But just after I think it, the new guy says, "Told you it'd work. Stuffs brilliant. Keep the rest in case it returns."
And I narrow my gaze, wondering how he could've had enough time to intervene on Miles's complexion issues when it's the first I've yet to see of him.
"I gave him some salve," he says, turning toward me.
"Miles and I are in homeroom together. I'm Roman, by the way."
I look at him, taking in the bright yellow aura that swirls all around him, its edges extended, beckoning, like a friendly group hug. But when I take in his deep navy blue eyes, tanned skin, blond tousled hair, and casual clothes with just the right amount of hipster chic despite his good looks, my first reaction is to run away. Even when he flashes me one of those languid, easy, make-your-heart-swoon kind of smiles, I'm so on edge, I can't seem to return it.
"And you must be Ever," he says, retracting his hand, the one I hadn't even noticed was extended and waiting to be shaken until he pulled it away.
I glance at Haven who's clearly horrified by my rudeness, then over at Miles who is too busy mirror gazing to notice my faux pas. But when Damen reaches under the table and squeezes my knee, I clear my throat, look at Roman, and say, "Urn, yeah, I'm Ever." And even though he shoots me that smile again, it still doesn't work. It just makes my stomach go all jumpy and queasy.
"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 likeit'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 friendsas 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.
"Can I help you?" the teacher asks, turning away from the board, holding a broken piece of white chalk in his hand.
I stand before the class, cringing as a few of Stacia's minions mock me as I fight to catch my breath.
"Miles," I pant, pointing at him. "I need to speak to Miles. It'll only take a sec," I promise, as his teacher crosses his arms and gives me a dubious look. "It's important," I add, glancing at Miles who's now closed his eyes and is shaking his head.
"I assume you have a hall pass?" his teacher asks, a stickler for the rules.
And even though I know it might very well alienate him and end up working against me, I don't have time to get bogged down in all this red tape, the high school bureaucracy designed to keep us all safe but that is actually, at this very moment, keeping me from handling a matter that is clearly life and death!
Or at least it might be.
I'm not sure. Though I'd like a chance to find out.
And I'm so frustrated, I just shake my head and say, "Listen, you and I both know I don't have a hall pass, but if you'll just do me the favor of letting me speak with Miles outside for a sec, I promise to send him right back."
He looks at me, his mind sifting through all the alternatives, all the different ways this could play out: kicking me out, escorting me to class, escorting me to Principal Buckley's office before glancing at Miles and sighing when he says, "Fine. Make it quick."
The second we head into the hall and the door closes behind us, I look at Miles and say, "Give me the salve."
"What?" He gapes.
"The salve. The one Roman gave you. Give it to me. I need to see it," I tell him, extending my hand and wiggling my finger, "Are you crazy?" he whispers, looking around even though it's just wall-to-wall carpet, taupe colored walls, and us.
"You have no idea how serious this is," I say, my eyes on his, not wanting to scare him, though I will if I have to. "Now come on, we don't have all day."
"It's in my backpack." He shrugs.
'"Then go get it."
"Ever, seriously. What the ?"
I just fold my arms and nod. "Go on. Ill wait."
Miles shakes his head and disappears inside the room.
Emerging a moment later with a sour expression and a small white tube in the palm of his hand. "Here. Happy now?" He tosses it to me.
I take the tube and examine it, twirling it between my thumb and index finger. It's a brand that I recognize, from a store that I frequent. And I don't understand how that could be.
"You know, in case you've forgotten, my play is tomorrow, and I really don't need all of this extra drama and stress right now, so if you don't mind ..."
He extends his hand, waiting for me to return the salve so he can get back to class.
Only I'm not willing to hand it over just yet. I'm looking for some kind of needle hole or puncture mark, something to prove it's been tampered with, that it's not what it seems.
"I mean, today at lunch when I saw how you and Damen toned down the whole smoochy business, I was ready to high-five you, but now it's like you've replaced it with something way worse. I mean, seriously, Ever. Either unscrew the cap and use it, or give it back already."
But I don't give it back. Instead, I close my fingers around it and try to read its energy. But it's just some stupid zit cream. The kind that actually works.
"Are we done here?" He frowns at me.
I shrug and give the tube back. To say I'm embarrassed would be putting it mildly. But when Miles shoves it into his pocket and heads for the door, I can't help but say, "So you noticed?" The words feel hot and sticky in my throat.
"Noticed what?" He stops, clearly annoyed.
"The, um, the absence of the whole smoochy business?
Miles turns, performing an exaggerated eye roll before leveling his gaze right on mine. "Yeah, I noticed. I figured you guys were just taking my threat seriously."
I look at him.
"This morning when I said Haven and I were on strike until you guys stopped with all of your " He shakes his head. "Whatever. Can I please get to class?"
"Sorry." I nod. "Sorry about all the "
But before I can finish, he's already gone, the door closed firmly between us.
CHAPTER 6
When I get to sixth period art, I'm relieved to see Damen's already there. Since Mr. Robins kept us so busy in English and we barely spoke at lunch, I'm looking forward to a little alone time with him. Or at least as alone as you can be in a classroom with thirty other students.
But after slipping on my smock and gathering my supplies from the closet, my heart sinks when I see that, once again, Roman has taken my place.
"Oh, hey, Ever." He nods, placing his brand-new blank canvas on my easel while I stand there, cradling my stuff in my arms and staring at Damen who's so immersed in his painting he's completely oblivious to me.
And I'm just about to tell Roman to scram when I remember Haven's words, how she said I hate new people. And fearing she might be right, I force a smile onto my face and place my canvas on the easel on Damen's other side, promising myself to get here much earlier tomorrow so I can reclaim my space. "So tell me. Wot are we doin' 'ere, mate?" Roman asks, lodging a paintbrush between his front teeth and glancing between Damen and me. And that's another thing. Normally, I find British accents really appealing, but with this guy, it just grates. But that's probably because it's totally bogus. I mean, it's so obvious with the way he only slips it in when he wants to seem cool.