Alan had managed to dodge Edgar and Sam towards the end of school, getting into Bernice's car instead when the bell had rang and school had officially ended for the day. It had taken a lot of persuasion to get a ride from Bernice who insisted that he was going to be turned away by their father while Bridget was still grounded.

"I might be able to find a loop hole around it," Alan said.

"Well, don't say I didn't warn you," she said. She sped off, tyres screeching, and Alan grabbed hold of the seat with a cry. "Oh, don't you start about my driving. So, how did you do today?"

"Not great," he said quietly. "Might have got a little mad with someone."

She cringed, at first opening her mouth but not letting any words out. It was hard to find the right way to phrase her concern. "Am I doing the right thing here? Taking you to my sister?"

He stared at her, mouth hanging open at her appalling suggestion. When Bernice glanced at him, her cheeks flushed red and she mumbled an apology.

"I'd never hurt Bridget," he said.

She shook her head. "I'm sorry. I know. It's just… my sister is everything to me. I didn't mean to –."

"No, no, I get it. I guess." He rested his head against the glass of the car window. "But I wouldn't hurt her, you know. I can control it at least to make sure I don't do that."

Quietly, he added, "She means a lot to me too."

Bernice grinned, quickly glancing at him before looking at the road again. "You know, she is so much happier around you. Not that she was miserable to begin with. She's just… you guys get on really well together and she has a lot of fun. It's nice that she's found a good friend."

"Unlike Charlotte?"

She sighed. "Charlotte was a really nice girl. But you saw how easily jealous she could get, especially over you. And she let that ruin her friendship with Bridget. Even after all the times she stuck up for Charlotte."

"She never seemed to get jealous of Imogen."

"Want my honest opinion?"

He frowned. "Go on."

"You just like a pretty face there. You've seen Imogen and she's attractive and that's that."

"I don't just like her for her looks."

"Then what do you like about her? Does she have the same interests as you?"

"I don't know. I know she likes soccer. She's in the girls' soccer team."

"And do you like soccer?"

"Not really."

"Well, what about personality?"

"She's nice. Sometimes."

"Sometimes?" Bernice glanced at him, pressing her lips together and tilting her head. "Alan, you're crushing on a face. And even Charlotte must have seen that. Instead of getting jealous of the girl you think you like, she got jealous of the one you give the proper attention to."

"I think you're getting too into your psychology lessons."

She laughed. "Okay, okay. I won't say any more."

She stuck to her word. Their conversation moved to their plans to find the Head Vampire with Bernice listing most of the people at the restaurant she worked at. Turned out the newest recruit was actually Bridget. The manager had owned it for ten years and most of the people who worked there had been around since it opened.

"And I've seen all of them work during the day," Bernice added with a disappointed sigh.

"Maybe look out for customers then. Anyone you think is suspicious. Vampires will still eat or drink human food. Helps them to blend in."

Bernice took a sharp turn into the driveway of their house and Alan gripped onto the seat once more. He tensed, expecting to go flying through the front window but she slowed down, inching forward at a painfully dawdling pace to pull up next to her father's car.

"Am I parked straight?" she asked, leaning out of her window. Alan raised an eyebrow at her and she laughed. "What?"

"Never mind," he said, already unfastening his seatbelt and grabbing his heavy bag. He had never rushed out of a car so fast before. "Um… windows?"

"Oh, crap!" Bernice raced back to her car to open the door and rolled up the window. She chuckled and waved a hand. "I always do that."

Inside the house, the girls' father dashed around. He grabbed his keys from the bowl and twirled in a circle as he muttered about losing his tie.

"Dad?" She picked the tie of the bannister. "This what you're looking for?"

"Oh, yes! Thank you." He smiled pleasantly at his daughter but it faded when he saw Alan. "Sorry, Alan, but Bridget isn't allowed to have friends over while she's suspended."

There was a curt tone to his voice. A disapproving stare in his eyes that Mr Teahan had never shown to Alan before. Usually he was welcoming, always polite and asking how Alan was. He never seemed to have a problem that his youngest daughter had befriended a boy. At least, Alan had never received any warnings.

"I know, sir, but we have a presentation to do for American Literature. The assignment needs to be ready for tomorrow," Alan said.

"Oh."

"I can always do it over the phone."

"No. That'll be expensive. Alright… um…" He ran a hand through his neat hair, instantly messing it up. "Okay, if this is school work I'll allow it." He pointed a finger at Bernice. "You're keeping an eye on them until your mom gets back from work. She'll take you girls to work at five." His finger moved to Alan. "I want to see proof of work. I'm not impressed that Bridget ditched school with you. I also want the bedroom door to be open."

Alan nodded to every command. "Absolutely. Sorry, Mr Teahan."

"She's upstairs in her room."

Alan gave another nod and started up the stairs. The strumming sound of a guitar grew louder as he reached Bridget's bedroom. She was singing along as she played, not responding when Alan knocked on the door. He opened it up, calling her name but when he came in her back was turned. She had on her earphones and he could hear the muffled music blasting out from it. Guitar books were thrown all over her bed, some had fallen off and landed on the floor, half open.

He spoke louder. "Bridget?"

"I love playing with fire and I don't wanna get burned… I love playing with –."

Alan tapped her on the shoulder. "Bridget?"

"Shit!"

She jumped as she lost grip of the guitar and scrambled backwards, almost falling off the edge of the bed. Alan laughed, hands held up as she stared wide eyed up at him before putting a hand to her chest and punching him gently on the arm.

