I reluctantly walked over and sat down next to her, trying to convince myself that it was always coming, and that it might as well be over sooner.

"Tell me everything!" Before I could sit down, she commanded.

"What do you want to know?" I don't want to answer her head-on.

"What happened last night?"

"He took me to dinner, and then he drove me home."

She glared at me, suspicion written across her face. "How did you get home so quickly?"

"He drove like a madman. That's scary. "I hope he hears that.

"It was like a date—did you tell him to meet you there?"

I didn't expect that at all. "No—I was startled when I saw him."

She pursed her lips, looking a little disappointed.

"But he's going to pick you up from school today?" She tentatively asked.

"Yes - that's a surprise, too. He noticed that I didn't wear a jacket last night. I explained.

"So will you go out together again?"

"He offered to take me to Seattle because he thought it was my truck, and it couldn't make it there — did that?"

"Count." She nodded.

"Well, that's, yes."

"Wow-whoa-oh." She exaggeratedly dragged the word into three syllables. "Roger? Wright! ”

"I know." I agree. "Wow" is simply not enough to sum it up.

"Wait!" She quickly reached out her hand, palm facing me, as if she were intercepting traffic. "Did he kiss you?"

"Nope." I said vaguely. "It's not like that."

She looked disappointed. I'm sure so am I.

"What do you think Saturday ......?" She raised an eyebrow.

"I'm rather skeptical." It's hard to hide the displeasure in my voice.

"What did you all say?" She whispered, desperate for more details. Classes had already started, but Mr. Liwa didn't pay much attention to the two of us, and we weren't the only ones talking in the classroom.

"I don't know, Mary. A lot of things were said. I whispered to her. We discussed the essay for the English class a little bit. "Very, very little. I think he mentioned this before.

"Please, Imia," she pleaded. "Tell me more details."

"Hmm...... All right. One comes to mind. You should have seen how the hostess was flirting with him - it was too much. But he didn't notice her at all. "Let him understand this for himself.

"That's a good sign." She nodded. "Is she pretty?"

"Very pretty—about nineteen or twenty."

"It's better. He must like you very much. ”

"That's what I thought, too. But it's hard to say. He was always vague. ”

"I don't know how you got the courage to be alone with him." She gasped.

"Why?" I was shocked, but she misunderstood my reaction.

"He's too ...... Scary. I don't know how to describe him. She grimaced, probably remembering this morning or last night, when he cast that overwhelming magic look at her.

"When I'm around him, it's really hard for me to keep myself rational." I confessed.

"Oh yes. He was incredibly handsome. Mary shrugged as if it was some kind of forgivable shortcoming. This, in her dictionary, may be.

"He's more than that."

"Really? For example? ”

I wish I could put that out the talk. The desire was almost as strong as I had hoped that he was just joking about eavesdropping.

"I can't explain exactly...... But he's even more incredible than it seems. "A vampire who wants to be a good guy - he runs around trying to save people's lives so he doesn't be a monster...... I looked at the front of the classroom.

"Is this possible?" She giggled.

I ignored her and tried to pretend to be listening intently.

"So, do you like him?" She wasn't going to give up.

"Yes." I said briefly.

"I mean, you really like him?" She urged.

"Yes." I sighed, my cheeks red. I hope she didn't put that detail into her mind.

She was fed up with this monosyllabic answer. "How much do you like him?"

"I like it very much." I whispered to her. "More than he liked me. But I don't know what to do. I sighed, shyness coming over my face in waves.

Then, thankfully, Mr. Liwa called Mary up and asked her to answer a question.

She didn't get a chance to continue the conversation throughout the class, and when the bell rang, I took action to circumvent it.

"During English class, Jack asked me if you mentioned Monday night." I told her.

"You must be kidding! What do you say? She gasped, completely diverting the subject.

"I'm telling you're having a good time -- he looks happy."

"Tell me exactly what he said, and your exact answer!"

We spent all of our walking time dissecting sentence structures, and most of our Spanish lessons were spent describing Jack's facial expressions during that minute. I wouldn't have been able to afford to spend so much time talking about it all in a nutshell, but I didn't want to let the conversation come back to me.

Then, the bell rang to remind us that it was time for lunch. When I jumped up from my seat and shoved the book into my bag, my expression betrayed Mary.

"You're not going to sit with us today, are you?" She guessed.

"I don't think so." I can't say for sure that he might disappear again.

But just outside our Spanish classroom, Roger was waiting for me against the wall - who looked more like a Greek god than anyone else - was waiting for me. Mary only glanced at it, rolled her eyes, and then flashed quickly.

"I'll see you later, Imia." Her words were full of hints. Maybe I'll have to turn off the phone.

"Hello." His voice was full of joy and chagrin at the same time. Obviously, he must have eavesdropped.

"Hey."

