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artificial twilight, but she could see that his features were cleanly defined and nearly perfect under a
shock of dark hair. Those cheekbones were a sculptor's dream. And he'd been almost invisible
because he was wearing black: soft black boots, black jeans, black sweater, and leather jacket.
He was still smiling faintly. Elena's relief turned to anger.
"How did you get in?" she demanded. "And what are you doing here? Nobody else is supposed to
be in the gym."
"I came in the door," he said. His voice was soft, cultured, but she could still hear the amusement
and she found it disconcerting.
"All the doors are locked," she said flatly, accusingly.
He raised his eyebrows and smiled. "Are they?"
Elena felt another quiver of fear, hairs lifting on the back of her neck. "They were supposed to be,"
she said in the coldest voice she could manage.
"You're angry," he said gravely. "I said I was sorry to frighten you."
"I wasn't frightened!" she snapped. She felt foolish in front of him somehow, like a child being
humored by someone much older and more knowledgeable. It made her even angrier. "I was just
startled," she continued. "Which is hardly surprising, what with you lurking in the dark like that."
"Interesting things happen in the dark… sometimes." He was still laughing at her; she could tell by
his eyes. He had taken a step closer, and she could see that those eyes were unusual, almost black, but
with odd lights in them. As if you could look deeper and deeper until you fell into them, and went on
falling forever.
She realized she was staring. Why didn't the lights come on? She wanted to get out of here. She
moved away, putting the end of a bleacher between them, and stacked the last folders into the box.
Forget the rest of the work for tonight. All she wanted to do now was leave.
But the continuing silence made her uneasy. He was just standing there, unmoving, watching her.
Why didn't he say something?
"Did you come looking for somebody?" She was annoyed with herself for being the one to speak.
He was still gazing at her, those dark eyes fixed on her in a way that made her more and more
uncomfortable. She swallowed.
With his eyes on her lips, he murmured, "Oh, yes."
"What?" She'd forgotten what she'd asked. Her cheeks and throat were flushing, burning with blood.
She felt so light-headed. If only he'd stop looking at her…
"Yes, I came here looking for someone," he repeated, no louder than before. Then, in one step he
moved toward her, so that they were separated only by the corner of one bleacher seat.
Elena couldn't breathe. He was standing so close. Close enough to touch. She could smell a faint
hint of cologne and the leather of his jacket. And his eyes still held hers – she could not look away
from them. They were like no eyes she had ever seen, black as midnight, the pupils dilated like a
cat's. They filled her vision as he leaned toward her, bending his head down to hers. She felt her own
eyes half close, losing focus. She felt her head tilt back, her lips part.
No! Just in time she whipped her head to the side. She felt as if she'd just pulled herself back from
the edge of a precipice. What am I doing? she thought in shock. I was about to let him kiss me. A total
stranger, someone I met only a few minutes ago.
But that wasn't the worst thing. For those few minutes, something unbelievable had happened. For
those few minutes, she had forgotten Stefan.