Tristan, four weeks later...

I was obeying her wishes. The wait really might kill me, though.

I'd played like crap today, and my body ached from the punishing tackles I'd endured because of my lack of focus. Because of her-the only reason that could make this kind of pain worth it. I didn't usually hurt this much even after a game against our toughest rivals. Thankfully the wait would be over soon. Her stalkers hadn't made it two hours after making eye contact with her. Four weeks of ignoring her was more than enough time to prove I wasn't one of Savannah's stalkers.

No more secrets soon. No more hiding how I felt about her. No more following stupid, unexplained rules from the Clann.

I was just stepping out of the locker-room shower when I felt that unmistakable ache tugging at my gut and chest. But what was Savannah doing here at the field house? Usually one of the other Charmers managers came to the field house for ice for the injured dancers.

"Female in the house," I roared out the warning a little louder than usual. After all, this time it was Savannah coming in. Good thing you could only see into the locker room if you looked through the hall doorway a few yards past the ice machine. As long as we guys either covered up or stayed out of sight from the door, she wouldn't get flashed while she filled ice bags.

I sat on a bench out of view from the hallway, dried off with a few quick towel swipes, then pulled on my boxer briefs.

"Well, hellooo, baby," Dylan called out.

I looked up. Dylan was standing nude and minus a towel in front of the door.

"Dylan!" I barked, half rising from the bench as quick anger rushed through me.

Laughing, Dylan jerked his blond bangs out of his eyes then sauntered over to the bench.

"Man, the ladies don't want to see your two puny inches," someone joked from the other side of the lockers.

"You're a jackass," I muttered to Dylan. Why did I still call him my best friend? Right now, I was seriously considering hitting him upside the head.

Hmm. I couldn't hit him, but I could...

The twisted wet towel hit Dylan's bare butt with a loud crack, followed by his even louder howl.

Yeah, that would do for now.

Savannah

I ignored Dylan's leer as I entered the tiny portable building for yet another fun-filled history class. Talk about a grade A jerk. Dylan probably thought he was a real stud, flashing me this morning. Usually Head Manager Amber sent Vicki or Keisha out to the field house for bags of ice at the end of Charmers practice. But this weekend, Mrs. Daniels had dropped a bomb on us. Head Manager Amber was moving away; her mother had gotten a new job in Dallas. Vicki and Keisha were filling in as alternate dancers for two Charmers who had gotten hurt last week in a stunt that had gone wrong. Since I was still reluctantly keeping my promise to the vampire council about not dancing anymore, that left me as the new head manager who had to lead around two silly freshmen office aides temporarily on loan from the front office.

I hadn't trusted the new managers not to get lost or distracted at the field house, so they had been given the job of stowing the music system while I fetched ice bags and wrapped injuries at the end of the morning practices. After this morning, though, I might have to change that job assignment around.

Not because of Dylan. Dylan's immature display this morning had made me blush, but he was just an annoying moron, like most of the Clann kids who tried to bully me. I could ignore him.

The football player and descendant whom I couldn't manage to ignore, despite my every effort to, was Tristan. Four weeks had only made me see more clearly how dangerously strong my feelings were for him. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, those same four weeks had totally killed his sudden feelings for me. If he'd ever really felt anything in the first place.

Like now. Here I was, unable to stop thinking about the guy stretched out in his desk just inches away from me. And he obviously couldn't care less in return. Not an eye flicker my way. No reaction if I moved or dropped a pen. Nothing. Four weeks ago, it was all hearts and roses and promises of undying love outside the cafeteria after beating up my ex-boyfriend. Now I didn't exist at all. Exactly as I should have expected all along from him, given our history together.

Part of me-the logical part-said I was extremely lucky that my gaze daze had worn off both him and Greg right after their fight. And yet my heart still stupidly ached over the fact that they were both avoiding me now. Tristan was a player; of course he would blow hot and cold, and I was just an idiot for hoping otherwise. But Greg had never seemed the type of guy to act like that. His other ex-girlfriends were still friends with him. Why couldn't we stay friends, too?

I found myself missing Greg at the weirdest times now. Like last Saturday on my sixteenth birthday when I should have been nothing but happy, I ended up spending most of the slumber party with my friends wondering whether Greg might remember my birthday and call or text or something. If we had still been together, he probably would have taken me out somewhere to celebrate.

