Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

“Since the first time we ran into each other, every girl’s bed I’ve slept in, I’ve wished with all my heart it was yours instead,” He murmurs.

“Liar.” I snarl. “Let me go!”

I stop struggling when his hand ghosts up my back, plays with the hem of my shirt, and dips below it, fingers tracing my spine so tenderly I nearly let out a gasp.

“Every girl,” Lee leans up, planting kisses on my jugular. “Every touch, every moan, every sensation, I imagined was coming from you. Because of you. Do you know what that does to a person’s mind? I’m insane now. Insane because of you.”

ARRANGED

A Novel

SARA WOLF

Sara Wolf

ARRANGED

Copyright ©2013 by Sara Wolf

All rights reserved. This work or any portion thereof may not be utilized or reproduced in any way, with exception of review purposes, without the written consent of the author.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblances to real persons, events, names, or locations are coincidental and a product of the author’s imagination.

For questions, concerns, or comments, please contact the author at sarawolfbooks@gmail.com

Chapter One

In Which Lee Montenegro’s Crotch Is The First Thing I See

For the third time today, my roommate’s huge boobs are distracting me from studying.

“Are you sure you won’t come to the party, Rose?” Selena flips sleek black hair over her tan shoulder. Her red mini-dress shows off the long legs and heaving chest that makes members of the XY sex love her so much. After a month of sharing our dorm room and seeing how not-Chanel my clothes are, how little I drink, and how much time I spend studying, Selena’s decided to never speak to me unless she needs my help. And since her shorter, plumper friend Brittany is down with bronchitis, I’m the fallback frump who’ll make Selena look better at this party.

“It’s okay, really.” I force a smile. “I’m not good at the whole ‘drink until you pass out and wake up filled with shame’ thing.

“You’re so funny!” Selena laughs. “Guys love funny.”

No they don’t. I smile wider. They like melons and matchstick legs like yours.

“I saw Greg staring at you in Humanities,” Selena dabs lipgloss on. “He’s into you. And he’s going to this party. You should come.”

“Really, I’m okay.” I tuck a dishwater-blonde strand of hair behind my ear. “Jackson’s exam is tomorrow, and if I don’t get this A I’ll be in serious trouble. Scholarship, and all that.”

I have to keep on top of grades to keep the scholarship money coming. One slip and my time at prestigious UCLA is over. I can’t ask anyone for help. I can’t mess up. Mom and Dad’s company is tanking thanks to the economy, and they’re struggling as it is.

“Fine,” Selena groans and picks up her purse. Her clicky heels stop in the doorway. “Um, just curious – you have gone out with someone, right?”

My face heats and I splutter. “Y-Yeah.”

“Right. Just checking. Don’t wait up for me.” She winks and in a cloud of synthetic cherry perfume, she’s gone. I groan and sink my chin onto the desk. Yeah, I’d gone out with someone; Will Hart in eighth grade. We kissed behind the curtain in drama club and he practically drooled in my mouth. All through high school, my friends tried to set me up with someone, but the set-ups tended to choose my friends instead. I was always sort-of grateful – secretly terrified one of them would be a repeat of bad-kisser Will. And it’s not like my high school was chocked with cool guys, either, so I never really got around to dating.

No one needs to know that. Ever. Everyone here’s had seven million boyfriends, even the geeky mathematics majors.

I close the textbook and stretch my arms above my head until they crack satisfyingly. Outside the window an autumn-rose sunset kisses the horizon. The campus is darkening, lampposts flickering to life and illuminating couples walking. It seems like everyone here is so experienced. They talk about relationships and jump from one boy to the next with such grace I can’t help but be a little jealous. Will I ever be as cool as they seem? I’m fine, but I’d give anything to seem as worldly, mature, and sexy as Selena is.

I sigh and look at myself in Selena’s huge mirror. I’m taller than her – a lanky 5’10. My nickname in highschool was Plank – for my height and flat chest. I’d never had the beautiful curves other girls seem to have. It’s like I’m stuck in a perpetual 12-year-old’s body. ‘You’ll be grateful for it when you age slow,’ Mom insists, but I just want to wear strapless tops and bottom-hugging jeans and not have them sag off me like wet spaghetti. My pale blonde hair is my only real pretty feature – fading streaks of sky-blue the last evidence of a high school senior dare. I’ve got my Dad’s brown eyes and freckles. Selena’s face is tan and flawless. The only time my skin tanned was when I fell asleep babysitting and got scribbled on with brown markers.

If I stole Selena’s body, I’d be unstoppable. The world would be mine. Or at least, a guy would look at me for more than just the answers on my worksheet.

I grab my towel and shower bag – I need a hot rinse to clean my head of chem equations. The bathroom’s empty, just the way I like it. I hate showering while other people are around. I scrub coconut shampoo and conditioner into my hair and breathe in the sweet, cloying aroma. When I’m done I wrap the towel around me. My wet slippers squeak down the hall. Someone slams into my shoulder and I land on my butt, hard, clutching my towel around me. The impact stars fade in my eyes, but I feel a strange warmth on my legs. I start apologizing.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you –”

“But I’m really glad I’m seeing you.”

The voice is deep. Messy black hair hangs in a guy’s hazel eyes – his lashes long and cheekbones so sharp and high I thought he was a girl at first glance. The faint stubble around his bow-shaped lips and broad, bare chest prove me wrong. And the tiny girl’s shirt with Care Bears on it he clutches to his naked crotch proves me very wrong. Naked. Crotch. I bolt up instantly and panic-walk away. He fell out of my neighbor’s room – 109. The door hangs open, a topless girl sleeping in her bed.

“Hey! What’s the rush?” He shouts after me. My face is nine temperatures, all of them boiling. “You forgot this!”

I pivot – there, in his long fingers, are my purple t-rex underwear. I dropped them from my dirty clothes bundle. This guy’s smirk as I stride up tells me he thinks I’m a five-year-old dinosaur-obsessed boy. Or a freak. Or both.

“Pervert,” I snap and grab the underwear back, careful not to touch his hand or look any lower than his neck.

He quirks a dark brow. “You were the one who tackled me.”

“I didn’t tackle anyone! Pervert!” I rush back to my room.

“Did that fall break your head and that’s the only insult you remember?”

I slam my door and lock it. I’ll definitely switch with Selena’s body, now, since embarrassment is burning this one alive. The first time I even touch a guy in college besides the occasional paper-passing and crowd-shove, it has to be accidentally, and with some player coming out of another girl’s room. Naked. I called him pervert like a tongue-tied idiot – I couldn’t say something normal or chill like other girls. Oh, no. That’d be too easy.

Nothing about college, I’m starting to learn, is easy.

~~~

The next morning, I find Selena passed out on the floor, an empty bottle of vodka in her manicured hand. Her makeup’s smeared and her hair’s a rat’s nest. I sigh and drag her into bed, take off her heels, throw the bottle away, and pull the blankets up to her chin. She snores and rolls over. It looks like someone had fun last night, at least.

Last night. I push the embarrassing incident out of my mind and get dressed in a soft gray sweater and worn jeans. The campus is silent. Birds chirp among the palm trees and a warm breeze teases my hair. The cafeteria is practically empty this time of morning.

“Morning, Rose!” Jen, one of the part-time cafeteria workers from my Lit class, waves a pair of tongs at me. Her pixie-cut red hair and multiple ear piercings are bright against the dull walls. I smile and choose a chocolate éclair.

“Hey, Jen. How was band practice?”

Jen’s in a post-punk impressionist metal-goth band. Or something like that. All I know is there’s lots of screaming and eyeliner and smelly dudes.

“Sweet, as always. Giselle sung really good. We’ll ace Battle of the Bands in L.A.”

“You guys got in?”

“Hell yeah! All thanks to me and my skills.” She mimes playing an air guitar. “You should come watch us play sometime. The finals are in two months, but we’ve got some gigs lined up in town.”

“Remember me when you get famous,” I tease. Jen laughs and tosses me a banana.

“Potassium for the braniac.”

“Thanks.” I head to a table. The morning sun is warm on my cheeks as I bite into the pastry. The eclairs here are good. Not as good as Bistro Miel’s, the bakery where I work, but pretty good. I don’t make the eclairs, but I man the register and get to watch Pierre make extravagant cakes and tarts. It’s my dream to open up a bakery like his, and to get as good as he is with pastries. It’s why I’m a business major, with a culinary minor.

The cafeteria doors bang open and a group of guys stride through and ladle their trays with oatmeal and bacon. They elbow each other, clothes slightly disheveled and obviously excited about something. They settle at the table in front of me. Jen, freed from duty by the lack of customers, slides into my table.

“Swim team.” She jerks her head at the boys. “Always up at the ass-crack of dawn.”

I recognize one of them; dark hair, hazel eyes – emerald green ringed with gold. A confident, easy smile. It’s the guy I crashed into. His gaze catches on mine and all the blood drains from my face.

“Oh no,” I whisper.

“Does Lee know you?” Jen asks.

“Lee?”

“Lee Montenegro. That tall guy. New transfer student from some fancy college in Spain. Word is his family owns a purebred horse ranch in the countryside or some shit. Not super rich, but rich enough to buy his way into UCLA.” Jen snorts. “Doesn’t have to work for it like you or me. Not surprised he joined the water-ballerinas. He looks like the fruity type.”

Lee. That’s his name. I unpeel my banana and take a huge bite, trying to coat my stomach with food. I focus on my éclair. I’m focused so hard I don’t notice someone walking over until Jen snickers.

“Sup, pretty boy? How was gay morning sex with your buddies?”

“Jen,” Lee grins, teeth white against his tan skin. “You get lovelier every day.”

“Not gonna call me a dirty dyke like the rest of your jock buddies? Consider me impressed.”

“I only insult boring people,” He laughs. “And you’re the farthest thing from boring.”

Jen flushes a little, but doesn’t lose her sarcastic edge. “Gee, thanks.”

Lee’s laugh dies as he looks at me. “You look a lot different when you aren’t red in the face and screaming ‘perv’.”

“You look a lot different without the Care Bears clutched to your crotch,” I say. Why am I being an ass? Just play it cool, Rose. Think cool like ice, Antarctica, James Dean’s smirk, Beyonce’s hair. Jen’s expression grows amused. Lee clears his throat.

“The Care Bears were a metaphor for my sunny personality and ability to spread love.”

“So that’s what you were doing in room 109 - spreading ‘love’.” My mouth runs on autopilot.

“I wouldn’t exactly call what happened last night in that room ‘love’,” He laughs.

“What would you call it?”

“Fun,” He flashes a smile. “A break from the complete boredom of this place. And life.”

There’s something sad in his eyes when he says that. But he shakes it off, playful glint returning.

“You know, for someone who called me a pervert, you sure do pick a lot of phallic breakfast foods.” He motions at the half-eaten banana and éclair.

“Aw, c’mon,” Jen snorts. “Rose wouldn’t know ‘phallic’ if it jumped in red paint and screamed at her.”

I blush and push my breakfast tray away from me. Lee chuckles.

“Don’t you have some ho to pick on somewhere else?” . Jen sighs.

“Yeah, yeah.” He starts back to his table. “Don’t get so overprotective.”

Jen huffs and downs my éclair in one bite, shooting him glares as she chews as if to spite him as he walks away.

“Nice going.” She swallows. “You got some good hits on his ego. Keep that patriarchal society down, one playboy retard at a time.”

“You guys were pretty friendly,” I say. The swim team leaves. I watch Lee’s broad, retreating back.

“I hate him, he hates me, we have fun hating on each other. He’s a moron, a total player, but not a bad guy, really. Plus, I know his sister.”

“Sister?” I ask.

“Yeah, really pretty model who comes to our shows sometimes. Grace is her name. We became friends first, before Lee entered the picture. He lives with her in her fancy apartment downtown.”

People are starting to come in to the cafeteria. Jen stands and claps me on the shoulder.

“See you in Lit?”

“Yeah,” I smile. “Later.”

First class – chem. The seats are empty when I walk in. Professor Cruz shoots me a smile.

“Early as always, Brown.”

“I just really like your class.”

“Do you?” She smiles, and adjusts her glasses. “Thank you. It’s always a pleasure to hear that.”

It’s a lie. I don’t like any of my classes. But I pretend to. Maybe if I pretend and lie enough, it’ll become truth. I used to like studying, but I’ve done so much of it I’m getting burnt out. But I can’t afford a burn out, not with the scholarship looming over my head. I have to do well. I’m Rose Jensen – and Rose Jensen always does well.

I blaze through the test and finish first. I double check my answers, pray hard, and turn it in. My phone buzzes in my pocket. I shoot a look at Professor Cruz, who waves me outside. In the hall, I read a text from Mom.

‘Your grandpa died this morning. The funeral is this weekend. Call me? Love you.’

Grandpa – the balding, gap-toothed old man who played baseball with me when I was young and told me stories about the war. He has – had - a farmhouse near San Fran. We visited him every Christmas and Thanksgiving. My brother Riley and I spent summers at the farmhouse, playing in the fields and exploring the river out back. He’s dead. My eyes well with tears.

‘I’ll come up on the bus on Friday’. I text back. ‘Love you. Stay strong.’

The hall is empty, classes in session. I slide down against the wall and hug my knees to my chest. I don’t know why I’m crying so hard. I’m sure Grandpa’s fine where he is now. He’s with Grandma. He’s happy. I’m not crying for him. I’m crying because of the memories, because I’ve lost something, and it hurts.

I don’t notice the footsteps until they’re right in front of me.

“Hey, you okay?”

Please, no. Don’t let it be him. I look up - Lee. His face darkens when he realizes it’s me.

“Oh. You.”

“Me,” I wipe my eyes hurriedly and stand.

“We’re running into each other a lot,” He tries, half-smiling. I turn on my heel and hold my books tight to my chest. I need a quiet place to cry. I need my room. I need anywhere but here.

“Wait up!”

“Just leave me alone!” I shout. He stops in his tracks.

“Alright,” His voice is low. “I’m sorry. I had no idea you were so upset.”

I give a watery scoff and walk down the hall, leaving him behind in a square of sunshine.

Selena’s bed is empty. She must’ve gotten up to get something to ease the hangover. I’m grateful for the empty room. I flop onto my bed and hug the pillow. My sobs are quieter, but they don’t hurt any less.

The week passes in a painful blur. I feel as terrible as I look – pale and red-eyed all the time. Selena doesn’t even badger me to come to parties, and that’s saying something. Work at the Bistro is easier – there aren’t people everywhere asking if you’re okay. The shop has several wrought-iron tables outside for the customers. The smell of warm, fresh muffins and cakes is mouth-watering, and definitely one of my favorite parts of the job. Kory, my heavily-tattooed, early-30’s co-worker mans the register. I slip behind the counter and throw my apron on.

“How was your weekend, party girl?” He asks. The nickname’s ironic, but I think it’s dumb, mostly.

“You know me,” I pull the tray of chocolate croissants from the counter. They look like they’ve gone cold. I heat the oven and pop them in. “I partied so hard I can’t remember any of it.”

“Can I take a guess on how many boys came and went?”

“At least five,” I assure him. He laughs and takes a customer’s coffee order. When it’s his smoke break, I take over at the register. A mother orders tea and her young daughter presses her face to the glass counter, mesmerized by the colorful pastries like I was at that age.

“Which one looks best?” I ask her. Her blue eyes widen and she points at a pink cupcake.

“I didn’t bring that much with me, Hailey,” The mother sighs. “I’ll make you something when we get home. C’mon.”

The girl’s mesmerized expression deflates. They get to the door before I grab a cupcake and run after them.

“Here, on the house.”

The little girl looks to her mother, who smiles and nods, and takes the cupcake.

“Thank you,” The mother says. “She loves that color.”

“You’re welcome. Enjoy.”

I watch them go and wipe the frosting off my fingers with my apron. She reminded me a lot of myself when I was younger. Going to bakeries like this with Mom was what made me want to open my own.

“Can I get a coffee?” A customer asks. I snap back to reality and whip up a mocha. When the customer leaves, another steps up to the counter, voice low.

“You give out sweets to kids like that all the time?”

I look up – it’s Lee. Again. It’s like everywhere I go, he’s coincidentally there. I’m about to comment on that when my business professionalism takes over. I have to smile. He’s a customer.

“What can I get you?” I ask. He brushes his dark bangs out of his eyes and looks down at the counter.

“What would you recommend?”

“Personally I like the apple cinnamon strudel.”

“I’ll have that.”

I wrap it up. He hands me the money and for the briefest second, our fingers glance across each other’s. I react instantly – my face heating. All I can think about is how I’ve already seen him pretty much naked. If it was any other guy, one I hadn’t seen au natural, I wouldn’t be acting like this. I’m embarrassed, that’s all. Nothing more.

“That girl seemed happy,” Lee puts the change in the tip jar. “About the cupcake.”

I drop my smile a little. “You saw that, huh? Damn. My secret’s out.”

“What, that the straight-A ice princess is nice to kids?”

I flush harder. “I’m more of a witch than a princess, really.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” He scoffs. “Only princesses give sweets to kids for free like that.”

“How do you know? Maybe I’m a witch planning to fatten her up and eat her.”

“Don’t you know how being evil works? You’re not supposed to tell anyone your plans.”

I mime smacking my forehead. “Oh, right! Remind me to consult you before I plan any evilly heinous deeds in the future.”

Lee’s mouth twists into a smile. I’m smiling too. I flatten it. This is the guy I ran into and called names. This is the guy I found escaping from a girl’s room he just had sex with, who I told to piss off when he found me crying. He probably thinks I’m crazy and immature.

“A-Anyway. Enjoy the strudel,” I stutter.

“I will. Thanks.” He flashes one last smile and leaves. Kory passes him as he comes in from his smoke break. He eyes Lee from behind, up and down.

“Damn,” Kory slides behind the counter again. “Who was that fine filet mignon?” I just give a long sigh. Kory nudges me in the ribs. “What, you like him?”

“He’s not my type,” I mumble.

“Last time I checked, ‘maybe-Spanish-maybe-Romanian-maybe-an-underwear-model’ was everybody’s type.”

I busy myself with making a cappuccino and don’t answer that.

Finally, Friday comes. The bell for last period rings and everyone in the Lit lecture hall shuffles out, laughing and making plans for the fall break that’s now officially happening. Jen gives me a hug, smelling like spicy incense. Her skull rings dig into my back.

“You’ll call me, right?”

“Definitely.”

“If it gets too dreary just, hell, I dunno, drink a lot or something. But, uh, not too much. I keep forgetting you’re a lightweight. Just take it easy, okay?”

“Thanks. You too.”

“If you feel like a pick-me-up, come down to L.A. the day after Thanksgiving. We’re putting on a show at ten in the Blue Eclipse.”

I wave, she waves, and with a jingle of her many earrings, she’s gone through the door.

Chapter Two

In Which Lee Montenegro’s Dad Tries To Get Me To Marry Him

The Greyhound bus is dirty, but there’s something comforting about the way the seats smell the same – lint and old candy and sweat. I take the bus up to San Francisco, and Mom and Dad, every holiday. When I was younger Riley and I would take the bus to visit grandpa. Even though grandpa’s died, these seats are the same. Even though I get older, these seats stay.

Mom picks me up at the station in our ancient Acura. She gets out and wraps me in a hug.

“Oh, Rose. It’s so good to see you.”

“I’m really sorry about Grandpa,” I murmur into her blonde hair. Grandpa was her dad. She breathes out, shakily, and brushes my bangs from my eyes. She has dark circles, and her skin’s more wrinkled than I remember. When did she get so old? I haven’t been gone that long, have I?

“C’mon, let’s get going. Your father’s been fretting over a pot roast all day.”

I laugh. “Him and his crockpot obsession.”

“He’s gotten even more obsessed.” Mom’s weary face cracks with a small smile. “He tried to make a cake in it the other day.”

I laugh harder. Loud. So loud it almost seems like sacrilege in the heavy fog of sadness that permeates the car. Mom turns onto the highway.

“How’s business?” I ask.

“We’ve got some new interest from China, so we’re shipping them a sample product, and a cosmetics company in France wants to look at our catalog.”

Mom and Dad own a small artisan soap company. It’s been struggling since I was in middle school, but we’ve always somehow gotten by.

“And Riley?” I ask.

“Has a new girlfriend he’s bringing over for Thanksgiving.”

“That’ll be interesting.”

“Very,” Mom sighs. “We’ll see how long this one lasts.”

The familiar trees and strip malls of my childhood flash past. My neighborhood hasn’t changed either. There’s a new playground, but that’s about it. Our house – a one-story with warm windows and mottled glass door, looks so inviting. Mom pulls into the driveway and pats my hand.

“Welcome home, sweetie. I’m just sorry it wasn’t under better circumstances.”

“It’s alright. I’m glad I could be here for you.”

She smiles and we get out. “I’ll tell your father to bring in your bag.”

I watch her go into the house. The frosty twilight air cools my throat. The last leaves are falling from the giant oak tree in our front yard. The tire swing rotates softly in the wind. I sit in it and spin.

Even though I’m older, this swing never changes.

“Hey kiddo,” Dad’s voice. I jump out of the swing and hug him. He’s balding – brown hair a little flyaway – and the same sadness Mom carries around moistens his eyes.

“Hey. I heard we’re having pot roast.”

“It’s the best pot roast in this universe. It better be, anyway. I spent all day on it.” He fishes my duffel bag from the trunk and stops in the front door. “Come in soon, it’s getting cold.”

I twirl until I feel almost sick. The next time the door opens, it’s Riley.

“Get your ass in here,” He yells. “I’m hungry.”

I heft off the swing and ruffle his hair as I pass him in the doorway. It’s blonde and perfectly gelled. Straight B’s, vice captain of the baseball team at his high school, and with more ex-girlfriends than you can count on your hands, Riley’s always adjusted well. He’s the one who’s balanced, not me.

“Wow, you’re so tan,” He snipes, taking in my pale skin. The hall is warm, the same family photos on the walls.

“They teach sarcasm in high school now?” I quirk a brow.

“Learned it from the best.” Riley points at me and grins. We set the table while Dad adds the finishing touches to the roast.

“So, Grandpa,” Riley starts. “Kinda shitty he had to die.”

“Everyone has to die, Rile.”

“Don’t you start getting emo on me, too!” He sighs. “Mom cries all the time. Dad won’t get off the computer unless it’s to moan about the bills or check on the office.”

“How are the bills?” I ask. “Business wise.”

Riley puts a glass down and leans in. “They won’t let me see, but I heard Dad talking to Betsy the other day. He said something about declaring.”

The pit of my stomach goes cold. “Bankruptcy?”

Riley makes a violent ‘shh’ing motion. Dad comes in with the roast and we eat together in a weird mockery of formality. Dad asks me about classes and I’m honest and Mom asks me about boys and I lie (I’ve been on a few coffee dates with classmates). Riley snorts into his peas. I kick him under the table. He knows me better than anyone and can tell it’s crap.

I don’t eat much, my stomach knotted so tight it feels like I’ll throw everything up. Bankruptcy. They can’t go bankrupt, not with the house mortgage and Riley’s college riding on the company. I burn with anger at myself – if I was smarter I’d be done with college by now, have my own bakery, maybe a chain of them, and make enough money to cover Mom and Dad’s losses. Riley wouldn’t have to stress about school like I did if I was just smarter, faster, better –

“Rose?” Mom touches my forearm. “Did you hear what I said?”

“Sorry, blanked for a second. What was it?”

“Grandpa’s funeral. Do you have something black to wear?”

“Yeah, a dress.”

“Great.” Mom turns to Riley. “And you, bucko – don’t try to talk Rose into giving you rides anywhere. You still have school next week.”

Riley heaves a sigh and dramatically stabs a pea.

After dinner, Riley goes to his room to text his girlfriend. Dad settles in front of the TV with Mom and I head downstairs to the office, sneakily. I have to know if they’re really filing for bankruptcy – there should be papers in the office. The door is unlocked. I check under the glass unicorn statue, where the important documents are usually kept. One name catches my eye as I flip through them - United Shores Bank. I read the fine print. Bankruptcy filing. Just seeing those words is enough to make my stomach plummet. I put the papers back and slip into my old room. The stuffed bunnies still litter my bed, the comforter fluffy as ever. I curl under it and try to push out the thought of Mom and Dad losing the house, the company, and Riley ending up like me – getting good grades for scholarships and focusing on only that until he’s utterly and completely alone.

