Laurel sat on her stool, smiling. It was a small step, and by tomorrow it might not mean anything, but she was willing to take it for what it was worth. She could still feel her mom’s hand on her back, the warmth of her cheek, the faint lingering smell of her perfume. Familiar, like a long-lost friend coming home.

The front door swung open suddenly, startling her out of her reverie, and Laurel crumpled a page in her book, barely managing to bite off a scream. She ducked behind the island in the kitchen and heard soft footsteps heading toward her. Had a troll managed to get past the warding around her house? Jamison had said it would block all except the strongest trolls, but it wasn’t foolproof.

Laurel thought of her sentries outside. Where were they? The footsteps stopped at the base of the stairs. He was between her and the back door. Laurel took a quick moment to reach up and grab a knife from the block on the counter.

The butcher knife. Awesome.

Maybe she could surprise him, get him with the butcher knife somehow, and get to the back door before he could catch her. It was a big risk, but she didn’t have any other choice. If she could just make it out the back door where the sentries could see her, she would be safe. She snuck around to the kitchen doorway and raised the knife in front of her chest. The footsteps were coming closer.

David’s familiar form stepped around the corner. “Whoa!” he cried, jumping back with his hands held out in front of him.

Laurel froze, the butcher knife still clutched in both hands as shock, fear, relief, and mortification crashed over her all at once. With a grunt of disgust she slammed the knife down on the counter. “What is wrong with me?”

David stepped forward and pulled her to him, rubbing his hands up and down her arms.

“It’s my fault,” he said. “I’m early. I saw your mom backing out of the driveway and she told me to just go in. I should have thought, and knocked, or—”

“It’s not your fault, David. It’s mine.”

“It’s not your fault, it’s—it’s just everything. The trolls, Halloween, Klea…” He ran his hands through his hair. “We’re both totally wound up.”

“I know,” Laurel said, leaning forward and wrapping her arms around his waist. Forcing herself to change the subject, she said, “I had a good moment with my mom just before you got here.”

“Oh, yeah?”

Laurel nodded. “I’ve been waiting for things to get better for almost a year. Maybe…maybe they’re starting to.”

“It will work out.”

“I hope so.”

“I know so,” David said, his lips trailing down her face and behind her ear. “You’re too beautiful for anyone to stay mad at too long.”

“I’m serious!” she said, her breath quickening as his lips caressed the side of her neck.

“Oh, I’m serious too,” he said, his hands sliding up the skin on her back. “Very, very serious.”

She laughed. “You’re never serious.”

“Serious about you,” he said, his hands coming to rest at her hips.

She melted against him and his arms went around her back for a few seconds before he pulled away.

“What?” she asked.

He pointed at the floor. Two petals were lying on the carpet. “We should probably pick those up before Chelsea and Ryan get here,” he said teasingly.

“No kidding. The whole thing will be gone by tomorrow. Thank goodness.”

“We could try to get them all rubbed off right now,” David said, cocking his head toward the couch.

“As nice as that sounds,” Laurel said, tapping her fingers gently against his chest, “Chelsea and Ryan will be here any minute.”

“They won’t be shocked—they make out at school, like, constantly,” he said with a grin.

Laurel just looked at him with one eyebrow raised.

“Fine.” He kissed her once more, then walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge. “Can’t you keep anything stocked in here except Sprite? Some Mountain Dew, maybe?”

“Sure, ’cause that would be a great color for my eyes and hair,” Laurel said sarcastically. “Besides, the caffeine would make me sick.”

“I didn’t say you had to drink it,” David replied, opening a can of Sprite and handing it to her. “Just keep it around in case somebody else wants it.” He opened his own can and slid onto a stool at the bar. “Chelsea isn’t going to expect us to dress up to hand out candy or anything, is she?” he asked, wrinkling his nose.

“No, I checked to make sure,” Laurel replied. “No one’s dressing up except me.”

“You’re dressing up?” David asked skeptically.

“Yep. I’m pretending to be a human.”

David just rolled his eyes. “Walked right into that, didn’t I?” He looked down at her crumpled Spanish book. “Studying?” he asked. “It looks like your book is taking it pretty hard.”

“I was, till I got distracted trying to kill you with the butcher knife.”

“Oh, yes, that was fun. We must do it again sometime.”

Laurel groaned and leaned her head into her hands. “I could have killed you,” she said.

“No way,” David said with a grin. “I was totally prepared.” He reached behind him and pulled out the black gun.

Laurel jumped off her stool. “David! You brought your gun into my house?”