And then last Wednesday when I passed my driver's exam and got my license, one of the Charmers teased me about how the blue backdrop in my photo made my hair look the exact same color as carrots. I couldn't tell my friends about that; they would have seen it as proof that all Charmers were evil, when in fact the girl had only been joking around with me. But I could have told Greg. If we were still friends. If he wasn't avoiding me like the plague.

Maybe it was better that both boys were ignoring me now. That way, there was no danger of Greg getting accidentally gaze dazed again. And I wouldn't have to argue with Tristan about why we shouldn't break the rules and date each other.

I just wished I could forget as easily as they did. Then I wouldn't be constantly tormented with the memories.

Memories of dancing with Greg at the homecoming dance...

Tristan whispering my name, looking down at me as we stood so close together...

Greg hissing my name over and over as his mouth pressed bruising kisses along my cheeks and neck...

The look in Tristan's eyes as he'd thrown Greg to the ground...

Sighing, I rested my forehead in my hand, using my forearm to block my peripheral view of Tristan. Lord, how I hated this class. Everywhere else, I could stay busy, find ways to think about something else. But in here, with Tristan just inches away, it was impossible to think about anything but the past.

A past I wanted to forget. Needed to forget, if I ever hoped to like myself again.

Because in that moment when I'd found myself pressed against Tristan outside the cafeteria, my fingertips touching the blood on his lip, when I'd realized I was staring right into his eyes...

I'd wanted my gaze to affect him.

Worse yet, while part of me was happy to see him clear eyed now and able to focus on Mr. Smythe's lecture, a darker part of me wished he hadn't recovered at all.

I should be locked up. I was a menace to the male half of society. And a scary freak to the other half.

Since no one had locked me up yet, the next best thing I could do was aim for nunhood. Which wasn't a hardship, since the only guy I wanted was a notorious player who was off-limits anyway. Mom might have been exaggerating when she said my dating someone in the Clann could start a war between them and the vampires. But just in case she wasn't, I planned to avoid Tristan as much as possible from now on.

If only I could stop myself from craving him every waking minute of the day!

One of my many mistakes with him was ever allowing him to see that I still cared about him. But I wouldn't be repeating that mistake again. I would just have to get better at hiding my emotions around him.

Starting now.

With a sigh, I rested my chin in my hand and tried to ignore Tristan's long, muscled body stretched out in the desk beside me. And his soft, curly hair as he bent over to gather up his stuff from under his desk...

"What, the view this morning wasn't enough for you, princess?" Dylan's too-close drawl yanked me from my thoughts.

He was standing in front of me, planting his crotch in my direct line of sight. I'd been too lost in thought to notice the bell had rung and everyone was getting up to leave. Great.

Don't react, I told myself. That's what he wants, to see you look embarrassed.

Freezing my facial muscles into the coldest expression I could manage, I looked up at his nose. "I'm sorry, was there something to actually see?"

Tristan snickered at my right, threatening my self-control.

Dylan's sneer tightened in anger. His eyes squinted. "You know, I was wrong. You're not just a princess. You're an ice princess. Must be why Greg Stanwick dumped you. You were too frigid for his taste."

If he only knew the truth. That thought curved my lips into a smile. "Ice Princess. Hmm, I kind of like that one." It was better than some other possible names. Like monster.

Scowling, Dylan shook his head and walked away, muttering something that sounded like "freak."

Like I hadn't heard that one before. I didn't even blink.

The Brat Twins giggled at Dylan's remark before they got up from their desks behind Tristan.

Two more reasons to play the Ice Princess in here.

I smiled to myself as I gathered my things and joined the traffic exiting the classroom. Dylan didn't realize it, but he'd just given me the perfect strategy for the rest of the year. I could still be myself everywhere else. But in history, I would play the Ice Princess-cold, emotionless, untouchable. Dylan would get no reactions from me to feed his sadistic-bully side. The Brat Twins would be deprived of their entertainment.

And Tristan wouldn't see how I really felt about him.

Tristan

My new plan was backfiring, and I had Dylan to thank for it.

I'd thought that playing things extra cool around Savannah for a month would make her realize I wasn't going to stalk her, so she could relax around me. And she'd almost seemed to at the beginning of this week. But then that idiot Dylan just had to mess with her and call her an ice princess. Ever since, she'd seemed to take the jerk's teasing to heart. Her face was like a mask, her body moving so little during class that I sometimes wondered if she were miming a statue. She blinked, breathed, took notes and read. But there was zero visibility into her real personality.