"You scared the crap out of me."

"I did knock and shout your name. You were singing too loudly."

Her cheeks reddened and she turned off her Walkman. "Shit."

He nudged her. "I like your singing. You kinda sound like Joan Jett."

She nudged him back. "I'm a terrible singer. How come you've been allowed in?"

"We have an incredibly important presentation to do for American Literature. Your dad said it was okay for me to come in and do some work." There was a grin on his face that she responded to with her own.

"And do you have your notes?"

"Oh, crap. I think I forget to bring them." He beckoned to her bed, still grinning. "We'll just have to hang out instead. Can I sit down?"

"Yeah. Oh, wait." She leaned over to grab all her guitar books but paused when she had them all stacked in her hands. She looked around when she realised how cluttered her desk was, and looked around to find a new home for them.

Bridget's room always looked like a tornado had swept through it. Her boots and shoes were scattered across her carpet like most of her jackets. Her books looked like they had been shoved on the shelves of her bookcase. The desk was home for anything and everything. Notebooks, folders, more jackets, pencils. Alan could just see the top of her typewriter peeking out from a camouflage jacket, one of his old ones that he was going to throw away months ago. Bridget had nabbed it immediately and kept it. At the memory, Alan couldn't help but smile. There was something kind of cute about her wearing one of his jackets.

Giving up on the search, Bridget threw the books on the floor and they landed with a loud thud. She smiled and gestured to the new space on her bed.

"How come you're here?" she asked, moving her guitar onto the floor. She took in his appearance as he sat crossed legged opposite her after taking his shoes off. She took a few seconds to study him. In most ways he still looked like Alan. The army gear hadn't disappeared and neither had his trademark dog tags. He didn't have any scary yellow eyes and fangs. He did look very pale though.

He smiled. "Missed you."

"It's only been a day."

He shrugged, still smiling. "Just wanted to see that you're okay."

Bridget scoffed. "I'm over the suspension. Still not pleased about needing to see the guidance counsellor –."

"I mean with me."

She frowned. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You seemed freaked out on Monday when we found out I'd turned."

"Ah, right." Her cheeks went red again and she lowered her head. Alan waited for a response as she chewed on her lower lip and picked at the loose threads in her ripped jeans. "Sorry, I couldn't help it. All I've been doing is annihilating vampires and I remembered how Bonnie got last summer."

"Do you think I'm going to flip?"

"No, I'm not suggesting that you'd hurt someone."

"I almost did today."

She froze and he looked away, staring out of the window. "Who?"

"Bobby Denton."

"Well, Bobby's a dickshit. I'm not a half vampire and I feel like kicking him in the nuts sometimes."

"Shouldn't have done it though. I actually wanted to kill him." He ran a hand through his hair and groaned. "Fuck."

"Hey." She reached over, taking his hand. It was like touching ice but she kept hold of him, squeezing his fingers gently. "You didn't though."

"It's no excuse."

"Well, moping about it isn't going to help," she told him sternly. "You lost control. Can't go back and change that. Now you have to accept that you did and you'll work harder at keeping that temper of yours at bay."

"What if it gets worse?"

She shook her head. "You're not going to become a full vampire. While I'm around, that's not an option."

Alan's disheartened sigh was not the positive response she was after. She huffed, taking hold of his shoulders now as she scooted closer to him and gave him a little shake.

"I don't want to hear any sighing, soldier," she said. "You're fighting this. Got it? And you're not alone. You've got us."

"Especially you?" he asked.

She grinned at him. "Of course. I look out for my best guys and girls. Nobody fucks with them and if they do, they answer to me."

He laughed. "You're… you're incredibly scary at times. But amazing." He leaned over, hand curling around the back of her head, and kissed her forehead. It felt like the most natural thing to do until he froze pulling away and realised Bridget was staring at him dumbfounded. It hit him. They always hugged, teased each other, or hip bumped but kissing, friendly ones like on the cheek or forehead, had never been part of their friendship.

The corners of her lips were desperately trying to tug up into a smile. He watched her keep fighting it as she bit down her lower lip.

"What was that for?" she asked.

"I honestly don't know," he admitted. "Just… wanted to? Sorry."

"Don't apologise. It was kinda nice. I liked it."

He nodded. "I liked doing it."

She felt herself take a slow breath, suddenly aware of how much her heart thumped against her chest. It was such a strange, dizzying feeling but oddly brought a smile to her face. Her hand found his hand again and she entwined her fingers with his, seeing him flash a bright smile to match her own. Her stomach flipped again, that strange feeling of butterflies fluttering around. Words wouldn't dare form to ask him but she wanted another kiss from him.

"Hey," Bernice said, peeking into her room. She raised an eyebrow as Bridget sat straight, untangling her hand from Alan's.

"Heard of knocking?" Bridget asked, furrowing her brow, but her scowl didn't get any reaction from Bernice who smirked as she looked back and forth from Alan to her sister.

"Wanted to warn you that you should probably do some school work so Mom or Dad don't find out that Alan was lying his way in."

Bridget huffed, shuffling off the bed and dug into her school bag for a notebook. Bernice looked at Alan who had folded his arms tightly across his chest and darted glances all over the room. Anywhere but at Bernice.

"Next time, knock," Bridget said, collapsing back on the bed. "We were busy."

"Staring into each other's eyes?"

Bernice squealed and made a quick exit when Bridget grabbed a cushion and threw it at the door.

Thank you reading! Please feel free to leave a review. Chapter 17 will be up next Saturday. :)