Shadowland (The Immortals #3)(73)

“Who’s hot for teacher now?” Miles laughs, nudging her arm.

But Haven just shrugs. “Please. Don’t act like you haven’t noticed. I mean, as far as old guys go, especially ones who wear glasses and khakis, he’s smokin’.”

“Please don’t call him smokin’.” I laugh in spite of myself. “And just so you know, at night he ditches the specs and swaps the Dockers for designer denim.”

Haven smiles, rising from the bench. “That’s it then. Party at your house. This I’ve got to see.”

“Is Damen coming?” Miles slips his phone in his pocket, eyeing me carefully.

“Um—I don’t know—maybe.” I shrug, pressing my lips together and scratching my arm so fervently I may as well wear a sign that says: HEY—CHECK ME OUT! I’M LYING! “I mean, he’s pretty busy these days looking after the twins and all—”

“Is that why he’s blown off school all week?” Haven asks.

I nod, mumbling some nonsense about taking his finals early, but my heart isn’t in it, and it shows. Seeing them nod in assent, but only to appease me, their eyes and auras say otherwise, they’re not buying a word of it.

“Just make sure Jude’s there,” Miles says, the mere mention of his name making my stomach dance.

“Yeah, I’ll need him as a backup in case my date doesn’t work out like I hope.” Haven smiles.

“You have a date?” Miles and I both say, voices blending as we take a moment to gawk.

“Who?” I ask.

Just as Miles says, “That was fast!”

But Haven just smiles, waving over her shoulder as she heads for class, singing, “You’ll see!”





thirty-six


Since I kept my promise to Munoz by attending history (which was way more awkward for me than it was for him), and since I made no such promise to any of my other teachers, I skip the rest of the day and head for the store.

My thoughts drifting to Damen as I cruise Coast Highway, visualizing him so clearly he manifests in the seat right beside me. Gazing at me with those dark, smoldering eyes, lips parted, enticing, as he presses a spray of red tulips onto my lap—causing an ache so palpable, I banish him well before he can fade. Knowing a manifest Damen will never do. Not when the real one is out there—somewhere—waiting for three months to end.

But I can’t wait. I refuse to wait. The only way to rid myself of this hollow empty feeling is to get Damen back. And the only way to do that is to crack Roman’s code. Get my hands on that antidote once and for all and then all of my problems are solved.

But short of returning to his house, I’ve no clue where to find him. Like Damen, he’s pretty much blowing off the last days of school.

I pull into the alley and claim the small space in back, storming through the door with such speed and force, Jude glances up in confusion as I head behind the counter and reach for the appointment book.

“Trust me, if I’d known you were ditching, I would’ve scheduled some readings, but as it stands, I got nothing.”

“I’m not ditching,” I mumble, even though we both know I am. “Okay, maybe I am.” I shrug, glancing at him. “But it’s the last week of school so it’s really no biggie. You won’t tell anyone, will you?”

He dismisses the thought with a wave of his hand, lifting his shoulders as he says, “Just wish I’d known. I would’ve brought my board.”

“You can still get it.” I head for the shelves and begin rearranging some books. Wanting to put some distance between us so I can avoid the enticing wave of calm his proximity brings. “Seriously,” I add when I see he’s not moving. “I’ll keep an eye on the place.”

He looks at me, gaze steady, focused on mine. “Ever—” he starts.

I look at him, sensing where this is going and eager to dispel any fears before he can get there. “You don’t have to pay me,” I say, arms loaded with books. “I’m not here for the overtime. In fact, I don’t even care if you pay me at all.”

He narrows his gaze for one beat, then two. Tilting his head to the side when he says, “You really don’t, do you?”

I shrug and return all the books, taking a moment to line them up perfectly before answering, “Nope, I really don’t.” Feeling good to unburden yet another illusion of mine, no matter how small.

“Exactly what are you here for?” he asks, voice catching in a way I can’t help but notice. “The book?”

I turn, feeling all nervous and squirmy as my gaze settles on his. “Is it that obvious?” I lift my shoulders, forcing a laugh.

Relieved when he smiles and jabs his thumb over his shoulder as he says, “Go ahead, have fun. I won’t tell Damen what you’re up to.”

I shoot him a look making it clear I’m over the Damen jokes, until I see that he’s serious.

“Sorry.” He shrugs. “But it’s pretty clear he’s not into it.”

I shrug, neither confirming nor denying. There’s no way I’m discussing Damen with him. Heading for the back room and settling in at the desk, just about to unlock the drawer with my mind when I see that he’s followed.

“Oh, um, I forgot that it’s locked,” I mumble, feeling false and ridiculous as I motion toward the drawer, knowing I’m the worst actress ever but still going through the motions.