If possible, she'd become even more untouchable.

Having four fellow descendants in class with us didn't help, either. With Dylan one row to my left and back, the Brat Twins directly behind me, and Mr. Smythe running the class, my every move was under watch in history. I might as well have not even had a class with Savannah this year, for all the opportunity I'd had to talk with her. I couldn't even look at her for two seconds without the Clann knowing.

By Friday, all the hope I'd started the week with was morphing straight into frustration. I'd have to come up with a new plan.

Mr. Smythe was late getting to history class today for some reason. The bell had rung, but with no teacher in sight, everyone was talking. A few people stood around, adding to the low-key party atmosphere. Dylan was one of the few walking around. His movements were casual as he flirted with some of the girls two rows over. But something about the look in his eyes set me on edge.

"Hey, Tristan." Vanessa laid a hand on my shoulder.

I turned in my desk to look at her. "Yeah?"

"I was wondering, do you have a date for the Fall Ball yet?"

As if I'd ever be stupid enough to date her again. "Not interested, Vanessa."

Something slammed to the floor hard enough to shake the entire building. All conversation stopped.

I jerked my head to the right in time to catch Dylan's smirk.

"Oops." He laughed and strolled away from Savannah's books and papers, which now covered a three-foot span of floor in front of her feet.

What the...

"Did you want to help me pick up all the stuff you just knocked off my desk?" Savannah muttered. In the dead silence of the room, her every word was as loud as if she'd shouted.

There you go, Sav, don't take any of his crap.

I gripped the edge of my desk, too aware of the giggles the Brat Twins didn't bother to hide. Evil witches; they must have been in on Dylan's plans and distracted me on purpose. They knew I'd never let Dylan bully anyone. Though I'd thought he'd outgrown this crap back in junior high. Unless he'd just been hiding it from me for the past few years.

He stood by his chair with an arrogant grin. "Who says I knocked your books off, sweetheart? They probably just fell off on their own."

"I have eyes. I saw you, Williams," Savannah replied in a calm voice.

His grin turned nasty as he slid into his desk sideways, stretching his legs across the aisle. "Yeah, I've been hearing some strange stories lately about those freaky eyes of yours, Colbert."

I started to lunge out of my chair, but Savannah was faster. She seemed to glide down the aisle, reaching Dylan's desk in three long-legged strides.

Planting a hand on his desk and another on the back of his chair, she leaned over one slow inch at a time until her nose almost touched Dylan's. "Better to have freaky eyes than an entire face that looks like you were dropped on it as a baby," she murmured.

Someone giggled on the other side of the room.

Fury filled Dylan's eyes, and I felt light prickles race over my forearms. Son of a... Dylan was going to use power on her.

I let my own energy level shoot up, knowing Dylan would feel it as even sharper prickles on his skin. My ancestors hadn't led the Clann for four generations based on their good looks. Just because I had no intention of following in my father's footsteps for Clann leadership didn't mean I didn't have the strength for it. And it was time Dylan remembered that.

He glanced at the twins with raised eyebrows. They answered with tiny shakes of their heads. Then his angry gaze shot over to me.

That's right. Now you're getting a clue, I thought.

He sighed, and his energy level backed down. But he still didn't look sorry.

Then Savannah leaned over and whispered something in his ear.

He jerked away, scowling again. "Pick up your own crap, Ice Princess."

Smiling, she straightened up and strolled to the front of the room to gather her things. I wanted to help her, but I could feel three pairs of spying eyes watching me.

So I stayed stretched out in my chair, staring at the dry-erase board that ran the length of the front wall. But to punish and warn the other descendants, I kept my energy level high. Vanessa hissed my name, wiggling in her chair, and I grinned. Maybe this would teach her and her sister not to help Dylan mess with innocents anymore.

Strangely, Savannah's forearms broke out in goose bumps. Frowning, she paused to rub them for a few seconds, then finished gathering her papers and books and returned to her desk.

She'd done that before when I was ticked off. Could she somehow be sensitive to the Clann's powers?

