And then he kisses me. Yes, the beautiful vampire, the dark general, the one who never gets close to anyone, leans in and presses his lips against mine. This kiss is soft. Gentle. Light. Like a butterfly’s wing whisking my lips.

O-kay. Kind of freaky. I’m now standing in an actual tomb, in pitch darkness, with only a vampire to keep me company. Last week if you’d sworn on a stack of Bibles that I’d be okay with all of this, I wouldn’t have believed you.

They should install elevators in this place. What if they turned a handicapped person into a vampire? Talk about your discrimination lawsuit waiting to happen.

You know, being bitten by a vampire one week before prom really sucks. No pun intended.

Now Sunny, don’t get mad, but …” Rayne begins, her voice trembling. I shoot her an angry glare. “But WHAT, Rayne?” “I, uh, think you’ve accidentally been turned into a vampire.

I can barely breathe. I feel like I’m going to explode. Jake Wilder is kissing me. French-kissing me. Is he even supposed to be French-kissing me for the play? I thought… Oh, who cares if he’s supposed to or not. He is, that’s all that matters.

For all I know, the guy is Dracula.

I can’t go on saving the world if it means neglecting my duties as a cheerleader.

Why be a vampire if you aren’t going to take advantage of the basic wardrobe?