by Marian Tee
I frowned, remembering the old and young Evren faces I had seen and belatedly realizing that the majority didn’t lean toward the youthful. “Is it really that hard to let your dragon out?”
Lucian nodded.
“B-but I could do it at the first try!”
Lucian nodded again. “I suppose it was because we were the ones training you and—” he cast me a quick, doubtful look, “—you could be stronger than others.”
“Special,” I breathed.
He rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
I ignored that. With my questions about our immortality satisfied, my stomach tightened up in a knot of unease, telling me that I could no longer run away from confronting him about that woman.
But coward that I was, I still grasped for more straws. “B-before…you told me about your mom leaving Dyvian for you to take care of…”
Wariness shrouded Lucian’s face. “So?”
“I once thought you were only alone for a short time before you had Dyvian with you, but now…how old is Dyvian?”
His hand slashed the air in a gesture of incredulity. “What’s the point of this?”
“I’ll know anyway so just tell me.”
“He was born in 1804. You do the math,” he snarled.
I tried calculating that as fast as I could and whitened at the result. No wonder he was so antisocial. Lucian’s mother had left him when he was eight and came back over a hundred and forty years later only to dump Dyvian on him. He had more than a century to perfect his aloofness and distrust. I should count myself lucky he was telling me this much, shouldn’t I?
“Is that all?” Lucian’s impatient gaze scorched me on the spot.
No, but I wish it was. I took a deep breath. “How long have you and Angelica been together?”
“We didn’t have a relationship. We just went out whenever there was a chance.”
“How long did you date then?”
His lips compressed into a thin line, but he answered, “A couple of years.”
My chest tightened. I was right. They had known each other for a long time. And since this was Evren we were talking about… “How long is a couple of years?” No one had seemed surprised that Lucian and Angelica were particularly close. Could that mean he didn’t mind people knowing about her? And could that mean he didn’t feel the same about me? That he was ashamed of what we have?
He cursed when he caught sight of my tears. “Deli—”
“How long?” I shrieked. I knew I had no business caring about how long Lucian and Angelica had been going out in the past. It happened before I came into his life. It shouldn’t have mattered, but it did. And it hurt because, even though I loved Lucian with all my heart, I just wasn’t sure yet about what he felt for me, and every little threat to what we had made me jealous, fearful, and insecure.
“A hundred maybe? Are you satisfied now?” He scowled and swore when I sucked in my breath at his answer. He tried taking me into his arms. “For God’s sake, Deli, I’m only human. She offered company and there were times—”
“No,” I countered, feeling cold and petty. “You’re not human.”
Lucian ignored it. “Don’t be such a baby. The point is, I enjoyed her company, she understood the rules. She didn’t care about labeling what we had.”
And try as I might, my head just didn’t want to stay buried under the sand. I heard the words he hadn’t said, words that may or may not be real. “You had sex with her, didn’t you?”
“So?”
“You did?”
Lucian’s mouth opened and closed, his face stunned as he realized that he had fallen for the trap.
“How could you have sex with a block of ice?”
No answer.
“Did you have to use an electric blanket?”
More silence.
“I hate you,” I shrieked. I wished I could think of something more hurtful and sophisticated at the same time. “I really, really hate you.” It was what I felt, and I spat the words out, meaning them with all my heart. Angelica knew Lucian that way. The knowledge was like a knife in the gut, and I ran up to my room and slammed the door shut with enough force to make the walls shudder.
I had another reason to sulk now, and I was definitely going to sulk, big time.
~~~
Another week had passed in my Evren life, a week that was tedious, tortuous, and tiring because I still wasn’t talking to Lucian. Why couldn’t he just say sorry? Why couldn’t he even show he cared that I was mad?
But, no, Lucian was colder than ever and a hundred times busier. He went on trips almost every day and when he did come home, he’d be locked in his study all the time.
Maybe he didn’t really love me. He wouldn’t have been able to stand being apart from me this long if he did. In fact, the only reason I could think of to explain his stubbornness was that he knew without a doubt I was suffering, too, and he was waiting for me to come to him first.
Could that have been it?
He probably didn’t even miss me. He was probably having so much fun single-handedly dominating Wall Street.
I hate him, I growled silently to myself as I viciously wrote my answers to my homework for History. But I was holding the pen too tightly, and I had to tear off another pen-punctured sheet, toss it into the wastebasket, and rewrite my assignment.
Dyvian knocked on the door an hour later, just as I was scribbling down my last sentence about the injustices in the Civil War. “I brought you hot chocolate.” He shut the door with a light backward kick and strolled inside.