As soon as Mr. Smythe opened the classroom door, I pulled the energy level down to normal, showing them a little of what my dad had taught me over the past month. I'd worked hard for weeks to develop control over my energy levels. No more emergency grounding for me.

I wasn't surprised when Mr. Smythe glanced at all four of us descendants with obvious suspicion. Every descendant on campus had to have felt the energy spikes Dylan and I had just released. But instead of trying to send me out for yet another emergency grounding session, Mr. Smythe dived into his daily lecture.

Not that I listened much. History was easier to remember when I read about it at home. Besides, I was too busy reconsidering my friendship with Dylan.

He was waiting for me outside the building after class. "What was that crap in there?"

I waited for the last students to get outside of hearing range before I replied, "A reminder. You seemed about to lose your control."

"Unlike some people, I don't lose control."

I ignored the insult. My issues with energy control were old news. "Then you were about to use power against an innocent on purpose."

"She's no innocent. Not with those freaky eyes of hers."

Because my energy wanted to spike out of control, I lashed out in a different way. "What did she say that scared you so badly?"

"She didn't scare me, she threatened me! She said if I wasn't careful, she'd use those eyes on me. Have you heard what some of the guys are saying about her, about what she can do?"

"Then maybe you should leave her alone."

"Are you siding with her?"

"I'm saying leave her alone. She's done nothing to you, so just back off."

"Or what?" His energy level jumped. "You going to fight your best friend over her?"

I studied the ugly look on his face. We had been best friends once. But in the past year or two, Dylan had changed. I didn't even know the guy anymore. Now all I saw when I looked at him was a power-hungry bully who preyed on others. Had he always been this way and I just didn't see it?

"I will if I have to." Because no true friend of mine would attack an innocent. My energy flared out to match his then shot up a level higher. His hands flexed then fisted, the muscles in his arms cording as the greater energy stabbed at his skin.

He held my stare a few seconds longer then hissed, "See you at the game."

I dipped my chin in acknowledgment, then watched my former best friend turn and walk away. Something inside my chest tightened. Why did I get the feeling this conversation wasn't over?

Tonight's game against Herndon High, Jacksonville's biggest rival, had been a tough one so far. Apparently their defensive line didn't like Dylan any more than I did right now, because they'd been after the quarterback especially hard all night. Unfortunately as an offensive tackle, it was my job to protect Dylan's sorry butt. As a result, I'd been taking hits intended for him all night, when what I really wanted was for one of their defensive line to take Dylan's head off and save me the trouble.

Seeing Savannah running herself ragged helping the Charmers in the bleachers didn't improve my mood any. Why she was helping them was beyond me.

Body aching, I stood on the sidelines while our defense took over for a while. I should be focused on my team's efforts out on the field right now. Focusing on the field had been easier last year on JV, because they didn't have the Charmers or pre-drill classes at their games. The varsity team, on the other hand, got all the school-spirit groups at our games. As a result, my gaze kept straying sideways and up to the home bleachers. Third quarter now, time for the Charmers to take their break. Which meant Savannah would be in the concession-stand area instead of with her duffel bag and the protective charms I'd created for her. If they were even still in there. I'd have to get Anne to sneak a peek into Savannah's bag at lunch next week and make sure.

In the meantime, I'd just have to hope that none of her stalkers tried to mess with her right now.

After a few minutes, Savannah returned to the Charmers bleacher section. My heart rammed into my throat as a breeze grabbed her long ponytail and toyed with the red strands, spreading it out like dark fire around her head.

"Playing with fire?" Dylan removed his helmet as he walked over.

I jerked my gaze back to the field. "No clue what you're talking about."

"I'm talking about Freaky Eyes up there."

I turned to face him. "Man, what is your problem with her?"

"My problem is with you. I just can't get it out of my head how you're willing to side with her over your best friend."

"I'm not siding with her. I'm just saying we don't attack innocents. You know the rules."

He closed the foot of space between us. "Screw the Clann's rules." He waved an arm around us. "These people are sheep, and you and I both know it. We should be ruling this town, not hiding in it."

"Keep your voice down," I warned, glancing around us. But everyone was focused on the game.

Dylan sneered. "You're pathetic. Look at you, afraid someone might hear us talking about the Clann. But everyone already knows! That's the real joke. Everyone knows about us, and the elders are still holding on to their stupid, outdated rules. What we need is new rules. Maybe new leadership, too."

