CHAPTER 3RUSSIAN ROULETTE
NAOMI
It was the weirdest day ever.
Damon came to the apartment, where he alphabetized my books while I showered. He came to Western Civ, where he covered three college-ruled pages with intricate geometric patterns. He came to Visual Arts, where he intimidated my favorite professor and folded better origami flowers than I did. He came to the food court, where he ate nothing and criticized my nutrition habits. And he did it all without saying a single word to anyone, including me.
I decided to pretend he was invisible. When that started making me feel schizophrenic, I decided instead to pretend he was a hot vampire who had appointed himself my bodyguard. It helped.
“So, do you eat food?” I asked, dipping a chicken nugget in sweet-and-sour sauce.
It was a long
