He nodded and smiled. And I, the girl who shunned and mocked romance in all its forms—movies, books, real life—went weak for a hot guy I had a crush on. Whenever I’d really liked somebody in the past—which, not including Stephen, had been only twice before in my entire life—it hadn’t ended in true love. The two other boys I’d fallen for hadn’t liked me in return and I’d ended up ignored, brokenhearted and humiliated both times.
However, that hadn’t stopped me from liking Stephen. A lot.
Stephen didn’t wait for my reply. Instead, he walked away, weaving through the labyrinth of sweaty dancers.
Something wicked this way comes.
The line from Macbeth, our current read in English class, flitted through my head. The quote suited Stephen perfectly. He might be the boy next door, but to me he was also wicked. And dangerous.
I didn’t do dangerous. Not anymore. Even little dangerous things tended to lead to big trouble. Six months ago, I’d been busted for shoplifting—my dumb way of psychologically dealing with my parents’ divorce—although I wasn’t arrested for it, thank God. I’d learned my lesson in a very big way that sticking your hands in dangerous places would get them chopped off.
“Go,” Carly urged. “This is so awesome!”
She wasn’t much help. Carly would storm headfirst into danger if she thought it might mean that she’d have a good time. When she was a kid she’d stuck her hand in a beehive because she wanted to taste the honey. It hadn’t turned out so well, of course, but I had to admire her for … well, going for it, despite all the signs not to. She didn’t second-guess herself. She didn’t regret anything she tried—even the crazy stuff.
With a last look at Carly, I followed Stephen off the dance floor. I was insanely curious what he wanted to speak to me about. I mean, despite us living very close to each other, he didn’t even know me.
He led the way up a spiral staircase to the second-floor lounge, which was surrounded by glass walls with thin, swirling frosted patterns on the otherwise clear surface. Up here, away from the crowd and deejay and loudspeakers, I could actually hear myself think. The lounge had a couple of pool tables and red couches and chairs. Stephen leaned against one of the couches and studied me. He wore a black button-down shirt and dark jeans. His hair was slicked back off his handsome face. My stomach fluttered.
“So …” I began when he didn’t say anything. “Do you come here often?”
Oh, God. I was normally proud of my smooth comebacks, my witty one-liners, and that was what came out of my mouth? I wanted a do-over.
Stephen grinned, showing straight white teeth. “I’m here every single night, lately. Even weekdays.”
“Every night? Really?” I twisted my hair. “Cool.”
Cool? Really? I was not handling this well at all. My brain and my voice weren’t working in sync.
“Um, what are you doing in Trinity?” I asked. “I thought you were in university now.”
He shrugged a shoulder. “I’m taking a bit of a break, trying to decide what I really want to do with my life. Thought I’d come back here for a while.”
I just nodded and tried very hard not to say “cool” again.
“You come here every Friday, right, Samantha?”
A flush of pleasure went through me. I was totally okay with friends calling me Sam, but I liked hearing him say my full name.
“Usually.”
“You like it here?”
I looked around. There weren’t many people in the lounge tonight. It was the first time I’d even come up here, myself. A couple on the far couch glanced over at us every so often as if curious why Stephen Keyes was talking to me. The majority of kids were downstairs on the large dance floor and at the bar area, both visible through the glass wall that circled the lounge. I could even see the top of Carly’s blond head from where I stood.
“Yeah, it’s okay,” I said.
“Just okay?”
I shrugged and rubbed my dry lips together, turning to face him. My lip gloss from earlier was long gone. “Some nights are better than others.”
Stephen reached out a hand. “Come here.”
If he hadn’t made it sound like a charming invitation, I might have resisted. But I walked closer to him, until I was a few feet away. There was something strange in his gaze as he studied me. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but a chill slid down my spine.
I cleared my throat. “You said you wanted to talk to me about something?”
“So you’re the special one, are you?”
That was the last thing I expected him to say. “Special?”
“That’s what she said. That’s why she wants me to do this. I normally wouldn’t, since you’re so young.”
She? She who? I frowned at him. “I’m seventeen.”
“Exactly. That’s young.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Trust me, Samantha. It is.”
He slid his arm around my waist so that his hand rested at the small of my back, and he drew me closer to him. His touch sank into me, cool against my hot skin.
It was suddenly difficult for me to breathe. “Who said I’m special?”
He didn’t answer. When I looked up at him I realized he was leaning closer to me, closer and closer, and then his lips brushed against mine. I gasped and he pulled back a little.
“Is this okay?” he asked. “May I kiss you?”
My cheeks warmed. “I … um …”
He spoke softly into my ear. “I should warn you, it’s a very dangerous kiss. It’ll change your life forever, so you have to want it.”
If I wasn’t feeling so flustered, I might have thought he was being cocky. I mean, please. A kiss that could change my life forever?
But I kind of believed him. And after months of trying to be a perfect angel after the shoplifting incident, I wanted to push the edges of my comfort zone just a little bit.
And this was special—a boy I liked who might like me in return. I couldn’t just walk away.
This time I kissed him, tangling my fingers into his black hair and pulling his mouth toward mine as if I couldn’t resist. I hadn’t kissed many boys before, so I hoped I was doing it right. It felt right. In fact, it felt really right. My lips parted as the kiss deepened. His fingers dug into my waist. This felt like something out of a movie—one of the romantic ones I never watched because they made me feel uncomfortable. I didn’t want to try to relate to all of those emotions, those declarations of love and eternal devotion. I mean, spare me the drama.
“You’re delicious,” Stephen whispered before he kissed me again and my heart felt like it was pounding right out of my chest.
And then it got weird.
The cool sensation from his touch turned icy and spread to the kiss, and I shivered. That iciness slid down my throat to my stomach and branched out to my arms and legs, chilling my entire body. Goose bumps formed on my arms. Dizziness swirled through me. It was jarring, but I couldn’t exactly say it felt bad. It was exciting, a rush, like being on a roller coaster in the middle of winter.
I lost track of time. Nothing existed for me except Stephen. His lips never left mine—and I never wanted them to. Minutes, hours, I didn’t know how long it was that he kissed me. All I knew was that I couldn’t stop kissing him even if I wanted to.
But