"Seems we have a lot in common," he says, though I can't imagine what that could possibly be. "I sat two rows behind you in history. And the way you were struggling, I couldn't help but think, well there's a girl who hates history almost as much as I do."
"I don't hate history," I say, only it comes out too quickly, too defensively, my voice containing a sharp abrasive edge that makes everyone stare. So I glance at Damen, looking for confirmation, sure I can't be the only one who feels the unsettled stream of energy that starts with Roman and flows right to me.
But he just shrugs and sips his red drink as though everything's perfectly normal and he hasn't noticed a thing. So I turn back to Roman and delve into his mind, eavesdropping on a steady stream of harmless thoughts that while slightly juvenile for sure, are basically benign. Which pretty much means the problem is mine.
"Really?" Roman raises his brows and leans toward me. "All that delving into the past, exploring all those long-ago places and dates, examining the lives of people who lived centuries before and bear absolutely no relevance now —that doesn't bother you? Or bore you to death?"
Only when those people, places, and dates involve my boyfriend and Ms six hundred years of carousing!
But I only think it. I don't say it. Instead, I just shrug and say, "I did fine. In fact, it was easy. I aced it."
He nods, his eyes grazing over me, not missing an inch. "Good to know." He smiles. "Munoz is giving me the weekend to catch up, perhaps you can tutor me?"
I glance at Haven, watching as her eyes grow dark and her aura turns a jealous puke green, then at Miles who's moved on from his zit and is now texting Holt, and then I look at Damen who's oblivious to us both, his gaze far away, focused on something I can't see. And even though I know I'm being ridiculous, that everyone else seems to like him and I should do what I can to help, I just shrug when I say, "Oh, I'm sure that's not necessary. You don't need me." Unable to ignore the prick of my skin and the ping in my stomach when his eyes meet mine —revealing a set of flawless white teeth when he says, "Nice of you to give me the benefit of the doubt, Ever. Though I'm not sure you should."
CHAPTER 5
"What's up with you and the new kid?" Haven asks, lagging behind as everyone else heads for class. "Nothing." I shake off her hand and forge straight ahead, her energy streaming right through me as I watch Roman, Miles, and Damen laugh and carry on as though they're old friends.
"Please." She rolls her eyes. "It's so obvious you don't like him"
"That's ridiculous," I say, my eyes focused on Damen, my gorgeous and glorious boyfriend/soul mate/eternal partner/cohort (I really need to find the right word) who's barely spoken to me since this morning in English. And I'm hoping it's not because of the reason I think —because of my behavior yesterday and my refusal to commit to this weekend. "I'm totally serious." She looks at me. "It's like—it's like you hate new people or something." Which happened to come out much kinder than the actual words in her head.
I press my lips together and stare straight ahead, resisting the urge to roll my eyes.
But she just peers at me, hand on one hip, heavily made-up eyes squinting from under the Earning red stripe in her bangs. "Because if I remember right, and we both know I do, you hated Damen when he first came to this school."
"I didn't hate Damen," I say, rolling my eyes despite my recent vow not to. Thinking: Correction, I only gave the appearance of hating Damen. When the truth is, I loved him that whole entire time. Well, except for that short period of time when I truly did hate him. But still even then, I loved him. I just didn't want to admit it....
"Urn, excuse me, but I beg to differ," she says, artfully messy black hair falling into her face. "Remember how you didn't even invite him to your Halloween party?"
I sigh, completely annoyed by all this. All I want to do is get to class so I can pretend to pay attention while I telepathically IM Damen.
"Yes, and if you'll remember that's also the night we hooked up," I finally say, though the second it's out, I regret it. Haven's the one who found us making out by the pool, and it pretty much broke her heart. But she just ignores it, more determined to make her case than revisit that particular past. "Or maybe you're jealous because Damen has a new friend. You know, someone other than you."
"That's ridiculous," I say, though it comes out too quickly to ever be believed. "Damen has plenty of friends," I add, even though we both know it's not true.
She looks at me, lips pursed, completely unmoved. But now that I'm this far in, I've no choice but to continue, so I say, "He has you, and Miles, and —" And me, I think, but I don't want to say it because it's a sad little list, which is exactly her point. And the truth is, Damen never hangs with Haven and Miles unless I'm there too. He spends every free moment with me. And the times we're not together he sends a steady stream of thoughts and images to make up for the distance. It's like we're always connected. And I have to admit that I like it that way. Because only with Damen can I be my true self —my thought-hearing, energy-sensing, spirit-seeing self. Only with Damen can I let my guard down and be the real me. But when I look at Haven, I can't help but wonder if maybe she's right. Maybe I am jealous. Maybe Roman really is just some nice normal guy who moved to a new school and wants to make some new friends—as opposed to the creepy threat I assume him to be. Maybe I really have become so paranoid, jealous, and possessive I automatically assume that just because Damen wasn't as focused on me as he usually is, I'm about to be replaced. And if that's the case, well, it's way too pathetic to admit. So I just shake my head and fake a laugh when I say, "Again, ridiculous. All of this is seriously ridiculous." Then I try to look as though I really do mean it.
"Yeah? Well, what about Drina, then? How do you explain that?" She smirks and says, "You hated her from the moment you saw her, and don't even try to deny it. And then, once you found out she knew Damen, you hated her even more."
I cringe when she says it. And not only because it's true, but because hearing the name of Damen's ex-wife always makes me cringe. I can't help it, it just does. But I have no idea how to explain it to Haven. All she knows is that Drina pretended to be her friend, ditched her at a party, and then disappeared forever. She has no memory of Drina trying to kill her with the poisonous salve she used for that creepy tattoo she recently had removed from her wrist, no memory of —
Oh my God! The salve! Roman gave Miles a salve for his zit! I knew there was something strange about him. I knew I wasn't making it up! "Haven, what class does Miles have now?" I ask, my eyes scanning the campus, unable to find him and in too big of a hurry to use remote sensing, which I still haven't mastered.
"I think English, why?" She gives me a strange look. "Nothing, I just —I gotta run."
"Fine. Whatever. But just so you know, I still think you hate new people!" she shouts. But it lingers behind me. I'm already gone.
I sprint across campus, focusing on Miles's energy and trying to sense which classroom he's in. And as I round a corner and see a door on my right, without even thinking, I burst in.