Never (The Ever Series Book 2) (12 page)

“Like a freaking goddess, doesn’t she?” Lindsay says, cutting me off. “It’s sick! I’m trying on another dress.”

“Wren, that looks really great,” Taylor says. “I think you should get it. The color is perfect.”

I turn around, and she zips the back for me. When I turn to face them again, Ashley nods in agreement, and I look down at the berry-colored chiffon. It makes me look even paler, but I really like the black bow at the waist.

“What about the top?” I frown.

“Don’t worry! There are straps, which means it can’t fall off!” Ashley laughs. “Get it.”

She disappears and returns with some black peep-toe heels.

“You have the tiniest feet I’ve ever seen! You’re like a six, right?”

My eyes widen when I realize the shoes are meant for me, not Audra.

“No way! I’ll kill myself in those. What’s wrong with flats?”

Ashley gives me a withering look and hands me the shoes.

“Practice,” she assures me.

“Yeah, and break an ankle!” I shoot back.

Holding onto Taylor for support, I slip on the heels. They add a good two inches onto my very average five-foot-four stature. I take a few wobbly steps.

“Definitely. I’m definitely going to break something in these.”

Lindsay comes out of one of the dressing rooms in an extremely short black dress with almost no back.

“Linds, come on. Mr. Chernoff will kick you out of the dance in a heartbeat if you wear that!” Ashley laughs.

“Fine, then!” Lindsay huffs. “I’ll just stick with boring!”

She sticks out her tongue and storms back into the dressing room. Ashley rolls her eyes, and she and Taylor urge me to go get the dress and shoes. I duck back into the dressing room to change into my jeans and sweater. When I’m done, I walk to the register and hand the items to the woman behind the counter, hoping that my mom doesn’t mind the additional purchase. I figure I can always pay her back from my dwindling savings account—money I still need to buy a car, if I ever get around to it.

“Are you
Wren
?” the woman asks after she’s finished ringing up the shoes and dress.

Feeling a spike of pure fear, I stare at the woman and blink. Her eyes look perfectly normal. She smiles at me, and I nod and relax.

“A man just called and paid for your purchases.”

I shake my head and start taking out my mom’s credit card.

“But …”

“He said to charge anything you wished to his account. You’re all set!”

She sets the shoebox and garment bag onto the counter, and I stand there for an extra second, torn between feeling grateful to Ever and angry that he didn’t think to even ask me before giving such a generous gift. Audra comes up next to me and places her items on the counter while the others browse. I turn to her.

“Did you know that Ever was going to do this?” I ask.

I watch her carefully, hoping that she’s going to be honest with me as she takes out a half-inch thick black credit card from her purse and sets it on the counter with a thud.

“That he was going to do what exactly?” she asks.

“Pay for my dress,” I whisper self-consciously.

She shakes her head indifferently.

“He never said anything to me.”

“Oh,” I mutter.

Another possibility pops into my head, and I swallow.

Alex
.

W
hen Audra drops me off, I hurry into the house, throwing the shoes and garment bag onto the couch like they’re live grenades. Taking off my jacket and shoes, I stomp into the kitchen, while simultaneously trying to shake off my feeling of nausea. My mom won’t be home for hours, and I’m glad I don’t have to explain why I didn’t use her credit card for the dress. Then there’s Ever, who I’m sure is going to love Alex stepping in and buying my first formal dress. Yanking open the refrigerator, I look for something effortless to eat for dinner. With a sigh, I grab an open jar of pasta sauce and put some water on the stove to boil. Grabbing an apple from the wooden bowl on the counter, I wash it and take a bite.

I’m staring blankly out the kitchen window into the blackness when a knock at the front door sends the apple flying out of my hand. It bounces on the counter, and I leave it there as I turn and creep toward the front door. Rising on my toes, I peer through the glass, half expecting to see Alex standing there, gloating. I exhale when I see Ever. I swing open the door and smile.

“Since when do you use the front door?”

“You said not to sneak up on you, remember?” he asks with a wry look.

“I appreciate that.”

I rise up on my toes to give him a quick, nervous kiss before turning to dash back into the kitchen. When he grasps my hand, I face him reluctantly, and he points to the couch—and my ill-gotten dress. I swallow.

“Am I allowed to see it?” he laughs.

“Now?” I ask, aware of the desperation leaking into my voice.

Ever frowns, and all I can think of is Alex leering. Ever’s scowl deepens. Then he laughs. I stare at him, bewildered by his sudden amusement.

“
What
?!”

“You thought
he
bought this for you?” he asks incredulously.

