“A truce?” She lifts a brow and cocks her head. “You? Ever Bloom? The girl who pretended to be my best friend, stole my crush right out from under me—um, hel-lo, Damen?” she says, shaking her head in response to my look of confusion. “If you’ll remember, I called dibs on him long before you, but still, you just dove right on in and scooped him right out from under me, which, fine, whatever, it all worked out in the end, I guess, but still. And then, even after all that, once you seemingly have everything a person could ever want, apparently that just isn’t enough for you and so you decide to go after Roman too, because apparently one smokin’ hot immortal just isn’t enough. Oh, and you’re so single-minded in your quest, you decide you’ll try to kill me if that’s what it takes to get to him. But now, you’ve suddenly suffered a dramatic change of heart, leading you to just show up at my bedroom door and ask for a truce? Is that right? Is that what’s really happening here?”
I nod. “Basically, but there’s a lot more to it than that, something you need to know. Because the truth is, I tried to put a spell on Roman—a spell that would make him do my bidding and give me what I want. Only it totally backfired and ended up binding me to him in a way that—well, in a way I still don’t fully understand.” I scrunch my nose and shake my head at the memory of it. “But that’s the only reason I did what I did. I swear. The magick took control and I wasn’t in my right mind. It wasn’t really me that was doing those things—or at least not entirely.” I shake my head. “I know it sounds crazy, and it’s not all that easy to explain, but it’s like I was being compelled by a force outside myself.” I look at her, willing her to believe. “I wasn’t in charge.”
She looks at me, head tilted, a single brow lifted. Smirking as she says, “A spell? You seriously expect me to believe that?”
I nod, carefully holding her gaze. Willing to confess the whole sordid tale, whatever it takes to get her to trust me again. But not here. Not in the hall. “Listen, do you think maybe I could—?” I gesture toward the inside of her room.
She frowns, eyes narrowed to slits as she takes her time to consider. Opening the door just wide enough for me to squeeze through when she says, “Just so you know, you make one move I don’t like and so help me God I will take you down so fast you won’t even know what hit—”
“Relax,” I say, plopping onto her bed just like the old days, only this is nothing like the old days, not even close. “I’m feeling very nonviolent today, I assure you. In fact, I’m feeling very nonviolent pretty much every day from now on, and I have no intention of going after you in any way. All I want is peace and the return of your friendship, but failing that, I’ll settle for a truce.”
She leans against her dresser, arms folded tightly across the black leather corset she wears cinched over her antique lace dress. “Sorry, Ever, but after all we’ve been through, it’s just not that easy. I have no reason to trust you, and I’m gonna need a little more assurance than that.”
I take a deep breath and run my hand over her old floral bedspread, surprised she hasn’t changed it by now. “Trust me,” I say, looking at her. “I get it, I really do. But, Haven”—I pause, shaking my head and starting again—“the truth is, I can’t stand what’s happened to us. I miss you. I miss our friendship. And I hate knowing it’s partly my fault.”
“Partly?” She balks, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. “Um, excuse me for saying so, but don’t you think that statement would be a little more accurate if you admitted to all of it being your fault?”
I look at her, look h
er straight in the eye when I say, “Fine, I’ll concede to most of it, but certainly not all of it. But, Haven, the point is—while I don’t like Roman—and believe me I have my reasons—I get that he’s your boyfriend, and I get that no matter what I say about him I can’t change your mind, so I’m not gonna try. And I know you find that hard to believe, especially after what you saw the other night—but the thing is—well—like I said before, that wasn’t really me.”
“Oh right—it was that pesky evil spell.” She shakes her head and rolls her eyes, but I don’t let that stop me.
“Listen, I know you don’t believe me, and I know how crazy I probably sound right now, but I think that considering the circumstances, you of all people should know that the craziest-sounding things are often true.”
She looks at me, mouth twisted to the side, a sure sign she’s not just discarding but actually considering my words.
“We’re on the same side, you and I—and I hope that in time, you’ll see that too. Trust me—I’m not trying to stand in the way of your happiness. And I would never try to steal someone you wanted for yourself—despite how it may have looked. I just—well, I’m just hoping there’s still some way for us to be friends again, some way to mend our friendship, in spite of all that’s happened. I mean, I know it won’t be the same. I hardly expect it to be after all we’ve been through, and I know you’re really busy with your job, and hanging out with—um—those other immortals . . .” I say, temporarily forgetting their names.
“Rafe, Misa, and Marco,” she mumbles, clearly annoyed.
“Yeah, them. But still, school’s starting up in a few weeks, and Miles will be back soon, and I thought maybe, I mean, not every day if you don’t want, but maybe every now and then, we could all sit together at lunch. You know, like we used to.”
“So, it’s a lunchtime truce?” she says, her eyes a kaleidoscope of tortoiseshell swirls fixed firmly on mine.
“No.” I shake my head. “It’s an all the time truce. I’m just hoping it’ll extend to the occasional lunch too.”
She frowns, picking at her cuticles, which, I know for a fact, are not at all ragged because immortals do not get hangnails. I also know it’s an excuse to avoid me, avoid my gaze, make me wonder and wait while she takes her time to consider my words.
“It can never be like it was,” she finally says, lifting her gaze to meet mine. “And not just because of everything that happened with Roman—which was seriously messed up, by the way. But the real reason we can’t go back is because I’m different now—and the thing is, I like being different. I don’t want to go back to the way I was. I don’t want to be that sad, pathetic loser ever again.”
“You were never pathetic or a loser—just a bit sad at times,” I say, but she quickly waves it away.
“Besides, so much has changed—maybe too much—I’m not sure I can get past all of that.”
I nod. I realize this too but still hope that she can.
“And yeah, Misa, Rafe, and Marco are cool and all, don’t get me wrong, but other than our immortality, and our work at the store, we really don’t have all that much in common, you know? I mean, we have totally different backgrounds, totally different references, they’ve never even heard of most of my favorite bands, which really kind of bugs me.”
I shrug and nod, like I get it, totally and completely get it.
“And even though I never really felt like you and I had all that much in common either, I did always feel like you sort of got me, you know? Like maybe you couldn’t exactly relate to me, but still, you accepted me, you didn’t judge me, and, well, it meant a lot—or it meant something, anyway.”
I press my lips together and wait for the rest, knowing she’s far from done yet.
“So yeah, I’ve missed you too.” She looks at me, shrugging when she adds, “It’ll be nice to keep at least one friend for the rest of eternity. But are you sure we can’t turn Miles too?”
“No!” I blurt, before I realize she’s joking.