supposed to be a great mortal love story. I’m an excellent researcher.
LAWRENCE
Juliet is a lot of things the previous ifrit weren’t. She asks questions, for starters, instead of watching me suspiciously in line at the cafeteria like the others did. She lurks in the lighting booth with me and seems to actually watch the stage during all four nights of The Tempest. She wants to know things. I’ve asked her why she cares, but she’s always evasive. I’ve gotten used to answering her constant questions subtly, a skill that comes in handy at the cast party backstage on the last night of The Tempest.
“How did it look?” Jeffrey asks, grimacing at me. He still has remnants of stage makeup on his face, and his voice is low. He doesn’t speak a lot, but when he does, I feel like I could talk with him for hours. We’ve known each other since the semester started, and he’s only recently spoken louder than a whisper to me. Onstage he seems to know exactly who his character is; in life he isn’t so sure—a trait I apparently find incredibly charming.
“It was great,” I answer, opening a can of Coke. “Really. You’re better than Jonathan.”
“Hey, you’ve still got a part!”
“Yeah, as a townsperson,” Jeffrey answers, smirking. “Townsperson or Jonathan’s understudy. Look out, theater world.”
“It’s only because Jonathan is precious and sexually non-threatening. The girls in the audience eat that up,” I joke, nodding toward Jonathan. He has a baby face and ice-blond hair, but he’s practically salivating over the lead actress’s legs.
“Are they in love?” Juliet asks beside me, pointing to Jonathan and the girl. Jeffrey can’t see or hear her, of course—I shake my head slightly, almost imperceptibly.
“Why aren’t they?” she asks. “Because they haven’t kissed?”
“Do you want to get out of here?” Jeffrey suddenly says to me, staring at the floor. He sets his can of Sprite down on a prop table. I watch him rock back on his heels, watch his eyes run to mine. It’s always a mystery to me, trying to figure out what guys want. If they’re being nice, or if it’s something more. But now I’m positive, absolutely positive that the smile tugging at Jeffrey’s mouth isn’t simply friendly. I try not to smile too hard, try not to let myself get too eager, too hopeful, and I—
“Why aren’t they in love?” Juliet repeats, tapping my shoulder. She glances from me to him, her eyes irritated. She’ll follow me to wherever we’re going. I’m going to spend all night trying to ignore the prying, dark brown eyes of a genie girl over my shoulder. I close my eyes. It’s going to actually be painful to say this.
“Actually . . .” I grit my teeth together when I pause. “Maybe another time, Jeffrey?”
“Sure,” he says swiftly, easily. So easily that it crushes me. “No problem.” He waves at someone across the room, and walks away. I turn to Juliet, and can feel my eyes light up in irritation.
“Come on,” I snap. I grab my coat and head for the door.
JULIET
“So, what are you really here for?” he asks as we leave the theater. He slams the door behind him.
“The Ancients sent me,” I answer, jogging to keep up with his long strides.
“The Ancients have sent an awful lot of ifrit after me,” Lawrence answers, shoving his hands into his pockets, “and not one of them has asked as many questions as you. Or studied me the way you do. Or wrecked a chance for me to hang out with a guy I honestly like. So what are you really trying to do? Single-handedly wreck my love life?”
“You have a love life?” I ask genuinely.
“Oh come on,” Lawrence says, rolling his eyes. It’s cold out, and cloudy puffs of air emerge from his mouth as he turns to face me. “What do the Ancients want to know? I’ll tell them. I don’t care.”
“Okay . . . they don’t want anything,” I begin slowly. “It’s me. I’m . . . researching love.”
Lawrence gives me a withering look. “The Ancients didn’t send you? You’re messing around in my life to research? You’ve got to be kidding.” The withering look has transformed to frustrated. I speak before it becomes angry.
“Look, you don’t understand. Jinn loving Viola changed things for us, it raised questions. No one understands what it means, if we should be allowed to come here when we aren’t summoned, if we shouldn’t—no one knows anything anymore. I’ll make a deal with you: help me fall in love, and I’ll report back to the Ancients that you don’t need an ifrit guard anymore. You’ll be totally free of us.”
Lawrence’s eyes widen, and he laughs. Loud. He turns his head to the sky and laughs animatedly. I glare at him, fold my arms, and wait till he’s done. When he finally turns back to me, his face is red.
“I don’t see what’s so funny.” I really don’t—I can’t read Lawrence’s wishes, his hopes, his desires, the way I can read those of most mortals. Apparently Jinn taught him how to hide them from us.
“That’s the thing about you guys,” he says, waving a hand at me. “You just don’t get it. People here don’t work the way people work in your world. You can’t analyze and rule and make decisions. And you can’t make someone fall in love.”
“Sure we can. I can make anyone love you, if I want,” I remind him. He gives me a dark look, an almost threatening one, and I press my lips together apologetically.
“That’s magic,” he finally says, and we continue walking toward his dorm. “Not love. And remember—that’s rule number four. You promised.”
“How am I supposed to know the difference between magic and love if no one will show me?” I complain. “You said you have a love life. Are you in love?”
Lawrence grimaces, but doesn’t answer. I repeat the question.
“No,” he finally says. “I’m not.”
“But you want to be.”
“Sure,” he says, opening the door to his dorm.
“With . . . Jeffrey? The guy from tonight?”
Lawrence sighs as we walk down the hall. He doesn’t answer.
LAWRENCE
Of course I want to be in love. Maybe with Jeffrey, maybe not, but with someone. That’s the problem when your best friend is in the middle of her own fairy-tale romance. It means you know that sort of love is real. It means you’re even more aware of how you’ve never been in love, how you’ve never felt sparks or fire or anything other than plain, ordinary lips when you kiss someone.
We walk into my room and Juliet collapses into my desk chair, spins around once with her legs pulled up to her chest. “Could you ever be in love with me?”
I snort before I can stop myself. “No. Sorry.”
“Why not?”
“I’m