~~~

Dad drives us to the funeral. Everything is gray. Gray-faced people, gray skies threatening gray rain, gray roads. The church is warm, golden relief. The priest goes on and on and I know if Grandpa were alive he’d be complaining loudly how bored he was. Mom’s sobbing and Dad’s stone-faced, eyes wet. Even Riley’s somber. Aunts and uncles and cousins have flown in from as far as London. It’s an open casket. Mom grips my hand tightly and we go up together. Grandpa’s wild white hair sticks out of the casket. His face is too still, too plastic with makeup and the greasy shine of candles. Dad links his arms around Mom and helps her to her seat when her crying gets so hard she has problems standing. I watch them go with a tiny seed of pride – they really do love each other. Riley and I are so lucky that they’re still together and in love.

“Bye, Grandpa.” I look into the casket. “We’ll take care of your farmhouse and garden, so, you know.” I sniff and bury my face in my sleeves as the tears overwhelm me. “Sleep well? Is that what people say at these things?” I rub my eyes hard. “I’ll miss you. Thank you. S-Sleep well.”

The wake is easier than the hordes of crying people in the church. In the stuffy, potpourri-smelling funeral home there’s punch and cookies and I can put a room, a wall, between myself and Grandpa’s body. Relatives hug me and tell me I look beautiful (a lie, I’ve got permanent dark circles from late night studying and I’ve gotten even flabbier), and ask me about school. I spout the stock-phrases they want to hear (going well, difficult but fun, lots of planning for the future).

A tall, older man walks up to me. He looks comfortable in his well-tailored suit. Salt-and-pepper streaked hair only make his handsome, dignified features stand out.

“Rose Jensen, I presume?” His voice is rich and has a slight accent. We shake hands.

“Yeah. Hi. Thanks for coming.”

“I’m Farlon. My father was a good friend of your grandfather’s. My sincerest condolences.”

“Thanks. Is…your father here, too?”

“No, he passed away last month, I’m afraid.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thank you. I was wondering – are you available after this?”

I nod. “But why -?”

“My sincerest apologies.” Farlon snaps his fingers over the heads of the crowd. A short, pudgy man in a suit carrying a briefcase oozes out from the mass of people. “This is my lawyer, Guillermo. He was my father’s lawyer as well. Your grandfather and my father had a joint will agreement.”

“Oh.” I frown.

“I know it’s too soon to talk of such things,” Farlon’s eyes soften. “But your grandfather’s lawyer has agreed to meet us after the wake for a discussion. You are also required there.”

“I don’t understand. Why me?”

“Everything will become clear if you join us at the meeting. Here’s the address.” He fishes a business card out and scribbles on the back with a pen – Gerard’s, a fancy restaurant in town. “We will be waiting for your arrival eagerly.”

“If this is legal will stuff, you should talk to my parents.”

“Ah, senorita.” Farlon’s smile widens. “You are nineteen – the will and the legal system consider you an adult, and all your actions in this sphere are your own. If you feel uncomfortable, however, feel free to bring your parents. My most heartfelt condolences for your loss, again.”

And with a brush of spicy cologne, he and his lawyer are gone.

I turn over Farlon’s words in my head when we get home. Mom rests in her room, and Dad works in the office. Riley meets his girlfriend on the curb and they go for ice cream at the corner store. She’s a cute brunette – short, with big cheeks and an angelic smile. They look good together. My pocket’s stiff with Farlon’s business card. I turn it over in my hands. A will means money. It’s a joint will. I don’t know what that means, but if there’s a possibility I could get a chunk of money, I could use it to help Mom and Dad out of their jam. But they’d never let me do that. They’d insist I save it for myself. I can’t go to the meeting with them – it has to be alone.

I pull off my black dress and put on a blouse and jeans. My old car – Dad’s volvo – sits in the garage, keys in the tray by the door where he always leaves them. I bundle up in my thickest coat against the night cold and back the car out. Gerard’s is a fancy Italian restaurant in town, just across from the bookstore. The parking lot’s nearly empty, and the restaurant itself is all red carpet and dark wood tables and low, flickering candles. The hostess flashes me a smile.

“You must be Rose. This way, please.”

I nervously follow her to the back, where Farlon and his lawyer sit in a booth, sipping wine. Brett, a bespectacled younger man and Grandpa’s lawyer, sits across from them. They talk in low, serious voices. The last guy at the table is familiar, almost too familiar. My eyes widen - Lee. He’s in a suit, tie loose and two buttons undone from the top of his shirt. His face is set and serious. I almost turn around and leave, but Farlon smiles brightly.

“Rose! Please, do sit by Mr. Gregory, here.”

I sit by Brett, who flashes me a strained grin. “Hi. Long time no see. I’m your grandfather’s lawyer, Brett –”

“I know. I remember you from when I was younger,” I murmur. “Nice to see you.”

Lee’s looking at me, hazel eyes glowing gold in the candlelight. His dark hair isn’t messy, back isn’t slouched, and there’s no hint of that signature easy smile. It’s like he’s a completely different person.

“Please, take off your jacket, get comfortable,” Farlon insists. “You are too young to drink, yes? But you can have anything you like on the menu. You must be starving.”

I shoot a look at Lee. “I’m fine, thanks. I’m just confused, why is -”

“My son here?” Farlon finishes for me.

“Your son,” I repeat, my fingertips slowly going cold.

“Mr. Gregory, if you please.” Farlon waves his hand. “Explain things to her.”

Brett pulls out papers from his briefcase and nods. “Right. Rose, your grandfather left you a good sum of money in his will.”

My eyes widen at the figure on the paper. Three hundred thousand dollars.

“W-Where did he get that?”

“He might not have looked it, but James was an avid stock market enthusiast. He and his friend Carlos made it together. They made most of it when you were born and then put it in an IRA, to be released to you when they both died.”

“But the money doesn’t go to my Mom?” I squirm under Lee’s hard gaze. Why is he so serious? Where’s his light, easy smile?

“He left your mother the house.”

“Houses take a long time to sell,” I sigh. I hear people talk about the housing market all the time – it’s in the pits. The chance Mom and Dad will be able to sell it quickly and get the money for the company is slim.

“What was that?”

“N-Nothing.” I shake my head. Farlon and his lawyer are conversing in low, rapid Spanish.

“There’s a letter here, for you. Your grandfather wrote it when he drafted the will a year ago.” Brett hands me it. I open it and read.

Dearest Rose,

If you’re reading this, it means I kicked the bucket. Hah! Don’t be sad, sugarplum. Wherever I am, I’m fine. I want you to be fine, too. That’s why I’ve drafted this new will and given Brett this letter.

I should probably say I love you and Riley equally, and that’s true, but I know you’ll do bigger things with the money than he will. Besides, most of the money was made that March week when you were born, so I kinda see you as the lucky charm that made it all happen. You’re at UCLA now, a freshmen, and goddamn if you aren’t going places. I always knew you would, and I hope this money will help you do the things you want to with your life. Use it for your college, for yourself. Don’t blow it on boys and booze. Hah!

Brett’ll give you the details, but here’s the lowdown – I want you to have the money. I really do. But see, me and an old friend of mine made a bet a long time ago, when we served in the war together. We promised if we got through it alive, we’d link our families up. Your Mom was already head-over-heels for your Dad (in seventh grade, bleck) -

I smile, my eyes watering, but quickly muffle it in my sleeve and go back to reading.

- so we decided to go to our grandchildren. You were five, and Carlos just happened to have a grandson who was your age. You might not remember it, but Carlos brought him over during the summers.

I don’t remember any of that, and I don’t like where this is going.

It was a drunk, stupid bet, Rose. But it’s a bet between gentlemen, between lifelong friends. Carlos never thought a smart girl like you’d ever stay with a rambunctious kid like his grandson. I said you would. I saw the good in him. He might be wild, but he’s grown up honest and kind, and that’s more you can say of most men.

Look, the point is, this is a dying man’s wish. Me and Carlos’ wish. If you want the money, you’ll have to marry Lee. Stay together for at least three months. At the end of ninety days, half the three hundred thousand is yours. Lee gets the other half, and you two are free to divorce after that if you really can’t stand him. But give him a chance. I’m sure he’ll see just how wonderful and amazing you are. And if you two don’t get along, fine. I lost the bet, but I’ve got no regrets. You’ve got the money to do what you want with at the end either way, and that’s what makes me happiest.

I love you, Rose. Kiss your Mom and Dad and Riley for me. Hug them. Know that every day is a blessing. Be happy and healthy.

Love,

Grandpa Jim

Farlon claps his hands. “Now that everything’s cleared up, we can begin –”

“One moment.” Brett raises his hand. “Let me confer with Rose.”

The friendly look on Farlon’s face cracks, sour impatience showing. He smooths it over in a split second and nods.

“Of course.”

Brett looks to me. “There’s a joint contract. Lee’s already signed it. All you have to do is sign it, and you’re agreeing to it.”

“Marriage?” I snap. “Not to him. I can’t, Brett. Marriage for money? How old fashioned and ridiculous is this? You can’t expect me to do this. There’s no way I’m doing this.”

I stand and grab my coat and purse. Lee jumps up and blocks my exit.

“C’mon, Rose. Just stay and listen to what we have in mind.”

“Is that why you kept trying to talk to me?” I say. “Because you knew about this?”

Lee frowns. “Yes, I knew about this, but -”

My heart gives a little sputter of defeat. Why else would a handsome, sort-of witty swim team playboy bother with me if not for money? Why else would he joke with me? Talk with me? He never liked me as a person at all – he just liked the money. I steel my quivering lip and smile as best I can.

“I would rather die than marry you,” I say. My tears well up. I can’t be here anymore. I brush past him and out the door.

“Rose!” Lee shouts. “Wait!”

I stride into the freezing night. A large hand on my arm whirls me around, pinning me to the brick wall. Lee pants, eyes burning into mine.

“It wasn’t just for money, I swear –”

“Let go of me!” I beat his arm off with my purse. He stands back, catching his breath.

“You have to believe me –”

“Just leave me alone!” I snap. I hurry to the parking lot and collapse into my car. I look back at the dark sidewalk – he didn’t follow me. I’m halfway down the freeway before I realize I can’t see because of all my tears. I gasp and press my sleeve to my eyes. The tears keep coming, and I have to keep wiping. Finally, I pull over and cry, harder than at Grandpa’s funeral.

He’s just a boy. I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up. I didn’t even know my hopes were up until now, where I can see the shattered remains of them. Somewhere deep inside, I’d hoped Lee and the brief moments we shared meant something. I should have known better. Guys don’t like me. And I understand that. I’m not very interesting or all that pretty. I’m just good for mooching off my study notes. And marrying for money.

Just once. Just for once, I wanted a guy to like me for who I am and not what he could use me for.

Chapter Three

In Which I Meet Lee Montenegro’s Supermodel Sister

I sleep in until lunch. Mom knocks on my door but I stay quiet until she leaves. Riley knocks on my door later, but comes in anyway. He sits on the end of my bed.

“What’s got you all angsty?”

I pull the covers over my head. Riley leans in.

“Is it a boooooy?”

“Shut up,” I grumble. He claps.

“It is! Holy shit, tell me about him!”

“There is no ‘him’!” I sit up and scowl. “So stop asking.”

“Aw, c’mon.” Riley sighs. “The first time you come home crying about a boy and you don’t tell me anything? It’s not fair. I told you about Elaine.”

“That was your first crush in second grade, Rile.”

“Exactly! We have to be open with each other.”

“Just go away. Please.”

“Finnneee. But Mom and Dad are wondering what’s up. What should I tell them?”

“I met with some friends from high school last night.”

“And why did you come home crying?”

“One of them said I’ve gotten fat?” I try.

His mouth twists into a smile. “Like they’ll believe that.”

He skips downstairs with an enviable amount of energy. I roll too far and fall off the bed in a tangle of blankets. Great. Even gravity’s being a jerk to me, too. Mom and Dad tactfully edge around the question of where I was last night, and when I refuse an extra pancake, Dad gently reminds me I’m not fat. I shoot Riley a glare and he laughs into his melon slice.

Thanksgiving is a somber affair – Dad still puts up the traditional turkey made of pinecones as the table centerpiece and Mom still frets that he’ll ruin the cooking, but there aren’t as many jokes at the table. Riley’s girlfriend is sweetly polite, which is a step up from his girlfriend this summer. The next few days are a blur of leftover turkey sandwiches and football games I only half pay attention to. Mom spends a lot of time accepting casseroles from neighbors who heard about Grandpa. I go with Dad to the office once or twice - a warehouse off the highway where their soap company ships out from. The same packers and line managers and marketing people are there. They’ve known me since middle school. Betsy, Dad’s shipping manager with a platinum blonde beehive hairdo, grasps my hand.

“Sweetie, how are you? You’re studying hard down there? Be sure to play every once in a while. Too much work does one of two things – makes you insufferable or makes you drink.”

I open and close my mouth a few times, trying to form the right words. “Betsy? Can I ask you something in confidence?”

“Why sure. Just get it right out in the open, honey.”

“Is the company doing alright?”

Betsy sighs. “You know, I wanna say yes. I really do. But with these new competitors we just haven’t been functioning on the level we used to.”

“So, the company, is it -?”

She leans in and whispers. “Don’t tell anyone. But your father and I are thinking about going into discussions with a Chinese company. They want to buy us out and frankly, that’s the best option we’ve got right now.”

“So the company is closing, one way or another.”

“Unless a good chunk of money falls out of the sky, hon, yeah.”

Mom and Dad’s dream company – the one they built from scratch – is going into the toilet. I still remember when I was little and they’d make herb soaps in the bathroom, the sink filled with fresh rosemary and clean lard. I still remember how happy they were when they got their business license. I grew up helping them sell their soaps at craft fairs on the weekends. Betsy must notice how sad I look, because she pets my hand.

“Don’t you worry about your parents. We’ve got everything under control. You just study hard and get that degree, you hear?”

I worry. That’s all I do. I get so wound up sitting in my room, reading old books and messing around on the computer, that I feel like throwing up. Every smile of Mom’s and every laugh of Dad’s feels so rare and special – and if the bankruptcy happens, they’ll get even rarer. And I won’t be here to see it. I’ll be back at college where I can’t see their pain. I’m selfish. Asking Mom and Dad for the money that isn’t covered by my scholarship while they’re struggling to stay afloat is completely selfish. I’m not fixing the problem, I’m just making it worse.

I need to get out. Jen’s band is playing today at the Blue Eclipse in L.A. It’s a pretty long drive, but I could use the time alone. I tell Dad and he smiles and hugs me.

“You have fun, okay? You’re looking too serious lately. Don’t age so fast.”

“Right back at you,” I joke. Riley begs to come with. I point out he’s underage.

“So are you!” He argues.

“It’s eighteen and over.”

“All the fun things happen when you’re old.”

“Thanks for calling me old, young whipper-snapper.” I punch his shoulder. He rolls his eyes.

I pick out a red blouse and skinny jeans, and pull my hair into a side ponytail. With a bit of lipgloss and liner, I look halfway decent. The drive is quiet and easy – not many people on the road in the days after Thanksgiving. The sky is overcast, and by the time I make it to L.A, it’s dark and moonless. I park in the school lot and walk to Blue Eclipse – club parking is expensive. I join the long line around the building. There are tons of people with ripped-up jeans and heavy eyeliner and hair dyed all colors of the rainbow. There are some people like me, dressed less extravagantly, but we’re the minority. By the time I get past the bouncers, the club is full. The bar is packed and the stage is alight with red and purple spotlights, the music throbbing as a band that isn’t Jen’s plays. The lead singer is a boy with bleach-blonde streaks and a raspy voice. The crowd toward the center of the stage packs tight. They headbang and flail a little, and while it isn’t violent, I make a note to stay towards the back of the crowd. I feel a hand grip my arm – Jen. Her stage makeup is caked on but she looks no less beautiful.

“You came!”

“Yeah!” I yell over the music. “Needed a break. I’m so excited to see you guys finally play!”

“We’ll rock your world,” She winks. “There’s a VIP room backstage. I’ll tell them to let you in. Just say my name to that big guy in the corner, okay? We’re on in thirty, so I gotta go.”

I smile and nod and she’s gone in a whirl of chains and black lipstick. I feel a little out of place, but the music is great. I let it wash over me, blare out all the tangled thoughts in my head. When I get tired of standing I head over to the VIP bouncer.

“Hi,” I shout. “I’m Rose, Jen’s friend. She said I could –”

The man steps aside and opens the door for me. I nervously duck under his arm. It’s cooler and quieter back here – hardwood floors and the walls packed with sound equipment. The narrow hall is lined with doors, one of them says “VIP”. I feel way too special as I open it. A black carpet contrasts with purple walls, blacklight turning everything white a bright blue. A few people sit on the couches and smoke. A man I recognize as Jen’s sort-of manager, Tom, paces the floor as he shouts into his cell.

“I told you, we can’t come up there tonight, there’s no way – fine! Then tell them we cancel.”

I settle on an empty couch and glance my fingers through a bowl of hard candy on the glass table. The music is a dull thud through the walls. A girl gets up from the people smoking and sits by me. Her legs are incredibly long and her skin’s a rich amber. Her black hair is wavy and the tiny sequined dress and heels she wears makes me feel completely overdressed.

“Hey,” She puts out her cigarette and smiles. “You’re a new addition.”

“I’m Rose. Jen’s friend.”

“Small world. I know Jen, too,” She laughs. “I’m Grace.”

There’s an awkward beat as I struggle for something cool to say. Grace beats me to it.

“I love your blouse.”