I couldn't think of anything else to say, and he didn't speak—I guess, to make his time a little more precious—so we walked silently all the way to the cafeteria. Walking with Roger through the crowds at lunchtime was much like the first day I was here, everyone was staring.

He led the way towards the long line, still not saying anything, but every few seconds his gaze fell on my face with an uncertain look in it. Annoyance seemed to overwhelm happiness and became the main expression on his face. I played with the zipper on my jacket with trepidation.

He walked over to the counter and took a plate full of food.

"What are you doing?" I resisted. "You shouldn't give it all to me, do you?"

He shook his head and stepped forward to pay.

"Half of it's mine, of course."

I raised a frown.

He led the way to the same place we had sat on last time. As we sat down face-to-face, a group of seniors stared at us in amazement at the other end of the long table. Roger didn't seem to notice at all.

"Whatever you want, take it." He said, pushing the plate of food towards me.

"I'm curious." As I spoke, I picked up an apple and let it spin in my hand. "What would you do if someone asked you if you dared to eat food?"

"You're always curious." He grimaced and shook his head. He looked at me, caught my gaze, then picked up a slice of pizza from his plate, deliberately took a large bite, chewed it a few times quickly, and swallowed it. I watched all of this and couldn't help but widen my eyes.

"If someone asks you if you dare to eat dirt, you'll eat it too, right?" He asked humbly.

I wrinkled my nose. "I ate it once...... At the time of a 'Truth or Dare'. I confessed. It doesn't taste that bad. ”

He laughed, "I guess I'm not going to be surprised." "There was something behind me that caught his attention.

"Mary is analyzing my every move, and she'll break them down for you later." He pushed the rest of the pizza to me. The mention of Mary seemed to be a hint that his earlier chagrin had returned to his face.

I put down the apple, took a bite of the pizza, and looked away, wondering how he was going to speak.

"So, that hostess is beautiful, isn't she?" He asked casually.

"You really didn't notice?"

"Nope. I didn't pay any attention to her. I have so much on my head to think about. ”

"Poor girl." Now I can show my tolerance.

"Something you said to Mary...... Well, it bothers me. He refused to be diverted. His voice was hoarse, and his uncalm eyes stared at me from under his eyelashes.

"I'm not surprised that you'll hear something you don't like. You know how they talk about eavesdroppers. I reminded him.

"I told you upfront that I would listen."

"And I told you upfront that you wouldn't want to know everything I was thinking."

"You mentioned it." He agreed, but his voice was still hoarse. "But that's not the right thing to say. I do want to know what you're thinking - every detail. I just hope ...... You shouldn't think of something like that. ”

I frowned. "It's a big difference, really."

"But that's not the point I'm going to talk about right now."

"So, what's the point?" Now we're all leaning over the table towards each other. He folded his big snow-white hands under his jaw. I leaned forward and placed my right hand under my neck in a cup. I had to remind myself that we were in a packed lunchroom, and perhaps many pairs of curious eyes were watching us. It's all too easy for us to get caught up in the private world of the two of us, and it's a little illusion that comes with the atmosphere.

"Do you really believe that you like me more than I like you?" He whispered, and as he spoke, he leaned closer to me, his black-gold eyes penetrating.

I struggled to remember how to breathe. I had to look away until I started breathing again.

"Here you go again." I grumbled under my breath.

His eyes widened with surprise. "What?"

"Makes me dizzy." I confess. When I looked at him again, I tried to concentrate myself.

"Oh." He frowned.

"It's not your fault." I sighed. "You can't control this."

"Are you going to answer my question?"

I bowed my head. "Yes."

"Yes, you were about to answer, or yes, you really think so?" He became irritable again.

"Yes, I do." I continued to look down at the tabletop, my gaze tracing the pattern of artificial wood grain spray-painted on the plywood. The silence continued. This time I stubbornly refused to be the first to break the silence, struggling with the temptation to peek at his expression.

Eventually, he spoke, his voice like velvet: "You're wrong. ”

I looked up and saw his gentle eyes.

"You wouldn't know that." I whispered, disagreeing with him. I shook my head in disbelief, though my heart throbbed at his words, and I wanted to believe him so much.

"What makes you think that?" His clear, citrine-like eyes were sharp—a futile attempt, I think, to dig the truth straight out of my heart.

I looked back at him, struggling not to notice his face, thinking carefully for a proper explanation. As I searched my stomach for the right words, I could tell that he was starting to get impatient. Frustrated by my silence, he began to sink his face. I removed my hand from under my neck and held up a finger to him.

"Let me think about it." I persisted. His face immediately brightened, and he was satisfied, as I was planning to answer his question. I put my hand on the table, stretched out my left hand, and palmed it against each other. I looked at my hands, stretching and bending my fingers. Eventually, I spoke—

- "I see! ”