"Why not?" He shrugs.
"Well, what about my lessons," I say, trying to appear interested in studying and learning new tricks, when the truth is, I'd much rather go to Summerland where everything is effortless and instant. "Not to mention how you're not feeling so well." I squeeze his arm again, noticing how the usual warmth and tingle still hasn't fully returned.
"There are lessons to be learned in Summerland too."
He smiles. "And if you'll hand me my juice, I'll feel well enough to make us the portal."
But even after I hand it over and he takes several long hearty gulps, he can't make it appear.
"Maybe I can help?" I say, staring at the sweat on his brow.
"No —I just—I almost had it. Just give me another second," he mumbles, clenching his jaw, determined to get there.
So I do. In fact, I let the seconds turn into minutes, and still nothing.
"I don't understand." He squints. "This hasn't happened since —since I first learned how to do it."
"Maybe it's because you're not feeling well." I watch as he takes another drink, followed by another, and then another. And when he closes his eyes and tries again, he gets the exact same results as before. "Can I try?"
"Forget it. You don't know how," he says, his voice containing an edge I try not to take personally, knowing it's due more to his frustration with himself than with me.
"I know I don't know how, but I thought maybe you could teach me and then I —"
But before I can finish, he's up from the bed, pacing before me. "It's a process, Ever. It took me years to learn how to get there. You can't just skip to the end of the book without reading the middle." He shakes his head and leans against my desk, his body rigid and tense, his gaze refusing mine.
"And when was the last time you read a book without already knowing the beginning, middle, and end?" I smile.
He looks at me, his face a series of hard edges and angles, but only for a moment before he sighs and moves toward me, taking my hand as he says, "You want to try?"
I nod.
He looks me over, clearly doubting it'll work, but wanting to please me more than anything else. "Okay then, make yourself comfortable, but don't cross your legs like that. It cuts off the chi."
"Chi?"
"A fancy word for energy." He smiles. "Unless you want to sit in the lotus position, then that's perfectly fine."
I kick off my flip-Hops and press my soles against the carpeted floor, getting as comfortable and relaxed as my excitement will allow.
"Usually it requires a long series of meditations, but in the interest of time, and since you're already pretty advanced, we're just going to cut to the chase, okay?"
I nod, eager to get started.
"I want you to close your eyes and imagine a shimmering veil of soft golden light hovering before you," he says, entwining his fingers with mine.
So I do, picturing an exact replica of the one that got me there before, the one Damen placed in my path to save me from Drina. And it's so beautiful, so brilliant, and so luminous, my heart swells with joy as I raise my hand toward it, eager to immerse it in that radiant shower of glistening light, longing to return to that mystical place. And just as my fingers make contact and are about to submerge, it shrinks from my sight and I'm back in my room.
"I can't believe it! I was so close!" I turn toward Damen. "It was right there before me! Did you see it?"
"You came remarkably close," he says. And even though his gaze is tender, his smile is forced.
"What if I try it again? What if we do it together this time?" I say, my hope plummeting the instant he shakes his head and turns away.
"Ever, we were doing it together," he mutters, wiping his brow and averting his gaze. "I'm afraid I'm not turning out to be a very good teacher."
"That's ridiculous! You're a great teacher, you're just having an off day, that's all." But when I look at him, it's clear he's not swayed. So I switch tactics, placing the blame back on me when I say, "It's my fault. I'm a bad student. I'm lazy, sloppy, and spend most of my time trying to distract you from my lessons so we can make out." I squeeze his hand. "But I'm past all that now. And I'm about to get very serious. So just give me another chance, you'll see."
He looks at me, doubting it'll work, but not wanting to disappoint me, he takes my hand and we both try again, the two of us closing our eyes, envisioning that glorious portal of light. And just as it starts to take shape, Sabine walks through the front door and starts up the stairs, catching us so off guard, we scramble to opposite sides of the room.
"Damen, I thought that was your car in the drive."
She slips off her jacket and covers the space from the door to my desk in a handful of steps. The amped-up energy of her office still clinging to her as she shakes his hand and focuses on the bottle balanced on his knee. "So you're the one who got Ever hooked" She glances between us, her eyes narrowed, her lips pursed, like she's got all the evidence she needs. I peek at Damen, panic rising in my throat, wondering how he'll explain. But he just laughs it off when he says, "Guilty! Most people don't have the taste for it, but for whatever reason, Ever seems to like it." Then he smiles in a way that's meant to be persuasive, if not charming, and if you ask me, it nails both. But Sabine just continues to gaze at him, completely unmoved. "That's all she seems to be interested in anymore, I buy bags and bags of groceries, but she refuses to eat."
"That's not true!" I say, annoyed that she's starting this all over again, especially in front of Damen. But when I see the chai latte stain on her blouse, my annoyance turns to outrage. "How'd you get that?" I motion toward the spot like it's a scarlet letter, a mark of disgrace, knowing I have to do whatever it takes to dissuade her from returning anytime soon.
She gazes down at her blouse, her fingers rubbing against it as she pauses to think, then she shakes her head and shrugs when she says, "I bumped into someone." And the way she says it, so casual, so offhand, so blase, it's obvious she's not nearly as impressed with the encounter as Munoz seemed to be.
"So, are we still on for dinner Saturday night?" she asks.
I swallow hard, telepathically urging Damen to just nod and smile and answer in the affirmative even though he has no idea what she's talking about, since I failed to mention it before.
"I made reservations for eight."
I hold my breath, watching as he nods and smiles just like I asked him to. Even choosing to take it a step further by adding, "Wouldn't miss it."
He shakes Sabine's hand and heads out the door, his fingers entwined around mine, sending a warm wonderful thrum through my body. "Sorry about the whole dinner tiling," I say, gazing up at him. "I guess I was hoping she'd get really busy and forget all about it."
He presses his lips to my cheek, then slides into his car. "She cares about you. Wants to make sure I'm good enough, sincere, and not out to hurt you. Believe me, we've been through this before. And though I may have come close once or twice, I don't remember ever failing inspection." He smiles.
"Aw yes, the strict Puritan father," I say, figuring he's the perfect description of an overbearing parental type.
"You'd be surprised." Damen laughs. "The wealthy landowner was much more of a gatekeeper. And yet still, I managed to sneak by."
"Maybe someday you'll show me your past," I say.
"You know, how your life was before we met. Your home, your parents, how you became this way ..." My voice trails off, seeing the flash of pain in his eyes and knowing he's still unwilling to discuss it. He always shuts down, refuses to share, which only makes me even more curious.