"Is this better?" He smiles, picking up a donut and biting it in half, his jaw working overtime to break down the glazed, doughy mass.

I shrug and gaze out the window; still unused to this California weather, a seemingly endless succession of warm sunny days, even though soon it will officially be winter.

"So, what should we do today?" I ask, turning to look at him.

He gazes' at his watch and then back at me. "I need to take off soon."

"But Sabine won't be back until late," I say, hating how my voice sounds so whiny and needy, and the way my stomach curls when he jangles his keys.

"I need to get home and take care of a few things. Especially if you want to see me at school tomorrow" he says, his lips grazing my cheek, my ear, the nape of my neck.

"Oh, school. Do we still go there?" I laugh, having successfully avoided thinking about my recent bout of truancy, and the repercussions to follow.

"You're the one who thinks it's important." He shrugs. "If it was up to me, every day would be Saturday."

"But then Saturday wouldn't be special. It'd all be the same," I say, picking off a piece of glazed donut. "A never-ending flow of long lazy days, nothing to work toward, nothing to look forward to, just one hedonistic moment after another. After a while, it wouldn't be so great."

"Don't be so sure." He smiles.

"So what exactly are these mysterious chores of yours, anyway?" I ask, hoping to get a glimpse into his life, of the more mundane things that occupy his time when he's not with me.

He shrugs. "You know, stuff" And even though he laughs when he says it, it's pretty obvious he's ready to leave.

"Well, maybe I can—" But before I can even finish the sentence he's already shaking his head.

"Forget it. You are not doing my laundry." He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, as though warming up for a race.

"But I want to see where you live. I've never been in the home of someone who's emancipated, and I'm curious." And even though I tried to sound lighthearted, it came out more whiny and desperate.

He shakes his head and gazes at the door as though it's a potential lover he can't wait to meet. And even though it's obviously time to wave my white flag and cry uncle, I can't keep from giving it one last go when I say, "But why?" Then I peer at him, waiting for a reason.

He looks ,at me, his jaw tense when he says, "Because it's a mess. A horrible filthy mess. And I don't want you to see it like that and get the wrong idea about me. Besides, I'll never be able to straighten it up with you around, you'll only distract me." He smiles, but his lips are stretched tight and his eyes are impatient, and it's clear they're just words meant to fill up the space between now and when he finally gets to leave. "I'll call you tonight," he says, showing me his back as he heads for the door.

"And what if I decide to follow you? What will you do then?" I ask, my nervous laughter halting the second he turns back to me.

"Don't follow me, Ever."

And the way he says it makes me wonder if he said, Don't follow me ever, or Don't follow me, Ever. But either way, it means the same thing.

When Damen leaves, I pick up the phone and try to call Haven, but when it goes straight into voice mail, I don't bother with leaving another message. Because the truth is, I've left several already, and now it's up to her to call me. So after I head upstairs and shower, I sit at my desk, determined to get through my homework, but not getting very far before my thoughts return to Damen, and all of his weird, mysterious quirks that I can no longer ignore. Stuff like: How does he always seem to know just what I'm thinking when I can't get the slightest read on him? And how, in just seventeen short years, did he find time to live in all of those exotic places, mastering art, soccer, surfing, cooking, literature, world history, and just about every other subject I can think of? And what's up with the way he moves so fast he actually blurs? And what about the rosebuds and tulips and magical pen? Not to mention how one minute he's talking like a normal guy, and the next he sounds like Heathcliff, or Darcy, or some other character from a Bronte sister's book. Add to that the time he acted like he saw Riley, the fact that he has no aura, the fact that Drina has no aura, the fact that I know he's hiding something about how he really knows her—and now he doesn't want me to know where he lives? After we slept together?

Okay, maybe all we did was sleep, but still, I think I deserve answers to at least some (if not all) of my questions. And even though I'm not really up for breaking into the school and searching for his record, I know someone who is. Only I'm not sure I should involve Riley in this. Not to mention how I don't even know how to summon her since I've never had to before. I mean, do I call out her name? Light a candle? Close my eyes and make a wish?

Since lighting a candle seems a little hokey, I settle for just standing in the middle of my room, eyes shut tight, as I say,

"Riley? Riley, if you can hear me I really need to talk to you. Well, actually I kind of need a favor. But if you don't want to do it, then I totally understand, and there will be no hard feelings, since I know it's a little weird, and um, I feel kind of dumb right now, standing here talking to myself, so if you can hear me, could you maybe give me some kind of sign?"

And when my stereo suddenly blasts the Kelly Clarkson song she always used to sing, I open my eyes and see her standing before me, laughing hysterically.