I can’t help noticing the way he avoids using Alex’s name.

“The woman at the store just said that a man called. … And Audra didn’t know.”

“I don’t tell her everything,” Ever laughs again.

“Well, you should have told
me
,” I sniff reproachfully. “This is an expensive present.”

“It isn’t a present as much as it is practicality on my part.” I frown before he continues. “You were never very enthusiastic about the dance, and I wanted to help change your mind.”

I look down and blush.

“I’m actually starting to look forward to it,” I admit.

“And what changed your mind?”

“Well, mostly, the fact that I can’t break your foot if I step on it.”

“Fair enough.
Now
may I see the dress?”

“My sauce!”

Turning, I race into the kitchen. When I get there, Ever is already standing at the stove, and my sauce is sitting on a hot pad. The water is boiling, too, so I add the pasta and set the timer. Then I turn back to Ever, who’s leaning against the counter, watching me. I smile self-consciously.

“You
could
go look at the dress rather than watching me make dinner,” I suggest.

“I had been hoping you would try it on for me.”

I blush. It’s not like I picked out the most risqué dress—not by far—but my stomach still does several somersaults at the prospect of modeling it in front of Ever. I drain my noodles two minutes early and pour them into a bowl with the sauce. With Ever sitting across the kitchen table from me, I take a few bites before setting down my fork.

“Okay. It’s killing me. You’re going to have to tell me how you all live … I mean, sustain yourselves without—you know—eating. It’s been driving me crazy, and I keep forgetting to ask.”

Ever laughs.

“We don’t
need
to consume anything.” He pauses and studies me. “Does it make you uncomfortable?”

“Not really,” I shrug. “Okay, maybe it’s a little weird. When I first saw you, I thought you just didn’t like cafeteria food. Then I realized you
never
ate.”

“We think it has something to do with this environment—the water, the air—that enables us to sustain. Our bodies don’t function along the same principles as humans. We don’t need to eat, drink, sleep, breathe to maintain our existence.”

My eyebrows go up at the mention of breathing, and Ever gestures to my forgotten dinner. I pick up my fork again and take a few more bites before I give up on my undercooked noodles.

“But you
can
eat? You can breathe, right?”

“We
can
, but any substance we consume dissipates rather than being used as fuel.”

“So, you don’t, say, get a craving for chocolate ice cream or pizza—it’s all the same to you?” I joke.

“Food, yes. Though when I first saw you, I began to crave other things. … To hear your voice. To see you. To be close to you …” His hand grazes mine, and I shiver. “To touch you.”

When he sits back, I feel a rush of disappointment.

“Well, it’s easy to forget about little human things—like eating …”
sometimes even breathing
, “with you around,” I joke, trying to shake off the spell I’m under.

“We can’t have that,” he says.

Contemplating my instant and overwhelming physical response to him, I wonder where his willpower and mine meet—and which one of us is having a harder time keeping our emotions and impulses in check. Ever told me he could lose control, and that something in his mind could hurt me, or worse. But I wonder if there’s something else, some other reason he’s so careful.

“Wren, sometimes I forget how very young you are …” he says, jarring me out of my reverie.

Suddenly realizing that he’s responding to my internal monologue, I stiffen.

“Would you quit reading my mind? Yeah, you’re an ageless immortal. I get it. But oh my God! You say that like you’re corrupting me or something! I’m almost seventeen, but after everything that’s happened, I feel like I’m thirty! I can make decisions for myself! You offered me immortality … and I said no—for now. Because I’m smart enough to realize there’s a price. Besides! There are things I want to do before I make a decision like that. Graduate from high school, for one.
I
know I’m not ready for certain things. Immortality is one of them.”

My cheeks redden.

“And sex is another—
just
in case you’re wondering! I’ve got enough to deal with just staying alive, and I’m not naïve, and I’m not trying to pretend to be ready for something when I’m not, so give me some credit. I guess I’m an old, prudish crone by some standards, but I’m fine with that …”

Ever begins laughing.

“Wren, I forget your age, because mentally you are—”

“An old, prudish crone?” I smirk.

He laughs even harder, and I burst into laughter, too. Suddenly I feel better, more at ease. I get up and wash my dishes in the sink. Stopping, I turn to face him.

“You know, I feel like I should get you a video game console or something. Don’t you get bored watching me wander around the kitchen doing mundane human things?”

He shakes his head.

“I enjoy spending time with you.”

“It just seems like you could be doing something more exciting than
this
.”

I wipe the splattered pasta sauce from the stove.

“Wren, exciting is relative after an eternity. I would give a thousand lifetimes for this one moment.”