It was my turn to sneer. "Like who? Your dad? You?" The Williamses had always been nothing but a bunch of butt-kissing weasels. I'd thought Dylan was different. Today he'd showed me I was wrong.

"Why not? The Colemans aren't the only ones who can lead. Why not give somebody else a chance for a change?"

What a crybaby. "If the Clann thought your dad could lead better, they would have voted for him. They didn't. So get over it. And get over the rules, too, while you're at it. I don't always like the rules, either, but you don't hear me whining about it all the time. If you've got a problem with the Clann's rules, take it up with the elders who made them."

He stepped so close our face guards almost hit. "You might not make the rules, but your dear old dad does. And for someone who says he doesn't like the rules, you sure don't seem to mind enforcing them."

"Whatever." I was getting tired of this argument fast.

He cocked his head. "Or maybe you're not supporting Daddy."

I scowled. "Now what do you mean by that?"

"You've never wanted to fight me before. Maybe this whole 'protect the innocents' crap isn't about the rules at all. Maybe it's just about her."

I clenched my teeth together. "You need to go away now, Williams."

He smiled. "That's it, isn't it? Even after all these years, you've still got a thing for the redheaded freak! Wow, what a freakin' hypocrite. All that talk about following the rules, but really you want to break the biggest one of all."

"I said drop it."

"Ooo woo, your mommy and daddy would love that, wouldn't they? Their precious baby boy dirtying himself with the one girl who is off-limits. And a freak at that."

Fury flash boiled my skin. "I told you, leave her alone!"

"What's wrong, Coleman? Don't like me calling her a freak?"

"Dylan..." I was on the edge, could feel the anger crowding out rational thought.

"Just remember, if the leader's son can get it on with the freak, so can I," he murmured, his smile turning into a leer.

I snapped.

My hands shot out at Dylan's chest. To everyone else, it must have looked like a hard shove. But while my hands were still inches away from contact, my energy and will burst out, an invisible force that slammed into him. It knocked him off his feet and sent him sliding five yards away on his back.

For five short seconds, seeing the shock on his face was worth it. Until I remembered where we were.

Aw, hell, I was in for it now. No way had any descendants here missed that. Including my parents up in the bleachers.

Mom hadn't stopped shrieking for the past forty-five minutes. It was all along the same lines.

"What were you thinking, using power in public like that? You've jeopardized everything we have here. And not just our family, but everyone else in the Clann, as well! I can't believe I raised such an irresponsible idiot for a son." Her heels were wearing a path in the rug. If she kept this up, she'd have to buy a new one for Dad's study soon. "How many times do we have to tell you? Our power here is fragile. If any of these farm-loving bigots ever found out what we can do, every one of us would be run out of town faster than you could say witch hunt."

Up to that point, Dad had sat in a glaring silence propped up on the corner of his desk. But now he jumped in. "Well, now, I wouldn't go that far, Nancy-"

"And you! You're responsible for his training," she snapped at him. "What were you thinking, teaching him to use power like that? We haven't taught combat training since the vampire wars ended, Samuel. And even then, they're to be used against that undead filth, not on our own kind."

"But-" I began.

Dad flashed me a look of warning, and I shut up again, slouching in the leather chair in front of his desk.

"Nancy, why don't you head on up to bed and let me handle this?" he said.

"I want him off that team."

No way. Mom couldn't do this to me. She knew I wanted to play for the NFL someday. I always had. If she yanked me out of football my sophomore year, it would look bad to the coaches and college recruiters. Not to mention hurting my stats.

"Nancy-" Dad tried again.

"No, Sam." Her eyes blazed with determination as she stared down at me. "I never wanted him to play a contact sport, and you know it. It isn't safe for any descendant. Dylan shouldn't be playing sports, either. But at least he's not the future leader of the Clann. Tristan is. And tonight just proves my point. Tristan could lose control again, but worse. What if he really hurts someone? Or gets hurt by someone else? Where would the Clann be then?"

"Mom, I-"

"You screwed up, Tristan Glenn Coleman," she shrieked. "You know the rules as well as everyone else. If we don't punish you, the Clann will. So no more football. Or basketball. Or any other sports. Maybe then you'll finally focus on your magic training instead of wasting your time."