“Thanks. Twenty bucks at a thrift store. I like your dress.”

“Thanks. I got it for free.”

“Oh, like, you made it?”

Grace shakes her head, doe eyes patient.

“Did you, um,” I falter and whisper. “S-Steal it?”

She laughs so loud it makes everyone else look. “Stealing? Oh god, you are one of a kind.”

“I didn’t mean to offend –”

“No no, no offense taken.” She waves a slender hand. “I just…no one’s ever accused me of stealing. It’s sort of a thing, you know. With people like me.”

I furrow my brows. She motions to her face and makes air quotes.

“‘Pretty’ girls. No one accuses us of anything bad. It gets a little ridiculous after a while.”

She seems nice, and down-to-earth. Grace. Where have I heard that name before?

“Here,” Grace passes me a flask. “Drink up. We’ve got a long night ahead of us.”

“Oh, uh, thanks.” I take it. My friends and I drank in high school, but nothing really serious, just a bottle of wine with sleepovers. I take a sip and it burns my throat from the inside out. Grace looks amused, smiling as she takes a sip of her own.

“Never had whiskey before, hm?”

“Whiskey? More like pisskey,” I cough. She laughs again, practically spurting her whiskey over the table. She swallows and starts cracking up.

“Y-You,” She gasps for air. “Are very interesting. I like you.”

“Thanks?”

The band stops playing and applause ricochets. The announcer’s muffled words introduce the next band.

“That’s Jen!” Grace grabs my hand. “Let’s go!”

She pulls me down the hall and bursts out the door, pressing into the crowd. She’s nearly as tall as I am, and she cranes her neck to see the stage better. I stand on my tiptoes and get a great view – Jen’s strumming her guitar, giving it one last test. The drummer and bassist warm up with a few notes of their own. The singer grabs the mic and clears her throat in it.

“Testing, testing, hey Los Angeles how’re you feeling tonight?”

The crowd roars. Grace shrieks and throws her hands up.

“Thanks for being here tonight. We’re the Break-Ins and this first song is called Spine Fluid.”

Compared to the last band, Jen’s has more feeling, more energy. The singer reaches into the crowd every so often, her fingertips skimming theirs as she croons to them. Sometimes she murmurs, sometimes she screams. Jen’s guitar is incredible – her fingers moving so fast on the fret I can barely see them, and when she kneels on the ground to rip out her solo, Grace goes wild. She pulls my hand up and we jump in place together with the rest of the crowd. Between every song I glimpse at Grace’s face – she’s completely riveted to the stage, and Jen. When the set is over and the last encore finishes, we go back to the VIP room, sweaty, tired, and overhyped with all the adrenaline the music injected in us. I collapse on the couch, completely exhausted, but Grace bounces in her heels.

“I’m going to go congratulate them! I’ll bring her back, so stay right there.”

I nod, grateful for the rest. I lie on the couch, suddenly too tired to care about appearances. I hadn’t slept well; these past few nights were spent worrying about Mom and Dad. I’ll just close my eyes for a second. Just one second.

Something smells like spices and faint chlorine. I groggily open my eyes. Everything’s blurry – did I fall asleep? A very delicate touch slides across my lips, so light it could be the wind. But it’s warm. And it gets warmer, pressing harder against my bottom lip. I sit up and my eyes snap open. Hazel eyes stare into mine, dark bangs messily shading them. Lee.

“Y-You!” I stutter. “Did you just –”

“Kiss you awake?” He smirks. “Yes.”

“Why are you here?” I hold up my hand. “Wait, don’t answer that. I have to go scrub my lips with bleach.”

“Aw, don’t do that. You’ll ruin their softness.”

“They aren’t soft! Just…shut up!” I flush.

“Lee!” Grace sweeps in, Jen on her heels. “You got here too late!”

“Did I?”

“We finished twenty minutes ago,” Jen huffs. Lee frowns.

“Damn. I’m sorry. How can I make it up to you?”

“Dinner.” Grace points at him. “You’re making it.”

“Fine,” He sighs. “It’s only fair.”

Jen runs over and hugs me. “Did you see us?”

“You guys were amazing.” I force a smile. Grace. Grace – the model friend Jen talked about and Lee’s sister. That’s her. Jen furrows her brows.

“Are you okay? You look a little sick.”

Lee’s looking at me. I flush.

“I’m fine.”

“You have to come to my place for dinner,” Grace insists. “Jen’s coming. And Lee isn’t a completely horrible cook.”

“Still your compliments, madam,” Lee grumbles. “Lest I perish of the flattery.”

Jen shoots me a pleading look, like she doesn’t want to be the only one there. My stomach gives a hungry rolling gurgle, and I blush harder. Grace laughs.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Let’s go.”

Jen and Grace walk ahead of us on the dark sidewalk, streetlamps dousing them in amber light before they’re swallowed up by darkness again. They laugh and lean on each other, Grace mock-punching Jen when Jen says something sarcastic. I lag behind with Lee, making sure to stay a few steps behind him so he’s in my sight at all times. After that sleep-kiss I can’t rely on him to be anything but sneaky.

I touch my lips every so often.

“Afraid they melted off?” Lee asks. I jump. He’s walking backwards to look at me.

“Don’t be stupid,” I snap.

“I am. Stupid. And also a pervert. I’ve been told it’s part of my charm.”

I roll my eyes. He stumbles on a curb and I lunge out instinctively to grab his flailing hand. I hold him up for a split second, his eyes amused and mine wide, and then let go. He hits the road butt-first, groaning. Jen and Grace look behind at us, laugh, and keep walking.

“What was that? Afraid I might hurt myself?” He winces and stands. “I figured you for the motherly type.”

“I’m not motherly! I was just trying to –” I splutter, searching for the right words to express the slow-burning rage that’s been boiling in me since we met. “Don’t just jump to conclusions about people before you know them.”

“I know you.” Lee grins.

“Funny. But no. You don’t.”

He leans in, as if to kiss me again. But instead he takes in my face. The gold of his eyes catches in the streetlights.

“You don’t remember, do you?” He asks.

“Remember what?”

He stares at me a moment longer, searching for something, and then pulls away.

“Nevermind. You’ll figure it out. Or you won’t. And that’ll break my heart again.”

Again? I frown and jog to catch up with his long strides. “What do you mean, again?”

“I’m not saying anything.” He shrugs. “I won’t bind you to me with old memories and should-have-beens.”

Ahead of us, Grace and Jen wave us over to the front door of Grace’s apartment building. My mouth almost drops open – the lobby is tiny, but has marble floors and shiny elevators. We take one up to the fifth floor. The halls are carpeted in a rich red. It’s almost like a hotel instead of an apartment building. Grace fumbles with her keys and Jen helps her with the right one, opening the door. Grace tells us to take off our shoes and feels around for a light switch.

“Ow! That was my boob!” Jen growls.

“Sorry, sorry!” Grace giggles, and flips the lights. Hardwood floors shine up at me, with a few scattered throw rugs. The lights are embedded in the ceiling and shed soft luminance on the marble countertops and white leather furniture. Jen whistles.

“You’ve done some redecorating since I’ve last been here.”

“Yup. Had to make room for Lee,” Grace says.

Lee grunts and heads to the kitchen. He starts stacking dirty plates and brings out a cutting board. Grace flops on the couch and kicks her heels off. Jen ducks into the bathroom. Feeling a little awkward, I settle on a kitchen barstool. Lee pours a glass of water and hands it to me without asking. I frown, but am grateful for it.

“So, Rose,” Grace sits up. “You model, right?”

I spit water on the counter. Lee chuckles and throws me the roll of paper towels. I clean the water slowly, painfully embarrassed.

“Sorry,” I start. “No, I’m not a model. And I never will be.”

“You could be, if you wanted to.” Grace looks me over. “Here, stand up.”

She walks to me and holds my arms up, uses her fingers to measure the length of my legs. She puts her hands around my waist and nods.

“You’re just a little bigger than my own measurements. Plus you’re what, 5’9?”

“5’10, but –”

“That’s plenty!” Grace smiles and takes her phone from her pocket. She flounces to the balcony, where the lights of L.A. twinkle against the darkness, and closes the sliding door behind her.

“Don’t let her rope you in,” Lee sighs. He chops basil, rosemary, and onions with surprising speed. “She tried it on me and it ended in tears.”

“Whose tears?”

“I frustrated the photographer so bad he told me to get out. And then he told me I was beautiful and tried to get my number.”

I smother a laugh. “Wait, so you –”

“Tried modeling for a day. Yup. Hated it.” He scrapes the onions and herbs into a frying pan coated with butter. “If there’s one thing I can’t stand it’s people curbing my freedom. Telling me what to do, where to go, when to go there. I hated high school the same way.”

“High school…in Spain, right?”

He nods and leans into the fridge, taking out a slab of beautifully marbled steak. “Grace and I grew up in a stuffy, rich suburb of Madrid. Private Catholic schools. Really boring.”

“So Grace moved here?”

“She’s three years older than me,” Lee puts the steak into the pan where it sizzles satisfyingly. He pulls out a saucepan and fills it with water, setting it on the stove. “When she was a Junior and I was a Freshmen, she got spotted in the street during Madrid Fashion Week by some agency. She dropped out and moved around a lot – Paris a couple years, then Tokyo, and finally got sent here. Dad was pissed. Still is. They don’t talk to each other.”

“But you two do,” I say.

“I have to,” He sighs. “Since Grace dropped out he’s set on me taking over the family business. I have to go to college and get good grades, do all the traditional stuff.”

“He sent you here to L.A? Or did you come on your own?”

Lee’s eyes flash. “You’re awfully interested in me all of a sudden.”

“I just…” I chew the inside of my mouth. “I’m just curious.”

“Dad told me to transfer to UCLA. I wanted to, of course, to get away from him. So I did. But then he told me you went here, told me to get to know you.”

“For the money,” I insist. Lee nods and sighs.

“He’s really bent on getting it. Our family owns race horses, but he bets on them, too. A few months ago he bet more than he had, and now the loan sharks are after him.”

“He tried to get money from me,” Grace says, sliding the door behind her as she comes in. She flips her phone closed and settles on a bar stool next to me. “But I told him to rot in hell.”

Lee pours her a glass of water. She thanks him and looks to me.

“So. Good news. Alex says you can come with me to my shoot tomorrow morning.”

“T-Tomorrow? Who’s Alex?”

“My manager. Tomorrow we’re doing a shoot for De La Rosse’s summer collection in Laguna Beach. You’ll model with me.”

“What?” I screech. “Wait, wait wait wait, I’m not –”

“Relax,” She laughs. “We’ll just take a few silly pictures together and have the photographer send them to us. You can try on some clothes. I’ll be doing the real work. You can just hang around and eat the breakfast spread, if you want.”

Jen comes out of the bathroom, crowing. “Nobody go in there without a gasmask. Whoa, Rose, you really don’t look good. Are you gonna hurl? Because you might wanna find a less-stunk-up toilet.”

“She’s scared of coming with me to a shoot,” Grace says softly. Jen makes an ‘o’ face and pats me on the back.

“Hey, don’t worry. I’ve been with her twice. It’s nothing big. And the food is to die for. They get it catered and shit.”

“If she doesn’t want to go, you shouldn’t force her,” Lee murmurs.

“Relax, pretty-boy.” Jen sniggers. “Rose’ll go anywhere there’s pastries.”

“No, it sounds nice. I’ll go,” I say. “If it’s okay. But no modeling.”

“Definitely.” Grace stands and flounces into one of the back rooms. “You can have the guest room! I’ve left a pair of pajamas in the bottom drawer if you need some, and there’s extra toothbrushes in the bathroom.”

Jen sees my confused look and smiles. “She likes having people over.”

“She’s lonely,” Lee corrects.

“Well that wouldn’t have anything to do with you sleeping around at school and never coming home now, would it playboy?” Jen snaps.

“And it wouldn’t have anything to do with your fear of being too out in the open with her, would it?” Lee counters. Jen flushes up to her red-pixie-cut roots.

“Whatever.”

There’s an awkward quiet. My stomach chooses that exact moment to rumble hideously. Lee shakes his head and Jen snickers. I mumble an apology. Lee dumps orzo pasta into the now-boiling water. He pulls out a tomato and a block of mozzarella. He cuts a few slices, sprinkles them with balsamic vinegar, and slides the plate to me.

“There. Eat before that monster in your stomach jumps out and kills us all.”

“So how…how do you know how to cook?” I ask. Jen stuffs a tomato slice her mouth. I nibble on mozzarella. Lee flips the steak over.

“When Mom died, Grace burned everything and Dad was too busy at work. I took it up, and it stuck.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know –”

“It’s fine.” He shakes his head and brings out a bag of peas from the freezer. I suddenly feel horrible. They didn’t have a mom growing up. I can’t imagine not having Mom – Dad would be a whole other person without her, and our lives would’ve been different. Sadder. Harder.

Jen and I set the table. Grace laughs and tells stories and pours wine whenever our glasses empty. The world spins pleasantly, and I’m warm and careless. I’ve never gotten this drunk. It gets harder and harder to ignore Lee’s fingers when they accidentally brush mine passing food around.

“I told the guy to keep walking, but he had no idea the camera was on him, and he just stood there in the bushes, peeing,” Grace stops to laugh. “So finally, one of the makeup guys chased him off, but the guy left his pants, so he was naked from the waist down and running away and – oh God, it was the funniest shoot I’ve ever been on. When Chole and I do shoots together now, we still hike up our pants during breaks and pretend to pee in front of the camera.

Lee smiles and takes a sip of wine.

“Well, since Lee cooked, I’ll clean,” Jen offers.

“I’ll help,” I say. While Jen and I wash, Grace and Lee talk on the sofa. Their voices are too low to hear, but they’re definitely speaking Spanish, and they shoot looks at me every once in a while.

“How did their mom die?” I whisper to Jen and pass her a dish. She pauses.

“Car accident. She was American. Lived around here, actually.”

“That’s horrible. But...is that why they speak without an accent?”

Jen shrugs. “Yeah. They used to visit their Mom and Grandpa here. Plus they went to a fancy international school or something.”

I think back to Grandpa’s letter. He said Lee came to the farmhouse for a few summers. Why don’t I remember that? I have fuzzy memories of playing with faceless, nameless friends our age there, but no specifics. If Lee was there, I can’t remember him.

When the dishes are done, Grace and Jen show me the guestroom. It’s spacious, with a queen-sized bed, floral blankets, a dresser and a small TV.

“The bathroom’s just down the hall.” Jen motions.

“Awesome. Thank you so much for…everything, really. I’ve never –” I trial off. “ - never had this much fun before.”

Grace hugs me lightly, a bird’s-wing embrace. “Sleep well. The car comes at four. I’ll wake you up.”

“‘Night, braniac.” Jen salutes.

“Where are you sleeping?”

She flushes and looks at Grace retreating down the hall. “Um.”

“Oh!” The realization hits me. “O-Oh, okay. Goodnight. And nice playing tonight. The music was great.”

Jen smiles, relief coming over her features. “Thanks.”

When the door closes I fall back on the bed and let the wine haze consume me. These sorts of outings seem way more up my alley than the sort Selena goes to. Not all partying has to be crazy, and I learned that tonight. Maybe I just hadn’t been having fun before now because I hadn’t put myself in the right places with the right people. And Jen – how did I not see it before? Jen and Grace are dating. All of Grace’s excited faces at the club suddenly make sense. They’re really cute together, too. It makes my heart glow a little to know Jen is so happy with her.

I get changed – Grace’s pajamas almost too small. I shuffle to the bathroom, trying to stay quiet so I don’t bug anyone. I reach for the door handle just as someone opens it. Steam pours out and Lee stands in the doorway, towel wrapped around his waist and bronze chest bare. His wet hair hangs in his surprised eyes.

“Geez, what is this, the second time you’ve seen me naked? Do you have special sensing whiskers for this shit or something?” He asks.

I glue my eyes to the ceiling. “Sorry. Um. I just wanted to brush my teeth.”

“Apology not accepted.” He leans in, so close I can see the water droplets stuck on his chest. I’m suddenly hyper aware of the way Grace’s pajamas don’t cover all of my stomach and legs. I hadn’t noticed it the first time we ran into each other – literally – but his physique isn’t bulky at all. He has broad shoulders but a narrow waist tapering into his towel. His arm and stomach muscles have the barest definition. His skin is dusky and the skin hairs light, surprisingly light for how dark his head hair is. He has a small mole on his neck and for some reason that snaps me back to reality – he’s a real, breathing person and I’m standing here gawking and making a fool of myself.

“I just, if you’re done, I need to –” I try to squeeze around him, but he blocks the door with his body.

“Need to what?”

“Please move!”

He smiles and leans closer. “That’s more like it. Using your words and asking for what you want clearly is always a good thing.”

His heat engulfs me, and I feel hesitant, feather-light touches on the back of my neck as his hand ghosts up it. I jerk away.

“Don’t play me like this,” I snap.

“Play you like what?”

“Trying to get me in your bed won’t make me like you.”

“I could probably change your mind about that once we’re in it.” He grins.

“I won’t marry you, ever,” I hiss. “And I won’t let you toy with me just so you can get that money.”

I dart into the steamy bathroom. When I hear him walk down the hall and go into his room I breathe a sigh of relief. That was too close. My hands and heart are trembling, and I feel like I’m running a fever. I brush my teeth and stare at my reflection. I’m nothing special. Nothing compared to the sorority girls he probably sleeps with. There’s no way he’s attracted to me. He doesn’t even know me that well. So he has to be playing me, toying with me for the money.

