"Are you fucking insane," I hissed to Marcella as I practically dragged her out of the class. "What the hell, Cella?"

She rolled her eyes and said, "Suck it up."

"How would you feel if I asked Emily to work with you and me?" I asked. She stopped walking, forcing me to stop too, and fixed me with an annoyed look.

"Why do you dislike Mason so much? He's a pretty nice guy, you know," she chided.

"He's an asshole," I said stubbornly.

"He's an asshole? You were the one who was a jerk to him first, K."

"I'm a jerk to everyone," I said nonchalantly, shrugging. Cella scoffed.

"Yeah, and finally someone doesn't just sit there and take it. I think it's a good thing he gives you a hard time. You need to deflate that ego of yours."

"The only thing that needs to happen is him learning his place. Have you seen him? When he walks into a room, he makes eye contact with every single person, as if he's establishing his dominance or some dumb shit. I swear, he probably pisses on the ground to mark his territory or something. He thinks he so macho, like he's some kind of big shot," I ranted.

The more I thought about him, the more frustrated I grew. "It's like he knows how much attention everyone gives him," I continued angrily. "He's the 'hot new kid' and he knows it. He bathes in the attention. He fucking swims in it!"

"Kinda like you?" Marcella quipped, catching me off guard.

"What?"

"Oh come on," Cella crossed her arms over her chest and looked at me expectantly. "You know it's true. You get just as much attention. Everyone looks at you when you walk into a room. Girls like Emily constantly flirt with you. And you love it. You love the way everyone knows your name. You love the way you're pinned as 'bad boy', because you know that it only attracts more eyes. You love the way you can reject girl after girl but they just keep coming because you're Kieran Callisto.

"You're the dude that everyone wants but no one can have. Girls wish they could be with you, guys wish they could be you because the girl they like likes you. The only difference between you and Mason is that he's more approachable. I think that's why you don't like him; you think he'll steal your attention. You knew from the moment you saw him that he would be a rival," Marcella finished, seemingly satisfied with herself.

"You done?" I asked boredly, causing my friend to glare. "For the record, I'm not an attention whore. And the reason I don't like him goes way beyond that. He's not what he say he is."

Cella raised her eyebrows challengingly. "Oh, and you are?"

"Shut up," I grumbled. "That's not what I—"

"Hey, Cella!" I groaned out loud at the sound of Mason's voice. "When are we going to start working on the project?" He asked as he reached us, ignoring my existence entirely.

"Hello to you, too," I said sarcastically. Mason didn't spare me a glance, but I found satisfaction in the way his jaw clenched.

"Well, have you already read Macbeth?" Cella asked. "Grumpy over here and I have."

Mason nodded. "Yeah, I read it last year. Can't promise that I remember it much, though."

Cella smiled and shrugged. "Neither do I, but I'm not rereading it. I'm sure we can find anything we need online. Since we're ahead, though, we should start working on it soon and get it over with."

"I'm free tonight," Mason offered. "You guys?"

"I'm free," Cella nodded. "K?"

I simply shrugged and nodded. "Where are we gonna do it?" Mason asked.

"Not my house," I said quickly. Mason looked at me suspiciously and I crossed my arms. "Is that an issue?"

"'Course not." He smiled the fakest smile I'd ever seen. "Just a little curious as to why?"

"I don't want you in my house."

Cella elbowed me in the side. "What he means to say is that he has a big family. It can be hard to concentrate."

"Oh, I do too," Mason said, choosing again to look at only Cella. "How about yours?"

"Yeah, sure. Here, give me your number and I'll text you my address," Cella instructed, holding out her phone."

"Sweet." He typed his number in and handed Cella the phone back. "I'll see you later, Cella."

He turned and walked away and, just to spite him, I called out, "What, no goodbye for me?"

All I got was a middle finger, and I laughed as he walked off. Annoying Mason was way too much fun. Who knows, maybe this project would be somewhat enjoyable.

Cella tsked at me and grabbed my arm, dragging me through the hallway doors and into the sun. Instantly I hissed and covered my eyes. "What the hell, Cells?" I groaned. "I wasn't ready."

