small of his back. But for now the back of his hands would have to do. They were so lost in each other’s smiles and each other’s touch that they didn’t notice Ciaran standing in the bathroom doorway, watching them.
“I don’t mean to spoil the moment, but I have to get to bed?”
“So early, mate?” Ronan asked. “It’s not even ten.”
“Early lab in the morning,” Ciaran replied.
“You and those labs, Ciaran,” Ronan grumbled. “You shouldn’t spend so much time looking through that microscope of yours. There’s a whole wide world out there.”
Thank you, Ronan, I had no idea I was missing out on anything, but it’s good to know I am. When Ciaran spoke out loud, he tried to add a bit less sarcasm to his words. “I’ll try to remember that.”
“I don’t know how you do it, Ciaran,” Michael said. “I have one biology lab and I barely know what I’m doing. I just don’t have the brain for it.”
Ciaran softened. He really did like Michael and wished they could be better friends. It’s just that with Ronan in the picture, he wasn’t sure that was possible. “Well, you know, everyone has their strong suit. You boys seem to be able to lose yourself in literature; for me, I’d prefer a test tube and a specimen of blood.” Michael didn’t see both Ronan’s and Ciaran’s face turn white. “Or, you know, bacteria,” Ciaran added quickly.
“I should go,” Ronan declared abruptly, jumping off the bed. Michael followed, a bit more slowly.
“I’ll walk you downstairs.”
Before Ciaran rolled over in bed, Ronan saw his face. He wasn’t mad exactly. Put out was more like it. This was his home, and his space was being invaded. Oh, that’s not it, Ronan; you know it’s because he’s alone. He looks at you and sees you with Michael while he’s spending another night by himself and he’s envious, plain and simple. Don’t flaunt it in his face. Maybe what you could do is try to be a better brother. “No, that’s okay,” Ronan said. “I know my way out.”
The right words didn’t come to Michael’s brain quickly enough, so he heard himself utter something totally trite. “Okay, sure. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
And yet another night has passed without me knowing what it feels like to kiss him. But at least it wasn’t a night without hope.
Standing on the other side of the doorway, the door partially closed, Ronan couldn’t see Ciaran and so he could speak more freely. Even still he whispered, “I’m glad we cleared the air, Michael.” Michael smiled. “Me too.” And then Michael told every muscle in his body to relax because no matter how badly he wanted to, he was not going to pounce on Ronan in the hallway with Ciaran as witness. Later on, he would dream about doing that minus Ciaran’s presence, but for now he simply said, “Good night.”
“Good night.” Ronan then pushed the door open. “Good night, Ciaran. Um, maybe we can meet at St. Joshua’s during break tomorrow and hang out.”
Don’t be cynical, Ciaran. He’s not just asking to look good in front of Michael; he wants to spend time with you. “Okay, I’ll see you there.”
One final smile and then he was gone. Ciaran almost laughed out loud at the irony. This time he was the one satisfied with the evening’s outcome and Michael was left feeling disappointed.
But there was another boy who was feeling even more satisfied than Ciaran because his evening didn’t end with just one kiss, but with several. Penry had just ended his first make-out session.
“For someone who claims not to have any experience in boy-meets-girl relationships, you’re a pretty good kisser,” Imogene declared.
A bit more self-conscious now that the kissing had stopped and he had to do something else with his mouth, such as talk, Penry paused a moment before speaking. “Well, I think it’s because I have such a great partner.”
“Are you trying to say that I must be the one with experience?”
Does she really mean that? Penry was confused. She always says these things with such a straight face, I never know if she’s joking or not, and I have a feeling that I should be able to figure this kind of stuff out. She’s just a girl after all. Ah, maybe Pop is right; girls just aren’t supposed to be figured out. He’s always saying that Mum’s a mystery to him. “No, Ims, I like kissing you.”