I feel sick.

~~~

I dream.

At first it’s a nonsense dream about green dogs, but then it turns specific. There’s a small field of sunflowers. I know this place – Grandpa’s yard in the summer. I’m shorter, younger. The sound of cicadas and the heady scent of hot earth and pollen overwhelm me. I’m short and chasing someone through the sunflowers, scratchy stalks biting at my skin as I push through them to find who I’m looking for. I’m shouting a name, a name I can’t remember.

I know he’s close.

In the dream my heart thuds painfully with every breath and I only know one thing.

I have to find him.

Chapter Four

In Which Lee Montenegro Tries To Kiss Me While Sleepwalking

It’s still dark out when Grace shakes me gently awake. The dream of sunflowers fades slowly, yellow smudging my eyelids and the burning desire to find ‘him’, whoever he is, lingering in my heart.

I roll out of bed and take a quick shower while Grace picks clothes for me to wear – a flowing skirt and tank top. I pull my jacket on and we stumble out of the apartment, laughing groggily. Grace looks completely different without makeup, but her skin glows and she’s got a little smile on her lips. The car waiting downstairs is a black Lexus with a serious-looking chauffeur. We sit in the backseat and Grace hands him a slip of paper.

“That address, please.”

He nods and we pull out of the lot. L.A is pitch dark – everything closed save for a few neon twenty-four-hour stores and clubs. Businessmen and women on their way to work stream in and out of coffee shops and the subway. The highway isn’t crowded.

“So, where do your parents live?” Grace asks.

“San Fran. They have their soap company up there.”

“Very cool.” Grace smiles. I stare out the window at the passing city. Mom’s tears and the bankruptcy papers are fresh in my mind. I didn’t call them last night – but I did say I might sleep over at Jen’s place, so hopefully they aren’t worried.

“You love them a lot, huh?” Grace asks. “Jen told me how hard you study at school to keep up the scholarship so they don’t have to pay much.”

I shrug nervously. “I don’t know if that’s love, really. I’m not helping them or contributing. Just staying afloat.”

“You will. Someday. You don’t have to do everything on your own, right now.”

“You are,” I say. Grace laughs.

“I got very lucky, and now I have a good career. But I’m selfish. I don’t give any of it to anyone.”

“You let Lee stay with you.”

“Lee helps with rent – he has his own money from before father gambled it all on the horses. I’m not really helping Lee.”

“You are,” I insist. She laughs and leans her head against the window.

“If the marriage between you two doesn’t work out, it’s only a matter of time before father drags him back to Madrid for good to take over the business. Lee won’t say no. He loves father, and cares a lot for family. He’ll sacrifice his freedom to make father happy.”

“You know about the will? And the marriage?”

Grace nods. “It’s all Father started talking about after Grandfather died; the chunk of change he’d get when Lee married you. The money that will save him from the loan sharks for good. Pathetic. I don’t blame you if you don’t do it – marriage isn’t the sort of thing a will should dictate. It should be love.”

Grace’s words are full of hard-earned wisdom. Is Lee living a free playboy life because he’ll know he’ll be shackled with a heavy, inevitable responsibility of his father’s business? The sad darkness I saw flicker behind his eyes every so often – could that be it?

By the time we get to Laguna Beach, the sun is high. The surfers are out, but not many people crowd the pale winter sands. Grace thanks the driver and we get out. She waves to a group of people under a pavilion. It has three canvas walls and is bigger up close – space enough for expensive camera equipment, the camera crew, a dressing room with screens for privacy, and a chair with a mirror for makeup artists. A long table is spread with clipboards, water bottles, and fruit and pastry platters. Plates of ham and cheese and fresh juice dispensers are at the end. Grace eats a few grapes and I wolf down a pastry.

A man in a button-up shirt and glasses hugs Grace and they kiss each other’s cheek. Grace greets the makeup artists and finally turns to introduce me. I put on my best pretend-not-to-be-nervous smile. Grace points to the glasses-man.

“Rose, this is Ferdinand, our mastermind for the shoot today and chief photographer. Ferdinand, this is Rose.”

“Hi,” I shake his hand. “The setup you have here is beautiful.”

“It’s an American beauty, the boardwalk.” His accent is thickly Spanish. “But we want to keep the color scheme chilly. Desolate. A little hopeless, you know?”

“Exactly,” I agree, though inside I have no idea what he’s saying. He reaches for my chin.

“If you don’t mind,” He says. I let him tilt my face this way and that. “You have a very nice silhouette. Grace often brings friends, but with you, perhaps we can –” He trails off and snaps his fingers. “Bianca!”

A woman with a tight bun and beautiful green eyes saunters up. She wears a tie-dye dress. Ferdinand says something in Spanish to her, and then looks to me.

“Bianca will help you try on a few pieces. If it’s alright.”

“Sure.” I nod. Bianca steers me by the shoulders to the changing rooms. Grace has already changed into a dark orange shirt with gold stitching and short black pants. She gives me a thumbs up from the makeup chair, where an over-tanned man brushes her cheeks with blush. In a single practiced motion, Bianca hands me a soft lavender shirt stitched with metallic blue patterns. It’s gorgeous, and I have to fight against making a stunned noise. I step behind the screens and undress, pulling it over my head. It’s pure silk – so smooth against my skin I gasp.

Bianca motions for me to come out and undoes a few buttons from the shirt. She rolls one sleeve up, eyes me for a second, and then calls out.

“Ferdinand!”

Ferdinand comes over and looks me up and down before clapping his hands.

“I think we can use you for a few shots.”

“I don’t know anything about modeling, though –”

“That’s why I’m here!” He laughs. “You think I merely take pictures? No, I direct the model’s every look and movement. Let me experiment with you, yes? If it works it works, if it doesn’t, it doesn’t.”

“Okay. If you’re sure.”

“I am always sure, love. Now get to makeup, Ricardo will know what to do with you.”

Ricardo has gentle hands and works wonders – I watch my face go from plain to amazing in a few minutes. My eyes are smoky and my lips are lightly glossed. My acne scars from high school are completely hidden by foundation. I look incredible. He brushes my hair, working in some foam to make it glossy and then pulling it into a high ponytail.

Grace is the true professional – she makes languid poses in the sand and stretches sensuously. I try to memorize her movements but I know they’ll look stupid on me. She makes it look so easy. Ferdinand praises her and tells her to move a limb or give the camera a ‘darker’ look. I suddenly get nervous. I have no right to be here. I don’t even know what I’m –

“Rose!” Ferdinand barks. “You’re up! Come here and drape yourself over Grace’s legs.”

I skitter in the sand and Grace laughs, motioning to her calves.

“Here. Lie on your side. Upside down a little. There you go.”

“But what about my face?” I whimper.

“Pretend the camera is someone you like,” She murmurs. “It usually works for me.”

Lee. That’s who I think of, instantly. But I don’t know what I feel towards him. He’s handsome but too forward, and at the same time, has a soft vulnerability and mystery I want to see more of. The camera flashes and Ferdinand orders us in different positions.

“More feeling, Rose! Are you a stone or a person?”

‘Someone you like,’ Grace mouths. I nod and think harder, let my face reflect my thoughts. I don’t like Lee, I think. But there’s something under his playboy wall, a person I’ve caught glimpses of, that I like better. There’s someone more real than the guy trying to get me to marry him for the money under it all. But he would never like someone like me – inexperienced, childish, argumentative. I’ve insulted him and called him names and cried, twice, in front of him. I’ve shown him weak, horrible sides of me. But I still want to get to know him better. Grandpa’s letter said he thought Lee was a good guy – and Grandpa was never wrong about those kinds of things.

When the shoot wraps up, the sun is already setting. Grace and I thank everyone profusely and help clean up the trash. When we’re walking to the Lexus that’s returned, Bianca catches up to me. She taps me on the shoulder. There, in her hand, is one of the outfits – a stunning blue dress with sequins and layered silk sleeves.

“For you,” She says.

“M-Me? Jesus, I can’t –”

“It looks best on you.” Her eyes are set and determined. I take the dress slowly, reverently.

“Thank you so much.”

Bianca smiles and trots back to the pavilion. Grace laces her hand in mine and squeezes.

“You did great today.”

“I didn’t do anything, it was all you. Thanks for inviting me.”

We settle in the car. It jerks forward, and I’m almost sad to leave the gorgeous beach behind. It’s like pulling away from a fairytale. We stop at the grocery store on the way home, Grace loading the basket up with ice cream and champagne to celebrate the shoot. When we get back, the apartment is quiet. Jen’s left a note that says she won’t be back till ten because of band practice. Grace sighs and hands me a lightbulb she bought.

“Lee’s lamp burnt out. Can you put that in his room?”

I nod. Lee’s door is open, the room dark. I can’t find the light switch. I feel around for the desk and drop the bulb on it, but I trip over a pile of clothes and land on the bed. Someone’s in it. Before I can fully panic and bolt, an arm laces around my waist and pulls me backwards, into a warm curve of muscle and flesh. A sleepy mumble rumbles over my ear. I go very still. Is Lee asleep? He mumbles something again and leans his face into my neck. My hairs stand on end and I make an embarrassing squeaking noise.

“H-Hey,” I try, pulling at his arms. “Wake up.”

He just pulls me tighter into him. I pinch his arm.

“Seriously! Wake up!”

I stop pinching when I realize if he does wake up and find us like this there’s no telling how he’ll use it to his advantage. I decide to wait it out. Soon his grip around my waist will relax, and I can wiggle free. It’s sort of nice, lying here with him. It’s warm. And his chest is comfortable.

Wait, what am I thinking? This is the guy I caught running out on a girl he just slept with! This is the guy who stole a kiss from me without even asking! This is the guy who’s trying to get to know me just for the money. He’s no better than a gigolo.

“Don’t,” His mutter reverberates deep in my ribcage, but he’s still asleep. I test my weight against his arm but his grip is solid. He smells like those spices again, and a deeper musk I can’t name.

“Don’t go, Rose.” This mutter blurs with a sleeping sigh. My heart stutters and I feel my face go cold. Did he just say my name?

“This is a trick.” I frown. “It has to be. Let me go! I know you’re awake!”

The lights flicker on. Grace stands in the doorway, her expression amused.

“He grabbed me!” I wiggle harder. “Help!”

Grace laughs and with our combined strength we pull Lee’s arm off far enough for me to get free. Lee stirs, probably faking it. But the way he opens his eyes and sits up groggily tells another story entirely.

“Rose? You –”

“Don’t pretend you weren’t awake!” I interrupt him. “You grabbed me!”

“I – wuh – what are you talking about?” He rubs his eyes with his fists like a little kid. “You look different. Even more beautiful.”

I flush. “Don’t change the subject. You can’t fool me.”

“Rose, he does this all the time.” Grace assures me. “He carries on entire conversations in his sleep, and sleepwalks a lot.”

“But –”

“Sorry if I did something wrong. I didn’t mean to.” He scratches his head. “How was the shoot?”

“Great. Ferdinand loved Rose, just like I thought he would. When did Jen leave?” Grace asks.

“Seven-ish.”

She nods and heads back to the living room. Lee looks at me.

“You look…really…wow. The professionals know what they’re doing.”

“Right. It was just the professionals.”

“No, but I mean - without make up you’re just as – agh. I’m digging myself into a hole, aren’t I? Look, you’re just pretty, okay? Right now. And other times too. All the time.”

“I’m not falling for flattery.”

“I’m not trying to flatter – damnit! Why don’t you believe anything I say?”

“I’m not every other girl. I won’t fall for your fake charming persona –”

Before I can understand what’s going on, my back’s against the wall, Lee’s hand hold both of mine above my head, and his hazel eyes burn into me.

“You think this is fake?”

“The happy smile you show everyone, the womanizing compliments – I can see through it. You’re sad. Under all of it, you’re sad –”

“And what about you, ice princess?” He breathes in my ear. “Under all that studying and ambition, you’re lonely. You’re afraid of going through life without ever being really loved. I can see it, too.”

I squirm under his grip.

“Please,” His voice is muffled as he skims his lips along my jaw. “Let me show you how I feel. Just say the word and I’ll show you exactly how I feel about you.”

The pit of my stomach curls and uncurls, and my skin buzzes with warmth. I can’t lose my cool here. Not like every other girl.

“You can’t feel anything for me – you don’t even know me,” I murmur.

“I know you. You just can’t remember.”

“What are you talking about?”

He lets my hands go with a sigh, fingers lingering on my wrists. “You don’t remember at all, do you?”

“Then tell me! What is it I don’t remember?”

Lee’s hazel eyes are wounded. He smiles bitterly.

“If I tell you, you’ll think I’m lying. You don’t trust me, obviously, so you have to remember on your own.” He shakes his head. “Nevermind. Just ignore me and move on. Find another guy you like, okay? A guy who isn’t ‘stupid’ or ‘perverted’ or ‘marrying you for the money’. I’ll be happy for you. I promise. Or I’ll try to be.”

There’s a long quiet. He turns to go, but I grab his shirt.

“Why? Why do you want the money so bad? For your dad? To help him out of his loan shark debt?”

“If only I was that noble,” He snorts. “I’m not like you. I wouldn’t think about doing it for my family. Jen told me about the scholarship. And about how your family’s business has been struggling for a while. I know you well enough to know you’d give it to them at the drop of a hat.”

His fingertips glance under my chin and he pulls it up to lock our gazes together.

“I’d use the money to run. Somewhere far away, with no family. Start over in another country. And if I couldn’t have you with me, if by the end of the fake marriage you hated me, I’d find another girl to settle down with and try my hardest to forget you. It wouldn’t work. But I’d try, if only to make it hurt less.”

He leans in and kisses me for the second time, and I don’t freeze up. He tastes like mint. I can feel every curve of his sharp jaw as it rests against mine. His tongue glances along my bottom lip as if begging for entrance and I don’t know what to do and it’s scaring me more than anything in the world, but some part of me tells me to relax and the second I do my lips part and he forces his way inside. My hands reach to fill my palms with something, anything, and lace in his hair and he wraps an arm around my back and pulls me into him and for a second I’m not me and Lee isn’t himself – we’re together, one person, one moment of heat and lips and all I can think is ‘this is a real kiss’. This is what I’ve been missing out on. It’s just lust. But it can’t be only lust when he pulls away and laughs softly into my collarbone, kissing it a few times and coming back up for another round. It can’t just be lust when my heart gives a tortured flutter at the way he gingerly brushes hair behind my ear. It takes all my willpower to break away.

“You –”

“Don’t say anything,” He murmurs. “Just let me walk away without saying anything. Let me have this memory as it is – perfect and whole. I’ll leave you alone, now. For good.”

Lee pulls on a jacket and walks out. I hear the apartment’s front door close and sink down on the bed, touching my sore, bitten lips. Grace comes in.

“Lee, did you – oh? Where’d he go?”

“Out,” I mutter.

“Are you alright? You look flushed.”

“I’m fine. Thanks again for having me, and everything. I should get home.”

“Okay.” Grace smiles. “I gave you my number, right? Call whenever you feel like it.”

I leave her apartment, my steps light and almost unreal. The sky looks more blue than ever, and my blood thrums in my ears. I have no idea what went on in that room. It was a kiss. My first real kiss, with someone I barely know. Someone who burned my every nerve up in a blaze of white fire with his fingers and lips alone.

I’m falling for it. He wants the money to run more than anything, and to get it he has to get me to marry him, and stay with him for three months. This is part of his plan, isn’t it? He doesn’t really like me. But all those wounded glances, those soft touches. Those can’t be fake.

But they can be, a little voice in my head assures me. He’s slept with more girls than you’ve had friends. He can fake it.

But I can’t fake it. This heat in my heart can’t be faked. Why do I like him as much as I do? I should hate him. But I couldn’t even push him off when we kissed.

I go red just thinking about the kiss.

I pull my coat around me tighter and step onto the west side of campus. Professor Cruz is walking across the quad. She smiles when we get closer.

“Rose, good to see you. Having a good holiday, I hope?”

“Yeah. Are you?”

“Yes. My husband and I are staying at bed and breakfast in Napa Valley tomorrow.”

“That’s really sweet.”

Cruz looks at me over her glasses. “You know, Rose, you’re my best student. You’re a lot of my colleagues’ best student, too.”

I start to thank her, but she holds her hand up.

“This isn’t a compliment. It’s a fact. I know about your Mendez Scholarship. I know you’ve worked hard to keep it for two years now. I’m telling you this in confidence – I just got out of a board meeting. The association who gives the scholarship is redefining the terms. Next semester, it’s going to a student with a learning-challenged background. ADD, ADHD, Aspergers’ and the like.”

“But, I –”

“It takes effect next semester, so, right around the tenth of January. I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you this sooner than the official papers, in case you needed to look for other options.”

All the joy Lee’s kiss gave me drains away. “I do. Thanks. I’ll…I’ll try to find something.”

“Again, I’m so sorry. I wish school wasn’t like this, really.”

“No, it’s fine.” It’s not fine. I force a smile. “Have a great vacation.”

“You too.” She pats me on the shoulder.

I head to the parking lot, my head buzzing with pressure. Not my scholarship. Anything but that. I’d been applying for other scholarships, smaller ones, and got those, but the Mendez is the one that gives me the biggest chunk of change. And now it’s going away. I get in the car and sit there for what feels like forever, watching the sun spill gold on the trees and lawn as it goes down. I open the car door every once in a while and lean over to make sure the nausea wave doesn’t make me throw up and ruin the car floor. My bakery. My degree. It’s all fading in front of me. What will I do? Drop out and go back to Mom and Dad’s? Work for them? But their company is failing, too. If I don’t have enough to go to school, there’s no way I’ll ever have enough to open a bakery. All the credits I worked so hard to ace – will they just go to waste?

I drive home in a state of shock, my fingers numb on the wheel. Mom’s on the couch, sobbing, but when I come in she wipes her eyes and puts on a smile. She asks if I had fun. When I ask her what’s wrong, she waves it off. She says Dad’s at the office and that she’ll be in charge of dinner tonight. I knock on Riley’s door.

“Hey!” He answers it in a rock t-shirt and boxers, his videogame blaring on the TV behind him. “Look who returns at last!”

I sit on his bed. “What happened with Mom? She’s crying.”

Riley frowns. “They had a fight. A loud one. I dunno, I just put my earphones in and tried to ignore them.”

“Was it about the company?”

Riley nods. I shuffle my feet against the carpet, trying to find a grip in the floor so the anger and frustration and tears won’t make me float away. I have to stay in the moment. I can’t tell them about the scholarship. Not now. I can’t tell anyone, anything, or they’ll just worry more. I’ll just make it worse.

“Hey, you okay?” Riley asks. I nod, my lip quivering. He reaches out and awkwardly hugs me, and I hug him back. It hits me just then how much more mature he’s gotten – taller, broader. His baby fat cheeks are gone. He’s growing up, and so am I, but the thought terrifies me. Will he be okay? I want to be secure enough to help him if he ever needs it. I don’t want him to be like me, working so hard he misses out on fun things. When I’ve calmed down enough, I sit up and take deep breaths.

“Rile, do you remember Grandpa’s place at all? During the summers?”

“Sure. Way too hot and so many mosquitoes we got bites on our asses.” He nods. “Why?”

“Were there any…kids we played with there? Any kids our age you remember?”

“Yvonne. She lived across the street.”

“Any others?”

“Jake came over sometimes and we played with those huge nerf guns. And there was Leonardo. We played basketball and went swimming in the river a lot.”

The names are familiar, and I can almost put faces to them. But Leonardo? I remember nothing about a Leonardo. Lee! Lee-onardo? Is that his real name? It can’t be.

“Who’s Leonardo? What did he look like?”

“Scrawny guy your age, I think. His hair was crazy wild, like he never brushed it, and he was really mean at first. But when he got to know us he was pretty cool. Grandpa used to tell me to be nice to him because he didn’t have a mom.”

That must be Lee. It has to be. But why can’t I remember small details like Riley can? Is my memory that bad? Some of the mystery is solved – Lee knew us growing up. We spent summers together.

“Why can’t I remember him at all?” I frown. Riley shrugs.

“You guys were pretty close. I used to give you guys shit about it and sing ‘K-I-S-S-I-N-G’ at you all the time. And then you just stopped talking about him one day and he never came back to the house.”

And now the mystery’s gotten even weirder. I rub my eyes. “God, I’m so confused.”

“Me too! You come in here looking really depressed and don’t tell me what’s wrong?”

“Don’t you have enough girls to worry about?” I motion to his text-buzzing phone.

“You’re special.” He flashes me a smirk.

“Don’t worry about me. Worry about yourself.”

“Hah. I have no worries.”

“I know,” I say. I get up and pause in his doorway. “And I want to keep it that way.”

~~~

I dream about Grandpa’s sunflower field again.

The cicadas hum relentlessly, the heady scent of hot earth and rotting hay assailing my nose. Sunflowers don’t smell like anything except sap. But they’re beautiful.

I’m running through the field, looking for him again. Who? I can’t remember. But it’s someone very important to me. I shout their name over and over, the word echoing but indistinct. All I know is I have to find him, or something very bad will happen. I run until my legs ache and my lungs are on fire. And just as I’m about to give up hope, I hear the sound of a rushing creek nearby. I’m close. He must be down there, by the creek.

I wake up, my dark room nothing compared to the colors and scents of my dream.

Chapter Five

In Which Lee Montenegro Tries To Convince Me Other Boys Suck

My first day back at work, Kory tries to set me up on a date.

“C’mon, party girl.” He pops an empty tray out and replaces it with fresh rolls. “He’s a really cool guy.”

“I’ve had enough of ‘cool’ guys,” I sigh and lean my chin on my hand. “From now on, I want someone decidedly uncool. Someone who doesn’t think they’re all that and a half.”

“Oh, you mean egotistical guys. Brendan’s not like that at all, I promise. Look, it’s just one date. If you don’t like it he won’t –”

The bell rings over the bakery doors and a guy comes in. His blonde hair is wavy, mussed in a devil-may-care way, and his dark blue peacoat only accentuates how tall he is. His smile is bright and infectious.

“Hi. I’d like a tall Americano with cream.”

“I’ll get it,” Kory says. The guy looks to me.

“A little slow this time of day, huh?” He asks.

“Yeah.” I’m suddenly nervous. “But it’ll pick up soon. The three o’clock afternoon slump is coming up, and the only thing that seems to beat it is coffee.”

“And chocolate.” He motions to a row of doughnuts. “I think I’ll take one.”

I wrap it for him, and Kory delivers his drink to the counter. As money exchanges hands, I accidentally drop the change. It spills across the counter.

“Oh, damn! I’m so sorry –”

“It’s no problem.” He smiles, and helps me gather the coins. I press them into his hand, and he puts them in the tip jar. “This morning I dropped a whole can of paint on my car, so this is pretty mild.”

“A whole can? Is it going to be alright?”

“The car? Yeah. My pride as I ride around L.A. with a huge pink spot on the hood? Not so much.”

I laugh, and he laughs with me. There’s a comfortable silence Kory jumps in the middle of.

“Hey Brendan.”

“Hi.” The blonde guy smiles.

“This is her, by the way.” Kory whispers, even though I can hear, and flits off to sweep the floor free of muffin crumbs. Brendan – this is the blind date guy Kory’s trying to set me up with.

“Sorry, ignore him. He’s felt the need to matchmake for me since we were in second grade,” Brendan sighs. “Gets real annoying.”

“No, it’s fine, I –”

“Don’t do it out of pressure, that’d be weird. Just, if you want, I’ll be at the megaplex tonight at six with an extra ticket. And a pound of peanut brittle I’ll be trying to sneak in.”

“It’d be easier to sneak in if you had a purse.” I point out.

“I know! That’s why I need a beautiful woman in the first place – for her pursey snack sneaking abilities.”

We laugh. There’s that pause again. He takes his doughnut and coffee almost nervously and flashes me one last smile. Kory waits till he’s gone to ambush me.

“So? What did you think? He’s cute, right?”

“If you like him so much, maybe you should go out with him.”

“Blondes aren’t my thing.” Kory winks. I roll my eyes and focus on wiping the counter. Kory nudges me. “Seriously though, what’s eating you?”

“Why does everyone keep asking that? Do I really look that horrible?”

Kory’s quiet, and then sighs. “If you need to talk, I’m here.”

I’ve known him for two years now. I regret snapping at him instantly. “I’m sorry. I’m just going through some stuff right now. I’ll figure it out.”

