Hey. Sorry this hasn't been updated in a while. The past few weeks have been really hard for me and I'm trying to get ready for school. I want to warn you guys now that updates are going to be rare. Maybe once a month, maybe not even that. Both of us are going to different schools this year and this is an incredibly important year for us. Please don't drop this story if it's only updated every two months. I would love to say that we're the writers who put our stories before anything else, but for the time being we can't be. I hope you enjoy this chapter.

A Touch

I fidgeted in my seat across from Fang. Beneath me, the old cherrywood dining chair emitted a tiny groan. I winced. Dad had said he would start dinner as soon as he got out of the shower, but I truly wasn't sure if it would be possible to wait much longer.

Was Fang nice? Yes. Did I feel comfortable around him? Also yes. Did I want him sitting in my house and eating dinner with us? Absolutely not. No way in hell.

Gently, the dark-haired man picked up a fork, twanging its four pointy teeth with a steady thumb. Once. Twice. Three times. Fang looked up. "Why don't you go start dinner?" he suggested, noting my unease with calm eyes. My mind immediately scoffed at the idea.

"Uh…no." Not a great idea, I added in my head.

Fang's broad shoulders rose and fell nonchalantly. "Don't you normally cook?" The man asked. This time my scoff was verbal, and it earned me a critical glance.

I looked down, but Fang held the gaze with unmoving eyes. "I think your father would enjoy being able to relax after his day at work." He grumbled in a low baritone.

I rolled my eyes up to the ceiling. My cooking would not be relaxing to my father. When my mother left, I had been young and Jeb had made the meals. But when I was seven, I decided to surprise him for father's day. Long story short, I succeeded in the "surprising him" part…but I also succeeded in setting half of our kitchen ablaze. Since then, I hadn't been allowed in the kitchen without supervision. I refused to argue about it either. Last time I went in there alone, the toaster caught on fire. I wasn't even using it!

"Well, why won't you cook dinner?" Fang pressed.

Ding, ding, ding! That's the question he should have asked first.

"Two words," I said, finally raising my eyes. "Fire. Hazard." I ended with a dramatic point to myself.

"You can't be that flammable." He replied, one end of his mouth curling up into a smirk. In his smile, though, I saw he was a bit unsure if my statement was true.

Okay. He asked for it. Shaking out the stiffness in my legs, I stood up and walked around the table to the talk oak bookcase behind Fang's chair. The young man didn't turn his head, but followed my every step with his dark marble-like eyes. Using one hand to hold my balance on Fang's bar stool, I reached up to the fifth shelf to grab the leather picture album that hadn't been touched in years.

The nostalgic scent of leather binding filled my nostrils. I used the flat palm of my hand to shave off the inches of dust from the cover, and set the book in front of Fang. He took a vague interest, as his hand rose up to rest on the surface of the table just next to the book. Opening the cover with a weary creak, I started flipping through pages. So many frozen memories plastered in slick pockets of flimsy plastic. Being me, I forgot the task at hand, and my eyes studied each picture carefully; trying to remember where we had been or what I had been doing.

I smiled slightly when I saw the picture of my dad and me at the fair when I was nine. I had run off that day to go get a balloon and had forgotten to tell him where I was going. There had been so many people. One thing I remember for certain that day was the eyes of the strange teenager that had helped me find my dad again.

The boy that had helped me must have been about fifteen. But the only characteristic I really remembered was how dark his eyes had been. I had barely been able to distinguish the pupils from the irises.

"That was a fun day for me," I said to myself more than to Fang. Something along the line of a chuckle escaped from my chest. "I got lost and my dad was about ready to kick my ass." I snapped myself out of the memory and looked to Fang for a reaction. He'd been sitting there awful quietly. Suddenly, Fang's eyes blinked in surprise as he studied the picture.

"…That was you?" His voice was still calm, but his eyes were burning with questions.

What?

My heart hopped in my throat. I swallowed it. "The little girl in the picture?" I managed to state flatly. "Yeah. That's me." His question confused me for a few more seconds before the neurons in my brain finally clicked two and two together.

"You… You were him?" My cheeks burned as what I was saying sunk in. "Wow. Um… Thanks."

Fang smiled again and looked up at me. As my eyes locked with his, I slowly returned the smile and felt more lava rushing up to my face. "No problem." he murmured.

Without warning, the man's hand floated up to brush strands of my blonde hair out of my face. My heart was beating at a hundred miles per hour. But instead of pulling his hand away, as the last few tendrils were tucked behind my ear, Fang let it rest on the surface of my cheek.

Before I knew it, I'd let my head rest in his hand, and I realized how calm I felt. I'd only known Fang for a few hours, and already, I felt safer with him than anyone else.

Sparks tingled along my cheekbone and down my neck as he brought my head closer to his. His cool breath hit my face in waves of mint. But it wasn't overpowering smell. It seemed to fit him perfectly.

I leaned closer, but once we were close enough that I could only make out his eyes, I realized what I was doing. I quickly pulled away, feigning interest in the almost forgotten picture album.

My shaking fingers stumbled through the next few pages as I was trying to ignore Fang's stare, which had begun to burn holes in the side of my face.

I cleared my throat, shattering the silence. "Here," I whispered, pointing to the picture of our kitchen after my 'surprise'. "This is why I don't cook."

Fang tore his gaze from my face to look at the picture. His eyes widened in shock, flipping from me to the picture as if he was watching a ping-pong match. "You did that that?"

My smile taut, I nodded my head in embarrassment and closed the album. "Uh huh."

"Ah," Fang offered as a reply.

Jeb's voice echoing off the kitchen walls gave me a start. "So, what shall we have for dinner tonight, Maxie?" He announced with over-the-top grandeur. I groaned at the nickname and shrugged my shoulders.

"What do you want?" I asked Fang, swiveling my head in his direction.

The dark-haired man looked up at me with mischievious eyes. "Food."

Rolling my eyes, I translated the statement back to Jeb. "Whatever, I guess."

Dad gave a slight nod and padded his way to the kitchen. Leaving Fang and I alone. Again.

I understand if this chapter sucked. Please review. This will most likely be the last update of this story until November. We are so sorry, but our asses will be kicked from here to Neptune if our grades aren't supreme. PLEASE REVIEW!