company. Alexander wouldn�t let me inside until the Mansion�s makeover was complete. I heard bustling and tried to peek into the window, but the dirt blocked my view. I was seated on the stoop when I received a text. Hey Hottie, What are you doing? The sender was from an unavailable number. I dismissed the call, and as I waited on the stoop, the Mansion�s door finally creaked open. Alexander stood as I�d never seen him before. He was wearing pressed jeans and an oxford shirt, a brown leather belt and shiny loafers. He was unbearably handsome. �Where is Alexander?� I asked. �What do you think?� he asked, nervous about my response. �You are gorgeous! I�d never imagined you as an �insider,�� I said, checking him out. �You look like you belong in a prep school.� �Good, that�s the look we�re going for.� The Mansion had been transformed into a spread from Homes & Gardens. Everything seemed completely wrong. With the new slipcovers, the couches appeared brand new and the room clean, sweet-smelling, and free of any unwanted eight-legged insects. Hurricane lamps and framed flowers lined the mantel. Bright yellow and white pillows popped out against white linen-covered chairs. �It looks like someone else lives here,� I said. �You think so?� Sebastian asked, pleased with the results. �Alexander will be like any other person living in town�only he�ll have a butler instead of a few parents. That will accentuate his trust-fund status,� he said, thinking out loud. �You�ve covered all your bases,� I said, noticing that a floor-length candelabra had been replaced with a silver floor lamp. �Giles Lunken won�t have anything to say, except �He�s one of our own.�� �And,� Sebastian began, �it gets better. Now there�s no need for a photographer.� I followed Sebastian into a room�formerly the parlor, now a studio with desk, computer, and easel. �It�s almost finished. I just have to print it out,� he said. Sebastian went to the printer tray and handed me a glossy photo. I held it in my hand. It was a picture of Alexander! �This will be his artist�s headshot,� Sebastian boasted.I was amazed. For the first time in my life, I held a picture of my vampire boyfriend. �I love it! It looks exactly like you!� �I used one of my image-enhancement software programs,� Sebastian proudly said, �and played around with some photographs I found online. I used Johnny Depp and made a few tweaks to bone structure and added pale skin, and voil�! Alexander.� �It looks like a real photograph. And it looks like you! Can I keep it?� �We have to give it to Mr. Lunken for the article. But I can print you another one.� �Print a hundred!� I ordered. I was so distracted by finally possessing a photograph of Alexander, I almost forgot that the preppy guy standing in front of me was him. My boyfriend tugged at the collar of his shirt and fiddled with his shoes. I watched him as he uncomfortably tried to adapt to his new image. He was trying his best to fool even himself. We returned to the living room, where he put a log in the fireplace. �You hate it, don�t you,� I said. �This house is beautiful�don�t get me wrong,� he lamented. �And the clothes look great on a guy in a magazine�. But�� �What?� �I don�t want to let you down.� �Me?� I said. �I�ve spent my whole life not conforming. Why would I judge you if you don�t feel comfortable in an image that isn�t your own?� �Because if I don�t do it�if that reporter snoops around or it slips out that I sleep in a coffin�that I drink blood for breakfast�� Alexander�s voice rose. �It is dangerous not only for me, but for you.� �I understand.� I, too, was afraid Mr. Lunken would find out and reveal Alexander�s true identity. But mostly for Alexander�s sake. �I�m not sure you do�. Is this the life you really want, Raven? The one you�ve desired
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