by Alyson Noel
I gaze at him, seeing him in a whole new light. Amazed that he would actually turn down an offer like that. I mean, Jude always claims he wouldn’t choose immortality, but then he’s never actually been offered a drink, so who’s to say what he’d choose if it really came down to it? And Ava, well, Ava came really, really close to making the leap, but in the end, she dumped it out. But still, I can’t think of many other people besides Miles and Ava who would turn down an offer like that.
He looks at me, brow raised in mock offense when he says, “What? Why are you so surprised? Is it because you figured someone like me—someone who’s both gay and an actor would surely just jump at the chance?” He narrows his gaze and shakes his head. “That’s stereotyping, Ever. You should be ashamed of yourself for even thinking it.” He shoots me a look of absolute scorn that leaves me feeling so bad I rush to defend myself. But before I can start, he’s waved it away. Smiling triumphantly when he says, “Ha! And that is what you call acting!” He laughs, his whole face lighting up, eyes shining with glee. “Or at least that very last part was acting—the part about the stereotyping. Everything else was totally true. See how much my craft is improving?”
He rakes his fingers through his hair, secures his elbows on the counter, and leans toward me. “Here’s the thing—the only thing I want in the world, the only dream that I have, is to be an actor.” His gaze bores into mine. “A real, dedicated-to-the-craft thespian. That’s my only goal. My soul’s ambition. I have no interest in being some big, phony, glossed-up movie star. A walking People magazine cover. I’m not in it for the parties, or scandals, or multiple rehab stints—I’m in it for the art. I want to bring stories to life, to fully embody a variety of characters. I can’t tell you what it feels like to lose myself in a role, it’s…it’s amazing. And it’s something I want to experience again and again. But I want to play all kinds of roles—not just the young and beautiful ones. And in order to learn and grow and better myself, I need to experience life. I need to experience it fully, in all its stages—youth, middle age, old age—I want it all. You can’t possibly act life if you don’t allow yourself to experience it.” He pauses for a moment, allowing his eyes to search my face. “That fear of death you’ve managed to do away with? I want it. Heck, I need it. It’s one of the most basic, primal, driving forces we have—so why would I even consider ridding myself of that? The experiences I allow myself to have will only feed my craft in the end—but only if I remain mortal. Not if I purposely turn myself into some frozen-in-time, ultra-glamorous himbo who never ever changes, no matter how many centuries pass.”
My gaze meets his and I don’t know whether to be relieved or offended, but in the big scheme of things, I settle on relieved.
“Sorry.” He shrugs. “Seriously, no offense. I’m just trying to explain my side of things. Not to mention the fact that I happen to like eating. In fact, I like it so much that I can’t even imagine going on a permanent liquid diet. Also, I like seeing the changes each passing year makes, the impressions they leave behind. And, believe it or not, I don’t want my scars to disappear either. I like them. They’re part of me—part of my history. And someday, if I’m lucky enough to live to be an old man—one who’ll probably be impotent, senile, fat, and bald, while you all stay exactly the same—well, then I’ll be content with my memories. I mean, providing they’re not all lost due to Alzheimer’s or something. But seriously, before you go defending yourself—” He lifts his hand from the counter and flashes his palm, sensing I’m about to butt in. “Before you go telling me how Damen’s racked up enough memories for us all and how he’s perfectly well-rounded and happy, here’s the real point I’m trying to make: What I want, more than anything, is to reach the end of my life with a solid before-and-after picture to reflect back on. To show I did the absolute best that I could with what I was given and that my life was well-lived.”
I stare at him, trying to find my voice, mumble some kind of reply, but I can’t. My throat’s gone hot and tight, closed up completely. And before I can stop it, before I can switch my gaze to something other than him—the tears begin.
Falling freely down my face and gaining in intensity to the point where I can no longer stop it, can no longer curb the sobbing, the shoulder shaking, and the deep pit of despair that makes my gut curl.
Aware of Miles hurrying around the counter and gathering me into his arms, smoothing my hair and doing his best to calm me, as he whispers sweet things into my ear.
But I know better.
I know the sentiments aren’t at all true.
It really won’t be okay.
At least not in the way that he claims.
I may have eternal youth and beauty—I may have the gift of living forever—but I’ll never again have the kind of wonderful, lovely normalness that Miles just described.
thirteen
By late Saturday afternoon, there’s just no avoiding them. Sabine is in the kitchen chopping up a pile of vegetables for a Greek salad, while Munoz stands beside her, molding ground turkey into generously sized patties.
“Hey, Ever.” He looks up, smiling briefly. “You planning to join us? There’s plenty more where this came from.”
I glance at Sabine, seeing the way her shoulders stiffen, the way her knife hits the board just a little bit harder as she pummels a tomato, and I know she’s still a long way from forgiving me, from accepting me, and I just can’t deal with it now.
“No, um, actually, I’m about to head out,” I say, barely meeting his gaze, hoping to avoid a stop and chat, since I’m far too eager to make my way out of here.
Making for the entry, just about free, when he finishes with the patties, looks at me, and says, “You mind getting the door?”