Imogene’s smile told Penry that she was just teasing. It also told him that she liked to tease him and that for as long as they would date, she would continue to tease him. All of which made him smile right back at her. And shake his head because he just never thought he, Penry Poltke, self-described nerd, bookworm, and all-around geek, would actually have a girlfriend as sassy as Imogene Minx. Life held so many surprises.
“And I like kissing you too, my little PP,” she said.
Oh, not again! “You really have to stop calling me that,” Penry insisted.
Imogene was shocked. “Why?! You’re my little PP.”
His father was right; girls were an absolute mystery. Maybe Ronan and the others were the smart ones; boys were so much easier to figure out. “Do you have any idea what that sounds like? ’My little PP’?”
What was he getting so upset about? Imogene thought. Don’t boys like it when their girlfriends make up cute little nicknames? “It means you’re my boyfriend and I’m your girlfriend and I get to call you something special, but more unique than honey or baby.”
How was he going to make her understand without being vulgar? “A nickname is sensational, Ims, but not one that reminds people of, you know …” And then even though they were alone and outside, he added in a whisper, “Doing number one.”
Now Imogene was thoroughly confused. “Number one?” Then suddenly the gender gap was mended and she understood. “You mean like going to the bathroom? Tinkling!”
“Yes!”
Her mother was right; boys were an absolute mystery and practically a different species. “That is thoroughly disgusting and you should get your head out of the gutter,” Imogene demanded. “Or at least out of the toilet.” But she couldn’t stay mad for more than a second because once she thought about it, she realized Penry was right. “My little PP” was not a really great nickname. So much for trying to be original. “What if I called you Pens?” she suggested. “Kind of like how you call me Ims.”
Penry smiled at his girlfriend and was even brave enough to give her one more unexpected kiss. “I like the sound of that.” But that would be the last kiss of the night they would share because if Imogene didn’t get back to practice in thirty seconds, she was going to be screamed at by Sister Christopher, the music teacher, in front of the entire choir. And since Sister Christopher had an operatic soprano voice, when she screamed, it was like a banshee’s screech. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” Penry told her just as the door to the music room closed shut behind her. But before the door closed, there was another gust of wind and Imogene’s scent was carried off into the night air until it reached Nakano. When he caught a whiff of the young girl, the hunger that he thought was fulfilled returned with a vengeance.
He couldn’t identify what girl was giving off such a tantalizing scent; he just knew it was the smell of fresh, virgin blood. Blood that he had to taste. He told himself he would just take a small swallow, maybe two, nothing more; he couldn’t let this girl, whoever she was, get away.
He began to sprint toward this new aroma just as Michael told himself that he couldn’t let Ronan get away, not again. Mumbling an excuse to a half-asleep Ciaran, lying that he must have dropped something on the front steps, Michael left the dorm and walked into the night. Without really thinking, he started jogging in the direction of St. Florian’s, or where he thought St. Florian’s was. He didn’t know that part of the campus very well and soon he realized that he was walking in the direction of St. Sebastian’s near The Forest of No Return.
Breathing hard thanks to the unexpected chill in the air, Michael stopped to catch his breath and try to figure out where Ronan’s dorm was in relation to the gym. First he thought it was south, but after a few steps, he corrected himself and realized it was west. Or was it?
“How can I possibly be lost?” Michael asked himself.
The question Nakano asked himself was “How can I possibly be so lucky?”
About twenty yards away, right at the ridge of The Forest, Nakano saw Michael standing bent over, his hands on his knees, a bit winded from running in the cold night. He could hear his heart pounding, the smell of his blood puncturing the air. It wasn’t as sweet as the unidentified girl’s, but Nakano was drawn to it. Michael’s blood was even more alluring. All he had to do was walk up to him—he wouldn’t even have to run, just say hello—and ask him what he was doing out so late. Start a casual conversation and then when Michael least expected it, he would bare his fangs and stab his flesh and let his warmth cascade down his throat, the warmth that Ronan had