And that's when I knew the truth. I could see the victory in her eyes. Tonight, my stupidity had given her the perfect opportunity to make sure I never did anything other than school and magic training again. Exactly what she had always wanted.

Rage burned in my chest, but I held on to my energy with everything I had, keeping the power level down by sheer will alone.

"Your mother is right." Dad sighed. "You have to be punished, at least for the rest of the year, and it's got to be a public one. Otherwise the Clann will start making demands. At least if we're proactive with your punishment, we'll retain control over what that punishment is."

"So, what, you want me to join the chess club now?" This wasn't really happening, was it? It was a bad dream. I'd wake up soon, right?

"Chess club, Spanish club, I don't care as long as it's not sports," Mom replied. Then she left the room.

"Sorry, son." Dad walked over to clap a heavy paw of a hand on my shoulder. "At least there was only a month left in the season."

"But we're in the playoffs."

"Well, there's always next year. If you keep your nose clean. And I better not hear about any revenge taken against Dylan, either. It's not his fault you couldn't control your temper."

I glared at him.

"What do you want me to say? You really screwed up to night. The only reason the Clann's not ringing my phone off the hook already is because from the bleachers it looked like just a regular shove. What did you do to Dylan anyway? You and I both know I didn't teach you anything like that."

I lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. "I hit him with my energy."

"Impressive. Did you think any spell words or...?"

I shook my head. I hadn't even meant to use magic on him.

"Wow, son." He stared at me for a minute, his thoughtful frown nearly lost within his silver-white beard. "Well, guess we'd better add to your training time, then. Teach you how to control it better mentally."

I managed a nod. "Can I go? I've got to figure out the least socially dead activity I can do now instead of football." I choked on the last word.

"Sure. Just one more thing. What did Dylan say to tick you off so bad?"

I rose from the chair. "Oh, you know all those Williamses. They like to push people's buttons. Dylan just finally found mine." And then some.

My stomach in knots, I started to go up to my room then changed my mind. The grass was already wet with dew, the fall air sharp like knives inside my burning lungs as I flopped down in the backyard and stared up at the stars. And wondered what Savannah was doing right now.

Savannah

Exhausted, I took my time showering at home after the game. Tonight was my first game as the new head manager, and it was an epic failure. Between supervising the freshmen pre-drill girls in the bleachers next to the Charmers, trying to remember Amber's instructions on how to wrap injuries and which girls needed ice after halftime, and fetching stuff all night long, the night had been nothing but chaos. Seeing Tristan and Dylan's fight on the sidelines at the start of the third quarter definitely hadn't helped. Lost in thought about it, I'd messed up everyone's wraps, requiring the football team's trainer to redo them. I didn't bring enough bags of ice, forcing me on an extra trip up and down the bleachers for more. And I screwed up not one but three orders for snacks for the Charmers who had to stay seated in the bleachers during the team's third-quarter break while they iced down their knees or ankles. It was a wonder Mrs. Daniels hadn't fired me as head manager already.

Still drying my hair, I headed for my bedroom and pulled on a nightgown. But my body was on autopilot as my thoughts once again shifted to tonight's fight.

What had Tristan been thinking?

I doubted anyone at the game hadn't either seen or heard about how Tristan had shoved Dylan to the ground. But why had he done it? True, Tristan's fight with Greg had been much worse. But he had just been trying to save me from Greg at the time. Otherwise, I'd never seen or even heard about him losing his temper.

Not that Dylan hadn't deserved a good shove or two long before tonight.

"Hey, hon." Nanna knocked on my door before coming in. "You forgot this in the bathroom." She held out the gold locket she'd given me in the fourth grade.

"Oh, thanks, Nanna." I smiled and set it on my nightstand so I could finish drying my hair.

"You seem distracted tonight."

"Mmm, just tired." I yawned and climbed into bed.

"Well, get some rest. Don't forget, you've got that carhop fundraiser to do tomorrow."

I had forgotten. Good thing Nanna never forgot anything. Nodding, I turned off my lamp and settled in under the covers as she left the room and shut the door behind her. But in the darkness, my mind returned to thoughts of Tristan.

I'd seen him stalk off to the locker room after shoving Dylan. Probably sent there by his coach. I could only imagine how upset he'd been to miss playing in the last two quarters of the game. Especially during the playoffs. Watching Tristan play football always reminded me of how I felt when I danced. Like watching pure joy in action.

