodbye on the catwalk. She hesitated for a minute, her shoulders hunching up near her ears. Could she feel me watching her? She didn't turn to look, instead heading down the sidewalk toward the portable buildings. It was only as she walked up the steps to Mr. Smythe's class that I realized we had history together this year.

And now we were seated by each other, and it should have been great, but it wasn't. Because not only could I see her from head to toe out of the corner of my eye without even looking at her, but I also couldn't help but see how pink her cheeks were. And her constant smile.

The soccer jerk made her happy.

And that just made me want to punch something.

Savannah frowned and rubbed her arm, and I noticed for the first time that the skin below her short sleeves was covered in goose bumps. Huh, that was weird. It didn't feel that cold in here. But maybe I should ask Mr. Smythe to turn off the AC for a while.

I had to stop looking at her.

Jerking my wandering gaze to the dry-erase board ahead of us, I tried to copy down the notes as the class had been instructed to do. But my peripheral vision was a real curse, letting me see her long legs uncross then recross the opposite way.

Oh, man, I was so screwed. I'd be able to see her from head to toe all year, every other weekday, without even turning my head. For an entire hour and a half.

I'd have to beg my sister to help me with my homework again, this time in history.

Giving up on the note taking, I tilted back my head and stared at the ceiling. Ah, better. At least this way I could only see Savannah from the waist up. Too bad I couldn't shut out the sound of the Charmers bracelet she wrote. Apparently she'd joined the dance team over the summer, too. The tinkling was going to drive me crazy. Every movement of her wrist seemed to sing, "Tristan, look at me."

"Mr. Coleman, come see me, please," Mr. Smythe barked from his desk at the back of the room.

Surprised, I got up and walked over to him.

He held out a piece of paper. "Take this note for me."

Confused, I accepted the sheet of unlined paper. "You want me to deliver a note, sir?"

"Yes. Now."

Okay, this was a new one. I took the note and headed outside, shutting the door behind me.

The note wasn't sealed, which was also weird. Didn't teachers always seal their notes with tape or something so students couldn't read them? I glanced at the handwritten lettering on the note then saw it was addressed to me.

Tristan,

Get your emotions under control. Now. You're killing me and probably every other descendant on this campus. Take however long you need, but get it done and make sure it doesn't happen again. And burn this note.

Smythe

And then I remembered. Mr. Smythe was Dylan's uncle and a descendant. Cursing under my breath, I headed for the nearest trash can, did a quick flash burn on the note until it crumbled into ashes in the container, then headed for my usual grounding tree.

Only to realize halfway there that I'd have to find another method. Now that it was no longer lunchtime, anyone who saw me at my grounding tree would grow suspicious and maybe even report me to the office for ditching class. I needed some element of nature other than air that would directly connect me to the earth. Fire, wood, earth, water...

And then I had it. Changing course, I headed for the nearby restroom. Once inside, I checked to be sure no one else was there. I turned on a faucet, put both hands under the cold stream and willed the excess energy out into the flow of water. The heat from my energy immediately combined with the cold water to make steam that fogged up the lower half of the mirror. Cool. I hadn't expected that.

The bathroom door opened behind me, and a zit-faced freshman walked in, signaling the end of this grounding session. Hopefully it had been enough.

The kid hesitated, his eyebrows raised. Probably at the steam.

I turned off the water, dried my hands under a blower. The boy was still frozen near the door, his eyes squinting in suspicion.

"Watch that hot-water knob. They must have cranked up the settings on the water heater," I joked.

That did it. The boy chuckled, nodded in understanding, and headed for a urinal.

I took my time strolling back to class. The water grounding was a good idea. But I'd better find a way to get over Savannah quick or people were going to notice my grounding efforts and think me a freak. At the very least, the descendants on campus would tell Dad that I was getting out of control again.

