I was hoping for a quiet booth in the corner, away from gossipmongers and gawkers—a place from which I could easily sneak out of the Cricket Club.

Instead, the hostess showed us to a table in the center of the restaurant.

We started to sit down, and my ultrapale boyfriend politely held out my chair for me. My dad quickly rose and followed Alexander's gentlemanly example for my surprised mother.

"The four of us should eat out more often," my mom said as we settled in. "Alexander brings out the best in your father."

Alexander and I were on display, as if we were in the spotlight on a Broadway stage. The soft candlelight couldn't mask the occasional lingering gaze or whispers from the other pubsters.

However, I had other things on my mind. Aside from worrying about being an outcast, I had to figure out how Alexander and I were going to get to the library before Valentine did.

Or maybe we were already too late. I imagined that, between the stacks of physics and calculus books, Valentine could be gnashing his fangs into my brother's neck. But I had to remain positive. It wasn't likely Valentine would risk being easily spotted. Or would he?

"This is quite a pleasure," my father said genuinely. "Order anything you like. Your mother's paying," he teased.

Just then a slight woman in a black DKNY pantsuit came over and stood beside our table. She had Trevor Mitchell's face. It was his mother.

"Hi, Sarah. Hi, Paul," Mrs. Mitchell said. Her smile stretched so wide that her pink lipstick started to crack.

Mrs. Mitchell studied Alexander, then me, mentally taking notes of anything she could report to her tennis friends.

"This is a coincidence seeing you here," my mother said.

"Or fate," Mrs. Mitchell corrected as she gazed at my boyfriend.

"Oh…you know Alexander Sterling," my mom began.