I was still thinking about Tristan as I fell asleep. So I wasn't surprised when I dreamed about him.

After all, I dreamed about him a lot. But except for during that one memorable dream, the invisible barrier always stood between us like unbreakable glass that held me back and prevented him from seeing me.

Not tonight, though.

Tristan looked heartbreakingly sad as he lay on his back in the moonlit grass, his hands laced behind his head. His eyes were open, but he didn't move or look at me as I approached.

Maybe he wanted me to go away.

No, that was ridiculous. This was a dream, and he was just a product of my masochistic subconscious.

I sat down beside him, tucking my legs to one side. At least this time I was wearing a long nightgown instead of just a T-shirt.

After an awkward minute of silence, I murmured, "Hard day?"

He nodded.

"I don't usually get to talk to you in these dreams. This is sort of special. So...want to talk about it?"

Sighing, he rolled toward me onto his side and propped up his head in his hand. "I lost my best friend today."

"Dylan Williams?"

"Yeah. Though maybe we really haven't been friends for a long time, and I just didn't know it until today."

"You're not friends anymore because you shoved him at the game?"

"No, we got into an argument earlier today. You could say tonight was just our way of ending the argument."

"What was the argument about?"

"He was talking crap about...someone. Someone who didn't deserve it."

I hesitated, but curiosity pushed me to go ahead and ask, "Someone I know?"

He stared up at me, the answer in his eyes.

"Me? You got into a fight with your best friend over me?" Yep, this was definitely a dream. I knew it for sure now. Even still, guilt swamped me as if this were a real conversation we were having and not just a fantasy. "You shouldn't have. It wasn't worth the fight." I wasn't his girlfriend. He hadn't even spoken to me for years. Why fight his best friend over me?

"Don't say that," he ground out, his eyes darkening a little. "Fighting for you is always worth it."

His words made tears prick my eyes and my breath catch in my chest. Oh, how I wished this weren't just a dream.

"Will Dylan...want to get even?" Maybe I shouldn't have asked that. After all, we were talking about his former best friend.

"No." He gave a wry smile. "He already got his revenge. My parents are yanking me off the team for the rest of the year."

I forgot to breathe. How many times had I overheard Tristan talking about wanting to play in the NFL? Football was everything to him. Just like dancing had been for me.

And now he'd lost his dream...because of me. "Oh, Tristan. I'm so sorry."

My eyes burned, and I blinked tears away. I had to remember this was just a dream. It wasn't reality.

So why did I have this urgent need to hug him?

"It wasn't your fault," Tristan said. "If he hadn't picked a fight with me about you, he would have eventually found some other way to tick me off. My dad's right. I shouldn't have lost control like that during the game."

And yet he still sounded upset, his voice tight, every word short and clipped.

The idea of him hurting caused my chest to ache. I had to do something.

And so, because it was just a dream where I could do anything I wanted with no consequences, I laid a shaky hand over his where it rested in the grass.

He drew in a quick breath and looked down at our hands.

Okay, maybe I shouldn't touch him, even in a dream.

I started to pull my hand back, but he spread his fingers then squeezed them together again, capturing mine in between.

I couldn't help it; I sighed.

He smiled but didn't look up from our intertwined fingers.

"Why does that feel so right?" I murmured past the tightness in my throat.

His smile faded as he looked up at me with green eyes that were darkening like emeralds turned away from the light. "Why do you keep fighting this feeling?"

"Because I'm not supposed to want this."

His smile returned, slowly curving his lips up. "But you do anyway."

I nodded, staring right into his eyes instead of at his nose. Only in my sleep could this ever be safe. It was a luxury I would take advantage of as long as I could.

"So do you still think I'm another of your stalkers?"

"I don't know. You seem fairly recovered in history, judging by how you've ignored me for weeks now."

His chuckle was a deep, warm rumble that made my pulse race. "I'm not ignoring you. Just trying not to scare you away again. You know, I'm not supposed to want this, either."

My heart stopped for a second.

He huffed out a short sigh. "Savannah, can't we at least be friends?"

"I would love that." It came out on a sigh without any hesitation. I wasn't breaking my family's rules by being friends and holding hands with someone in a dream, right?

"Good. I'll remember you said that." He slowly raised our hands to press a too-warm, too-real-feeling kiss to the back of my hand.