Vampire Kisses (Vampire Kisses 1)

"I'm not a stranger, babe. Aren't you too old to be trick-or- treating?"

"Aren't you too old to be toilet-papering the town?"

Trevor got out of the car and came over to me. He looked particularly sexy. Of course, I find all vampires sexy, even fake ones.

"What are you supposed to be?" he asked. "I'm dressed up as a freak, can't you tell?"

He was trying to be cool but was stepping on himself. I was the only girl that had said no to him. The only girl in town he could never have. I had always been a mystery because of the way I dressed and behaved, and now I was standing before him dressed as his perfect dream girl.

"So you're visiting Amityville by yourself?" He stared up at the Mansion. "You're a wicked chick, aren't you?" He glanced down, sending chills through me--he was gorgeous in his Dracula cape.

I said nothing.

"I bet you've never kissed a vampire before," he said, his plastic teeth shining in the moonlight.

"Well, when you see one, let me know," I said, and started to walk away.

He grabbed my arm.

"Give it a rest, Trevor!"

He pulled me in closer. "Well, I've never kissed a tennis player," he joked.

I laughed, it was such a corny line. He kissed me full on the mouth, his plastic teeth getting in the way. And I let him. Maybe I was still dizzy from spinning on the lawn.

He finally came up for air.

"Well, now you have!" I said, pulling away. "I think Farmer Matt is waiting for you!"

"I didn't get any candy!" he said, fingering my pumpkin basket. He pulled out a Snickers bar.

"Hey, that's my favorite! Take a peanut-butter twist." He gobbled up the Snickers with his vampire teeth, which came loose and fell on the ground, dripping with chocolate and caramel. I quickly reached for them, but he grabbed my arm, spilling my candy everywhere.

"Look what you've done!" I shouted.

He grabbed handfuls of candy and stuffed them into his jeans. I watched as my remaining treats were strewn across the lawn. The only candy I could salvage were some boring Smarties and a smashed Mars Bar.

"Still want to be an item?" he asked, his pockets stuffed full with my night's work as he pulled me close. "Still want to be my girlfriend?"

Suddenly he let me go and started toward the Mansion. "Now I'll get some real candy."

I grabbed his arm this time. Who knew what Trevor would do if he reached the door?

"Miss me already?" he asked, startled that I hadn't run away.

"They're out of candy."

"Well, I'll just see about that!"

"Their lights are off. They went to sleep."

"This'll wake them up." He pulled out a can of spray paint from underneath his cape. "They definitely need someone who knows how to decorate!"

He walked on toward the Mansion. I ran after him.

"No, Trevor. Don't!"

He pushed past me. He was going to vandalize the one thing in this town that was truly beautiful. "No!" I cried.

He popped the lid and shook the can.

I tried to pull his arm away, but he threw me down.

"Let's see...how about 'Welcome to the neighborhood!'?"

"Don't, Trevor, don't!"

"Or 'Vampires love company!' I'll sign your name."

Not only was he going to deface their property, he was going to frame me for it. He shook the can once more. And began to spray the Mansion.

I rushed to my feet and pulled back my tennis racket. I used to play with my father, and no game was more important to win than this one. I locked my eyes on the aluminum paint-filled cylinder as if it were a ball, and smacked it as hard as I could. The can spun off into the distance, and, like my usual game, I lost my grip and the racket went flying after it. Trevor let out a yell so loud I thought the whole world would hear. I guess I had hit more than the can.

Suddenly the front door light came on, and I heard the jingle of locks being unlatched.

"We gotta get out of here!" I yelled to Trevor, who was crouching down, holding his wounded hand.

I was ready to make my escape when I felt something I had never felt before: a presence. I turned around and let out a soundless gasp, because fear had taken my breath away. I stood frozen.

There he was. Not Creepy Man. Not Mr. or Mrs. Mansion Family. But Gothic Guy, Gothic Mate, Gothic Prince. He stood before me, like a knight of night!

His long black hair lay heavy on his shoulders. His eyes were dark, deep, lovely, lonely, adoringly intelligent, dreamy. A gateway into his dark soul. He, too, stood motionless, breathing me in. His face was pale like mine and his tight black T-shirt was tucked into his black jeans, which were tucked into monster-chic punk-rock combat boots.

Normally fear is something I feel only when I know my mom's hosting a Mary Kay party and wants to use me as a model. But we were on private property, and my curiosity to meet this strange creature was overwhelmed by my terror of being caught.

The tennis shoes really were a good choice tonight. I could hear Trevor yelling at me as he followed me in flight, "You monster! You broke my hand!"

I raced through the open gate and climbed into the waiting Camaro.

"Drive me home!" I screamed. "Now!"

Matt was startled by his unexpected passenger. He just stared at me, in silent denial.

"Drive me now! Or I'll tell the police you were involved!"

"The police?" he blurted out. "What's Trevor got us into now?"

I could see the angry Count Trevor running down the driveway, his cape flowing in the wind. He was almost at the gate. Gothic Guy hadn't moved but continued to stare straight at me.

"Drive! Just drive the freakin' car!" I screamed at the top of my lungs.

The motor started and we peeled away until the Mansion and its unusual occupants were out of view. I turned around and looked out the back window at a shouting Dracula Trevor chasing after us.

"Happy Halloween," I said to Matt as I let out a sigh of relief.

Chapter 8 Looking for Trouble

I was making my way to history class when I spotted Trevor walking ahead of me. I noticed something unusual about his indoor ensemble-- he was wearing a golf glove on his right hand.

"Making a fashion statement?" I teased, catching up to him. "I guess it's a good thing you don't play soccer with your hands!"

He ignored my comments and continued to walk to class.

"Guess you'll have to miss a few sessions of graffiti club," I joked. "Since your trigger finger is out of commission."

He stopped and stared at me coldly. But he thought better of speaking and walked on.