I needed to find a way not to care about Savannah. I'd thought dream connecting with her that one time last year would be okay, that it would take off the edge. But she was like a drug for me. Every little contact with her made me want to spend even more time with her just to see her smile or hear what she'd say next. I'd wanted to dream connect with her again. But I'd been unable to. Not for lack of trying, though. I'd slept outside so much, Mom had complained that she should buy me a doghouse. I'd tried training harder with Dad, flying through the last of the beginner-level lessons plus several intermediate ones in no time. Then I'd taken a month off, thinking a break from using my power would make it increase and give me the oomph I needed to dream connect again with Savannah. Recently, I'd even talked Dad into teaching me how to draw power from nature to supplement my own.

But nothing worked. All I'd gotten for months of effort was the nightly return of those frustrating beat-the-barrier dreams. Just like in my dreams, Savannah was once again so close in history class, and still as unreachable as ever. Even worse, now she was some other guy's girl. And that made her about as untouchable as a girl could get in my opinion, short of being related to me. I'd dated a lot of girls, but I made it a personal rule never to go after someone else's girlfriend. I'd always figured if a girl was interested in me, she'd break up with her boyfriend before I ever had to make a move in her direction.

Of course, none of those girls had been Savannah, either.

I headed back to class, taking my time. Was there a spell to make a guy act enough like an idiot to make his girlfriend break up with him, but not so bad that he broke her heart in the process?

I'd have to ask Emily.

Savannah

Over the next two weeks, my friends gradually quit grumbling about the Charmers, and Greg became a steady part of my school schedule. For our daily lunch break, we compromised. Mondays and Thursdays we sat with his friends, Tuesdays and Fridays we sat with mine, and Wednesdays we didn't sit together at all. This kept both sets of friends happy. Surprisingly, Anne didn't hate Greg like she did most guys, and she didn't even tease us when he rested his arm across the back of my chair sometimes. I had no idea what his friends really thought about our dating, but Mark and Peter didn't seem bothered by it. Usually they either talked about soccer or asked me endless questions about why some girl they liked had done something they didn't understand. At least I knew I had a possible career as a therapist someday. If I didn't turn into a vampire first.

Somehow, we slipped into a new routine, until gradually Greg became a regular part of my life. I saw him five out of seven days of the week, sometimes six when he took me out for a quick dinner after the Friday-night home football games. We wrote goofy notes to each other a couple times a week just for fun, and sometimes he called me on the weekends so we could talk without an audience of friends.

He was easy to talk to, as well, both on the phone and on our dates. By the time he finally kissed me on the lips, he knew almost everything about me, and I was more than ready for my first kiss. It was nice, no tongues or slobber involved, and I kind of liked the gentle press of his lips over mine and the way his arms cradled me as if I were breakable.

By our three-month anniversary, I was surprised to find my life mostly calm and, if not perfect, at least reasonably happy for the first time in too long to remember. Now that I'd given up trying to please my father, I wasn't so stressed-out all the time. And I loved being on the Charmers team, even if just as a manager. The team made me feel needed, an important part of something special. I had my first boyfriend, whom everyone seemed to like, including my friends. And his ex-girlfriends. And every weekend was filled with stuff to do and people to see. If not for history class with four of the worst descendants every other day, plus the fact that I still didn't dare look anyone in the eyes, I could almost forget that I wasn't quite normal.

At least I could pretend that I was.

But I should have known the happiness wouldn't last forever.

At the beginning of September, Greg was my date for the homecoming dance after the game. The homecoming dance was a fundraiser jointly held by the Charmers and the cheerleaders, our team directors' annual futile attempt at forcing the two squads to bond. Greg's mother had made me a custom mum that had to weigh at least twenty pounds, and I couldn't stop grinning with pride at how good my boyfriend looked in his matching mini mum attached to a garter around his left bicep. Even if I didn't get to actually dance with him much because I was too busy working the concession stand with other Charmers most of the night.

When I did get a break, dancing with Greg proved to be...interesting. At five-eleven, he wasn't too much taller than my own height of five-five. This would have been great for soul-deep eye gazing. Except obviously I couldn't do that. So I had to be careful while dancing with him. Every time we'd danced together that evening, I'd nearly slipped and looked directly into his eyes instead of at his nose.

