But Damen just shrugs and continues gazing at me. He couldn't care less about A-lists and B-lists, who's cool and who's not. I'm the only reason he enrolled in this school, and I'm the only reason he stays.

"Well, it's nice to have a dream." Haven sighs, inspecting her short black nails. "But it's even nicer when there's a remote possibility of it coming true."

"Aw, but that's where you're wrong, luv. It's not a dream at all." Roman smiles in a way that makes her aura beam a bright shimmery pink. "I'll make it happen. You'll see."

"So what? You fancy yourself the Che Guevara of Bay View High?" My voice contains a sting I don't bother to hide. Though to be honest, I'm more surprised by my use of the word fancy than the tone of my voice. I mean, since when do I talk like that? But when I glance at Roman and see his expansive, overwhelming, yellow-orange aura, I know he's affecting me too.

"I rather fancy that, yes." He smiles his languid grin, his eyes gazing into mine so deeply, I feel like I'm naked—like he sees everything, knows everything, and there's nowhere to hide. "Just think of me as a revolutionary, because by the end of next week, this lunchtime caste system will come to an end. We're going to break these self-imposed barriers, push all the tables together, and have ourselves a party!"

"Is that your prediction?" I narrow my gaze, trying to deflect all of his intrusive energy away. But he just laughs, not the least bit offended. A laugh that, on the surface, is so warm, engaging, and all-encompassing—no one would guess at the subtext beneath—the creepy edge, the hint of malice, the barely concealed threat meant solely for me.

"I'll believe it when I see it," Haven says, wiping red crumbs from her lips.

"Seeing is believing," Roman says, his eyes right on mine.

"So what's your take on all that?" I ask, just after thebell rings and Roman, Haven, and Miles head off to class as Damen and I lag behind.

"Of all what?" he asks, pulling me to a stop.

"Of Roman. And all of his lunch-table revolution nonsense?" I say, desperate for some validation that I'm not jealous, possessive, or crazy—that Roman really is a creep—and that it has nothing to do with me. But Damen just shrugs.

"If you don't mind, I'd rather not focus on Roman right now. I'm far more interested in you. "

He pulls me toward him, bestowing me with a long, deep, breath-stealing kiss. And even though we're standing right in the middle of the quad, it's as though everything around us no longer exists. Like the entire world has shrunk down to this one single point. And by the time I break away, I'm so charged, so heated, and so breathless, I can barely speak.

"We're going to be late," I finally manage, taking his hand and pulling him toward class.

But he's stronger than I am, so he simply stays put. "I was thinking—what do you say we skip it?" he whispers, his lips on my temple, my cheek, then my ear. "You know, just blow off the rest of the day—since there are so many other, better places we could be."

I gaze at him, nearly swayed by his magnetism, but I shake my head and pull away. I mean, I get that he finished school hundreds of years ago and now finds it all rather tedious. And even though I mostly find it tedious too, since having instant knowledge of all the stuff they're trying to teach really does make it seem pretty pointless, it's still one of the few things in my life that feels somewhat normal. And ever since the accident, when I realized I'd never be normal again, well, it made me prize it that much more. "I thought you said we were supposed to maintain a normal facade at all costs," I say, pulling him along as he grudgingly lags behind. "Isn't attending class and feigning interest part of that facade?"

"But what could be more normal than two hormonal teens, ditching school and getting an early start on the weekend?" He smiles, the warmth of his beautiful dark eyes nearly luring me in. But I shake my head again and hold firm, gripping his arm even tighter as I drag him toward class.

Chapter Nine

Since we're spending the night together, Damen doesn't follow me home after school. Instead, we share a brief kiss in the parking lot before I climb into my car and head for the mall. I want to buy something special for tonight—something pretty for Miles's play and my big date—both of us starring in our own kind of debut. But after checking my watch and seeing I don't have as much time as I thought, I wonder if I should've taken Damen up on his offer to ditch school. I cruise through the parking lot, wondering if I should try to find Haven. We haven't really hung out that much since that whole weird thing with Drina, and then when she met Josh, well, even though he doesn't go to our school, they've been pretty much joined at the hip ever since. He even managed to wean her from her support group addiction. Her after-school ritual of scoping out random church basements and loading up on punch and cookies, while making up some sob story about that particular day's addiction. And up until now, I haven't really minded seeing less of her since she seems so happy. Like she's finally found someone who not only likes her but who's good for her too. But lately I'm starting to miss her, and I'm thinking a little time together might do me some good.

I spot her and Roman leaning against his vintage red sports car, watching as Haven grabs hold of his arm and laughs at something he said. The severity of her black skinny jeans, black shrunken cardigan, Fall Out Boy tank, and purposely messy dyed black hair with shocking red stripe, all softened by her rosy pink aura, its edges expanding, reaching, until it swallows them both. Leaving no room for doubt that if Roman feels the same way, Josh will soon be replaced. And even though I'm determined to stop it before it's too late, I've just started to cruise by when Roman glances over his shoulder and peers at me with a gaze so insistent, so intimate, so loaded with unknown intent—I punch the pedal and zoom past. Because despite the fact that my friends all think he's so cool, despite the fact that the A-list agrees, despite the fact that Damen isn't the least bit alarmed—I don't like him. Even though my feelings are based on nothing more substantial than a constant ping in my gut whenever he's near—the fact is: That new guy really gives me the creeps.