Blue Moon Read Online Free PDF Page A

wants to check into one of the area’s most swanky hotels—my memory is somehow restored.
    â€œOkay, then, how about after the play?” he offers. But when he looks at me, when he sees how I hesitate, how I press my lips together and search for a polite way to decline, he adds, “Or not. It was just a thought.”
    I gaze at him, knowing I need to accept, that I
want
to accept. Hearing the voice in my head shouting:
Say yes! Say yes! You promised yourself you’d leap forward, without once looking back, and now’s your chance—so just go ahead and do it! JUST! SAY! YES!
    But even though I’m convinced that it’s time to move on, even though I love Damen with all of my heart and am determined to get over his past and take the next step, what comes out of my mouth is entirely different.
    â€œWe’ll see,” I say, averting my gaze and focusing on the door, just as Mr. Robins walks in.

four
    Â 
    When the fourth-period bell finally rings, I get up from my desk and approach Mr. Munoz.
    â€œAre you sure you’re finished?” he asks, looking up from a pile of papers. “If you need another minute, that’s perfectly okay.”
    I glance over my test sheet, then shake my head. Wondering what he’d do if he ever found out that I’d finished approximately forty-five seconds after he first handed it to me, then spent the next fifty minutes only pretending to struggle.
    â€œI’m good,” I tell him, knowing it’s true. One of the perks of being psychic is that I no longer have to study, instead I just sort of
know
all the answers. And even though it’s sometimes tempting to show off and ace all of my tests in a long steady stream of perfect scores, I usually try to hold back and get a few wrong since it’s important to not overdo it.
    Or at least that’s what Damen says. Always reminding me how imperative it is to keep a low profile, to at least give the
appearance
of being normal—even though we’re anything but. Though the first time he said it, I couldn’t help but remind him of how there seemed to be an awful lot of tulip manifesting going on back when we first met. But he just said that certain allowances had to be made in his efforts to woo me, and that it took longer than necessary sinceI didn’t bother to look up their true meaning of
undying love,
until it was almost too late.
    I hand the paper to Mr. Munoz, cringing when the tips of our fingers make contact. And even though our skin just barely brushed, it was still enough to
show
me far more than I ever needed to know, allowing for a pretty clear visual of his entire morning so far. Everything from his incredibly messy apartment with the kitchen table that’s littered with takeout containers and multiple versions of the manuscript he’s been working on for the past seven years, to him singing “Born to Run” at the top of his lungs as he tried to find a clean shirt before heading over to Starbucks where he bumped into a petite blonde who spilled her iced venti chai latte all down the front of it—resulting in a cold, wet, annoying stain that one flash of her beautiful smile seemed to erase. A glorious smile he can’t seem to forget—a glorious smile that—
belongs to my aunt!
    â€œWant to wait while I grade it?”
    I nod, practically hyperventilating as I focus on his red pen. Replaying the scene I just saw in my head, each time coming to the same horrific conclusion—
my history teacher is hot for Sabine!
    I can’t let this happen. Can’t allow her to
ever
go back there. I mean, just because they’re smart, cute, and single, doesn’t mean they need to date.
    I stand there, frozen, unable to breathe, struggling to block out the thoughts in his head by focusing on the tip of his pen. Watching as he leaves a trail of tiny red dots that turn into checkmarks at numbers seventeen and twenty-five—just as