“Of course you will.” He playfully hits my butt with a washcloth. “You’re Rose-freaking-Jensen, cool party girl, composed at every turn, and a very good cappuccino maker.”

When my shift is over, I head for the dorms, intent on getting some sleep. I don’t really want to go out with Brendan, not because I don’t like him (how could any sane person not like that smile), but because it’s not fair to him. I’m still confused and infuriatingly drawn to Lee. Brendan is cute, but nothing compared to Lee’s quiet mystery and joking charm. I feel bad for sort-of rejecting Brendan by not going tonight, but I’ve got more pressing issues – like the stack of scholarship forms for me to fill out on my desk. I have to get something by Christmas, or half my classes and my housing is done for – no more dorm, no more meal plans. It’s hard to concentrate on anything when the stress of knowing I might be living in the L.A. streets hangs over my head.

I open the dorm door and push in, shedding my heavy coat. Selena’s bed is occupied. By a boy. Selena’s nowhere to be found – the showers, probably. I heave a sigh. This isn’t the first time she’s done this, but I’d learned to live with it. Or around it. More precisely, I’ve learned how to kick a sleepy, half-naked guy out of her bed. I pick up an empty cookie tin and a spoon and start banging. The guy lurches awake. Dark hair, bleary hazel eyes, and a dusky, toned body I’d seen quite a few times. His eyes meet mine and go from sleepy to wide awake in a flash.

“You.” I feel sick to my stomach.

“Rose!” He nearly jumps out of bed, boxers still on, thankfully. “I didn’t know you –”

“Would be back so early?” I snarl.

“I didn’t know you and her were roommates,” He scrabbles for his discarded t-shirt. I whirl around to avoid looking at his…everything. My eyes prickle, tears threatening. Why? Why am I crying? Pull it together, Rose. You can’t let him see how he affects you like this.

“Rose –” Lee starts.

“Just get out.”

“Will you listen to me for one second?”

I pivot, my anger bubbling over. He’s fully clothed and looking at me with those wounded eyes, like I was the one who did something wrong.

“Why should I? Why did I ever think that kiss was something genuine? God, I’m an idiot.”

“It was genuine –” He scowls.

“How genuine is it when you turn around and sleep with my roommate?”

“For the last time, I didn’t know she was your roommate!”

“So if she wasn’t, it’d be okay to sleep with her anyway. Just as long as I didn’t know. You really are a sleazy man-slut.”

“I didn’t sleep with her! She just –” He runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “She said she wasn’t feeling it and took off. And I fell asleep in her bed half-dressed. I promise you.”

“But you threw yourself at her anyway.”

“I said I’d leave you alone and I am. I’m trying to forget you, Rose.”

“Right.” My laugh is louder this time. “Well, good luck with that.”

I turn to storm out the door when he grabs my hand and pulls me into him. On top of him. We tumble onto my bed, his chest pinned beneath mine and his eyes burning into me.

“Since the first time we ran into each other, every girl’s bed I’ve slept in, I’ve wished with all my heart it was yours instead,” He murmurs.

“Liar.” I snarl. “Let me go!”

I stop struggling when his hand ghosts up my back, plays with the hem of my shirt, and dips below it, fingers tracing my spine so tenderly I nearly let out a gasp.

“Every girl,” Lee leans up, planting kisses on my jugular. “Every touch, every moan, every sensation, I imagined was coming from you. Because of you. Do you know what that does to a person’s mind? I’m insane now. Insane because of you.”

His fingers reach my bra clasp and he undoes it easily and caresses the expanse of skin now freed. His hand inches around my ribcage and up just a little, where the swell of my breasts begin. I instinctively drop my head into the crook of his neck, too weak to hold it up. My face is on fire. This is wrong. So wrong. Lee’s mouth is right next to my ear as he speaks, low and soft.

“Take some responsibility for what you’ve done to me.”

Something hard and insistent presses against my thigh, and my entire body feels like it’s going to burst into flames. That hard pressure brings reality into the heady mix of my emotions – this is real. This is very real. And if I don’t stop it, it’s going to spiral out of control and he’ll get exactly what he wants – me, wrapped around his finger enough to marry him, and then the money is his. He’ll keep me in a web of lies and this heated passion for three months if I let him. This isn’t love. This is him playing me like a piano.

I give a mighty shove and manage to get on my feet and free of his arms.

“Where are you going?”

“Away from you,” I murmur, and pull my shoes on again.

“Rose, please.” His voice is pleading. “Please don’t leave me like this.”

I finish tying my shoes and look at him, brow quirked. “Like what?”

He squirms around the tent in his boxers. I blush.

“T-That’s your problem. Take care of it yourself.”

“I’ll have to.” He buries his face in my pillow, words muffled. “Right here. Where it smells like you.”

I flush. “G-Go do it in your own room!”

“You really hate me, don’t you?” He laughs bitterly. “That’s what this is. You’re torturing me because you hate me.”

“I’m not torturing anyone! You’re just being melodramatic.”

He laughs, more sincere this time, and rolls over, watching me pull my jacket on. “Where are you going?”

“On a date.”

His eyes widen. “Oh. Good. Have fun.”

“You’re being very nonchalant about this. I thought you liked me.”

“I do. But I respect your choices.”

“Awfully gentlemanly of you.”

“I respect your choices, but that sure as hell doesn’t mean I won’t ‘happen’ to be going to the same restaurant you and your date are.”

“Movie theater,” I correct automatically, and wince that I gave it away that easily. “Damnit!”

His smile is precocious and satisfied. “Like I said. Have fun.”

~~~

“Do you really have to walk with me?” I snap, pulling my windbreaker tighter around me. Lee shrugs.

“We’re both going to the same place. Girls shouldn’t walk around alone at night in seedy alleys.”

“Which is why you’re walking with me. Because you were afraid you’d get jumped and need my protection.”

He snorts. I sidestep a dumpster. He jumps over a puddle easily with his long legs to catch up.

“Do you really have to stalk me all the way there?” I sigh.

“How dare you!” He squawks. “I’m simply going to watch a movie my friend recommended.”

“We’re not friends. And the only thing I’d recommend to you is walking off a cliff.”

He clutches his jacket over his heart. “Your tongue is sharp as your looks tonight, milady.”

I knead my forehead to ease my building headache. The lights of the megaplex glow warm against the cold city nightscape.

“Don’t you have some other girls you could be bothering?”

Lee heaves a sigh. “They’re boring. I’ve been up to my knees in boring girls since I was fifteen. You, you’re interesting. Weird and interesting.”

“Gee, thanks.” Red creeps into my cheeks. “Can you at least walk ahead or behind? I don’t want Brendan to see me with you.”

“It’s fine. Just say I’m your brother if you’re really worried about it.”

I whirl to face him, my cheeks burning ever redder.

“I don’t…I don’t know how these things work. I don’t want anything to go wrong, and you here isn’t helping, so –”

It dawns on Lee slowly. Very slowly. His mouth makes a little ‘o’.

“Is this your first date?” He asks, face a mix of awe and hilarity, like he wants to burst out laughing but is too amazed to. I draw myself up to my full height.

“Yeah. So? Is there something wrong with that?”

“What about high school? Didn’t you -?”

“I had braces,” I cut him off. “And I was – am – flat. And I had really bad zits, can you just drop it and keep walking? Preferably away from me?”

He makes a noise in his throat and starts walking ahead of me. There’s a line at the ticket booth, but Brendan’s at the entrance, waving two tickets like a flag. Lee gets in line and I breathe a sigh of relief and plaster on the best smile I can.

“Hey, sorry I’m late –”

“By thirty - ” Brendan checks his phone. “ - Three seconds. Shame on you.”

I laugh, small and timid. I should be brave. If I can’t actually be confident, I should at least act like it. It’ll make things smoother, easier.

“Quick,” I extend my hand. “Give me the peanut brittle and I’ll hide it.”

Brendan smiles and shoves a plastic bag of still-warm brittle in my hands. I mash it in my purse and cover it with a few tissues. The theater is pretty busy, but it is Saturday.

“Do you want anything else?” Brendan nods at the snack bar. “I might really like peanut brittle, but I’m not a cheap bastard.”

“N-No, it’s fine!” The last thing I want is a guy buying me things. It feels weird. “I’m just gonna get a water. Do you want to get the seats? I’ll meet you there.”

He nods and disappears in the crowd. I stand in line at the snack bar as a whistle hooks my attention.

“He’s a good-looking catch,” Lee’s voice is low in my ear. He’s behind me in line. “Blonde, nice butt. Isn’t he that guy who runs the school newspaper? Brando, or something?”

“Brendan,” I hiss. “And aren’t you straight?”

“I can appreciate a handsome guy,” Lee insists. “It’s why I look in the mirror every day.”

“You’re a piece of work.” I force myself to breathe deeply to keep the massive headache at bay.

“This is your first date,” Lee picks up a box of candy and a soda. “So let me give you some tips.”

“No thank you.” I choose a bottled water.

“Listen, sweetheart, I’ve been on more dates than the number of times you’ve inhaled.”

“I wasn’t aware there were that many stupid females on planet Earth.”

He laughs, and we go quiet, me angry and him too amused.

“So when did it happen?” He finally asks.

“When did what happen?”

“The transformation.” He gestures at my body. “You said you had braces and zits but you don’t have them now. And you’re beautiful, now. Too beautiful to go first dateless for long. When did the transformation happen?”

“You mean from high school ugly to college ugly? Only took one day, really, and it was the first day of freshmen year –”

“Don’t talk like that,” He interrupts.

“Like what?”

“You’re not ugly. You never have been and you never will be and it pisses me off when I hear you talk like that.” He grabs the water bottle out of my hands and puts it with his stuff in front of the cashier.

“Hey!”

“Just these, please,” Lee flashes a winsome smile at the cashier that makes her eyes bug out of her head. He hands me the bottle and I snatch it angrily.

“I can pay for things myself,” I hiss. He shrugs.

“Consider it my apology. For following you here.”

I hesitate. His voice in this moment is sincere, like his voice was when he cooked dinner at Grace’s. This is what I like about him. I like him when he’s sincere like this, none of the overconfident swagger and playboy sleaze.

“Excuse me,” I bounce over to the counter. “An apology for being a clingy weirdo is going to cost you more than just a water.”

I hear him snort and his body heat radiates into my shoulder as he comes up behind me, not touching, but almost.

“Well then, pick your poison.”

I grab four packs of skittles, two trays of nachos, and a carton of ice cream bonbons.

“You sure you can eat all this?” He grumbles. “You can’t even carry it.”

“Can too!” I stuff the skittles and bonbons in my purse and balance the nachos in either hand. “Tahdah!”

“That nacho cheese is so gross.”

“You’re gross!” I stride ahead of him, and stop. “Oh crap, which theater did they say? It’s on my ticket.” I look for a place to put the nachos down, but Lee leans in.

“Where’s your ticket?”

“My right pocket. But don’t get any - ” I’m cut off as he slides his hand in my jeans. It’s bizarre to have someone else’s palm warmth in your pocket, so close to your hip skin. His fingers are digging into my hip, just separated by a thin layer of denim –

“A6,” Lee’s voice brings me back to reality. “C’mon, nacho girl.”

I shake my head to clear it and catch up with him. “Nacho girl! Get it? Not-yo-girl.”

“Ha. Ha.” He holds the door open for me and we’re engulfed in darkness.

“Why are you following me into this movie?” I snarl. “You didn’t buy a ticket for it.”

“I’ve changed my mind - I want to see this movie. Is that a problem, Your Majesty?”

“Yeah, it’s kind of a problem when I’m on a date with another guy!”

“Oy, would the two of you quit your old-married-couple arguing and sit the hell down?” A fat guy growls at us from the seats. My face goes instantly red, and even though it’s dark I swear Lee’s strong roman profile gets a little red-tinged. I scan the seats for Brendan’s blonde, gelled hair and find him toward the middle-front. Lee mercifully sits a few rows behind us.

“Did you get lost?” Brendan whispers. I laugh softly.

“No, just couldn’t decide what to get.”

“So you got everything?” He raises a brow at the nachos.

“What, don’t like synthetic cheese?” I tease.

“Not as much as you.” He smirks, and flinches. “Ow!” He glances behind him. “Something hit me.”

“Some punk throwing candy, probably.” I glare into the darkness behind us.

The movie is action-packed, the car chases are fairly well-done and the main actress is gorgeous. I want her legs and face and breasts and, well, everything. The sex scene is a little squirm-worthy and uncomfortable, especially sitting next to Brendan. It’s like the screen is screaming HAVE SEX at us, and it’s only our first sort-of date. Not to mention Lee is in the same theater. That’s triple-uncomfortable territory.

I wonder if Lee’s sex is like that – hollywood dramatic and so good it leaves the actress gasping and looking like she’s injecting nirvana right into her veins. The second I start to feel my face burn and my curiosity can’t be pushed down anymore, I excuse myself to the bathroom and splash cold water on my face. I come out, my hands still not fully dry thanks to the crappy air-driers, and Lee is leaning on the wall outside.

“You!” I sputter. “You really are a stalker.”

“Did you even try to hold his hand, yet?” Lee yawns, hazel eyes tearing up.

“Were you the one throwing candy at Brendan?”

“Popcorn,” He corrects. “Answer my question, princess.”

“No! I haven’t touched him. And don’t call me princess, it’s way too Han Solo for my tastes.”

“Everybody loves Han Solo,” Lee argues. “He’s a delightful rogue. Like me.”

“You’re a popcorn-throwing girl-stalking four-year-old,” I correct.

“You should touch him. Guys like that. Knee touching, hand touching, something to let him know you’re interested. Do you even like him?”

“I –” I stop myself. Am I really interested in Brendan? So far this entire ‘date’ has been me being harassed by Lee, and I sort of…like it. But I’ll never voice that out loud, lest I inflate Lee’s already-enormous ego more.

“I think I like him,” I say. “I feel like we could be compatible. Or whatever people call it these days.”

And suddenly, Lee’s gaze snaps from light and playful to dark and deadly, burning like nothing I’ve felt before.

“What?” I cross my arms and try to look tough.

“Kiss him,” Lee responds simply. “When the movie’s over, kiss your Brando, and come back here and kiss me. It’s the quickest way to tell if you’re really into someone. If you do it, and you like him better, I’ll leave you alone for good.”

“You said that last time.”

“I mean it, this time. No more popcorn-throwing at would-be boyfriends. No more tailing you. I won’t even spare a glance at you in the halls at school. I’ll leave you alone and let you experience love with the guy of your choice.”

“And if I,” I swallow, hard. So hard I’m afraid he heard it. “Somehow, beyond all logic, like you better?”

Lee smirks, infuriating and devastating all at once. “Then you and I, princess, have a lot to catch up on.”

I roll my eyes. “Keep dreaming. For the last time – I’ll never fall for your plan.”

“Which one? The plan where we rent a fancy hotel room for a week and completely destroy it?”

“The plan where you wed me, get the money, and run to Brazil to bathe in champagne and bikini models.”

“Tempting as that is,” He sucks in a breath. “I’d rather just have you. And the money would be nice. But you would be better.”

“Why? Why am I so great to you?” My voice rises. An old man walking by shoots us a look but I don’t care.

“You’re beautiful. Not party girl cute or cheerleader slutty, but a soft, quiet sort of beautiful. Elegant.” Lee counts off on his fingers. “You’re sweet, even to people you don’t know. You’re smart as a whip – the professors on campus won’t shut up about you.”

For once, I don’t have an insult to hurl at him on the tip of my tongue. I’m speechless. Lee flashes a smile and counts on another finger.

“And you saved me. You saved my life, Rose. And even if you don’t remember that, I do. You saved my life. So I want to make yours better – no, the best. I want you to have the best food and the best laughs and the best sex. I want you to have the best of everything.”

A distant boom of a movie sound effect pierces through the walls, breaks the tension between us. Lee’s smile gets bigger, and he pushes the small of my back with his hand lightly, steering me toward the theater.

“Go on. Finish the movie and kiss your Brando. I’ll be waiting here.”

“I-I don’t know how to kiss.”

He laughs, low, in my ear. “Yes you do. We’ve done it two times already. You’re delightful at it.”

My face is burning but I’m still indignant.

“I’ll show you ‘delightful’,” I growl.

“There’s the spirit!” He pushes me through the door and shuts it behind me. I make my way back to our seats, my legs shaking. A kiss. I should be able to do that much, right? And Brendan deserves at least that much. He and I deserve a chance to prove ourselves. I’ve kissed a guy before, so I can do it again. Wasn’t like I had much control, but hell, it was a kiss and now I have experience. And I’m good at it, or so Lee said. Oh my god. Lee said I’m good at kissing. It hits me like a ton of bricks and I freeze in the aisle. Someone hisses for me to move and it jolts me back to reality. I scuttle to my seat and slide in next to Brendan.

“Everything okay?” He smiles.

“Yeah, I just couldn’t find the soap.”

The excuse sounds lame even to me, but Brendan laughs. He moves his arm closer to mine on the armrest, like I should take his open hand. Would a kiss be too weird, now? The movie is wrapping up, a gun fight blazing with bullets and blood and heroic sacrifices. It’s the wrong time. Who am I kidding; if I don’t do it now, I’ll never work up the courage. I touch Brendan’s palm lightly and lean over. His baby blue eyes widen just as I take his lips in mine, trying to fit them together like I remember Lee doing. He smells strongly of sweet cologne. There’s a moment of confusion as Brendan’s mouth parts in surprise, but he realizes what I’m doing quickly and responds, his soft tongue pushing in. While it’s a weird feeling, I don’t mind it, and the way he squeezes my hand feels nice. In a second it’s over and I pull back, and Brendan tries a nervous grin.

“What was that for?” He asks.

I can’t tell him it was a test. I smile and shake my head. “I’m going to go get us a soda refill. Be right back.”

Brendan’s kiss was so nice it leaves me in a daze – until I spot Lee, leaning against a cardboard cutout for a kid’s squirrel movie and texting on his phone. He looks up as I approach, and for a second I see something flash behind his honey-colored eyes. It makes him look unsure. He’s nervous.

“So,” He tries to sound casual, but the word is a little too anxious and high. “Was he any good? Did he slobber? God, I hope he slobbered a lot.”

“He was fine,” I fill up the soda cup. Lee snorts, a half-chuckle, half-dismissive cough. I arch a brow at him. “What?”

“You said ‘fine’. That tells me all I need to know.”

“I liked it.” I frown and stare at the floor to avoid looking at his self-satisfied smirk. “He was gentle, and –”

A shadow falls over me and warm, rough hands grab my chin and turn it, Lee’s mouth snagging my lips between his teeth. He bites, soft at first and then hard enough I feel skin break and I let out a whimper, the beginnings of a plea for him to stop, but he pulls away before blood. He kisses the bruise tenderly, like an apology, like it’ll make it better, and kisses the corner of my lips before pulling me flush against him, one hand laced in my hair and the other around my waist.

And that’s when I realize he’s shaking. His whole body is wracked with the slightest shivers, invisible when he’s standing far away but with him against me I can feel every one of them.

“I can’t,” His voice is so low I strain to hear it. “I don’t want to lose you again. These weeks of trying to forget you was torture. It didn’t matter what I did or how many times, I always left unsatisfied. They couldn’t feed me, not the way you do with your smile. Your smell. You don’t even have to touch me and I feel like everything is alright with the world. Just being around you is enough.”

He tightens his hug, my short, uneven breath becoming more ragged as he squeezes me.

“You can choose him. I’ll be okay. Just let me see you sometimes, alright? I don’t think…I don’t think I can leave you alone for good. I get sick to my stomach just thinking about it.”

“Lee –” I gasp.

“I’m sorry!” He lets go and backs up and I gulp air. “Jesus, I didn’t - I’m sorry. Are you okay? God, I’m fucking this up. I’m fucking it up, aren’t I? I’m like a clingy little girl. Shit!”

“N-No,” My breathing returns to a slightly more normal pace. “It’s fine. Really.”

“It’s not fine.” He hides his face in his hands. “I just…like you. A lot. It’s been like this since we were kids. I like you so much it makes me insane. But that’s not good for you. An insane weird guy who hangs on to a childhood crush for a decade is not what you need. Or deserve.” He looks up, a half-hearted smile on his lips. “So maybe it’s better for you if I just stay away. I can transfer again. It’s not a big deal.”

“Lee –”

That anxiousness in his voice makes me so sad. Why didn’t I see it before? He’d been all but spilling his guts in front of me for weeks, now. Every time we met, his playboy exterior kept him from saying what he really felt, but this, right now, is Lee Montenegro - more vulnerable and more honest than ever.

It can’t be a trick. Not when he’s shaking so hard. Not when these words sound so sincere.

I slide my hands around his waist and hug him. Not as hard as he hugged me, but hard enough to feel the lines and definitions of his lean stomach and to hear his heart thudding in his chest.

“I,” I hide my face in his shirt so he can’t see me turning the color of a stoplight. “I like you, too, I think. I like you better than Brendan. Maybe you could just stay. And we could get to know each other more.”

He lets out a slow breath, like he’s relieving some pressure he’d been keeping in for a long time, like the breath was blood from a wound I lanced.

“Even if I annoy you? Make you angry?” He asks.

“You make me laugh, too,” I mumble into his jacket. He smells like fresh night air and leather, no sweet cologne like Brendan. “And being angry isn’t so bad. It’s better than being sad.”

“Are you sad?” He threads his fingers through my hair. “Stop that.”

“I can’t,” I laugh. “It’s life.”

Lee pauses, and pulls away. “Let’s go. I’ll call the lawyers. We can get my dad to be witness – we could be married tonight. That money would be ours in three months. We’ll live with Grace until then. And then we could run away, just you and me, away from the obligations. Away from the sadness.”

“I can’t leave. I have a life here. I have my college degree to think about. Do you know how hard I worked to get into UCLA?”

“You worked so hard you barely had any fun. I know that for a fact.”

“It’s not just about me.” I ball my fists. “Mom and Dad need me. Their business is failing, and without me –”

“They’ll be fine, Rose. They’re adults, grown and old! They can take care of themselves!”

“I have to help them. If I leave them in trouble like this, I’ll never forgive myself. I’m the only one who can help. Even if I did marry you, I’d give all the money to them. I wouldn’t be able to go with you. So have fun running away without me.”

“If you help them, what about your scholarship?”

“How did you know –”

“I have Professor Cruz, too. She was talking about you with another student. If you give the money to your parents, you won’t be able to use it for what you want.”

“It doesn’t matter.” I hang my head. “If I don’t get the money by January I’m kicked out, anyway.”

“But you could use the money to re-enroll.”

“I wouldn’t. I can’t. My parents need it more than I do.”

“And I need you to be happy more than you do!” Lee growls. “It’s not healthy, giving up your dream for someone else’s! Even if they’re your parents. Especially if they’re your parents. They’d want you to be happy.”

“I want them to be okay.” I bite my lip. My eyes are swimming with tears, now. My dream of a bakery is already shattered into a million pieces and lying on the theater’s tacky carpet. My dream of graduating, of making all my hard work and loneliness worth it, is shattering more with every word I say. Every time I say “Mom and Dad” my resolve to use the money for myself, my hope that I could somehow use the money for myself, slowly crumbles. I can only see their weary faces - Mom’s crying face, Riley’s worried face, Dad’s wane smile.

Lee’s voice lowers. “Rose, I didn’t mean to – damnit, I’m sorry.” He pulls some napkins from a dispenser and hands them to me. I blow my nose, the honk loud, and he laughs a little at the sound. I glower. He tries a smile.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry. That’s the last thing I want. I guess I just don’t understand, throwing away your freedom for someone else’s. So it frustrates me when I see you doing it.”

“Because you’re a selfish jerk,” My voice is thick with tears and snot.

“Because I’m a selfish jerk,” He agrees. People start filing out of a movie. The crowd makes me remember where we are – in a cheesy, sort-of grimy theater, on a date with a boy I’ll have to kindly dump because I like the smirking moron in front of me more. We step aside for the crowd and lean on the banister, watching them leave.

“I need some time,” I say finally. “To figure out if this marriage is the option I really want to go with.”

“You mean you have other money-making plans up your sleeve I wasn’t aware of?” He nudges me in the ribs playfully.

“It’s not just the money.” I lock eyes with him. “It’s you, too. I’ve never…dated anyone. I’ve never –” Slept with anyone. I don’t say that, skipping over it quickly so he doesn’t pick up on it. “You’re handsome and seasoned and a little out of my league, you know?”

“No, I don’t know,” He laughs. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re out of my league.”

“Shut up,” I mutter, but my blush is hot and obvious. “And marriage just seems so final. My first marriage ever. It should mean something, right? It should be an important decision I take time with, right?”

“If that’s what makes you happy.”

I nod. “I’ll feel better if I have more time to think it over. I don’t know. But it feels like the right thing to do.”

“The right thing to do is come back to my place and let me pin you to the –”

“Shh!” I jab him in the ribs with my elbow. “Just, here. Give me your phone.” He passes it and I input my number in the touch screen. “There. Now you can bug me. Or I can bug you. We can talk more, at least.”

“Rose?” Brendan’s voice comes from behind us. I shove Lee towards the escalator.

“Go!”

Lee kisses the top of my head and takes the escalator steps two at a time, waving before he pushes out the door.

