“But—”
“I lied.” I study the fibers of my aquamarine rug.
“Why?”
“Because I’m seventeen. All my friends have doneit. And I didn’t think you’d want to date someone”—I shrug—“inexperienced.”
“I’ll admit, it’s a total buzzkill.” His delivery is so serious, I have to check his expression to make sure he’s joking. The small smile curling up the corners of his lips reassures me that he’s teasing me. He twirls the curly end of my gold-painted ponytail and tugs on it until my face is angled toward his. “Angie, promise not to lie to me again? About anything.”
I nod. “I promise.”
He twines his fingers through my hair and kisses me. Gently and then less gently.
When we break apart, I say, “My turn to ask a question.”
His expression turns cautious.
“After tonight, I never want to talk about it again, but”—I chew on my bottom lip—“did you have sex withallof your girlfriends?”
His hand drops to my comforter, dimples the striped fabric. “No.”
“But with more than one?”
“Yes. But they didn’t mean anything to me.”
“Then why’d you sleep with them?”
Regret grays his yellow irises. “Because I was angry and stupid. I believed meaningless sex could help make me less angry and less stupid.”
“What made you angry?”
“A bunch of things. Mom. Having to repeat a school year. Moving back here.” He rubs the back of his head, mussing up his combed, gelled hair. “Little did I know it would turn out this way.”
“This way?”
He raises his eyes to mine. “With me being ridiculously happy.” He places his hand back on my body—on my thigh this time. “It feels like I found a part of myself that was missing by coming back here.”
I cover his hand with mine, interlock our fingers. He lifts our hands and kisses my knuckles.
“I have something to tell you,” I say. “It has to do with the contest.”
He clenches his jaw. “I told you, Angie, I’m okay—”
“I decided not to enter.”
“—with you competing.” The hard lines of his face soften as my words sink in. “You decided not to enter?”
“I did.”
Surprise ripples over his clean-shaven face.
“I choose you, Ten.”
“You don’t need to choose.”
“But I did. I do.”
He doesn’t move for so long that he begins to resemble a real vampire—one that’s just been staked.