I took the mug and managed a smile. “Stop being so guilty, Dyv.” He had been showering me with little good deeds the entire week to atone for his own role in Lucian’s deception. “I told you you’re already forgiven for not saying anything about our…” The fact that we’d never die—by natural causes at least—was even stranger than the idea of being Evren, and I finished awkwardly, “our lifespan.”
He pulled out a chair, straddled it. “How was school?”
“Just the same.”
“Is that Wesley guy still making the moves on you?”
I blushed.
His eyes widened. “What have you been doing?”
“Nothing.” But I had answered too quickly and he wasn’t fooled.
“You’ve gone out on a date with him, haven’t you?”
“Of course not.” I fussed with the things on my table, repositioning the huge pencil sharpener Lucian—the mere thought of his name made my chest ache—lent me and piling my notebooks on one side.
“Come on, Deli, spill. You know you’re going to tell me sooner or later.”
“No, I—” I shut up, but it was too late.
“So, you are hiding something from me. If you didn’t go on a date with him then…” His voice trailed off.
I bit my lip hard, doing my best to keep quiet. But my propensity to talk won out in the end. “Okay, I flirted with Wesley.” I stole a look at Dyvian, scared of what he’d think. His smile somewhat soothed my worries.
“You don’t think I’m a slut?” Sure, Lucian and I had a tiff but it wasn’t like we had broken up. I still thought of myself as Lucian’s girlfriend…even if he didn’t like admitting it.
“No, I don’t think so. There’s no harm in flirting.”
“But I wouldn’t want Lucian to flirt with another girl.”
“You’re hurt and that’s why you probably indulged in a little flirting with another guy. It’s an understandable reaction, and I don’t think you’ll do it again, will you?”
I shook my head.
“Then that’s that. Lucian will simply have to accept it.” Dyvian’s eyes suddenly narrowed. “When was the last time you’ve talked to The Voice?”
“A while?” He didn’t have to know it was just this afternoon, did he? Dyvian could be so unreasonable about my special ability. If I didn’t know him so well, I’d think he was envious of the fact I had the super smart Voice inside my head.
“It was an emergency! I was sad.”
He snorted. “I suppose you told it about how much you’ve missed Lucian and all.”
“Umm…”
“Don’t bother lying. Your face says it all.” He massaged his temples with a sigh before suddenly looking up and demanding, “Did you also tell The Voice about the time you flirted with Wesley?”
“I did. So?”
An unholy gleam appeared in his eyes. “In explicit detail?”
“Well…maybe, but only because I was drowning in guilt and—what’s so funny?”
He stood up, his shoulders rocking in laughter. “Just something I thought. You wouldn’t understand.” He patted my head. “Sleep tight, Deli. I know someone who won’t.”
“If you’re talking about Lucian,” I said before I could stop myself, “don’t hold your breath. I don’t think he has even noticed we’re not talking.” And I wasn’t whining. I wasn’t.
“You never know, Deli. You never know.” And he left my room, still laughing.
~~~
“Have you and Lucian made up?” Audrey shifted her weight from one foot to another as we waited in line. Our P.E. instructor had scheduled a surprise shootout test for today, one I had a feeling I’d barely pass despite all the hours I’d put into practice.
There was simply no word to quantify how terrible my aim was. I didn’t want to imagine what harm I could do if the time would come I’d have to use my fire-breathing powers to toast some Zekans. What If I ended up roasting another Evren? Did my new race have any laws for unintentional murder?
“We’re still not talking,” I answered glumly. I bent down to tighten my shoelaces. Someone walked past me, hitting me on my shoulder with enough force that I skidded back…about a tenth of an inch.
Just what I need. I looked up and found myself the object of Melissa’s glare, frustration evident in her eyes. Someday, I’d really have to let her understand just how strong I was so she’d stop physically harassing me. All these harmless but annoying shoves were getting on my nerves.
I gave my shoelaces one last tug before standing up. “Hello.”
She tittered. “Sorry. I didn’t notice you.”
“Right.” I stared at her, wondering why I ever thought she was something to worry about. After everything that had happened, getting attacked by Zekans, discovering my immortality, coming face to face with Lucian’s voluptuous and 145-year-old—I asked Dyvian—former flame, yada, yada, yada, nothing this blond Queen Bee could do would ever be of consequence.
She was a pest, but a really tiny pest.
“So, anyway, Denny—”
“It’s Deli.”
“Umm, whatever.” She rolled her eyes. “Like I was saying, I have this cousin in Australia, and I told her we’ve got someone here from her country. Where did you last study again?”
