Элисон Ноэль - Dark Flame

"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 craziestsounding 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.

"Jeez, do you ever unclench?" She laughs, uncrossing her arms and dropping onto her leopard beanbag chair in a heap of leather and lace, spreading her dress all around her before resting her head against her hand. "Could help with the acting stuff though-he'd definitely snag all the best roles."

"And that's good for how long?" I look at her. "Trust me, even in Hollywood people would start to notice how he never aged a day over eighteen."

"Didn't seem to hurt Dick Clark."

I squint, having no idea who that is.

"America's Oldest Teenager? New Year's Rockin' Eve?"

I shrug, still no bells.

"Whatever." She laughs and shakes her head. "Anyway, I have this theory that there's a whole lot more of us than we think, actors, supermodels-I mean, seriously? How do you explain some of them?"

I shrug. "Luck, good genes, plastic surgery, and lots and lots of Photoshop." I laugh. "That's how I explain it."

"Well, between you and me, Roman's not always all that forthcoming with the details. He tends to hold a lot back."

No kidding.

"This one time, when I asked him just how many more of us were out there, and how many he himself turned, he just turned away, mumbled some childish nonsense about that being for him to know and the rest of the world to find out, or something like that. And no matter how much I bugged him, that's all he'd say. Just kept repeating that over and over until I got so annoyed, I dropped it."

"That's what he said?" I ask, trying to keep the alarm out of my voice but not entirely succeeding. "He said it's for him to know and the rest of the world to find out?" I gasp, not liking the ominous sound of it. Not liking it at all.

Haven looks at me, attempting to backtrack when she sees my expression, hears the way my voice rises, and realizes she might've gone just a tad too far. That her loyalties no longer extend to me and are definitely balanced in Roman's favor. "Or maybe he said for me to find out? That's how the saying goes, right?" She lifts her shoulder as her fingers pick at the lace on her sleeve. "Well, anyway, it's probably better not to talk about Roman since I love him and you hate him and if we want to be friends we're going to have to exist in a Roman-free zone, right? We're going to have to agree to disagree."

A Roman-free zone-how lovely! But that's just what I think, what I say is entirely different.

"Do you love him?"

She looks at me, looks at me for a long moment, before she dips her head and says, "I do. I really, really do."

"And is it-reciprocated?" I ask, doubting Roman's even capable of loving anyone, especially seeing how it was never shown to him, never really offered in any real or lasting way, according to what I saw. And it's pretty hard to give something you've never experienced yourself. Even what he felt for Drina wasn't love, or at least not the real kind anyway. It was more an obsession with something just out of reach, like a shining, glittering object that you yearn for but can never quite touch.

Exact same feeling he's trying to duplicate with Damen and me. Only it won't work. With or without the antidote he'll never win that one. What Damen and I share goes much deeper than that.

"Honestly?" She looks at me. "I really don't know. But if I had to guess, then I'd say, no, he doesn't-doesn't love me at all. I mean, even though he keeps his feelings under wraps, usually pretending like he doesn't even have any-sometimes-sometimes he goes off on this-well, I call it his dark jag-where he locks himself in his room and won't talk to anybody or come out for hours-and, well, I have no idea what he's doing in there. And even though I try to respect it, try to let him have his space, I'm still really curious. Though, I figure, if I hang on long enough, he'll finally learn to trust me, let me in, and"-she shrugs-"change all of that."

I look at her, amazed by how composed she is, acting far more self-assured than she ever did before.

She gazes down at the strategically shredded black leggings she wears under her dress, fingers picking at one of the holes when she says, "You know, Ever, in every relationship, there's always someone who loves more, right? I mean, last time, with Josh, it was him. He definitely loved me far more than I did him. Did you know he even wrote a song about me after we broke up, in an attempt to get me back?"