What About Chace

There were six other brothers, all of them good looking.

Besides, I thought Cindy liked the new guy, Chace. "What about Chace?" I asked, desperate for her to tell me she was joking.

Her glossed lips pouted, and her perfectly lined eyes got all dreamy.

She looked like one of my stepmother's fairytale figurines.

"Nah, I'm over him." Cindy headed toward the horror section and started browsing.

I followed, studying her too-perfect features as she picked up a movie. I plucked it from her hands and put it back on the shelf.

After several movie denials, she crossed her arms. "All the girls like Chace. Besides, I talked to him and - " She didn't finish but shrugged. "He isn't for me."

I had a feeling Chace hadn't gushed over her, which was what most guys did, including my guys, my best friends.

"Besides, Gabe is gorgeous and so sweet."

She'd noticed he was sweet. When? How?

Had he done something to impress her recently?

This was just not good. I had a crush on him.

"How about S - " She held up the movie case.

I grabbed the movie from her well-manicured hand, cutting her off. "Please, no. Not that one again. That movie is terrifying." I shuddered.

The first five minutes, with the girl hanging in the tree. Ugh, the whole movie gave me the heebie-jeebies.

"What about a love story, like Titanic or The Greatest Showman? That one has Zac Efron, and I know you like Zac Efron." I wiggled my brows, trying to be enticing.

She paused a moment, debating, then shook her head. "Not if the guys are coming. We need gory death and kissing, and jump scares."

I groaned inwardly.

Should I tell her I had a crush on Gabe too?

Even as I thought about telling her, I cringed.

If Gabe knew Cindy was interested, there'd be no contest.

I glanced sideways at her.

She was wearing a baby blue mini skirt with a sleeveless white peasant shirt.

On her feet were strappy silver sandals, which matched the thin silver bracelets dangling from each of her tiny wrists.

Her hair was down and curled to perfection. Her honey skin had that just-lotioned look.

I glanced down at my black Converse and gripped my tee-shirt the way Gabe had. He'd said it was sexy that I wore his old shirt.

I seriously doubted that.

Maybe if I told her how I felt?

"Cin," I started.

"Aha, this is the one." She held up the case. It felt like something inside me deflated.

"Okay," I agreed without looking at it. I was too stressed and sad to care.

***

Gatsby, my gray rescue cat, snuggled next to me. He purred softly like he didn't have a single worry. I absently stroked his ears while I tried to block out the frightening images on the TV screen.

Cindy hadn't chosen Scream, but Urban Legends, another horror movie from the nineties.

We weren't sitting next to each other.

I was sprawled out on the leather couch, and Cin sat in the burgundy high back.

She had a bowl of plain popcorn on her lap and a diet soda placed precariously on the brown-carpeted floor.

The family living room was medium-sized and outfitted with furniture that would be considered eclectic.

Nothing matched, but it didn't matter.

The couch, chairs, end tables, coffee table, TV, lamps, and curio cabinets seemed irrelevant compared to my stepmother's fairytale figurine collection.

On every surface stood, or hung, a statuette or painting. I'd counted once.

There'd been over six hundred figurines placed around the house, and the number kept increasing.

I mean, talk about extreme.

Cindy thought it was funny.

She especially loved the Cinderella figurines, probably because she looked identical to them.

Young girls would stop her in the mall and ask if she was the real Cinderella.

My stepmother agreed and even gave her a Cinderella figurine for a birthday.

What was weird, though?

Out of all the figurines, paintings, pillows, dishtowels, and clocks, there wasn't a single Snow White.

There were several castings of the Seven Dwarves, the Wicked Queen, Prince Charming, and even an apple, but no Snow White.

I'd asked her about it once when I was eight and realized she was missing. "My darling," my stepmother said. "I don't need a Snow White figurine because I have you."

At the time, I thought it was sweet and tried to hug her, but now, I don't know, it just seemed strange.

"For goodness' sake, Snow. Open your eyes. You're going to miss the best part," Cindy hollered, throwing a piece of popcorn at me.

It smacked me in the forehead. I tried to glare.

She giggled, which sent me into a laughing fit.

"There isn't a best part in this movie. It's icky, and it makes me feel icky." That was the truth, the reason I hated horror movies.

I didn't like how I felt while I watched them, and especially after.

The film was almost over. Cindy would leave, and then I'd be alone in my old, creaky house with only my cat for company.

"Are you kidding? Watch this. It's classic." She pointed at the screen as she talked with popcorn in her mouth. "Here it comes."

I couldn't and scrunched my eyes closed, wishing I had earplugs to block out the screaming, the spine-chilling music, and the terrible acting.

As I lay there, working to think about anything but the death and mayhem going on the screen, something bizarre happened.

An image popped into my head and began playing like a movie.

I tried to shake it, but it was as though my brain had been hijacked.

A man stood in the trees behind my house. I got the feeling he waited for me to do something.

Several of the guys - Sebastian, Bart, Salvatore, Heathcliff, and Daniel - plowed out of my back door and wrestled with each other as they trampled down the stairs.

They laughed heartily.

I followed along with Dorian, but Gabe wasn't there. They were tossing something back and forth, and I was trying to intercept it, desperate for whatever they were keeping away from me.

Suddenly they all stopped, and their faces turned grave.

Sebastian had the thing I was trying to get in his hands. He and the others circled me. There was a coppery stench in the air, and it made my mouth water.

Sebastian opened his hand.

The thing, whatever it was, beat rapidly, and blood dripped from his fingers.

The guys began speaking together, their voices monotone: "Lips red as rubies, hair dark as night. Drink your true love's blood; become the Vampire, Snow White."

"I want it." Taking the bloody thing in Sebastian's hand, I brought it to my lips.

It beat faster and faster.

At that moment, I knew it was a heart, the heart of my true love, but that didn't matter.

Sinking my teeth into it, I tasted the blood, felt it run down my throat, like liquid pleasure and I shuddered.

A cackle rang through the night, and profound darkness entered my body.

"Now, you are mine," the voice said.

I screamed, grabbing one of the decorative pillows from the couch, and covered my mouth.

Startled, Cindy threw the popcorn bowl in the air.

Fluffy kernels scattered everywhere.

Gatsby gave me an evil eye, rose, and casually jumped off the couch.

He sniffed a popcorn kernel before darting from the room.

"Merde," Cindy swore in French. "It isn't that scary."

She skulked off her chair and started picking up the mess.

I crossed my arms, embarrassed. "Sorry," I whispered, unable to stop the trembling in my limbs or the chattering of my teeth.