I take a deep breath and run my hand over her old floral bedspread, surprised she hasn’t changed it by now. “Trust me,” I say, looking at her. “I get it, I really do. But, Haven”—I pause, shaking my head and starting again—“the truth is, I can’t stand what’s happened to us. I miss you. I miss our friendship. And I hate knowing it’s partly my fault.”

“Partly?” She balks, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. “Um, excuse me for saying so, but don’t you think that statement would be a little more accurate if you admitted to all of it being your fault?”

I look at her, look her straight in the eye when I say, “Fine, I’ll concede to most of it, but certainly not all of it. But, Haven, the point is—while I don’t like Roman—and believe me I have my reasons—I get that he’s your boyfriend, and I get that no matter what I say about him I can’t change your mind, so I’m not gonna try. And I know you find that hard to believe, especially after what you saw the other night—but the thing is—well—like I said before, that wasn’t really me.”

“Oh right—it was that pesky evil spell.” She shakes her head and rolls her eyes, but I don’t let that stop me.

“Listen, I know you don’t believe me, and I know how crazy I probably sound right now, but I think that considering the circumstances, you of all people should know that the craziest-sounding things are often true.”

She looks at me, mouth twisted to the side, a sure sign she’s not just discarding but actually considering my words.

“We’re on the same side, you and I—and I hope that in time, you’ll see that too. Trust me—I’m not trying to stand in the way of your happiness. And I would never try to steal someone you wanted for yourself—despite how it may have looked. I just—well, I’m just hoping there’s still some way for us to be friends again, some way to mend our friendship, in spite of all that’s happened. I mean, I know it won’t be the same. I hardly expect it to be after all we’ve been through, and I know you’re really busy with your job, and hanging out with—um—those other immortals . . .” I say, temporarily forgetting their names.

“Rafe, Misa, and Marco,” she mumbles, clearly annoyed.

“Yeah, them. But still, school’s starting up in a few weeks, and Miles will be back soon, and I thought maybe, I mean, not every day if you don’t want, but maybe every now and then, we could all sit together at lunch. You know, like we used to.”

“So, it’s a lunchtime truce?” she says, her eyes a kaleidoscope of tortoiseshell swirls fixed firmly on mine.

“No.” I shake my head. “It’s an all the time truce. I’m just hoping it’ll extend to the occasional lunch too.”

She frowns, picking at her cuticles, which, I know for a fact, are not at all ragged because immortals do not get hangnails. I also know it’s an excuse to avoid me, avoid my gaze, make me wonder and wait while she takes her time to consider my words.

“It can never be like it was,” she finally says, lifting her gaze to meet mine. “And not just because of everything that happened with Roman—which was seriously messed up, by the way. But the real reason we can’t go back is because I’m different now—and the thing is, I like being different. I don’t want to go back to the way I was. I don’t want to be that sad, pathetic loser ever again.”

“You were never pathetic or a loser—just a bit sad at times,” I say, but she quickly waves it away.

“Besides, so much has changed—maybe too much—I’m not sure I can get past all of that.”

I nod. I realize this too but still hope that she can.

“And yeah, Misa, Rafe, and Marco are cool and all, don’t get me wrong, but other than our immortality, and our work at the store, we really don’t have all that much in common, you know? I mean, we have totally different backgrounds, totally different references, they’ve never even heard of most of my favorite bands, which really kind of bugs me.”

I shrug and nod, like I get it, totally and completely get it.

“And even though I never really felt like you and I had all that much in common either, I did always feel like you sort of got me, you know? Like maybe you couldn’t exactly relate to me, but still, you accepted me, you didn’t judge me, and, well, it meant a lot—or it meant something, anyway.”

I press my lips together and wait for the rest, knowing she’s far from done yet.

“So yeah, I’ve missed you too.” She looks at me, shrugging when she adds, “It’ll be nice to keep at least one friend for the rest of eternity. But are you sure we can’t turn Miles too?”

“No!” I blurt, before I realize she’s joking.

“Jeez, do you ever unclench?” She laughs, uncrossing her arms and dropping onto her leopard beanbag chair in a heap of leather and lace, spreading her dress all around her before resting her head against her hand. “Could help with the acting stuff though—he’d definitely snag all the best roles.”

“And that’s good for how long?” I look at her. “Trust me, even in Hollywood people would start to notice how he never aged a day over eighteen.”

“Didn’t seem to hurt Dick Clark.”

I squint, having no idea who that is.

“America’s Oldest Teenager? New Year’s Rockin’ Eve?”