I pause, knowing this isn’t just about getting the door. This is about him wanting to talk to me somewhere quiet and private, where his girlfriend can’t overhear. But knowing there’s no good way to get out of it, I follow him outside and over to the grill where he wrestles with the hood, spins the dials, and goes about some serious burger prep.
So engrossed in the task, I’m just about to leave, figuring I completely misread him when he says, “So, how’s school going this year? I haven’t seen you around much—if at all.” He steals a quick glance at me, before he’s back at it again, shaking some kind of secret spice blend onto the meat as I stand there and try to come up with a reply.
Figuring there’s no use lying to someone who can just as easily check the attendance records, I lift my shoulders and say, “Well, that’s probably because I’ve pretty much skipped every day but the first. In fact, other than that, I haven’t gone at all.”
“Ah.” He nods, placing the spice jar on the granite counter before he turns and allows his eyes to graze over me. “Bad case of senioritis, I guess.”
I scratch my arm, even though it doesn’t itch, and try not to squirm any more than I already have. Averting my gaze to the window where Sabine stands watch, the very sight of her making me yearn for escape.
“Usually doesn’t start until the last semester, that’s when it all falls apart. But it looks like you caught the bug early. Is there anything I can do to help?”
Yeah, you can tell your girlfriend not to judge me—you can tell Haven not to try to kill me—you can tell Honor not to threaten me—and you can uncover the long-buried truth about Damen and me—oh, and in your free time, if you could get your hands on a certain stained white shirt and send it over to the crime lab for analysis—that would be great!
Though, of course, I don’t say any of that, instead, I just shrug and sigh louder, hoping he’ll hear it and tune in to the not-so-silent message it contains.
But if he does, he chooses to ignore it. “You know, just in case you think you’re alone in all this—you’re really not.”
I squint, not sure what he’s getting at.
“I’ve talked to her, you know. Shared some of the research I’ve run across on people who’ve had near-death experiences.”
/> Despite my wanting to leave, I place my hands on my hips and lean slightly toward him. “And how do you just run across that type of research?” I ask. “I mean, seriously. Isn’t that the kind of thing you have to go looking for on your own?”
He focuses on the meat, transferring it from the plate to the grill. His voice low, matter of fact, when he explains, “I saw a piece on TV once, and I found it quite fascinating. So fascinating I bought a book on the subject, which led to more books on the subject, and…so on.” He presses his spatula to the burger, causing the juices to riot and sizzle. “But you—you’re the first one I’ve met who’s actually experienced such a thing. Have you ever thought of taking part in one of those research groups? I hear they’re always looking for new subjects.”
“No,” I say, barely giving him a chance to finish the question. My answer firm, final, sparing no time to really consider. The last thing I need is to take part in some schlocky case study.
But he just laughs, raising his mitt-covered hands in surrender, saying, “Don’t shoot. Just asking is all.”
He flips the burgers, one after the other, causing a popping, sizzling, barbeque soundtrack we both stand there and listen to.
Then, as soon as they’re ready, he scrapes ’em right off and drops ’em back onto the plate, stopping long enough to look at me and say, “Listen, Ever, just give her some time to get comfortable with the idea. It’s not easy having your whole belief system challenged, you know? But if you’ll just ease up a little, she’ll come around. Really she will. I promise to continue to work on her, if you’ll promise to do your part too. And, before you know it, it’ll all blow over. You’ll see.”
Is that your prediction? I want to ask, but thankfully choke back the words. He’s only trying to help, and whether or not I believe him, whether or not Sabine will ever come around to my side, isn’t really the point. He’s just trying to connect, and the least I can do is allow it.
“But as far as school and your attendance is concerned—” He shoots me a stern look. “It’s only a matter of time before she catches on. So, try not to make things any tougher on yourself than they already are, okay? Or at least think about it anyway. Besides, last time I checked, getting a high school diploma didn’t hurt anyone. In fact, it can only help.”
I mumble some sort of halfhearted reply, give a quick wave of my hand, and head for the gate. Having no idea if the conversation was actually over, but knowing my part of it is. Those kinds of things, the rules he referred to, no longer apply. The pomp and circumstance of a high school graduation is for other people.
Normal people.
Mortal people.
Not me.
Starting my car with my mind long before I’ve reached its spot on the drive, I pull out of the gate and onto the street, speeding toward the place where I told Jude we’d meet.
fourteen
The moment I pull into the parking lot I see him.
Waiting for me in his Jeep, thumbs tapping the steering wheel in time to the music that blares from his iPod, looking so peaceful, so content to be sitting alone there like that—I’m tempted to turn my car around and head back to where I came from.
But I don’t.
This is far too important to miss.
Haven has no plans to renege on her threat, and for all I know this could be my one and only chance to convince him of the importance of this.
I pull up beside him and wave. Watching as he removes his earbuds, tosses them aside, and jumps out, leaning against the door, arms folded before him as he watches my approach.
“Hey.” He nods, studying me carefully as I heave my bag over my shoulder and straighten the T-shirt I wear over my tank top. “You okay?” He tilts his head and squints, clearly confused as to why I summoned him here.
