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better lay down some ground rules while my brain is still
working.
"Um, you're welcome to stay," I mumble, pulling away, my
cheeks burning with embarrassment when I meet his
amused, gaze. "I mean, what I meant to say was, I want
you to stay. I do. But, well, I'm not sure that we should-you
know-"
Oh god, what am I saying? Um, hello, like he doesn't know
what I mean; Like he wasn't the one getting pushed away in
the cave and just about everywhere else. What is with you?
What are you doing? Any girl would kill for a moment like
this, a long, lazy weekend with no parents or chaperonesand
yet, here I am, enforcing some stupid set of rules-for
no good reason.
He places his finger under my chin and lifts my face until it's
level with his. "Ever, please, we've been over this," he
whispers, tucking my hair behind my ear .and bringing his
lips to my neck. "I know how to wait, really. I've already
waited this long to find you-I can wait even more."
With Damen's warm body curled around mine, and his
reassuring breath in my ear, I fall right to sleep. And even
though I was worried I'd be way too freaked by his
presence to get any rest, it's the warm secure feeling of
having him right there beside me that helps me drift off. But
when I wake at 3:45 A.M., only to discover he's no longer
there, I throw the covers aside and rush to the window,
reliving that moment in the cave all over again as I search
the drive for his car, surprised to find it's still there.
"Looking for me?" he asks.
I turn to find him standing in the doorway, my heart beating
wildly, my face gone crimson.
"Oh, I-I rolled over and you weren't there, and-" I press my
lips, feeling ridiculous, small, embarrassingly needy.
"I went downstairs for some water." He smiles, taking my
hand and leading me back to the bed.
But as I lay down beside him, my hand drifts to his side,
brushing across sheets so cold and abandoned, it seems
he's been gone for a much longer time.
The second time I wake, I'm alone again. But when I hear
Damen banging around in the kitchen, I pull on my robe
and head downstairs to investigate.
"How long have you been up?" I ask, gazing at a spotless
kitchen, the previous night's mess having vanished, replaced
by a lineup of donuts, bagels, and cereals that didn't
originate in my cupboard.
"I'm an early riser." He shrugs. "So I thought I'd clean up a
bit before running to the store. I may have gone a little
overboard, but I didn't know what you'd want." He smiles,
coming around the counter and kissing me on the cheek.
I sip from the glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice he sets
before me and ask, "Want some? Or are you still fasting?"
"Fasting?" He lifts his brow and gazes at me.
I roll my eyes. "Please. You eat less than anyone I know.
You just sip your ... medicine and push your food all around.
I feel like a complete pig next to you."
"Is this better?" He smiles, picking up a donut and biting it
in half, his jaw working overtime to break down the glazed,
doughy mass.
I shrug and gaze out the window; still unused to this
California weather, a seemingly endless succession of warm
sunny days, even though soon it will officially be winter.
"So, what should we do today?" I ask, turning to look at
him.
He gazes' at his watch and then back at me. "I need to take
off soon."
"But Sabine won't be back until late," I say, hating how my
voice sounds so whiny and needy, and the way my stomach
curls when he jangles his keys.
"I need to get home and take care of a few things.
Especially if you want to see me at school tomorrow" he
says, his lips grazing my cheek, my ear, the nape of my
neck.
"Oh, school. Do we still go there?" I laugh, having
successfully avoided thinking about my recent bout of
truancy, and the repercussions to follow.
"You're the one who thinks it's important." He shrugs. "If it
was up to me, every day would be Saturday."
"But then Saturday wouldn't be special. It'd all be the
same," I say, picking off a piece of glazed donut. "A
neverending
flow of long lazy days, nothing to work toward,
nothing to look forward to, just one hedonistic moment after
another. After a while, it wouldn't be so great."
"Don't be so sure." He smiles.
"So what exactly are these mysterious chores of yours,
anyway?" I ask, hoping to get a glimpse into his life, of the
more mundane things that occupy his time when he's not
with me.
He shrugs. "You know, stuff" And even though he laughs
when he says it, it's pretty obvious he's ready to leave.
"Well, maybe I can-" But before I can even finish the
sentence he's already shaking his head.
"Forget it. You are not doing my laundry." He shifts his
weight from one foot to the other, as though warming up
for a race.
"But I want to see where you live. I've never been in the
home of someone who's emancipated, and I'm curious."
And even though I tried to sound lighthearted, it came out
more whiny and desperate.
He shakes his head and gazes at the door as though it's a
potential lover he can't wait to meet. And even though it's
obviously time to wave my white flag and cry uncle, I can't
keep from giving it one last go when I say, "But why?" Then
I peer at him, waiting for a reason.
He looks ,at me, his jaw tense when he says, "Because it's a
mess. A horrible filthy mess. And I don't want you to see it
like that and get the wrong idea about me. Besides, I'll
never be able to straighten it up with you around, you'll only
distract me." He smiles, but his lips are stretched tight and
his eyes are impatient, and it's clear they're just words
meant to fill up the space between now and when he finally
gets to leave. "I'll call you tonight," he says, showing me his
back as he heads for the door.
"And what if I decide to follow you? What will you do then?"
I ask, my nervous laughter halting the second he turns back
to me.
"Don't follow me, Ever."
And the way he says it makes me wonder if he said, Don't
follow me ever, or Don't follow me, Ever. But either way, it
means the same thing.
When Damen leaves, I pick up the phone and try to call
Haven, but when it goes straight into voice mail, I don't
bother with leaving another message. Because the truth is,
I've left several already, and now it's up to her to call me.
So after I head upstairs and shower, I sit at my desk,
determined to get through my homework, but not getting
very far before my thoughts return to Damen, and all of his
weird, mysterious quirks that I can no longer ignore. Stuff
like: How does he always seem to know just what I'm
thinking when I can't get the slightest read on him? And
how, in just seventeen short years, did he find time to live
in all of those exotic places, mastering art, soccer, surfing,
cooking, literature, world history, and just about every other
subject I can think of? And what's up with the way he
moves so fast he actually blurs? And what about the
rosebuds and tulips and magical pen? Not to mention how
one minute he's talking like a normal guy, and the next he
sounds like Heathcliff, or Darcy, or some other character
from a Bronte sister's book. Add to that the time he acted
like he saw Riley, the fact that he has no aura, the fact that
Drina has no aura, the fact that I know he's hiding
something about how he really knows her-and now he
doesn't want me to know where he lives?
After we slept together?
Okay, maybe all we did was sleep, but still, I think I deserve
answers to at least some (if not all) of my questions. And
even though I'm not really up for breaking into the school
and searching for his record, I know someone who is. Only
I'm not sure I should involve Riley in this. Not to mention
how I don't even know how to summon her since I've never
had to before. I mean, do I call out her name? Light a
candle? Close my eyes and make a wish?
Since lighting a candle seems a little hokey, I settle for just
standing in the middle of my room, eyes shut tight, as I say, [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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