When You Come Back to Me (Lost Boys 2)

Prior to Alaska and the stint at the sanitarium, I’d only attended—and been kicked out of—stuffy prep schools. Regular high school was all so hopelessly, depressingly normal. A good percentage of the kids were probably going through some heavy shit, but I had nothing in common with any of them. I stuck out like an elegantly dressed sore thumb.

Rolling up in a chauffeured black Cadillac had begun the rumor mill churning. By the time morning classes were over, whispers followed me down the halls. Girls gawked at me with thinly veiled interest. Others stared at my wardrobe choices. The word “vampire” was tossed around more than once.

But I made it through most of the day without seeing a single person of the masculine persuasion who seemed even remotely interesting.

Until lunch.

The bell rang and I followed the crowd to the cafeteria. Some students opted to sit inside. Others sat in groups on the grass or at outdoor tables. I debated my options while inspecting the sack lunch Beatriz had prepared for me: a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, corn chips, sliced apple, and a small carton of milk.

Is she trying to kill me?

No way in hell could I eat that in public without crying in my Fritos. I tucked the lunch back into my sleek leather backpack and leaned against a cement pole to survey my fellow students.

Besides, vampires don’t eat. We drink.

I took a sip from my flask and slipped it back into my pocket just as two girls approached. One was all Latina hotness with lustrous black hair flowing out of a high, tight ponytail. Her dark eyes drank me brazenly. The other girl was a raven-haired beauty with dark blue eyes and porcelain skin. She lacked the innate boldness of the first girl, but her eye-contact was on point.

I reached for my packet of cloves as the first girl’s gaze raked me up and down with a predatory gleam. Her heteronormative assumptions that I was A) straight and B) automatically attracted to her, were amusing.

“I’m Evelyn,” she said. “This is Violet. We thought we’d come over and say hi, since you’re new and all.”

“Am I? It’s only noon, and it feels like I’ve been here for ages,” I said and lit a cigarette with my gold Zippo.

“This is California, not Paris,” Evelyn said, impressed with my blatant disregard for universally acknowledged health statutes. “There’s no smoking allowed at school.”

“I’m sure there isn’t,” I said and took another drag.

She pressed on with a flirty smile. “There’s a spot under the bleachers on the north end of the football field. Good place to smoke or do other things you don’t want anyone to see. Care for a tour?”

Not on your life, honey.

“As enticing as that sounds, I’ll pass. Raincheck, Princess?”

I gave her a grin and a wink to take the sting out. To her credit, she didn’t throw in the towel.

“Definitely,” she said. “There’s a party Saturday night at Chance Blaylock’s house. A back-to-school thing. Should be pretty epic.”

I glanced at the shrinking violet who hadn’t said a word. “What do you think, Violet?”

She crossed her arms. “I think

smoking is bad for your health and those around you.”

“So it is,” I said. Her honesty was surprising. As was the fact she clearly wasn’t interested in me.

Evelyn elbowed her friend in the ribs. “Don’t mind her. Violet is going to be a doctor, so she’s anal about stuff like that.”

I shot Violet a wink. “So am I.”

My terrible joke sailed over their heads. Evelyn smiled harder.

“Anyway, if you want to come to the party, give me your number and I’ll text you the address.”

“Oh, I think I can find my way.”

“Cool. But if you change your mind about a tour, I’m around.”

“Yes, you get around,” said a lanky red-haired guy in over-sized boardshorts carrying a skateboard.