By the final slow dance of the night, I was more than a little frustrated. That's when the doubt started to creep in. And the questions.

It had been five months since I'd made direct eye contact with any male. The weird incident with the three boys in freshman algebra seemed like a dream now, or a nightmare faintly remembered. What if I was remembering it as much worse than the situation actually had been? After five months, anyone's memory could blow something small out of proportion.

Not to mention, those algebra boys had been virtual strangers. I knew Greg. The entire time we'd been dating, he'd never been anything but sweet. He was nice to others, too, holding doors for strangers even when he thought I wasn't around or looking. He was a preacher's kid, the oldest of five, and regularly babysat his younger siblings so his parents could go out on dates or hold religious events. He even cleaned up other people's trash on the sidewalk outside the movie theater sometimes. Greg was a total Boy Scout through and through. I'd never known a nicer guy.

And after five long months, I was sick and tired of having to avoid eye contact with people. Especially Greg, who knew so much about me, yet I still couldn't seem to really connect with him. Compared to Greg, I felt closer to Tristan, whom I still hadn't had a conversation with in years outside of that one dream. And I knew why. It was because of my stupid eyes. I'd made eye contact with Tristan lots of times before I'd gotten sick last year. I couldn't remember ever meeting Greg's. I wanted to be truly normal again. Surely it was safe to stop staring at people's noses and try making eye contact with Greg to start with. Then if nothing bad happened...who knew? Maybe it would be proof that I was taking after the Clann side of the family instead.

Better to be a witch than a vampire.

My gaze inched up to Greg's mouth. Then his nose. Could I really do this? My hands shook, so I gripped the folds of his shirt at the small of his back.

And then I looked at him. Really looked at him, making direct eye contact with soft brown eyes I'd grown to care about but only dared to sneak indirect peeks at till now. I felt the zing from the connection our gazes made, and held my breath.

Greg stumbled and stopped dancing. But he didn't let go of me.

"What?" I whispered. Should I look away now? No, I'd wait a few seconds longer. It was so nice, maybe too nice, to make eye contact with someone again. And yet incredibly intimate, as if I were baring my soul to him. As if he'd be able to see everything I felt. And didn't feel.

"You've never looked at me like this before. Not since we first met," he murmured, his voice husky. His eyebrows drew together into a frown.

"I can stop if you like."

He gave a slow shake of his head, never breaking our stare. His arms held me tighter. "No, don't. I like it. You should do it more often."

He wasn't freaked out. Relief escaped me in a shaky laugh. "Okay."

"Wow, you're beautiful. I feel like the luckiest guy here."

"And you're sweet."

He sighed without smiling, a rarity for him. "I'd rather you said something else."

"Such as?" I teased.

"Oh, like whether you think I'm good-looking or insanely hot. Things like that." And still he didn't smile.

"Okay. You're the hottest guy here. Better?"

"Much. Savannah, have I told you lately that I love you?"

I grinned. "Isn't that a song from the nineties or something?" I expected him to laugh. He was rarely serious. At the moment, he was working on a record for the longest I'd seen him go without smiling. On second thought, he'd already broken that record.

He frowned at me. "I'm being serious."

"Uh, yeah. And it's a little strange for you."

"So you don't like me unless I'm smiling and joking around all the time?"

"Umm...I like you to be yourself, remember?"

"Okay, then. Right now I feel like being serious. And I'm telling you that I love you."

Whoa. That sure sounded serious. Was I supposed to say it back, or could I have some time to think about this leap in our relationship?

"Will you wear my senior ring?" He took it off and held it out.

"Wow." Hesitating for a moment, I finally nodded and let him slide the heavy ring onto my right ring finger. But the cold chunk of metal felt all wrong. Maybe because I'd imagined this happening with someone else.

His hand cupped the back of my head as he ducked his head to kiss me. But Mrs. Daniels had a strict team policy against public displays of affection at any team or school function. Kissing at this dance was definitely PDA. I leaned away from him.

