“Sorry.”
“Next year.”
I shrug.
“What’s your deal?” She squints.
I pause, seeing how they’re both staring at me, convinced I’m either holding something back, have completely lost it, or both. Knowing I need to do what I can to dispel that when I say, “I just don’t think you should waste your money. She’s not all that great. We’ve had some complaints.”
Miles shakes his head, looking at me when he says, “Way to close a deal, Ever.”
But Haven’s unmoved, gaze fixed on mine, head nodding slowly as she adds, “Well, I’m sure this isn’t the only place where I can get a reading. And for some reason, for some strange, unknown reason, now I’m more determined than ever.” Slinging her bag over her shoulder and grabbing Miles’s hand, pulling him alongside her as she heads for the door and says, “I don’t know what’s going on with you, but you’ve been acting really strange. Stranger than usual.” Glancing over her shoulder and shooting me a loaded look I prefer not to interpret. “Seriously, Ever, if you’re into Jude, then just say so. Though you might want to tell Damen first—he deserves the courtesy, don’t you think?”
“I’m not into Jude.” I shrug, trying to appear calm, even, but failing miserably. Besides it’s not like it matters, they’re already convinced. Everyone’s convinced. Everyone but me. “And trust me, there’s nothing going on except finals, planning for Miles’s party, and all—the usual—stuff—” My voice trailing off, knowing not one of us is buying it.
“Then where’s Damen? How come he never comes around anymore?” Haven asks, as Miles stands beside her and nods. Allowing me a few seconds to answer before adding, “You know, friendships are supposed to work both ways. Give and take. Based on trust. But for whatever reason, you think you need to act perfect all the time. Like nothing ever goes wrong in your perfect, pretty life. Like nothing ever bothers you or drags you down. And I’m here to tell you that believe it or not, Miles and I will still love you even if you have an imperfect moment. Heck, even if you have an imperfect day, we’ll still sit with you at lunch and text you in class. Because, trust us, Ever, it’s not like we’re buying your perfect act anyway.”
I take a deep breath and nod. It’s all I can do. My throat is so hot and tight there’s no way I can speak.
Knowing they’re waiting, both of them, standing by the door, willing to stay if I’ll just say the word, find the courage to open up and trust them enough to unburden myself for a change.
But I can’t. Who knows how they’d react, and I have enough to deal with already.
So I just smile and wave and promise to catch up with them later. Trying not to wince as they roll their eyes and leave.
forty
I’m in the back room, hunched over the book when Jude comes in, surprised to find I’m still here.
“I saw your car parked out back and wanted to make sure you’re okay.” He pauses in the doorway, eyes narrowed, taking me in, before dropping onto the chair just opposite the desk where he studies me some more.
I gaze up from the book, eyes bleary as I glance at the clock, surprised to see how late it’s gotten, surprised to see I’ve been here so long.
“I guess I got a little caught up.” I shrug. “It’s a lot to slog through.” Closing the cover and pushing it aside as I add, “And most of it useless.”
“You don’t have to pull an all-nighter, you know. You can take it home if you want.”
I think about home, and the message Sabine left for me earlier, informing me of her plans to cook dinner for Munoz, making home pretty much the last place I want to be at this point.
“No thanks.” I shake my head. “I’m done.” Realizing I mean it in every possible way.
For a book that once held such promise, all I’ve read so far are location spells, love spells, and a dubious cure for warts with inconclusive results—nothing about reversing the effects of a tainted elixir—or how to get a certain someone to divulge the only thing I really need to know.
Nothing that holds the slightest bit of promise for me.
“Can I help?” he asks, reading the defeat in my gaze.
I start to shake my head, knowing he can’t. But then I think better. Maybe he can?
“Is she here?” I stare at him, holding my breath. “Riley—is she around?”
He looks to my right, then shakes his head. “Sorry.” He shrugs. “Haven’t seen her since—”
But even though his voice fades, we both know how it ends. He hasn’t seen her since yesterday, just before Damen caught us embracing on the beach—a moment I prefer to forget.
“So how exactly do you teach someone to—you know—see spirits?”
He looks at me for a moment, rubbing his chin as his eyes study mine. “I can’t necessarily teach someone to see them.” He leans back in his seat, propping his bare foot on his knee. “Everybody’s different—with different gifts and abilities. Some are naturally clairvoyant—able to see, or clairaudient—able to hear, or clairsentient—”