Somehow, we slipped into a new routine, until gradually Greg became a regular part of my life. I saw him five out of seven days of the week, sometimes six when he took me out for a quick dinner after the Friday-night home football games. We wrote goofy notes to each other a couple times a week just for fun, and sometimes he called me on the weekends so we could talk without an audience of friends.
He was easy to talk to, as well, both on the phone and on our dates. By the time he finally kissed me on the lips, he knew almost everything about me, and I was more than ready for my first kiss. It was nice, no tongues or slobber involved, and I kind of liked the gentle press of his lips over mine and the way his arms cradled me as if I were breakable.
By our three-month anniversary, I was surprised to find my life mostly calm and, if not perfect, at least reasonably happy for the first time in too long to remember. Now that I'd given up trying to please my father, I wasn't so stressed-out all the time. And I loved being on the Charmers team, even if just as a manager. The team made me feel needed, an important part of something special. I had my first boyfriend, whom everyone seemed to like, including my friends. And his ex-girlfriends. And every weekend was filled with stuff to do and people to see. If not for history class with four of the worst descendants every other day, plus the fact that I still didn't dare look anyone in the eyes, I could almost forget that I wasn't quite normal.
At least I could pretend that I was.
But I should have known the happiness wouldn't last forever.
At the beginning of September, Greg was my date for the homecoming dance after the game. The homecoming dance was a fundraiser jointly held by the Charmers and the cheerleaders, our team directors' annual futile attempt at forcing the two squads to bond. Greg's mother had made me a custom mum that had to weigh at least twenty pounds, and I couldn't stop grinning with pride at how good my boyfriend looked in his matching mini mum attached to a garter around his left bicep. Even if I didn't get to actually dance with him much because I was too busy working the concession stand with other Charmers most of the night.
When I did get a break, dancing with Greg proved to be...interesting. At five-eleven, he wasn't too much taller than my own height of five-five. This would have been great for soul-deep eye gazing. Except obviously I couldn't do that. So I had to be careful while dancing with him. Every time we'd danced together that evening, I'd nearly slipped and looked directly into his eyes instead of at his nose.
By the final slow dance of the night, I was more than a little frustrated. That's when the doubt started to creep in. And the questions.
It had been five months since I'd made direct eye contact with any male. The weird incident with the three boys in freshman algebra seemed like a dream now, or a nightmare faintly remembered. What if I was remembering it as much worse than the situation actually had been? After five months, anyone's memory could blow something small out of proportion.
Not to mention, those algebra boys had been virtual strangers. I knew Greg. The entire time we'd been dating, he'd never been anything but sweet. He was nice to others, too, holding doors for strangers even when he thought I wasn't around or looking. He was a preacher's kid, the oldest of five, and regularly babysat his younger siblings so his parents could go out on dates or hold religious events. He even cleaned up other people's trash on the sidewalk outside the movie theater sometimes. Greg was a total Boy Scout through and through. I'd never known a nicer guy.
And after five long months, I was sick and tired of having to avoid eye contact with people. Especially Greg, who knew so much about me, yet I still couldn't seem to really connect with him. Compared to Greg, I felt closer to Tristan, whom I still hadn't had a conversation with in years outside of that one dream. And I knew why. It was because of my stupid eyes. I'd made eye contact with Tristan lots of times before I'd gotten sick last year. I couldn't remember ever meeting Greg's. I wanted to be truly normal again. Surely it was safe to stop staring at people's noses and try making eye contact with Greg to start with. Then if nothing bad happened...who knew? Maybe it would be proof that I was taking after the Clann side of the family instead.
Better to be a witch than a vampire.
My gaze inched up to Greg's mouth. Then his nose. Could I really do this? My hands shook, so I gripped the folds of his shirt at the small of his back.
And then I looked at him. Really looked at him, making direct eye contact with soft brown eyes I'd grown to care about but only dared to sneak indirect peeks at till now. I felt the zing from the connection our gazes made, and held my breath.
Greg stumbled and stopped dancing. But he didn't let go of me.
"What?" I whispered. Should I look away now? No, I'd wait a few seconds longer. It was so nice, maybe too nice, to make eye contact with someone again. And yet incredibly intimate, as if I were baring my soul to him. As if he'd be able to see everything I felt. And didn't feel.
"You've never looked at me like this before. Not since we first met," he murmured, his voice husky. His eyebrows drew together into a frown.
"I can stop if you like."
He gave a slow shake of his head, never breaking our stare. His arms held me tighter. "No, don't. I like it. You should do it more often."
He wasn't freaked out. Relief escaped me in a shaky laugh. "Okay."
"Wow, you're beautiful. I feel like the luckiest guy here."
"And you're sweet."
He sighed without smiling, a rarity for him. "I'd rather you said something else."
"Such as?" I teased.
"Oh, like whether you think I'm good-looking or insanely hot. Things like that." And still he didn't smile.
"Okay. You're the hottest guy here. Better?"
"Much. Savannah, have I told you lately that I love you?"
I grinned. "Isn't that a song from the nineties or something?" I expected him to laugh. He was rarely serious. At the moment, he was working on a record for the longest I'd seen him go without smiling. On second thought, he'd already broken that record.
He frowned at me. "I'm being serious."
"Uh, yeah. And it's a little strange for you."
"So you don't like me unless I'm smiling and joking around all the time?"
"Umm...I like you to be yourself, remember?"