"That, my friend, was punishment for being mean to the new kid. You know, changing schools is scary enough without having to deal with you and your attitude," Marcella huffed. She didn't even stop walking as I struggled behind her, stumbling blindly.

Slowly, my body adjusted to the light and I moved my hands from my eyes. Completely ignoring her reprimanding, I huffed, "What was the point of trading immortality if I still get momentarily fucked up when I go in the sun? You'd think that the least the Council could do would be to make me completely immune to that devil star if I'm not gonna be sexy like this forever."

Marcella laughed, and I knew I'd made her forget to be annoyed with me, at least for the moment. "They probably did, you're just a wuss. I still don't get why anyone would trade up living forever, you know. Were you drunk or something?"

"Yes, eight year old me was absolutely hammered when he chose to do the trade," I said sarcastically. "But seriously, what's the point of living forever if you're living in the dark?"

"Living forever," Cella emphasized. "That's the point."

"But then I'd have to watch people like you grow old and die. What would I do without my blue haired bestie?" I joked, nudging her with my elbow. Marcella pushed me lightly and unconsciously grabbed a strand of her blond hair as if to make sure the color hadn't changed.

"It was a phase," she groaned. When she was twelve and going through her wannabe emo phase, she'd dyed her hair electric blue. She hadn't done a very good job, though, and had managed to get the skin of her palms, ears, and forehead stained blue for a week. I opened my mouth to make another embarrassing comment but she cut me off saying, "Shut up, vampy. C'mon, you're coming home with me."

"Woah," I stopped walking and put my hands out in front of me. "At least take me to dinner first."

Marcella rolled her eyes and said, "You're insufferable," but her smile gave her away as she grabbed my arm and dragged me through the parking lot.

After an hour or so, I heard the door knock downstairs. I groaned loudly as Cella hopped to her feet and sped out of her bedroom, not bothering to ask if I wanted to come with, because we both knew the answer to that.

Through the open bedroom door, I could hear Cella invite Mason in and direct him to the room. In a strange way, I could feel them nearing. Not so much Cella, but Mason. It was as if I could sense his presence approaching, and it was not a nice feeling. When his figure appeared before Cella's in the doorway, I found myself growing more aggravated at the mere sight of him. That was odd, I had to admit. It wasn't just the type of aggravation you felt when you saw someone you don't like. It was more like that feeling when there's something in your shoe or an eyelash is stuck in your eye. It was the feeling of something being there that you know shouldn't, but you can't seem to get rid of it.

"Alright, let's start," Marcella said, breaking the awkward silence.

***

"What do you mean, they're the same thing?" I snapped. "They are two very different words—they're not even synonyms!"

"Yeah, but one leads to another!" Mason argued. "Macbeth wanted power, so he became ambitious!"

I scoffed. "Maybe that would be useful if we were looking for two themes! But if you knew what we were doing, you'd realize that we need to first figure out a central theme! 'A' as in one, dumbass."

Forty minutes in, this was the third argument that Mason and I had gotten into, and definitely the most heated.

"Don't call me a dumbass you prick! Just because I don't agree with you doesn't mean you're right! And you hardly know me enough to tell me I'm dumb!"

"Except I am right, and you are dumb. I don't have to know you to realize that!"

"K..." Cella warned, a scolding look on her face.

"Hey, if you won't say it, I will!" I said shamelessly. I turned back to Mason, eyes narrowed in a glare that I knew intimidated him, whether he'd admit it or not. "Anyone will tell you that the main theme in Macbeth is ambition. I learned that in sixth fucking grade! If you weren't such an absolute idiot—"

"You know what?" Mason stood abruptly, his fists clenched at his sides. "I'm so fucking sick of you! What the hell did I do to you, man? You think you know everything but you don't! If you think I'm so wrong about goddamn Macbeth, you could tell me like a mature adult instead of screaming and throwing a temper tantrum like a little fucking girl!"

I rose slowly to my feet, enjoying the way Mason's jaw clenched at my nonchalant demeanor. "Honestly I'm hurt, I really am," I mocked, placing a hand over my heart. "You want me to be a mature adult? I will when you will."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Mason snarled, and I could tell he was about ready to jump me.

