I fully expected an argument when I asked my mom if I could hang out with John and Ian that night, but all she said was to have a good time and be back before curfew. She didn't balk. She didn't complain. She didn't even ask about adult supervision, though I didn't volunteer there would be none. After all, both Ian and John technically qualified as adults.

"Aren't you going to lecture me about how I should give Zach a second chance or how I'm such a horrible person for hurting his feelings?"

She looked up and removed her reading glasses, placing them on the table beside her. "You're not a horrible person, Blake. And you can date who you want. I trust your judgment."

I stared at her, wondering what had happened to my real mom. "I thought you didn't like John."

She opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out. The crease between her brows deepened, and her eyes darted around the room as though she was searching for the words. "I was wrong about him," she finally said.

"Really?"

She picked up her glasses and rested them on the end of her nose, looking at me over the rim. "Believe it or not, parents are allowed to be wrong about things. You'll see when you have kids of your own."

I blinked in disbelief. "I'm sure Zach's mom will have an opinion. She has an opinion about everything," I muttered under my breath.

My mom resumed scrutinizing her papers and began highlighting stats and other important real estate stuff I had no interest in. "Helen has a great many opinions," she said, "none of which you should worry about."

When I just stood there with my mouth hanging open, she glanced up at me. "Don't you have a date to get ready for? You don't want to be late."

If my mom was suddenly fine with me seeing John regularly, who was I to ask questions?

John lived in an older part of town in a large Victorian, its twin-peaked dormers and spire of bay windows lending it an air of splendor. Compared to many of the other houses on the street afflicted with peeling paint and crumbling brick, John's home seemed out of place with its cheery yellow façade, trimmed yard, and well-tended gardens. I wondered who was taking care of the place with his parents away for the summer.

Climbing the wide plank steps leading to the front door, I rang the bell and waited, getting a few strange looks from some neighborhood kids chalking the sidewalk. After several uncomfortable moments of waiting, Ian opened the door wearing nothing but a pair of faded jeans that were ripped at the knee and hung low around his hips. A slice of greasy cheese pizza hung limp in his hand.

"See something ye like?" His body was long and lean, but muscular. He held one arm braced against the door jamb, barring me from entering.

I cleared my throat and forced my eyes up from his naval. "Are you going to make me stand out here all night, or are you going to invite me in?"

Ian bent his head toward mine. His lips grazed my ear, and the skin on my neck tingled as his breath tickled my jawline. "How do I know you're not a vampire?"

"I can't believe he told you." I pushed past Ian, his taunting laughter trailing after me.

"Don't be angry, lass! Vampires are sexy, aye?"

"Where's John?" I said, spinning to face him. I refused to let him tease me all night.

Ian sighed and pointed with his pizza across the room to a hinged door, its wood worn by generations of hands pushing it open. "In the kitchen. Through there."

John was plating slices of pizza at the counter but looked up when I entered. "I thought I heard your voice."

"I can't believe you told him."

"If you want the truth, I should have kept quiet about the whole thing. He thinks that because you dreamed about him, you must have a crush on him."

"And he's supposed to be the older, more mature one."

"Age is just a state of mind," Ian said, coming up behind me to pluck a cup of soda off the table. He raised the cup in salute and drained it in one go, slamming it down with a grimace.

"If age is just a state of mind," John said, "you haven't aged a day beyond adolescence."

"Lighten up, coz. Where's the fun in life if you're so serious all the time?" Ian lifted a condescending brow at John before leaving the room.

"How long did you say he's in town for?" I whispered as the door swung back and forth on its hinges.

"Until he gets bored and moves on," John replied.

Ian's shout came from the next room: "I'm going to start the movie without you two if you don't get in here in exactly the next one minute!"

Sharing a smile, John and I loaded our arms full of plates, cups, and napkins, and then we made our way into the living room to join Ian.

"The Lost Boys?" I said, my eyes landing on the DVD case resting on the coffee table. "Is that some spoof on Peter Pan, or something?"

"Or something," Ian said from the floor where he was sitting with his back propped against the couch. Thankfully, he had put on a shirt. He tilted his head to look up at me. "It's only one of the greatest films ever made within the vampire genre. Have ye never heard of it then?"

"A vampire movie," I said. "Ha ha. You've got quite the sense of humor, Ian."

I sat next to John on the couch, snuggling close so that the lengths of our thighs touched. I hated horror flicks—romantic comedies were more my speed—but I snatched the DVD case from the table and read the synopsis printed on the back. The only vampires I could stomach looked more like runway models than any of the actors on the cover.

"Get ready," Ian said. "You're in for a rare treat. We're talking first-rate acting and unmatched special effects."

"If you say so," I replied. "But if this gives me nightmares, I'm holding you personally responsible. I'll hunt you down with a wooden spike and a vial of holy water."

Ian bared his teeth. "Oh, aye? I'd like to see ye try. Ye're nothing but a wee mortal lass," he said, deliberately broadening his accent.

"You think you scare me?" I said, nudging the back of his head with the toe of my shoe.