~~~

I tried to let Brendan down as easily as possible – I told him I hadn’t been feeling well and needed to stay close to the bathroom in case I vomited, but I could tell he wasn’t buying the whole story. I promised I’d call him, but I think we both knew that was a lie as we parted on the sidewalk. I didn’t feel like a total jerk, as Brendan said he had fun, and thanked me for sneaking in the peanut brittle. He walked me to my dorm and I thanked him again and pushed inside quickly before he could try to kiss me. I wouldn’t have minded if he did, but I had Lee now. Maybe? What are we - Lee and I? We’d both admitted to liking each other, but the will and the money and the marriage were all complicating factors.

But for now, I can really, truly say I have a boyfriend. Sort of.

The next few days blur by. Lee texts me when I wake up with some dumb smiley faces and a ‘Sleep well?’, or ‘You’d have had a better sleep if I was there!’. Half of me wants to reply angrily, the other half thinks it’s sweet. He’s the first person, besides family and Jen, to text me. In the halls when we pass, he grabs my arm and pulls me in for a whirlwind of hugs or a kiss pressed up against the wall, and as soon as he initiates, he breaks free and moves to his class, leaving me breathless and sometimes giving me a sarcastic little salute over the heads of the crowd. He has swim practice during dinner, but we sometimes get to eat lunch together. He criticizes the food and I criticize the pastries and he makes fun of the way I eat – slow, tiny bites, and I make fun of the way he eats – inhaling everything messily.

At work, Kory harasses me, demanding to know why I’m smiling every second. I’m not smiling every second, he’s just seeing things. He has to be. I mean, sometimes I notice my cheeks hurt but that can’t be from smiling, can it?

“Something good definitely happened,” Jen says. She sits at a window table in the bistro, sun playing on her red hair as she sips a mocha. Kory nods frantically.

“I keep saying that, but Rose won’t spill! It’s driving me up a fucking wall, you’ve got to get her to tell me.”

“Rose never kisses and tells,” Jen winks at me. Does she know? Of course she does – Lee lives with Grace and he isn’t exactly the type of guy to keep secrets. Unless of course, it’s the one secret of how we knew each when we were kids. Then he keeps secrets too well.

I sigh and rearrange the tip jar on the counter. I’ve been trying to put the pieces together in my head. I feel so giddy and light all the time, it’s hard to concentrate. Lee said he’d liked me since we were kids. Leonardo was a kid Riley said we used to play with, who played with me a lot. I get so frustrated at my nonexistent memories of Lee during those summers at Grandpa’s. What happened there that was so important? What happened that made Lee like me so much? It couldn’t have been just puppy love – it had to be more for him to hold on to it for this long.

“Hey!” Kory snaps his fingers in front of my eyes to get me to focus. “You’re zoning out! Get with the program, lovebird.”

“Sorry.” I frown. That morning had been especially difficult – I nearly missed Marketing class because I’d dumped my entire underwear drawer on the floor and tried to find something suitable for a future…encounter with Lee. A customer comes in and buys a muffin, and when they leave I clear my throat.

“I need your guys’ help.”

Kory and Jen look up, and I feel a blush coming on.

“I want you to help me buy cute underwear.”

Kory claps so hard it looks like his hands will fall off. Jen nods.

“Alright, after you guys close up, let’s head to the mall.”

“Can we get nighties, too? Oh please? Just one pretty little nightdress type thing? Lacy and sweet and –”

“Just underwear,” I insist. Kory deflates.

“Fine! But if I see a nightie I like, I’m buying it for me!”

Jen and I shoot each other a look and laugh. The bell over the door rings and another customer comes in, a familiar blonde one. Brendan. My blush turns to one of shame as he orders an Americano from Kory. He smiles at me.

“Hey Rose.”

“Hi,” There’s a horrible, awkward quiet. “Look, I’m really sorry about the other week –”

“Say no more.” Brendan holds up a hand. “Seriously. I had a great time and I understand completely if you don’t want to hang out again. I’m just glad we had fun once. That’s all life is, you know? Having fun while we can.”

“Yeah.” I try to mimic his bright grin. He takes his Americano and hands me a ten.

“I’ll see you around. Keep the change.”

When he’s gone, Kory pats me on the shoulder. “I had no idea you were such a heartbreaker, party girl.”

I watch Brendan’s back as he walks down the street. “Me neither.”

~~~

Kory and Jen are a tornado, and the mall’s Victoria’s Secret is Kansas. It never stood a chance. They decimate the sales racks, snapping up the best deals ahead of grabby ladies. They hand me delicate pairs of underwear with ribbons and lace. I feel so out of place, so awkward, but seeing Kory and Jen so excited about picking the right color for my skintone makes me realize how much they care, and I start to relax. They know more than I do about what looks sexy, and having them on my side makes me feel tons better. When we leave, me with two bags stuffed full of underwear and matching bras and accompanying lingerie (garterbelts!), I feel accomplished. We stop for chinese at the food court, Kory shoveling beef broccoli in his mouth and Jen picking at her kung pow chicken. I try, and fail, to eat chicken fried rice with chopsticks.

“So, Rose,” Jen purses her lips. “You and Lee are really serious?”

I almost choke on a pea. “N-No. I mean, yes? I mean, we’ve kissed a few times and the other week at the movie theater I realized –”

I stop. Kory and Jen are staring, waiting eagerly for me to finish the sentence. What did I realize? C’mon Rose, what exactly did you realize?

“That I like him. And I want to like him more.”

“And you want to have sex with him,” Kory says airily just as he stabs a beef strip. “Hot, crazy sex, preferably for days on end.”

I blush. “Kory!”

Jen taps my elbow with her chopstick. “Ah ah, no being shy. You can’t be shy, not with a guy like Lee.”

“Of course she can!” Kory looks offended. “A guy like that? Smooth and handsome? He’s probably had a dozen girls. And guys who have everything love when they meet someone who’s had nothing. Someone to teach.”

“Don’t listen to him. It’s all personal preference,” Jen insists. “Lee’s not the kind of guy to get weird about virginity. He’ll be understanding.”

“I don’t want him to be just understanding.” I frown into my soda. “I want to be good. He’s done it way more than me. The girls were probably better than I am. I just want it to be good.”

With every word my face gets redder. Kory and Jen muse over this, and Kory finally takes a sip of soda and clears his throat.

“Well, we could either hire you a gigolo for practice –”

“Not happening,” Jen says flatly.

“Or we could give you tips! Everything will happen naturally, I promise. Overthinking it would be the worst. We’ll just give you some outlines, and you keep them in mind and do what feels right.”

“Surprisingly sensible advice,” Jen agrees.

“And I’ll also be giving you my very favorite strawberry-flavored condoms.” Kory reaches into his bag and slides a box of them across the table to me. I blush and frantically shove them in my purse. Jen smacks his shoulder and he laughs.

“Thank you,” I murmur. “I was so nervous and I still am, but with you guys helping me I feel so much better. Like I can do anything - ”

“Like you can do Lee Montenegro, specifically.” Kory winks, and Jen rolls her eyes. He quickly gets a serious, if mischievous look on his face. “First, let’s talk about the dick, because boys are important and I know everything about them.”

~~~

By the end of Kory’s lecture I’m dizzy. And then Jen starts talking about vaginas and I’m downright overwhelmed. But I sort of know how vaginas work. I’ve explored down there enough to know it’s like a cat – pretty, warm, and can be touched the right way to make it purr. Like the true studious nerd I am, I took as many notes from Jen and Kory as possible, and I go over them in my dorm room by the light of a lamp at two in the morning. I should be studying for Basic Accounting, but for some reason I can’t get into the numbers. They’re almost…boring in comparison.

When did I start hating normal school work? I never used to think it was boring. I liked it, I was good at it, it was easy! But suddenly it’s become the hardest thing in the world to concentrate on and at the worst time – my scholarship is slipping away daily and my pride won’t let me just fall for the will’s money so easily. Sleeping with Lee is fine. Having a relationship (maybe? Could I even be in a relationship? A nice, healthy one? Or would I mess it up?) with Lee is fine. But marrying him? I’m barely turning twenty in four months for god’s sake – I’m not even legal to drink. And he’s twenty-one. We’re barely old enough to consider ourselves adults, let alone get freaking married. Sure, some people get engaged at our age but it’s a huge thing and they usually do it after being together for a while. Lee and I have only known each other for a few months.

Well, Lee insists it’s been longer than that, but I don’t remember. The only thing I know is I want to touch him, hold him, smooth his hair off his forehead and reach my hands into his jeans, over the tight expanse of his stomach, and –

My face burns and I shake my head so hard my headband flies off. Stop looking at notes about penises and vaginas and study accounting, Rose Jensen. Study like your life depends on it, because right now, it kind of freaking does. You can’t rely on someone else to help you. Not Mom. Not Dad. Not Lee. Not Grandpa’s money. You got this far, you got to UCLA on your own, you can get through this rough patch on your own, too. That dream, that little bakery, isn’t going to pop out of nowhere. You have to make it, brick by brick, and the first damn brick is this stupid Basic Accounting homework sheet.

Selena grunts and rolls over in her sleep. I shoot her a tired glare. I still haven’t forgiven her for her almost-night with Lee, but a tiny part of me whispers that she didn’t know I liked him. And she didn’t. So she isn’t really to blame. But for some reason the thought of her touching Lee, any of his old girls touching him, makes me incredibly growly and glarey, but I tamp it down as best I can. I don’t want to be that girl, jealous and creepy and weird.

That night, I can’t get Lee out of my head. My dream-self runs my fingers through his hair, and as he leans in to kiss me with his soft, broad lips. I tug a little at his scalp, pulling his head back and kissing him. When I let my hands drop he returns the favor, lacing his fingers in my hair and tugging, exposing my throat to the air. He licks a long, steady line up my tender flesh and kisses beneath my jaw just as he wraps his hand around my waist. His other hand drops from my hair and reaches down to part my naked thighs wider, and he laughs about something, low and in my ear, before he slides –

My phone’s morning alarm goes off. Selena groans, and I swear vibrantly and jam my hand on the button. When I take my underwear off to change them, they’re so damp I think I’ve peed them until I smell it – musky and wet and entirely Lee’s fault. I’m going to smack him. After I do him. Or maybe during.

Decisions, decisions.

Chapter Six

In Which Lee Montenegro Finally Says No To A Girl

The first time Grace texts, it confuses the hell out of me.

“What did you do to him.”

It’s not a question – no question mark. She obviously means Lee. I text her – “What do you mean?”. She doesn’t get back to me until the next morning.

“He’s done a complete 180 – he’s cleaned the whole apartment three times, he’s looking up bakeries in France, and he told his usual bootycall girls to piss off. What the hell did you do? It must’ve been you.”

Something twists around in my heart. His bootycalls? He told them to leave. For me – because of me? Guys aren’t like that, at least playboy types like Lee aren’t. They want to get laid whenever they can – I’ve been in college long enough to learn that.

“I just told him I liked him,” I text back. After hours of studying with no reply from her I realize she’s probably upset – me, her sort-of buddy, sort-of dating her brother without telling her. I’d be mad.

“I’m sorry.” I text. “I should’ve told you about this sooner.”

“No, it’s okay,” She replies almost instantly. “It’s your guys’ relationship, not mine. Besides, I always hoped it’d happen. He’s liked you forever, you know. In middle and high school he told me he’d have dreams of you sometimes. He’s a sappy dork like that.”

The twisting in my heart becomes a sweet pain, burning like candy acid.

“Why does he like me?” I text back. “I can’t remember anything about him. Was it something to do with us as kids?”

“Go to your Grandpa’s house. The creek in the back of the property might jog your memory. Lee never told me what happened, but he talked about the creek a lot. Whatever happened might’ve been there.”

The creek. Riley and I and the other kids used to play in it when the summer got too hot to bear. Did something happen there? In my sunflower dreams, before they were taken over by the sex dreams, I remember hearing the rush of water. Something must’ve happened there. Something that made me lose my memory and convinced Lee he liked me. But what?

“I will. Thanks Grace.”

“No problem. Oh, and you might want to check page 167 of this month’s issue of Seventeen. <3”

She signs it with a heart, and that makes me dread it more. No. It can’t be –

“Selena!” I shake my roommate awake. “Selena, do you have this month’s issue of Seventeen?”

“Blurghf – what?” Selena sits up and rubs her eyes. “Where’s the fire?”

“Seventeen. This month’s. Do you have it?”

“Duh,” She waves her hand at a pile of magazines. I flip to page 167 and nearly drop it.

There, in the beautiful blue silk shirt they gave me and staring out from the page with smoky, sultry eyes, is a girl who looks like me. But she can’t be me – her body is too airbrushed, there’s no scars or pimples or birthmarks, but her hair is the same blonde dishwater shade as mine. Somehow they made the color look beautiful, the same color as the sand I’m lying on. Grace’s arms are around my neck and her face is in my shoulder, her fierce dark looks piercing through me when I stare at her for too long. She is perfection and I’m extremely well photoshopped perfection. Nobody’s going to recognize me from this ad – not when my hair’s in a greasy braid and I’ve worn the same American Eagle sweatshirt for three days. Selena sits up and looks at the page and whistles.

“Wow, they’re really pretty. That blonde one has gorgeous bone structure. I guess that’s why they’re models and not us, huh?”

“You’re really pretty, though,” I insist. Selena laughs and runs her fingers through her hair.

“Not as hot as them.”

For once, I’m like Selena. In that page, I’m just as pretty, if not prettier than her. She said it herself. I’m not the boring girl who studies too much and never goes to parties in that page – I’m someone new, someone beautiful and interesting. The kind of girl Lee would like. I look like a glamorous girl he’d sleep with. I ask Selena if I can tear out the page and she says yes. I fold it and put it in my wallet under my driver’s license.

That weekend, Mom asks me to come up and help clear out Grandpa’s house. And I agree.