Okay, maybe a not-so-tiny pest.
“It’s a private school,” I told her. “She probably wouldn’t know it.” Australia simply wasn’t far enough. Lucian should’ve said I came from Zimbabwe or somewhere just as obscure. If Melissa started digging up my past, she was bound to learn more beyond the fact that I really hadn’t come from down under.
And that was very bad. It could force us to leave town, and though that was something I still desired, I didn’t want it to happen for the wrong reasons.
“Maybe she would. She comes from a private school, too.”
I should’ve said I was home schooled, darn it.
“It’s—” I blinked several times and gasped. “Oh, my God, is that a genuine Tiffany necklace you’re wearing?”
Melissa’s hands flew to her throat. “Oh, this little thing?” She laughed and the RS girls laughed with her dutifully.
Audrey coughed, doing her best not to laugh, not with them but at them.
“It’s soooo nice,” I gushed, wanting to make sure Melissa forgot all about my yet unnamed private school in Australia. Note to self—Google private Aussie schools ASAP. “I’ve always wanted something like that, but Lucian doesn’t want to buy me one. You’re so lucky.”
“Uh-oh.” The words came out triumphant rather than sympathetic. “Is your relationship with Lucian on the rocks?”
I heaved a great sigh. “I just don’t know.” A long whistle pierced the air, and I quickly pushed Audrey forward. “It’s our turn to shoot baskets. Maybe we can talk next time again, Merissa.”
Melissa’s face became stone. “It’s Melissa.”
“Umm, whatever. Audrey, hurry up, will you? And stop laughing. We need to be serious about this test.”
~~~
Dyvian and I were still laughing when we reached home. I had recounted what happened, and he congratulated me for my quick thinking. He disappeared to the kitchen directly afterward, and I walked slowly up to my room, doing my best not to be obvious as I looked around for Lucian.
No light came from Lucian’s study or bedroom, and I could only surmise he was again on some errand or another.
Over dinner, I managed to control the urge to ask Dyvian about Lucian’s whereabouts. When I was done eating, I hurriedly told him I had homework to do and raced to my room. But all I could do was stare sightlessly at my textbook for hours.
Finally, I gave up, got in bed, and burst into tears.
“Voice?”
“Yes?”
I sniffed. “Do you know where Lucian is?”
“He’s in Death Valley—”
“Probably flirting with Angelica, no doubt.”
“I believe—”
“Don’t bother. I don’t want to know. I don’t care about him, and I don’t miss him.”
And then I covered my face with my pillow so Dyvian wouldn’t hear me crying.
The minutes ticked by and I tossed and turned in my sleep. Images of Lucian and Angelica entwined in each other’s arms tormented me.
Frustrated at my futile attempts to sleep, I made an impulsive decision. I checked the alarm clock. Three o’ clock in the morning.
“Voice?”
“Yes?”
“Where’s Lucian now?”
“He’s in his room.”
I jumped out of bed, opened the door quietly, and tiptoed as fast as I could to Lucian’s room.
I peeked and found myself staring straight into Lucian’s warm green eyes. For one week, I had made myself avoid looking at him, and now, the sudden sight of Lucian in all his quiet perfection was almost too much for my eyes.
I badly wanted to blink, but I was scared if I did, I’d open my eyes and find him gone, realizing he was an illusion my desperate heart had conjured.
“Lucian?” I ventured, testing if the Lucian before me was an apparition or not.
He said nothing but only spread his arms open.
The next thing I knew, Lucian’s arms were wrapped tightly around me. I sobbed noisily against his chest. “I missed you…” I wanted to tell him the various things I missed about him, like the way he’d say “Deli, please” whenever his brainpower turned out to be inadequate in helping him understand what I was saying or doing. Or the patient way he’d tutor me with my homework or the martyr-like resignation in his eyes when I managed to convince him to watch Gossip Girl with me.
But I couldn’t tell him any of those because I was too busy crying and reacquainting myself with the feel of his arms around me, loving how broad his shoulders were, how strong his chest felt, and how warm his lips tasted against mine.
He kissed my hair. His arms tightened around me even more, and I let out an involuntary squeal of pain. His arms immediately loosened and he apologized.
I shook my head, and because I couldn’t help it, I said again, “I missed you.” And for some reason, that only made the tears fall once more.
He handed me the tissue box from the bedside table. “Your nose is running.”
“Sorry,” I mumbled and blew my nos
e.
When I was done, he pulled me back into his arms, and murmured, “I missed you, too.”
I pulled away so he could see just how incredulous I was. “You’re lying. It didn’t seem like it at all.”