He leans, scanning the crowd below.
“Choose wisely.” Murmur at his ear, a laugh. “You’ll always remember your first.”
Fingers stroke his neck. The wound is healed, already, but he can feel it. Feels Spike’s touch, all through him.
There, by the door. Tugging anxiously at her too-short skirt.
“Tiffany,” someone calls. “Over here!”
“That one?” Spike asks, and he nods.
She blushes, looks away. This handsome, dark-eyed boy, gazing at her as if she’s beautiful.
The coiled snake of hunger in his belly stirs, raises its head.
“Hey, Tiff,” Xander says. He smiles. “Remember me? I’m Alex.”