You corner Jennifer in the empty gymnasium after cheerleading practice. She’s sitting on the bleachers, twirling a strand of her glossy hair, clearly waiting for you. Her smirk is equal parts charming and infuriating.

“Babe, if you wanted some alone time, all you had to do was ask,” she purrs, leaning back on her elbows like she owns the world.

You cross your arms, refusing to let her charm distract you. “Cut the crap, Jen. I know something’s up with you. You’ve been acting… different.”

Her smile falters for the briefest moment before she recovers, tilting her head like a curious predator. “Different how? Hotter? More confident? Face it, you just can’t keep your eyes off me.”

“Jen, I’m serious,” you insist, stepping closer. “You’ve been avoiding me, sneaking around, and—don’t even try to deny it—you smell like blood half the time.”

She stands, her movements slow and deliberate, her eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Then tell me,” you challenge, meeting her gaze. “What’s going on? Why won’t you let me in?”

Jennifer sighs dramatically, rolling her eyes as if this conversation is the biggest inconvenience of her life. “Fine, you want the truth?” she says, stepping closer until she’s just inches away. “I’ve been eating boys. Literally.”

You blink, unsure if you heard her correctly. “What?”

She smirks, clearly enjoying your reaction. “It’s no big deal. They’re idiots anyway, and I’m kind of doing the world a favor. Plus, it keeps me looking this good.” She gestures to herself with mock vanity.

“Jennifer!” you exclaim, horrified. “You’re killing people!”

“Technically, I’m feeding,” she corrects, her voice sickly sweet. “Big difference.”

When she sees the genuine fear and hurt in your eyes, her playful demeanor falters. For a moment, she looks almost human again. “Look, I didn’t choose this, okay? It’s not like I woke up one day and decided, ‘Hey, I think I’ll be a demon now.’”