Claire. Wake up.” She blinked and realized that her head was on Shane’s shoulder, and Michael was nowhere to be seen. Her first thought was, Oh my God, am I drooling? Her second was that she hadn’t realized she was so close to him, snuggled in. Her third was that although Michael’s part of the couch was empty, Shane hadn’t moved away. And he was watching her with warm, friendly eyes. Oh. Oh, wow, that was nice.
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Okay, this was kissing. Serious kissing. Not just a kiss before moving out, not a good-bye, this was Hello, sexy, and wow, she’d never even suspected that it could feel this way.
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Shane looked…pale. Pale and shaken and—how predictable was this?—pissed.
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But that quickly faded, and he frowned. "You're bleeding," he said. "What happened?"
Claire sighed and held up her wrist to show him the bandage. "Man, you would be so embarrassed if I said it was something else." Michael looked blank. "I'm a girl, Michael, it could have been all natural, you know. Tampons?
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Scoot over, man. I don't like you that much."
"Dick. That's not what you said last night."
"Bite me.
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Who are you calling?" (claire)
Pizza hut" (shane)
Loser" (claire)
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What’s your name?' she asked, and surprised herself. But for some reason, she wanted to know.
Dean’s brother—he hadn’t been just some nameless Bad Guy Number Four. This vampire wasn’t, either. He had a name, a history, maybe even people who cared what happened to him.
'My name is none of your business,' he said, and continued to stare out the window, even though there was nothing but blurry brick out there.
'Can I call you None for short?
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Not nearly enough. Not recently, anyway.” And she was sad about that.
“I know,” he said, and kissed the back of her hand. “We’ll fix it. Get some sleep.”
“Night,” she said, and watched him walk toward the door. “Hey. How’d you get in?”
He wiggled his fingers at her in a spooky oogie-boogie pantomime. “I’m a vampire. I have secret powers ,” he said with a full-on fake Transylvanian accent, which he dropped to say, “Actually, your mom let me in.”
“Seriously? My mom? Let you in my room? In the middle of the night?”
He shrugged. “Moms like me.”
He gave her a full-on Hollywood grin, and slipped out the door.
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You're kidding. I thought all geniuses read Latin. Isn't that the international language for smart people?"-Shane (Glass Houses)
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