"All right," John said. "Cool it and start the movie already. Let's see how vicious these bloodsuckers really are."

**********

I supposed at one time the movie had been terrifying, but makeup and special effects had evolved dramatically since the film had been made. I was only scared a little.

"See? No bat feet here." Ian lifted his foot and wiggled his bare toes to prove he had five perfectly formed phalanges. "And I don't hang from the rafters when I sleep."

"That's because you sleep in a coffin," I pointed out.

Ian's mouth gaped. "I sleep in a bed, same as you! I can show you if ye like." His brows bumped up and down suggestively.

"No thanks," I said with a laugh. Ian was charming and good-looking to the nth degree, a fact I was certain he knew and used regularly to his full advantage.

"Are you hitting on my date?" John said.

"Well someone has to, little coz. And you just sitting there, cold and limp as a dead mackerel."

Ian stood abruptly and vaulted over the couch in one swift movement so that he was standing behind me. He stroked a finger lightly down my cheek to where the pulse thumped in my neck. I stiffened in my seat, paralyzed under his touch.

"In fact, I think I'd like—"

"Ian," John said, interrupting whatever his cousin had been about to say.

"I think someone's in love," Ian crooned. "Johnny and Blake, sittin' in a tree, s-u-c-k ooph!"

The pillow John used to pummel Ian with burst at the seams. Bits of fluff spilled out, and for a moment there was total silence. I covered my mouth with my hand, trying hard to keep from laughing.

"Your parents are going to kill you if you destroy their home," I said, a giggle escaping anyway.

"I daresay Auntie and Uncle would be turning in their graves," Ian replied.

John lunged at Ian without warning, throwing his cousin off balance. There was a lot of rolling around on the floor and jabbing with fists and elbows, not to mention male grunting and more swearing than I'd heard in my entire life. I tucked my knees under myself on the couch to keep out of the way, rescuing John's full cup of soda from spilling.

Ian finally emerged from under John, hands raised. "Truce! Truce!" He collapsed into the chair, panting, and pushed his hair away from his forehead. "At least make yourself useful and bring me something to quench my thirst," he ordered John. "I'm parched, and you could stand to cool off a bit. I think a nice glass of wine will do."

John stared at Ian as he dabbed at the cut on his lip with the back of his hand. He was breathing heavily, too. He turned without another word, though, making his way to the kitchen.

"Wine, huh?" I said, inserting verbal quotes around the word "wine."

Ian turned a critical eye on me. "It's not what you're thinking, lass." His accented voice was muted, yet seductive.

"And what is it I am thinking?"

John returned then with a glass of what appeared to be nothing more than red wine. He handed the glass to Ian, who held it up to the light, turning it back and forth as if to inspect the purity of color.

"You're thinking this is not wine at all." He stilled me with the sudden ferocity of his gaze, transfixing me. "You're thinking this could be the blood of that young Indian girl, or maybe the fair-headed lad I met at the bar last night and went home with." He brought the glass to his nose and inhaled deeply, closing his eyes and smiling.

My pulse throbbed in my fingertips and I squeezed my hands into fists. "And if it's just wine?" I asked.

"And if it's just wine," he echoed.

"Then you'll not object to pouring me a glass."

The room grew silent as Ian sat back in his chair and stared at me, seemingly amused. He'd yet to take even one sip of the wine but continued to hold it in front of him.

At last, John cleared his throat. "I don't think that's such a good idea, Blake."

"Why? Because I'll supposedly become a vampire if I drink human blood?"

"No," John said slowly. "Because you drove yourself here and your parents would have my head if you arrived home hammered."

"Friends don't let friends drive drunk," Ian said in a severe, mocking tone. "Haven't you ever heard that one before?"

"One sip won't make me drunk." I needed to prove to myself that what was in that glass was not blood, though I couldn't believe I doubted it was wine.

John picked up my empty plastic cup and gave it a shake, rattling the ice cubes at the bottom. "How about some more soda instead?"

I shook my head and pointed a finger at Ian's glass of wine. "I want that. It's the only way to prove to me that it's not blood and that Ian's not a vampire."

Shrugging, John took the glass of wine from Ian's hand before he could say anything and passed it to me. "All right. If you insist. But I have to warn you, this is an old vintage. It's an acquired taste. I'm sure you'll find it repulsive."

I grasped the stem of the wine glass and peered into the bowl at the dark red liquid, the fumes shooting up my nose at once. John was right. The smell of the wine was overpowering, so unlike what my parents usually drank, and I repressed a gag.

Holding my breath against the odor, I brought the glass to my lips. But at the very last moment, my stomach lurched and I shoved the wine in John's direction. I covered my mouth with my hand and shot to my feet, making frantic gestures with my hand.

"That way," Ian said with a grin, pointing down the opposite hallway. I took off running with him calling from behind: "And don't forget to flush!"

I returned a few minutes later feeling physically better, though completely mortified. "I'm so sorry," I said, wrapping my arms around my waist. "I honestly don't understand why people like that stuff. It's disgusting."

"You mean wine?" Ian said, the corner of his mouth lifting.