"Savannah, it's traditional for a couple to kiss after they say I love you." Greg almost sounded angry. I must have bruised his ego. Probably not a good time to point out that I had, in fact, not yet repeated those three little words back to him.

"I know. But Charmers can't have public displays of affection at team or school events," I explained, nervous for the first time in months with him. "I'll get into trouble. It makes the team look bad."

He scowled, his eyes darkening to the color of bittersweet chocolate. "That's a stupid rule."

Actually, I'd always thought it was a good one. But Greg's expression was angry enough as it was; I didn't want to add fuel to the fire by arguing with him. So I didn't reply.

"Maybe you should quit."

My mouth dropped open. Had he really just said that? He knew more than anyone how much I loved being a Charmers manager. I glanced around to see if anyone had overheard him, but everyone seemed lost in their own worlds.

Thankfully the song ended, and so did the dance itself. Time for me to help the other Charmers and cheerleaders clean up. "I have to go. See you in a little while?" He'd driven me to the dance. But if he was too mad, I could grab a ride home with one of the Charmers instead.

He gave a terse nod and stalked off.

Wow. Were all boys this weird when they gave a girl their senior ring? I watched him go for a minute, then shook my head and waded through the exiting crowd toward the concession stand.

By the time the team finished cleaning up the building an hour later, Greg's strange mood still hadn't changed. We drove to my house in silence. I was too tired to think of anything to talk about, and apparently he was still mad about the PDA rule. At my house, he walked me to my front porch.

"Hey, you're not wearing my ring," he said.

Blushing, I searched the pockets of my denim jacket. Wait, this jacket didn't have any pockets. Then I remembered. "Oh, yeah, I put it on my necklace while I was cleaning. It's kind of big for my fingers and I was scared I would lose it." I lifted the chain out of my shirt.

He touched his ring where it lay along with my gold locket on my chest at the top of my cleavage, his knuckles grazing my skin. The intimacy of his touch made me uncomfortable, but I held still for now, waiting to see what he would do. After a long moment, he nodded. "I like it there. Lets everyone see that you're my girl."

I lifted my face for our usual light kiss goodbye, more than ready to end the night, only to find myself trapped within the coil of his arms. His tongue stroked across my lips, making me gasp. We'd never kissed like that. He seemed to take my gasp as an invitation; his tongue slipped inside my mouth then aimed for my throat. He moaned as his hands rubbed my back.

This was supposed to cause all those fireworks and stars I'd read about?

"Savannah," Greg whispered against my lips before he trailed kisses over my cheek and down the side of my neck.

Whoa, too much. I leaned back and tried to ease out of his arms. "Uh, okay, down, boy." I forced a laugh.

He stared at me with intense eyes, his breaths coming out fast and harsh. "I love you, Savannah. When you look at me like that, you make me feel things I've never felt before."

"Uh..." Realizing I was making direct eye contact with him again, I jerked my gaze away. Too much of a good thing there apparently. I'd have to limit his exposure to my gaze again. Thankfully today was a Saturday. He'd recover overnight like those algebra boys had, and be back to normal by Monday. Maybe I should try smaller doses of the direct gaze on him in the future, let him build up a tolerance to it.

"See you Monday." I pasted on a smile as I slipped out of his arms.

But he held on to my hand, stopping me from escaping into the house. "Hey, let's go out tomorrow."

"On a Sunday?" Sundays were strictly for church and family at his house.

But he didn't even hesitate. "Sure. We could go on a picnic."

No way would the gaze-daze effect wear off if he saw me again tomorrow. He needed space and time away from me so he could recover. "Um, I'm sorry, Greg, but I've got stuff to do with my grandma tomorrow." I'd find something to do with Nanna so it wouldn't be a lie. "But I'll see you on Monday, okay?"

"Okay. See you then, Savannah." He stood there staring at me.

Okaaay. I went inside the house with a sigh. Apparently it still wasn't a great idea to make eye contact with a male. Even a really nice one.

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