He seems to be somewhere else as he continues talking.

“Alistair told me once that love changes the core of your existence. At the time, I thought he was foolish. Now I know how truly mistaken I was.”

When his eyes focus on me, the intensity of his stare makes tears form at the corners of my eyes. I smile weakly.

“So? Do you want to see me try to walk in high heels?”

Ever rises from the kitchen table and follows me into the living room. When I pick up my dress, he takes the shoebox. Upstairs, I leave him in my room and walk to the bathroom where I slip out of my clothes and pull the dress over my head. Frowning, I yank the zipper as far as I can. Then I lean on the counter and pull on the first shoe. I put my foot down and wobble slightly. Gripping the counter for support, I put on the other heel and wind my hair up into a messy bun. Briefly I stop and study myself in the mirror before teetering into the hallway.

As I step into my room, I squeeze my eyes closed and laugh at how absurd I feel. When I open them, I find Ever sitting in the chair at my desk. He gets up and walks over to me.

“You’re beautiful.”

I blush as he takes my hand.

“Try unstable! And it feels like I’m showing off my wedding dress before the ceremony!” I stammer.

Ever pauses with a curious expression on his face.

“Do you believe in marriage?”

“In general?” I ask, feeling my heart rate jump.

I shrug when he nods.

“I figure it’s different for everybody. It obviously didn’t work for my parents … but I guess I always thought I would get married. Someday.”

He nods, and his expression remains thoughtful.

“Well, on that note,” I say nervously, “I’m going to change out of my formalwear.”

I lift my foot very carefully and pull off one heel. Relieved to be on steady ground again, I pull off the other and grab some flannel pajamas from the dresser. When I get to the bathroom, I look in the mirror after I’ve changed and feel like I’ve turned into a pumpkin. Back in my room, I find Ever right where I left him.

“Are you excited for tomorrow?” he asks with a smile.

I feel a spike of adrenaline.
Tomorrow
. Racking my brain, I finally remember: the museum. I exhale and nod, feeling sad that even in a perfectly happy moment, the first place my mind travels to when I think of the coming day is cataclysm. Ever is watching me again with careful eyes. I smile, willing myself back into the present moment.

“I can’t wait.”

The next day when I arrive in third period, Alex looks … cranky. Well, cranky seems like the wrong word to use when describing a flawless immortal. Irritable, maybe? Prickly? When Mrs. Gilbert asks him a question about where he would live if he could live anywhere, he says something about it not mattering in this lifetime. I look over at him, and his expression is that of a spoiled child who’s been told no.
Petulant
. There’s an SAT word I never would have thought to associate with immortal perfection.

The bell rings, and I pack up my things. Walking across the room, I’m almost to the door when I see Alex standing there. I force myself to keep moving. He says my name, but I brush past him without meeting his eyes. I think of all the times Ever has pulled me from danger—or removed himself from my life because he thought he
was
the danger—in contrast to Alex who only cares for himself.

Chemistry drags, which reminds me again of how differently I perceive time now. The weight of certain moments. The periods that plod along compared to the ones that race by. It’s like comparing five minutes of math to five hundred pages of a book I can’t put down.

I feel a rush of excitement at the sound of the bell. It’s Friday—and I get to go to the museum and spend the rest of the day with Ever. Turning toward the back of the room, I grin when I see him waiting at the door for me. The fact that he looks just as happy to see me reminds me of what I told Alex. Ever and I may not be equals in every sense, but I’d like to think we love each other on equal terms.

He holds my hand as we walk to the parking lot, but during the drive to the museum, we’re both quiet. I stare out the window, still in awe of the bright green of the trees that are beginning to bloom amidst the dark-green of evergreens. I didn’t think Portland could get anymore
green
. I was so wrong. This green is different, though. It’s bright, vivid in contrast with the evergreens that seem to fit so well in the gloom. Ever parks in a multi-level structure and then appears and opens my door before I can reach for the handle.

“Don’t you worry that someone is going to see you doing something like that?” I laugh.

He shrugs as we walk to the street.

“People never pay too much attention—or they don’t believe their eyes. They come up with unexceptional explanations for what doesn’t fit neatly into their sense of reality.” He stops and studies me. “You do realize that you see me differently than other humans do, don’t you?”

I remember all of the times—before I knew what Ever was—when I had tried to pull images of Ever from people’s minds, only to be frustrated by how blurry the memories had been.

“Well, I can’t see you
too
differently than other people do—because everyone else thinks you’re a god, too,” I tease.

“But they see me as
human
. You never did. Somewhere in your subconscious, you always saw me as something else.”