"Yes," I said irritably. "I mean wine. I don't really think you're a vampire. I was only kidding."

"Good," he said. "Because if you ever discovered my secret, I'd have to kill you."

**********

"I can't believe you puked!" Olivia shrieked when we connected on Facetime later that night. "I would have been so humiliated."

"I didn't actually puke, but it was still awful," I said, wishing for the hundredth time that I could rewind the last few hours for a do-over. "I wanted to die, Libby. What a way to make an impression."

"Oh, you definitely made an impression. And all because you couldn't handle a little sip of alcohol. I guess we know who the designated driver will be in college," she said, which set her off on another round of giggles.

"Alcohol smells like a horse's anus."

Olivia's laughter grew. "How would you know what a horse's anus smells like?"

"Let's just say that what I lack in personal experience, I make up for in imagination."

"So then it really was wine and not blood," Olivia said, sounding genuinely disappointed. "No vampires are walking among the living?"

"I think it's safe to assume that whatever was in that cup was not blood."

"But you didn't actually drink any, so you can't be sure."

"Olivia," I said. "I wouldn't even know what blood is supposed to taste like. You know this is all just one big joke."

"Well, Gabe said he thinks vampires are totally real—"

"And if Gabe said it, it must be true," I interrupted.

". . . and that he's even seen one walking around downtown," she said, ignoring me. "You know the guy I'm talking about."

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do. We see him sometimes. He's the weirdo who wears the long trench coat and cowboy hat."

"Oh, him. Yeah, I know who you're talking about. Have you seen him up close, though? He's actually really . . . Wait," I said, stopping myself. "You told Gabe?"

There was a slight pause. "Well, yeah. He's my boyfriend."

"Great. Now he's going to tell Zach, and there's no telling who Zach will tell. If this gets out once school starts that I think John and his cousin are vampires, everyone's going to make fun of me. Thanks a lot, Libby."

"Chill out. We have an entire month of summer vacation left. Plenty of time for this to blow over. Besides, who knows if you and John will still be together once school starts?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. Just that John is obviously your rebound guy."

"I'm the one who broke up with Zach, remember?"

"So?"

"So . . . John isn't my rebound guy. I mean, yeah there are some things about Zach that I miss, but I'm having a lot of fun with John. I can see this going somewhere."

"Hmmm. Can you be more specific about what sort of fun you're having?" Olivia asked, a teasing note in her voice.

"Not that sort of fun," I said.

There was a sudden crash on Olivia's end and then the immediate sound of screaming kids. "Dammit," she muttered. "Gotta go. Mom and Dad are still out on their monthly save the marriage date. I'm supposed to be getting the little hellions down for the night, and it is way past their bedtime. I thought they'd pass out if I left them alone in front of the TV. No such luck."

She disconnected with no further explanation or goodbye, and I was left staring at the cell in my hand. I set it on my nightstand and perched on the edge of my bed. Now what?

I had come home from John's house to find my parents already tucked in bed. They were watching a movie in their room when I poked my head in to say goodnight, but now I was too keyed up to go to bed. I grabbed my robe and pajamas and plodded down the hall to the bathroom. A bubble bath was exactly what I needed.

Sinking into the Jacuzzi tub, I let the warm water and lavender-scented bubbles rise over me like a slow-rising flood until nothing but my nose was visible. I closed my eyes and let my mind wander, trying not to dwell on what a fool I'd made of myself in front of John and Ian, but I wasn't doing a very good job of it.

I replayed the entire evening in my head like the reel of a bad movie. We'd been having fun watching TV and eating pizza, but then I had to go and ruin everything by insisting on taking a sip of Ian's wine. And then when I'd finally had it in hand, I'd chickened out and nearly lost my dinner.

I cringed, imagining what John and Ian must think of me. They were probably sitting at home at that very moment laughing at how immature I was. All that vampire stuff . . . I wished I had never told John about my dream or let Olivia put ideas into my head.

Sitting cross-legged on my bed a little while later, combing the tangles from my hair, my cell rang. "You weren't asleep, were you?" John said when I answered.

"Nope," I said, trying to sound like I wasn't still horrified by what had happened earlier that night. "What's up?"

"I wanted to make sure you're okay."

I closed my eyes and stifled an embarrassed groan. "I'm okay. I'm just incredibly alcohol intolerant."

"You're young," he said.

"I'm only slightly younger than you," I pointed out.

"Anyway," he said, "I owe you an apology."

"Apology for what?"

"For not telling Ian to get lost. He can be a real jerk."

"Don't worry about it. I'm the one who got carried away with the whole vampire thing. If anyone should apologize, it's me for ruining everything."

"You didn't ruin anything," John said. "Once Ian leaves, we'll be able to spend more time together."

"Speaking of spending more time together, are you free tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow? No, I've got to work all day."

My spirits sank. "Well, what time will you be home? Maybe we could do something after."

"Probably not until late. I'm free the next night, though. We can do something then."

"Okay. Looking forward to it," I said.

Ending the call, I crawled under the covers and fell at once into a deep, and blessedly dreamless, sleep.

*****

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