"I'm talking about the fact that you can't take the project seriously for two minutes before you're back to batting your eyes at Cella!"

I internally scolded myself for losing my demeanor. Once my cool was gone, so was my control over the situation, and I couldn't win without control. "What, you jealous?" Mason smirked.

"Oh so now we're using middle school remarks, are we?"

Mason's nostrils flared and, for a moment, I thought I'd gotten my control back. Then he said, "You know what, Kieran? I think you're onto something with the whole 'judging someone without knowing them' thing. I've only known you since this morning, and I've already got it figured out that you're nothing but a petty little son of a bitch who thinks he's got the world wrapped around his fingers. News flash—you're not special. You're just another attention seeking coward who can't tell his ass from a hole in the ground."

Throughout his little spiel I was fine, even a little bit bored. But at his last comment I heard a muffled snicker from behind me.

Marcella, my best and only real friend since I could remember, was laughing at me.

I glared at her and instantly her eyes turned apologetic. I hardly noticed, though—I was already headed for the door.

Then Mason was in front of me, blocking the exit. "Move," I growled.

"Are you serious?"

Now that we were so close, Mason had an inch or two on me and I had to look up at him slightly. "I can't work with you. Now move."

Mason ignored me again and said, "We have a project to work on. You're not gonna just walk out because you can't handle being wrong."

"What I can't handle," I hissed, "is insufferable pricks that think they know everything."

"Then I can't imagine how you stand yourself."

     "Back to the seventh grade comebacks I see?" I scoffed. I tried to maneuver around Mason, but me moved to block my step. "I'm leaving."

     "No you're not," Mason insisted. He crossed his arms over his chest and I wished I could wipe the smug look off of his face.

      "You wanna try and stop me?" I narrowed my eyes challengingly.

      "I'm doing pretty good at it so far, so, yeah," Mason said, smirking.

     I'd had enough. I knew I shouldn't, but I shoved him, hard. He stumbled back, out of the doorway, and stared at me in shock. He hadn't been expecting me to be so strong, I could tell.

     Instead of celebrating my small victory, I stormed past him into the hall. I jerked back abruptly when a strong hand gripped my wrist, forcing me to a stop. I tried to pull away, but he had an iron grip.

     That didn't make any sense. My strength was supposed to be greater than any average mortal's. "What the hell, man?" I snapped to cover up my surprise. "Let go!"

     I bit back a gasp when Mason pulled me to him so that we were only inches apart. "Listen here," he growled in that animalistic way of his. I could see a vein popping in his neck and, as if of their own accord, I felt my fangs slide out. That never happened—I'd grown to be able to control them over the years. Yet I couldn't force them back; something about the heartbeat I could hear pounding in his chest and the blood I could sense flowing through his veins was extremely appealing. Suddenly, I realized I was very hungry; I hadn't had a proper drink in days. I found myself focusing more on controlling my urges than listening to what he was saying. "You might not know much about working with others, but you don't back out on your group."

    He somehow sounded even angrier than before. The vein in his neck was so prominent, it took all of my focus to not lean forward and sink my teeth in. I couldn't even remember what I'd said, but whatever it was, it seriously upset him.

     "Oh so you're some kind of expert on comradery?" I diverted my eyes from his neck in an attempt to distract myself. Still, my voice came out way shakier than I'd wanted.

      "I am, actually."

      "Huh, okay," I huffed, trying to sound sarcastic and bored. My voice was still unsteady, though. "See you later, Cella."

      "Bye, K."

     Mason whipped his head in Cella's direction. "You're just gonna let him be like this?"

     "Just let it go Mason," Cella sighed, and I was finding it hard to stay mad at her. She knew my limits better than anyone, and she had my back. Mason reluctantly released my wrist and I hightailed it out of there, not caring if it was obvious that I was desperate to leave.

       I had no clue why his blood affected me so much. That had never happened to me before, other than when I was young and constantly bloodthirsty. His blood wasn't normal—it couldn't have been.