[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

horrified! That'll teach him. But anyway, back to you. Come
on, the divulging starts now.Tell me everything," he says,
turning toward me and nodding impatiently. "Was it as
awesome as we all dreamed it would be?"
I shrug, glancing at Riley and warning her with my eyes to
either cease and desist or disappear. "Sorry to disappoint
you," I finally say. "But there's nothing to tell."
"That's not what I heard. Haven said-" I press my lips and
shake my head. Just because I already know what Haven
said doesn't mean I want to hear it spoken out loud. So I
cut him off when I say, "Okay fine, we kissed. But just
once." I can feel him looking at me, brows raised, lips
smirked in suspicion. "Maybe twice. I don't know, it's not
like I counted," I mumble, lying like a red-faced, sweatypalmed,
shifty-eyed amateur, and hoping he doesn't notice.
Because the truth is I've replayed that kiss so many times
it's tattooed on my brain.
"And?" he says, impatient for more.
"And-nothing," I say, relieved when I glance at him and see
Riley's gone. .
"He didn't call? Or text? Or e-mail? Or drop by?" Miles
gasps, visibly upset, wondering what it means not only for
me, but the future of our group.
I shake my head and stare straight ahead, angry with
myself for not dealing with it better, hating the way my
throat's gone all tight as my eyes start to sting.
"But what did he say? When he left the party, I mean? What
were his very last words?" Miles asks, determined to find
some ray of hope in this bleak and bitter landscape.
I turn at the light, remembering our strange and sudden
good-bye at the door. Then I face Miles, swallow hard, and
say, "He said, 'souvenir?'''
And the moment it's out, I know it's a really bad sign.
Nobody takes a souvenir from a place they plan to frequent.
Miles looks at me, his eyes expressing the words his lips
have refused.
"Tell me about it," I say, shaking my head as I pull into the
lot.
Even though I'm fully committed to not thinking about
Damen, I can't help but feel disappointed when I get to
English and see he's not there. Which, of course, makes me
think about him even that much more, until I'm teetering on
the edge of obsession.
I mean, just because our kiss seemed like something more
than just a random hookup doesn't mean he felt the same
way. And just because it felt solid and true and
transcendent to me doesn't mean he was in on it too.
Because no matter how hard I try, I can't shake the image
of him and Drina standing together, a perfect Count Fersen
with an idyllic Marie. While I stood on the sidelines all shiny
and poufy like the world's biggest wannabe.
I'm just about to click on my iPod when Stacia and Damen
burst through the door. Laughing and smiling, shoulders
nearly touching, two single white rosebuds clutched in her
hand. And when he leaves her at her desk and heads
toward me, I fumble with some papers and pretend I didn't
see.
"Hey," he says, sliding onto his seat. Acting like everything's
perfectly normaI. Like he didn't pull a grope-and-run less
than forty-eight hours before.
I plate my cheek on my palm and force my face into a
yawn, hoping to come off as bored, tired, worn out from
activities he couldn't begin to imagine, doodling on a piece
of notebook paper with fingers so shaky my pen slips right
out of my hand. I bend down to retrieve it, and when I
come back up I find a single red tulip on top of my desk.
"What happened? You run out of white rosebuds?" I ask,
flipping through books and papers, as though I've
something important to do.
"I would never give you a rosebud," he says, his eyes
searching for mine.
But I refuse to meet his gaze, refuse to get sucked into his
sadistic little game. I just grab my bag and pretend to
search for something inside, cursing under my breath when
I find it stuffed full of tulips.
"You're strictly a tulip girl-a red tulip girl." He smiles.
"How exciting for me," I mumble, dropping my bag to the
ground and scooting to the farthest part of my seat, having
no idea what any of it could possibly mean.
By the time I get to our lunch table, I'm a sweaty mess.
Wondering if Damen will be there, if Haven will be
therebecause
even though I haven't seen or spoken to her since
Saturday night, I'm willing to bet she still hates me. But
despite spending all of third period chemistry practicing an
entire speech in my head, the second I see her, I've lost all
the words.
"Well, look who's here," Haven says, gazing at me. I slide
onto the bench beside Miles who's far too busy texting to
even notice my existence, and I can't help but wonder if I
should try to find some new friends-not that anyone would
have me. "I was just telling Miles how he totally missed out
on Nocturne, only he's determined to ignore me." She
scowls.
"Only because I was forced to listen to it all through history,
and then you still weren't finished and you made me late to
Spanish." He shakes his head and continues thumb
thumping.
Haven shrugs. "You're just jealous you missed out." Then
looking at me, she tries to retreat. "Not that your party
wasn't cool or anything, because it was, totally cool. It's
just-this was more my scene, you know? I mean, you
understand, right?"
I polish my apple against my sleeve and shrug, reluctant to
hear any more than I already have about Nocturne, her
scene, or Drina. But when I finally do look at her, I'm
startled to see how her usual yellow contacts have been
swapped for a brand-new green. A green so familiar it robs
me of breath. A green that can only be described as-Drina
green.
"You should've seen it, there was this huge long line out
front, but the second they saw Drina, they let us right in.
We didn't even have to pay! Not for anything, the whole
night was complete! I even crashed in her room. She's
staying in this amazing suite at the St. Regis until she finds
a more permanent place. You should see it: ocean view,
Jacuzzi tub, rocking mini-bar, the works!" She looks at me,
emerald eyes wide with excitement, waiting for an
enthusiastic response I just can't provide.
I press my lips together and take in the rest of her
appearance, noticing how her eyeliner is softer, smokier,
more like Drina's, and how her blood red lipstick has been
swapped for a lighter, rosier, Drina-like shade. Even her
hair, which she's ironed straight for as long as I've known
her, is now soft and wavy and styled like Drina's. And her
dress is fitted, silky, and vintage, like something Drina might
wear.
"So where's Damen?" Haven looks at me as though I should
know. I take a bite of my apple and shrug.
"What happened? I thought you guys hooked up?" she asks,
refusing to let it go. And before I can answer, Miles looks up
from his Sidekick and shoots her the look-the one with the
direct translation of: Caution all ye who enter.
She glances from Miles to me, then shakes her head and
sighs."Whatever. I just want you to know that I'm totally
cool with it, so no worries, okay? And I'm sorry if I got a
little weird on you." She shrugs. "But I'm totally over it now.
Seriously. Pinky-swear."
I reluctantly curl my pinky around hers and tune into her
energy. And I'm completely amazed to see that she really
does mean it. I mean, just this weekend she'd pegged me
as Public Enemy #I, but now she's clearly not bothered,
though I can't really see why.
"Haven-" I start, wondering if I should really do this, but
then figuring, oh, what the hell, I have nothing to lose. She
looks at me, smiling, waiting.
"Um, when you guys went to-Nocturne, did you maybe by
chance-happen to run into Damen?" I press my lips and
wait, feeling Miles give me a sharp look, while Haven just
stares at me, clearly confused. "Because the thing is, he left
shortly after you guys-so I thought maybe-"
She shakes her head and shrugs. "Nope, never saw him,"
she says, removing a dab of frosting from her lip with the
tip of her tongue.
And even though I know better, I choose that moment to [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]