I nod and smile, thinking if anyone should be asking that question, it should be me asking him. “Yeah, I’m good.” I stop just shy of him, unsure where to take it from here. Just because I asked him to meet me doesn’t mean I took the time to memorize my long list of talking points. “Um, and you…are you okay?” My gaze moves over him, noting how he certainly looks better than the last time I saw him, the color’s returned to his face, his gaze isn’t nearly as empty and bleak, and one glance at his vibrant green aura is all it takes to know he’s definitely on the mend.
He nods and lifts his shoulders, obviously waiting for me to make the next move, to tell him what this is really about. But when I don’t, when I just continue to stand there before him, he takes a deep breath and says, “Seriously. I’m—I’m getting used to the idea of her being gone. I mean, I can’t change it, so I may as well adapt to it, right?”
I mumble some sort of agreement, some standard-issue, easily forgettable reply. Then, knowing I’ve stalled long enough, that it’s time to get to it, the real reason we’re here, I take a deep breath and say, “And Haven? Have you seen or heard from her lately?”
He looks away, fingers working the slight sheen of stubble just beginning to show on his chin, his voice sounding tired, resigned, when he says, “Nope, not a word. Which, when you think about it, probably isn’t a good sign. But then again, this whole thing is a little out of my league, so who knows?” He glances at me for a moment, eyes moving over my face before wandering again.
“But what if I were to tell you it wasn’t?” I pause long enough for his gaze to find its way back to mine. “What if this whole thing wasn’t out of your league at all?”
He grunts, mumbles something completely indecipherable under his breath, then shakes his head and says, “You’re joking, right?”
I hold my ground, hold the serious expression on my face. “Trust me, it’s no joke. In fact—”
But before I can finish, before I can even get to the point, he cuts me right off, having already drawn his own conclusion as to what this is about and eager to stop me before I can go any further. “Listen, Ever—” He sighs, kicking his foot out before him as he buries his hands deep into the front pockets of his jeans. “While I appreciate your concern for my safety, I want to make it clear that I have absolutely no intention of drinking the elixir and becoming immortal like you.”
My eyes go wide as I fight to keep my jaw from dropping to my knees. I can’t believe he actually thought I was offering such a thing.
“I mean, I know I’ve said it before, and I don’t mean to get all judgmental on you or anything, but that kind of unnaturally long lifespan…well, I have no interest in that sort of thing.”
That makes two in as many days, I think, unable to keep myself from gaping.
“After going to Summerland, and after seeing Lina, well, I think you’d have to be pretty crazy to want to stay here. To choose an extra-long, extended stay in such an imperfect, hate-filled world when there’s something so much better waiting ’round the bend—so to speak.”
And even though his words hit me, hit me as hard as Miles’s did, I don’t cry. I’m done with all that. For better or worse, I am what I am and there’s no going back. Though that doesn’t mean I have any intention of convincing all the others to join me.
“Surely it’s not that bad—is it?” I say, hoping to lighten the tone.
But he just lifts his shoulders, voice completely serious when he says, “No, I suppose you’re right. It’s not all hatred and hardship out there. Every now and then, if you’re lucky, you can stumble upon the occasional pocket of happiness.”
“Wow, that’s a little dark, don’t you think?” I force a laugh, though his words have left me more shaken than I care to admit.
But he just shrugs and squints, his eyes narrowing to where I can just barely see them. “Anyway, not trying to insult you, it’s just not my thing, that’s all. I have no interest in it.”
I shrug too, ready to move on, out of this parking lot, and onto the real reason we’re here.
“So…” He looks at me. “Is that it? Are we good here?”
“Sure, we’re good. But we’re a long ways from done.” I motio
n for him to follow as I make for the gate. Taking a moment to close my eyes, and see the lock springing open in my mind, before calling over my shoulder to say, “Trust me, we haven’t even begun yet.”
I push the gate open, assuming he’ll follow, and surprised when I glance back only to find him still standing on its other side.
“Ever, what’s this really about? Why’d you want to meet here of all places? I thought you were through with school?”
I shake my head, taking a moment to gaze at a group of buildings I’ve managed to ditch all week and didn’t miss even the slightest bit. “Turns out I’m not. Besides, this is the only place I could think of that would offer us the space and privacy we’re gonna need.”
His spliced brow jumps, clearly intrigued.
But I just roll my eyes and head for the gym, knowing he’s right behind me this time.
“That door locked too?” His gaze moves over my arms, my legs, the back of my neck, pretty much anyplace where my skin is bared.
I nod, concentrating on the door, hearing the bolt slam back into place before I open it and say, “You first.”
He heads inside, his rubber flip-flops squeaking against the polished wood floor as he makes his way to the middle of the room, where he stops, lifts his arms to his sides, throws his head back, inhales deeply, and says, “Yep, it’s definitely got that universal high school gym stench I remember so well.”
I smile, but only a little, before I’m back to business again.
I didn’t come here to joke around or engage in useless small talk. I came here to save him. Or, more correctly, to teach him everything he needs to know so that he can save himself in case I’m not around to do it for him.