It’s time to visit the creek.

~~~

Grandpa’s farmhouse is the same as ever – the whitewash peeling and the veranda crammed with dilapidated chairs and tables. The grass is tall and yellow, the garden shriveled. Grandpa would be disgusted by the way it looks. To him, the garden was like a third grandchild. The sunflower field is dead and cold, the stalks brown and broken, but the outline of the rows can be seen as they spread all the way to the gulch, where the creek is.

Mom and Dad’s van is parked crooked. I park and get out – following the telltale sounds of boxes being dropped and Riley’s high-pitched voice whining to the garage. It’s open, junk spilling out; an old kayak, a tablesaw, boxes of tools and books and old clothes, a molding dollhouse, and hundreds of musty-smelling Christmas decorations. And that’s just a fraction of what’s in the basement. Riley moans about a pulled muscle as he hefts a box onto a pyramid of them and mouths at me; ‘run while you can’. I wave hi to Mom sorting through the clothes. Dad inches a coatrack out of the garage and into the dumpster they’ve rented, dusts his hands off, and smiles at me.

“Hey, kid. How was traffic?”

“Not bad.” I zip my jacket up against the cold. “Can I help?”

“Sure. I was just about to go up and make us some cocoa – nothing fancy, just the instant kind. Could you do that?”

“But I want to lift with the boys!” I tease.

“Oh, you’ll lift whether you like it or not.” He chuckles, and wipes dust off his forehead. “But if Riley doesn’t get a pick-me-up of sugar in the next five minutes, I think he might start screaming.”

I salute and run up to the porch. The house is quiet, the dark hardwood floors and colorful throw rugs seem dull and faded in comparison to when I was a kid. The same dog-pee smelling couch sits in front of the widescreen TV, and the cracked oak dining table is piled high with candles, paper plates, photo albums, and other odds and ends. I slip into the kitchen and am greeted by a familiar face, salt-and-pepper hair shining slickly in the light.

“Farlon?”

Farlon turns, eyes narrowing and a smile forcing its way onto his face. He’s leafing through a photo album with a tanned hand.

“Ah, Rose. I presume you’re here to help your family with the garage?”

“Yeah. And you?” I try to sound polite.

“Brett insisted I come here and claim some of the things James left for my father should he have died first. He didn’t, but the objects are willed to our family all the same.” Farlon’s smile grows. “Lee is not coming, if that was a concern of yours.”

“No, it’s not.” I shake my head and pull out mugs, filling them with milk and piling them in the microwave. I watch Farlon out of the corner of my eye.

“You need not be so suspicious of me,” Farlon laughs. “I apologize for my earlier insistence that you marry Lee. I’m…hasty to see him settled with the right girl.”

“You need the money,” I say. He looks shocked, but the smile returns.

“So I do. I’m sure Lee told you of it, in whatever brief conversations you’ve had at school.”

“You sent him to UCLA just so he could try and woo me,” My voice becomes low. “You made him transfer –”

“Not against his will.” Farlon shrugs. “He was eager to leave the country. And me. He was eager to get the money as well, you know. He wants nothing more than to run from his responsibilities. I would never let him have it, of course. I have my ways of taking it from him even if he did receive it.” Farlon slams the photo album shut, but his smile widens. “He is my only son. My father ran the stables just as his father did before him, and his father before him. I was not allowed to choose my own career. And neither will he. He will bow to duty and tradition as I have, and as the men before him have.”

A sharp pain alerts me to the fact my nails are biting into my clenched palm. The microwave finishes, the gentle beep cutting the tension. I fish the mugs out and pour the instant cocoa mix in and stir each slowly. Farlon watches me the whole time, dark eyes so different from Lee’s. Lee must’ve gotten his hazel-gold from his mother.

“I won’t pester you to marry him any longer,” Farlon says. “I realized my mistake shortly after you left the restaurant. One should not force marriage for gain.”

His words are nice, but something about the way he says them doesn’t sound true. Grace said he was in debt to loan-sharks. Is he really giving up that easily? Or does he know Lee and I are growing to like each other more? He probably thinks it’s all going to work out, that it’s all going according to his little plan.

I narrow my eyes at him. “I don’t like you.”

Farlon laughs. “Is that so?”

“You use your kids just to get money. You’re going to force Lee to inherit the family business. No wonder Grace won’t talk to you anymore. You treat your kids like pawns in a chess game and it’s disgusting. You disgust me. I’ll never marry Lee just so you can have the money.”

I pile the mugs on a platter and start to the door. Farlon calls after me.

“But you need the money, don’t you? Your family’s business is in quite a lot of trouble. I had my insiders research your parent’s stock, and it’s not looking very good. If you don’t get a large sum of money soon, it’s over. Poof. Their quaint dream company down the drain.”

My hands clench hard around the platter.

“You’re much more loyal to your family than Lee is. You have the sense of duty and familial honor I wish my own children had. You will do the right thing. I know you will.”

I let out a snarl under my breath and push out the front door.

Dad asks me what’s wrong. I just smile and hand him a cocoa. Riley dives for his. Mom takes her cup while maintaining a good distance from Dad. They don’t look at each other. When they talk they don’t lock eyes, staring at the ground or above each others’ shoulders.

“Why is Farlon here, Dad?” I ask.

Dad takes a deep swig of cocoa. “Grandpa’s lawyer said some things in the house were willed to him. He called us and arranged to come to the house when we were cleaning it out.”

“You trust him in the house by himself?” I ask.

“There’s nothing left in there worth any value, kiddo. We cleared it out weeks ago. Don’t worry so much, okay?”

“She has every right to worry, Daniel,” Mom snaps. “The man gives me a bad vibe.”

“Oh stop,” Dad scoffs. “You were always so suspicious of your dad. Don’t tell me that extends to his friends, too.”

Mom draws up to her full height and makes her voice icy.

“We are not having this conversation.”

Dad shrugs at me and tries to smile, but it’s fractured. Riley sits on the rusty swing and sips his cocoa. I walk over to him and sit on the other swing, and we watch Mom and Dad.

“It’s getting worse,” Riley says finally. “Sometimes they don’t talk to each other for days. And at night, or when the bills come on Wednesday, there’s always yelling.”

“They love each other,” I insist.

“Yeah, duh.” Riley nods. “But they love the company a lot, too. It’s what keeps them going, you know?”

“Besides us two bundles of joy.”

“Besides us.” He smirks, but it fades quickly. The swings creak mournfully. I stand and thrust my hands into my jacket pockets.

“Where are you going?” Riley asks.

“To see the creek.” I turn. “You wouldn’t know if anything happened at the creek when we were kids, would you?”

Riley shrugs. “We played in it a lot. Nothing weird happened.”

Figures. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

I make my way through the sunflower field, dead stalks and weeds crunching under my converse. The path is the same as the one in my dream, but it doesn’t feel like it. My dream was more vivid, and in my dream the sunflowers were in full bloom, the color of saffron and smelling like hot summer earth. All I can smell now is winter, cold and crisp, and all I can see are dead things wanting to be alive again.

Grandpa, wanting to be alive again to take care of the garden like it deserves.

I make my way gingerly down the gulch, clinging to roots and using stones as footholds. The creek is babbling softly. It’s about three or four feet deep, and gets deeper in the spring when the snow up north melts. The water is clean and cold, but not cold enough for ice to form. I run my hand back and forth in the water, watching it rush over the smooth stones of the creekbed. It hasn’t changed at all.

Grace told me to come here. The creek in my dream was a summertime creek, though. This winter creek won’t jog any memories. I get up and walk along the banks. I try to skip a stone, but my fingers are numb. Grandpa taught me to do that. He taught me how to work a lawn mower, how to make perfect pancakes, how to defend myself against bullies. And now he’s gone. Mom and Dad are clearing out the house, and that’ll sell and be gone, too. I won’t be able to come to the creek, anymore.

My pocket buzzes with a text – Lee.

‘I’ve got a surprise for you. At Grace’s. Meet me there tonight?’

‘Sex won’t be a surprise coming from you’. I sigh and text back.

‘Who said anything about that? Jeez, someone’s eager’.

I roll my eyes and try to skip another stone. He texts a few minutes later.

‘Seriously, meet me tonight at Grace’s. You’ll like it, I promise’.

‘I’m at the creek’. I reply.

He doesn’t text after that. There’s silence, and then my phone buzzes with a call. I pick up.

“Why are you there?” Lee asks.

“Why do you think?” I kick a rock. “To try and find out what happened here. That bullshit mystery you kept referring back to.”

“What mystery?”

I use a deep Lee voice. “‘You know me’, ‘you’ll break my heart again’. Ring any bells?”

“I never said anything about a creek, though. How did you know it was at the creek?”

“I had a dream,” I bite my pinky nail. “A couple dreams, actually. They felt too real to not be memories. I was looking for someone, running through Grandpa’s sunflower field. And the dream cut off when I got to the creek.”

Lee’s quiet. I hear rustling like he’s sitting up.

“You could just tell me what happened,” I say. “And spare me the trouble of remembering.”

There’s a very long silence. Just when I think of hanging up, Lee’s voice murmurs.

“You drowned there.”

I stop breathing. “What?”

“We used to…me and you as kids, we used to play at the creek a lot. Your brother didn’t like it as much. He’d go off into the woods and flip over rocks and crush beetles or something.”

“Sounds like Riley,” I mutter.

“One day, I went too far downstream. It gets deep there. You kept telling me to come back, but I wouldn’t listen. I wanted to impress you. I wanted to walk to the edge of a log and walk back and you’d be impressed I was so brave. It’s a stupid thing little boys do – wanting to be brave.”

Lee sighs, soft and weary.

“The log snapped. I couldn’t swim. Didn’t know how. I kept grabbing onto branches and rocks to hold on to but they all came loose. The water was so cold I couldn’t breathe right. And when I went under I couldn’t breathe at all. You jumped in after me and got me – I don’t know how you did it with your scrawny kid body, but you swam me to the edge and pushed me up on the bank. If you go downstream about a half-mile, there’s a small waterfall. Nothing really big – seven, eight feet. I guess you must’ve been tired from swimming for both of us because you couldn’t get out. You went over it and…”

Lee trails off, his voice wavering.

“Cracked your head. There was blood. Not a lot. But enough. I was crying. Just standing there and watching you lie on the rocks and crying like a baby. A coward.”

“You were a kid, Lee –”

“That’s no excuse!” His voice thunders. “I could’ve done something. I should’ve done something.”

He sounds so angry at himself. I wait a few seconds before using my most comforting voice.

“What happened then?”

“Your grandpa must’ve heard me crying. He came down and got you out and wrapped you up. He took you to the doctor and I went with him. You got stitches and when you woke up you didn’t remember the creek. Or me.”

Suddenly it all makes sense. Everything Lee said when we first met makes sense. If he’d told me this at the beginning I would’ve never believed him. But the gaps in my memory are filled by it.

“How old were we?” I finally ask.

“I was ten. You were nine.”

“Why doesn’t Riley remember it?”

“He was in the house the whole time. Watching cartoons. Your grandpa asked the lady next door to watch him and me while he went to the doctor, but I kept screaming until he let me come with. The doctor guy was old. In a house. We didn’t go to the hospital. I don’t think your Grandpa ever told your parents, either. He told me to keep it a secret from grown-ups.”

“Mom didn’t like us spending the summers with him,” I say. “She thought he was irresponsible. But he wasn’t like that. He just trusted us to play on our own.”

“He definitely wouldn’t want your parents to find out about what happened, then.”

“Yeah.” I nod. “Definitely not.”

There’s that quiet again. Technically I had amnesia. It’s so surreal to think that. I had amnesia. I have amnesia. I forgot Lee because of it. Lee likes me, but I’d forgotten him. That must’ve been painful.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I didn’t know –”

“I didn’t want you to know,” Lee interrupts. “I didn’t want to tell you. You wouldn’t believe me. And if you did, that sad story would artificially make you feel sorry for me. Make you like me.”

“I like you. Not-artificially.”

He laughs. “So, are you coming back? This surprise won’t open itself.”

“Are you sure it’s not your…um…dick?”

“It’s a little more metallic than a dick.”

“You didn’t get a weird sex toy, did you?”

“You - !” He splutters. “No! You’re insufferable! Just get back here and open it, okay? I’ll wait all night if I have to.”

“I have to help my family move stuff,” I say. “But I guess I can drive back.”

“Yes!” It sounds like he punches the air. “Okay, see you then.”

He hangs up like an excited little kid. I roll my eyes but I’m smiling. It’s a lot to digest. As I help Mom sort clothes and help Dad move Christmas ornaments and yard tools, what Lee said spins in my head. Lee must’ve felt horrible after it happened. Because he couldn’t swim, I got hurt. But he can swim now. He’s on the UCLA swim team, for crissakes. I freeze unwrapping an ornament. Is that why? Is what happened the reason he decided to pursue swimming? No. I’m just jumping to conclusions.

Betsy comes over to help, beehive hairdo tucked behind a scarf and her sleeves rolled up. We move a roll of carpet together. When we’re out of earshot of Mom and Dad, I bring up the business.

“This is just out of curiosity,” I pant and wipe my hands on my jeans, trying to sound casual. “But how much would the business need to get out of trouble? And how soon?”

Betsy narrows her eyes at me. “Don’t go getting any ideas now. Your mom and dad and I can manage on our own. You don’t need to worry about this stuff, not now. Just focus on your studies.”

“I’m just curious. Mom and Dad won’t tell me anything, you know that. They’re smothering me with silence. Please?”

Betsy sighs. She stares at the carpet for a moment. “A hundred thou. At least. And we’d need it in the next month to make the books.”

I wince. She sees it and points threateningly at me.

“Don’t go telling anyone I said that. Just forget you ever heard it, alright? Grown-up problems aren’t any place for kids to mess around.”

“I’m nineteen, almost twenty. Not a kid.”

“You’re still growing. That’s all that matters.”

When the last box is thrown in the dumpster and the last shard of glass swept up, I make an excuse about Jen needing help on a project to go back to L.A. Mom doesn’t seem to be fully believe it, but Dad does and tells me to drive safe. The way Mom glares at him, I can tell they’ll have a talk about this later. Or a fight. Betsy has her customary gracious smile on as she kisses my cheek goodbye and drives away in her cherry-red convertible. Farlon is nowhere to be seen – one of the cars I saw earlier is gone. He must’ve gotten what he came for and left.

Riley hangs on my shoulder as I walk out to the car.

“Take me with you,” He pleads.

“Can’t. Your big head wouldn’t fit in the car.”

“Screw you!” He jabs at my shoulder playfully but I duck and laugh. I hover just before sliding into the driver’s seat and look at him seriously.

“Take care of Mom and Dad, okay?”

“It’s selfish of you,” He grunts. “Taking off to college and letting me be the buffer between them. It sucks. It really,” He kicks my tire. “Fucking sucks.”

“I’m sorry –”

“You’re not! You’re just gonna get in and go do whatever you want because you can. Because you’re not stuck between them. But I am, Rose. I am!”

“I –”

“No, you know what? Just go.” Riley turns away. “Just fucking go. Be happy and leave us behind. Let them fall apart.”

“What am I supposed to do?” I snap. “What do you want me to do, Riles? Drop out of school and come home and try to keep Mom and Dad together?”

“All this started with money.” Riley grits his teeth. “I could get a job, you could get two. Hell, high school blows. I’ll drop out and get a job or two –”

“Don’t!” My voice pitches so high I’m almost screaming, but I lower it. “Don’t you dare. Stay in school and study and start thinking about college, okay?”

“What’s the point?” He laughs despondently. “Mom and Dad can’t help even a little, I’m not good enough at baseball to get a scholarship, and I’m not smart enough to get all the fancy scholarships you did –”

I hold up a hand. “Don’t. Don’t even think like that. I’ll figure something out, okay? You’ll see.” I feel like crying, but I keep my voice steady. I can’t let him see me weak. I’m the last stronghold he has now that Mom and Dad are weak. I give him a half-hearted smile.

“Trust me. It’ll all work out. I’ll make it work out.”

Riley heaves a sigh, and I hug him before getting in the car and pulling out of the driveway. He watches me go, illuminated by the porch light and looking sadder and older than ever.

