I was half asleep when the door opened. Looking up, I felt a crick in my neck bite my nerves.
Baz strode in, an old leather book tucked in his arm. He looked at me briefly, rolled his eyes, and sat down on his bed.
"Have fun killing innocent people?"
He ignored me and cracked his book open. His ebony eyes skimmed the page, his expression softened and hardened with every other sentence.
I swear he was obsessed with touching his fangs. You could see the indention where his tongue was over one of his canines, and I heard the soft ocassional sucking noise escape his lips. Did all vampires do this? Was it a way to clean them or did he brush them like everyone else?
I stopped and looked back at the fireplace, contemplating if I should say anything. Then it dawned on me.
Was I just staring at Baz again?
---------------------
I woke up late. Baz was already gone, and the steam on the mirror left over from his shower was almost the same way. Despite his bed being made neatly, his pajamas were tossed on the floor along with the book he was reading the night before.
I glance back at the clock, finally deciding to drag myself out of bed. I like Watford, but Crowley do I hate school....