~~~

LEE

~~~

My chest feels lighter.

It’s insane, the way Rose can do that. I didn’t even know the pressure was there until I talked to her for the first time. Eleven years. Eleven years of not knowing how she was or if she was happy. I moved on – I had to. But a part of me was suffocated by the idea of her and I never meeting again. I was haunted as a kid, plagued by the beautiful blonde girl I knew Rose had to have grown up to be.

When we met in the dorms with me pretty much butt-naked, the pressure let up for the first time in years. When I saw her for the first time, everything fell into place. Clicked. I felt so right until her and her deliciously coconut-smelling-self disappeared around the corner, and then I felt wrong again. Not-whole.

I didn’t even know it was her until I asked Dad what she looked like. He wanted me to come here to get her to marry me. I came here to see if she was happy.

She wasn’t.

I asked around after we bumped into each other – Rose Jensen, a girl nobody really knew but had seen. The boys think she’s passable, with an emphasis on her hotter face. They’re idiots – all of her is beautiful. She just hides it behind textbooks, smartass remarks, and ambition. The girls thought she was nice, if a little quiet. They’d seen her at one or two frat parties, dragged there by her roommate, but she never stayed for long, and if she did, it was to help her drunk roommate back to their dorm. She didn’t date, and I couldn’t track down any of her friends. I didn’t plan to – I was creepy enough already just transferring to this school for her. But by some stroke of luck, the pierced-everything girl in my Psychology class – Jen - knew more about her than anyone. They were good friends. Jen told me what I needed to know; Rose was the friendly, good-grades sort of girl. Straight-A’s but not a socially stunted nerd. Pretty, sweet, smart, but entirely overlooked by boys because she doesn’t stand out to them and taken for granted by her friends because she helps them without asking for anything in return.

Rose doesn’t even know what she does for me. But now that I’ve told her about the creek, I feel better. Everything I’d been keeping inside me was let out. Now she knows how our pasts tie together. But that’s only half of the whole deal.

She has no idea how much I really care for her.

I groan and slap my forehead. I’m starting to sound like a sappy idiot from a chick flick. Grace, pulling on her shoes and a fur jacket, shoots me a look.

“As entertaining as watching you beat yourself up is, should I be asking if something’s wrong?”

“I’m fine,” I run my fingers through my hair. It’s dry and smells like chlorine from practice. Coach ran me hard, because he could tell I was distracted. Hell yeah, I was distracted! I’d been anxious to get home from practice before the damn Fed-Ex guy arrived. I shoot a look at the package – it’s huge and sits in the middle of the living room.

“You’ll be okay with all the ribbons and shiny pink paper?” Grace smirks. The package is surrounded by bolts of wrapping paper I’d bought earlier, all of them pink.

“Her name’s Rose,” I growl. “It’s not like I think she’s a girly-girl or anything. The color just fits her name, right?”

“You don’t know her favorite color?”

“Does it matter?” I frown. “The presents inside are what matters.”

“Oh, listen to you,” Grace’s smirk gets huge. “Talking about how appearances don’t matter. What happened to the Lee who said; ‘A girl’s boobs tell you all you need to know about her’?”

“It’s called growing up. You might’ve heard of it.” I flop on the floor and start wrapping the presents.

There’s a silence. Grace’s feet pad over, and something light touches my head – her hand. She bends down and kisses my scalp.

“I’m happy for you.”

I don’t push her off. Other brothers might push their sisters off. But this is the first time she’s touched me since Mom died. No hugs. Not even a pat on the hand. But now, the warmth behind her touch is undeniable.

Maybe I’m not the only one doing the growing up.

Grace quickly snaps back into business mode. “I’ll be gone for two weeks. Guam. If Rose comes over, give her the envelope on the counter, okay?”

“What is it?”

“Nosy,” Grace clicks her tongue. “If you paid any attention to my photoshoots, you’d know.”

“Know what? Is this about the shoot you forced her to go on?”

Grace lifts her rolling bag over the carpet. “If you really want to know, check the magazine on my desk. The middle-ish.”

“She’s in a magazine?”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Grace laughs. “You must’ve noticed – she has quite the figure. The director liked what came out. She’s not career model material, and I’m sure if I offered she’d turn it down. She’s odd like that.”

“Nothing odd about not wanting to become a clothes-horse,” I grumble.

Grace laughs and checks her phone. “Oh, my cab’s here. Don’t forget to water my plants, okay? Bye!”

She darts out the door with a lip-glossed smile. From the patio I watch her cab pull away and into the night.

I haven’t wrapped many presents. Presents weren’t a thing growing up in our house after Mom died. Christmas came with the same present every year from Dad – a crisp fifty euro note. Dad told our relatives to send us things he could return easily and get the money for. Grace gave me her euro note every year and told me to keep it. Said she didn’t want anything from Dad. Ever.

I’d always wanted the beautiful wrapped presents other kids had. I wanted the glittering piles of green and red and blue under the Christmas tree. I wanted Dad to smile and Grace to laugh.

I was a pretty stupid kid.

I shake my head and scratch my thumb on the tape teeth just as the doorbell rings. I suck the skin free of blood and answer the door.

“Kiera?” My eyes widen. “What are you –”

“Lee!” Kiera’s blonde hair and overpowering perfume assaults my face. She pecks me on the cheek and her gloss leaves a sticky mark. I wipe it off and frown at her as she flits about the living room, her tight jeans and silk top leaving nothing to the imagination.

“Wow! Grace totally redid the living room, huh?”

“Kiera, I’m really not –”

“I’m sorry I didn’t call.” She pouts her lips and settles on the couch like a languid cat, all slender limbs and perfect nails. “But I figured you could use a pick-me-up visit! You know, like the one you gave me a few weeks ago.”

She winks, and I sigh.

“Kiera, look. I…I’m involved. With someone.”

“Oh, I know.” She fluffs her hair. “And she’s sitting right here waiting to become even more involved.”

I rub the space between my eyebrows. “Jesus, Kiera. Don’t make me spell it out.”

She stands and makes her way to me with that same cat-like grace. She laces her arms around my neck and pushes our chests together.

“C’mon, Lee. We’ve been doing this for what, seven months now? You can’t leave now. I know every nook,” She runs her hand down my bicep. “And cranny of you. I know how you tick. You and I are good at this thing.”

“This thing,” I tear away from her. “Is over.”

“Is it?” She laughs. “I know you, Lee. You want sex. A lot of it. Whenever you can get it. You want it comfortable and easy and with girls you know. You have one-night stands sometimes, sure. But it feels better when it’s with me, doesn’t it? Because you know how to make me sing. And I know how to play you like a violin.”

I clench my fists. “It’s over. Get out.”

Her face contorts, but she smooths it over quickly and picks up her purse. “You’ll call me. I know you will. Whoever this new girl is, she doesn’t know you. You like things easy. You’re a coward. Challenge isn’t your style. And new things are challenges. Always.”

I narrow my eyes at her retreating back. She doesn’t shut the door behind her. I walk up and slam it, but I can still hear her laugh in the hall. God, she infuriates me. Sure, we’d had some good times. I liked her. Used to like her, back when she wasn’t such a haughty bitch. She’s smart and beautiful, but now that we’ve known each other for a while, that smartness and beauty turned into vindictive, cutting insight and cruel sexuality. That’s what time does to relationships. Contorts them. You take the person for granted and forget why you liked them to begin with, and they twist you around yourself just to get a reaction. That’s how it’s always been with me and girls. That’s why I’ve never stayed with one girl for very long. They tear each other, or me, apart trying to get me or keep me.

Would my thing with Rose become that?

No. I shake my head. That’s impossible. Rose isn’t like the girls who fought each other after school in the cafeteria for my attention. She’s not one of the girls who catcalls me in the street about how hot I am. She never once stopped and stared lustfully at me, looked at me like a piece of meat. To Rose, I’m annoying. And a pervert. She doesn’t think I’m perfect just because of how I look. And I could kiss her for that.

Kiss her and lean her over the table and slide into her –

“Get it together,” I hiss to no one. I’ve gotta get these presents wrapped before I call her, and I can’t call too late, or she’ll think I’m just trying to get her over here for sex and then she definitely won’t come. I don’t want her to think she’s some booty-call I buzz in the middle of the night. No. This has to be perfect. I can’t let her down. I have to show her, undo all the bad things she thinks about me.

Kiera’s wrong. I’m not a coward. I like challenge. It’s not going to be a problem between us, sex. At least I don’t think so. She doesn’t have experience, I know that much. I have experience, but it’s not like I can use it. She’s not one of the girls I sleep with in passing. She means so much more to me than that. I don’t want to mess this up. Is my experience going to be good enough?

Am I going to be good enough?

I sigh and cut a ribbon and nick my finger on the tape teeth again. I suck my thumb to get the blood off and let out a nasty swear no one hears but me and the pink wrapping paper.

Chapter Seven

In Which Lee Montenegro Seduces Me Through Cookies

The drive to L.A. seems endless, but the deep blackness of the highway gives me the space I need. By the time I park on Grace’s street it’s already past midnight. I check my phone – two in the morning. I stand at the apartment lobby door, pressing the buzzer and stomping my feet to keep warm. No answer. I text Lee. No answer. I call him, and it goes to voicemail. I sigh.

“Hey Lee, it’s me, the girl you made drive down here after a long day? I’m going to have to sleep in my car if you don’t come down and let me in.”

After a minute of mind-numbing cold, I turn just as the door buzzes open behind me. I take the elevator and Lee’s already waiting in the hall, barefoot and in dark jeans and a sweater, his hair mussed and hazel eyes sleep-clouded but concerned.

“I fell asleep, shit, I’m sorry –” He starts. I smile and lean into his arm.

“It’s okay. C’mon. Show me this surprise.”

The sleep cloud evaporates from his face and he lights up. He pulls me by the hand into the apartment and I barely have time to take off my shoes before he whisks me into the kitchen. Five boxes – some long, others short and small – line the counter in messy pink wrapping paper.

“It’s separate, but it’s actually just one thing,” Lee says. “The wrapping job is shitty, I know.”

“You didn’t have to –”

“Just open them!”

With shaking fingers I unbutton my coat and throw it aside. I start with the smallest package – a pastry bag with dozens of different detachable tips for frosting decoration. It’s not some cheap brand, either, but the professional chef kind the owner of Bistro Miel uses.

“Whoa,” I murmur, turning the bag over. “This –”

“There’s more!” He points eagerly at the rest. “Open them all!”

I tear into the other packages – a set of incredible, high quality knives, a heavy-duty pewter rolling pin, a chocolate melting pot, a steamer for puddings and soufflés, and a set of rose-patterned crème brulee dishes.

“It’s for your baking.” Lee smiles. “I know you don’t start culinary until next year, but think of them like an early Christmas present. The guy said they’d last a long time, and they’re easy to clean, and –”

I don’t know when I started, but I’m crying. Thick, hot tears roll down my face and drop into the rose dish I hold. I put it down before my shaking hands drop and break it.

“Thank you. But I don’t think…I don’t think I’ll need these anymore.”

I hear Lee stand and something warm presses into my shoulder, turns me around to face him gently.

“What are you talking about?” His voice rumbles close to my ear.

“My scholarship. They changed the requirements. It’s going to someone else after the break. It paid for housing and food and half my classes and I haven’t been able to find anything else, I’ve applied to the others but I don’t think I got enough of them. I think…”

My sobs impact in my chest, like I’m trying to drown them in my ribs. Like they’re something that needs to come out but I’m pushing down.

“I think I f-failed. My degree. My bakery. I won’t be able to go back to school after Christmas.”

Lee wraps his arms around me and I mash my face into his sweater, picking up his scent of faint chlorine and soap.

“And your parents are losing their company,” He mutters into my hair. “So they can’t help you, either.”

“I’m sorry,” I sob. “I’m so sorry. I know I shouldn’t whine. I’ll do something about it, I promise. I can do it. You got me these amazing things but I can’t use any of them. Not for a long time. I can’t bake, I have to…put that dream aside. For now. I have to help Mom and Dad. I have to go home and help. That’s all I can do.”

Lee’s arms tighten around me. “That’s not true. You can stay here, with me and Grace. She’s talked about renting the guestroom for a long time.”

“But, my classes –”

“We’ll get married. Tomorrow. We’ll let the lawyers and my dad know, and we’ll get married and you can have your half.”

“You saw the will,” I sniff. “We have to be together for three months before we get the money.”

“You can re-enroll, Rose, it’s not the end of the world –”

“I wouldn’t use the money for school. It would go to Mom and Dad’s business. It has to. If the company doesn’t get saved, Riley won’t go to college, the house mortgage will be in trouble. Dad would get so depressed, Mom would get depressed and they’d fight more and more. It’s their life. Their dream. That soap company is like my bakery. If it fails –”

They’ll divorce. I don’t say that, though, I just choke back another sob.

“It can’t fail. I have to help. I’m dropping out and going back to help as much as I can.”

“You’re just one girl,” Lee murmurs. “How can you help?”

“I don’t know!” I clutch at his sweater. “I’ll give them my savings. It’s not enough to keep me in school, but it’s enough to put a dent in what they need. I’ll start working full time. Maybe two jobs. I don’t know. All I know is I have to help them. Or bad things will happen.”

“You’re not responsible for everyone’s happiness, Rose!” Lee pulls back from me and stares intensely into my eyes. “You’re only responsible for one person’s happiness – yours! Dropping out and helping your parents won’t make you happy. You’ll be miserable. Do you think your parents would want that?”

“They need help,” I whimper. “I have to help –”

“No you don’t! They’re adults. They can take care of themselves. Maybe your family will change because of it, but it’s not the end of the world!”

“I’m sorry I can’t be like you!” I snap and lean away from him. “I’m sorry I can’t be like you or Grace, running away from your family. You guys don’t like your dad and with good reason. But I like my parents. I want to help them!”

“They want you to help yourself. They want you to be happy. I want you to be happy.”

“I will be! Helping Mom and Dad will make me happy.”

“If it will, then why are you crying?” He asks gently. I wipe my eyes.

“Because…because I want to be with you. And I want to stay at this school I worked so hard to get into. And I want to keep studying, and learning, and earn my bakery. Every step. I want to keep going. I don’t want to stop. And if I go back, I’ll be stopping.”

“We’ll just keep thinking, then.”

“I’ll keep thinking.”

“No, we. Let me help you.”

“I can do it on my own.” I frown.

“You’ve already done so much on your own,” He sighs. “Just…let me help, okay?”

I purse my lips. There’s a long, tense quiet. He picks up one of my new mixing bowls and smirks in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“So, madame. I think it’s time to prove yourself.”

“I don’t need to prove anything to you.”

He taps the bowl. “Yeah? Well excuse me if I doubt your baking ability, then.”

I wrinkle my nose and grab it from him. “I haven’t taken any culinary classes yet. But I know some things.”

Lee sits at a barstool and motions to my presents. “Show me.”

“Will Grace want any –”

“Gone on a shoot for four days. In Guam.”

I take out butter and warm it in the microwave. I put the stuff I don’t need into cupboards and rummage around for the flour.

“Why do you like baking so much?” He asks.

I shrug and mix sugar and butter together. “I don’t know. I really got into it in high school. I liked doing it because it took my mind off things; grades and stuff. I wasn’t lonely – I had my brother and some friends. But I was so focused on doing well in school and getting scholarships I sort of felt I couldn’t do anything just for me. Something fun, you know? Being with friends was fun but it was tiring. Baking is soothing. No one to impress. Just you and flour and some butter and sugar and eggs. Everything mixes so well if you just give it a bit of love.”

Lee’s quiet, leaning on the counter to watch me work. His long fingers trace a groove in the marble countertop. Suddenly I’m nervous. I put a pinch of salt and baking powder in the mix and stir.

“What about you?” I ask. “You’re on the swim team. At UCLA. That means you like it or are good at it.”

He shrugs. “Like you said. It’s something that’s relaxing for me. Don’t have to think. Just swim.”

“I thought you didn’t know how to swim?”

“Yeah, when I was a kid. After what happened at the creek…” He trails off. “I begged my dad for swimming lessons. And it just sort of stuck. It’s what got me here – I transferred at a weird time, but they allowed it because the swim team needed fresh blood. That and I got fifty three seconds on their one hundred meter butterfly test.”

“What’s your major?”

“Haven’t declared. Not like it matters.” He laughs bitterly. “When I graduate, if I graduate, Dad will bring me back to Spain to take over the ranch.”

“And you’ll just go along with it? That’s not the Lee I know.”

He laughs. “If I can’t run, I have to go back. I don’t like Dad. But I don’t hate him like Grace does. Mom’s dead. Grace hates him. He has no one left but me.”

“You make it sound so sad.”

“It is sad. Our whole family is sad.”

To get the defeated look off his face, I offer him the cookie dough spoon. He licks it. His face lights up.

“This is really good.”

“You’re just saying that.” I ball the cookies up and put them on the sheet.

“No, I’m serious!” He takes another big lick. “This is really, really good.”

“All cookie dough is good. Wait until the actual cookies come out all dry and gross, and then tell me they’re good.”

Lee chuckles. As I clean up the cookie mess, he comes up behind me with the licked-clean spoon. He circles one arm around my waist and drops the spoon in the sink with the other.

“I missed you,” He mutters, low and in my ear.

“It was just a day,” I frown.

“And you didn’t text for three days before that.”

“I was busy trying to save my family and my scholarship. It’s a little more important.”

“Is it?” His voice sounds hurt, and his arm around my waist loosens.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” I pull out of his arms to put the cookies in the oven. I set my phone’s timer and look up. Lee’s staring at me, golden eyes hard like amber. Waiting for me to give an explanation. “It’s just…weird. This. I’ve never done the boyfriend thing before. You know that, right?”

“I do now.” He smirks.

“It’s hard for me. I don’t know where a boyfriend goes in the puzzle of my life. So I have to make room.”

“Well if it’s a chore –”

“It’s not! I didn’t mean for it to sound like that!”

“You’re the worst at explaining yourself.”

I frown. Lee comes up behind me again and nestles his head in my shoulder.

“But that’s okay. You can’t be beautiful and incredibly smart and kind and nice-smelling and also be good at explaining yourself. It’s okay to suck at some things.”

“Like boys,” I sigh.

“Like boys,” He laughs and nuzzles my neck. “God you smell nice. Have I said that?”

“All girls smell nice.” I blush.

“No, you smell the best, definitely.” He inhales. “Like vanilla and sleep.”

“Whenever you’re done with your creepy sniffing moment.” I try to move, but he holds me closer to him. Against him. I can feel the heat of his chest against my back. His hand snakes around and rests on my stomach, which starts to burn. It’s not an unpleasant burn – like too-hot coffee rather than fire. I’m nervous.

“I-I’m not good at this,” I say as the hand on my stomach travels lower.

“At what?” He murmurs.

“This. Stuff like this. I –”

“It’s okay.” I can feel him smiling into my hair. “I’m pretty decent, if I can brag.” I squirm as he fiddles with my jeans and undoes the button. “How long will the cookies take?”

“Ten minutes.”

“Perfect. You have three options. You can tell me to stop – ”

“No,” I say a little too quickly. He sighs good-naturedly and continues.

“We can do this here, in the kitchen –”

My face is so hot I could probably bake the cookies on it now.

“ – Or we can go to my room and get comfortable.”

“A good chef never leaves the kitchen while they’re cooking.”

“Then it’s settled.” Lee unzips my jeans the rest of the way, fingers dancing over the fabric of my underwear. “We’ll stay in the kitchen.”

His touch is so light I barely feel it. He runs his fingers up and down, tracing light circles on the cotton and pressing hard in some spots. The burning in my stomach moves to pool lower just as he hooks his finger in the band of my panties and slides them down. My shudder turns into a gasp as his fingers run down my slit. He hits a sensitive spot and draws lazy circles around it, snickering.

“Not nearly wet enough. I guess I’ll do the honors.”

He turns my head and kisses me over my shoulder, tongue winding against mine. He breaks it off and licks his fingers, golden eyes never leaving mine as he slides his hand back down and spreads the wetness into my folds. My face is on fire. I try to rub my thighs together to ease the ache between them, but Lee forces them apart with his hand and growls.

“No.”

“Lee –”

“Save your breath,” He murmurs. “You’ll need it.”

At the same time, his fingers pierce into me and I make a sound I’m sure isn’t human. He slides out and presses deeper, again and again. I grip the counter and bite back a moan but it’s hopeless to try when his other hand snakes down and grinds against the sensitive spot he was drawing circles around earlier. Soft, wet noises echo, and a slickness leaks down my thighs. Is that from me? Did I make that? Lee leans me forward and I brace against the counter for balance as he buries his face in my neck, dropping little kisses from my ears down to my shoulder blades and back up again. His wrist’s pace is infuriatingly slow – rhythmic and agonizing. I want more. I want –

“Faster,” I whisper.

“What was that?”

“Fast –” I blush and cut myself off with another moan.

“Can’t understand you.” Lee’s voice is singsong and way too happy. “You have to speak louder.”

“Faster.”

He pulls completely out. “I can’t hear you.”

“Faster!” I snap, rolling my hips, searching for his warm fingers. “Do it faster!”

“Do what? What exactly am I doing?”

I can practically hear the smirk in his voice. He wants me to say it out loud. I squeeze my eyes shut.

“F-Finger…fucking.”

“You –”

“Fuck me faster!” I cut him off. It rings in the kitchen but I have no time to regret the words. The cookie timer chooses that exact moment to go off and I groan. Lee chuckles, pulls his hands out of my pants, and walks down the hall.

“I’ll be in my room when you’re done playing with your cookies.”

I snarl under my breath and wrench the cookies out, throwing them on the counter to cool. I don’t even stop to button my jeans as I stomp down the hall and into his room. He lies on the bed, shirt hiked up and pants hiked down, showing off a glorious stretch of amber skin and sinewy stomach muscles.

“I hate cookies.” I frown. He laughs and pats his lap. I wiggle entirely out of my jeans. “I’m not good at stripping.”

“Neither am I.”

I throw my jacket at his head to make his smirk go away. While he struggles to get it off I strip down to my panties and bra. His eyes widen, and the smirk falls.

“You –”

“I went shopping,” I say quickly. The black lacy underwear and matching bra looked stupid on me, but Jen insisted they were great. Do they make me look weird? Or worse, fat? “I know they look dumb on me, but I didn’t want you to –”

He cuts me off by grabbing my wrist and pulling me onto the bed. He hovers over me on his elbows, eyes taking in every inch of my skin.

“You’re beautiful.” He leans down and kisses me. It’s heated and desperate and blinds me to the fact his hands snake around and undo my bra and pull down my panties. Fingers glance inside my thigh, tracing the wetness.

“Things are much better down here, now.”

“Shut up,” I snap, flushing. I kick away my underwear and help him pull his shirt over his head. The soft and hard lines of his stomach contrasts in the dim light, and it suddenly hits me. This is real. I’m really going to sleep with Lee.

“What’s wrong?” He furrows his brow. I shake my head and push dark hair out of his eyes.

“Nothing. I’m just –”

“Scared?”

I nod. He rests his forehead on mine.

“I am, too.”

“But you’ve done this a lot!” I protest.

“Not with anyone I’ve cared about as much as you.”

My blush comes back full force. Lee looks down and chuckles, hands glancing over my breasts.

“Your blush goes all the way down to your chest, huh?”

I squirm as he leans in and kisses the flushed skin, moving up my collarbone and to my throat. I fumble with his fly to take my mind off the tickling sensation his kisses wreck on my neck. He helps me, pulling his jeans off. I shake off his help with the boxers, though. I take a deep breath and pull them down quickly. He hisses as his erection bounces free of the fabric. It’s bigger than I thought it’d be.

“Did,” I lower my voice. “Did I do that to you?”

He laughs in my ear and nibbles on it. “You’ve been doing it for weeks, stupid. Months. Years. But only in the last few weeks did I have your face to imagine while I took care of it.”

“Just my face?” I tease.

“Maybe a little more.”

“Protection!” I bolt upright so fast I almost knock heads with him. “Oh crap, we can’t –”

“Relax.” He reaches under the pillow behind me and brings out a condom wrapper.

“You aren’t infested with cooties or anything, right? Because I can still get crap from you even with that. I read it in a book.”

He laughs. “You studied? Figures. But you’re right to be worried. I’m not. I’m clean. I promise.”

“I trust you,” I say it like a warning. His laugh gets soft and he leans into kiss me.

“I know.”

“And,” I break the kiss. “I don’t know how to put that thing on, so you have to.”

“Fair enough.” He unwraps the condom and I watch with great curiosity as he rolls it on. He shoots me a smirk.

“That eager, huh?”

“No!” I stick my tongue out. “I’m just taking notes. For later.”

“You can take the nerd out of college, but not college out of the nerd,” He sighs.

“People who use the word nerd are stupid,” I retort.

“I agree.” He presses me back into the pillows, kissing my neck with renewed ferocity.

“B-But I’m not stupid,” I say.

“No, you definitely aren’t,” He mumbles into my skin.

“But you are. Sometimes.”

Lee looks up, golden eyes smoldering with half-amusement, half-exasperation. “You’re babbling.”

“I’m nervous. I mean, not really nervous, but –”

He cuts me off with a kiss, hands wandering over my skin, behind my back and neck. He nudges my legs apart and slides those infuriating fingers inside, and the pooling heat floods me with a vengeance. The finger leaves and something bigger prods at my entrance, the tip stretching me open. My eyes go wide and I dig my nails into Lee’s back. His hand dances on that sensitive circle between my legs so well I’m blinded by the new pleasure – blinded, but not unfeeling to the sensation of being slid into and filled to the brim. His hand slows, lazily circling as his mouth explores beneath my ear.

“Jesus.” He sucks in a breath. “You’re tight.”

“Is that…Is that good?” My heart beats like a bee’s wing, fast but sweet, and my inhales are shallow. I’m stretched open and burning, but I bite my lip and bear it. Lee kisses my neck, sucking hard, like giving me hickies is the only way he can keep it together. Bits and pieces of Jen’s advice floats through my brain. I can’t remember anything clearly, except one thing. I clench my lower muscles as hard as I can. Lee’s hickie turns into a surprised bite, and he comes up for air quickly.

“Don’t! Shit, Rose. Don’t. If you do that…if you keep doing that, this isn’t going to last very long.”

“Sorry,” I laugh breathlessly.

“Just stay still,” He pants. “For a few seconds.”

Lee moves, slowly. He barely pulls out and leads in again, his hand kneading between us. With every press of his fingers on my clit, he thrusts and adds more pressure. He’s serious, watching my face as pleasure shoots across it.

“I’m okay. It doesn’t hurt anymore.” Hot sparks flood me and recede like ocean waves. I lock my legs behind his back and wrap my arms around his neck. “F-Faster.”

No smart-ass comments about my request, this time. He locks eyes with me, smirking like he knows the joke he could make again. But this time he’s trapped by pleasure, too. He has no patience for games. His thrusts become faster, deeper, moves his hips to get different angles and I arch my back with his rhythm. The bed gives little groans that match my soft moans. Lee is quiet, but I can see the concentration in his expression.

His eyes soften and he buries his face in the crook of my neck, my words a signal for his thrusts to become desperately hard and deeper than ever. That wet, slick noise starts again, and a hot blush spreads all over me - inside me - when I realize it’s the sound of him fucking me. His hand not occupied runs through my hair, over my breasts, and finally settles in mine, lacing our fingers together. A thin sheen of sweat coats his skin, and makes it shine golden in the light.

I don’t know what he does, but I shatter first – panting his name and writhing my hips in a desperate attempt to feel more, trying to grind the explosion of white-hot nerve fire out for as long as I can. My legs tremble, my entire body glowing with heat and pleasured shivers as I hear myself begging for him to fuck me. Lee groans, biting my neck as his thrusts become hard and slow. I do the muscle thing again, and he groans a swear mixed with my name. We go still, gasping for air to even our breathing, but he doesn’t pull out or roll off.

He pants. “I can feel your heartbeat.”

“We are kind of close,” I laugh. He presses his forehead to mine.

“No, inside. I can feel your heartbeat through your insides. Shit, is that too creepy? Forget I said it. Sounded way more romantic in my head.”

I laugh again and lean up to kiss him, tenderly at first, but Lee starts moving again and it only takes a minute this time before the molten pleasure shoots through me and I’m moaning into his mouth.

Those are the first two.

There are four more.

~~~

We spend the weekend in bed. And when Lee isn’t making me twist and pant in inhuman ways, we make food. Well, Lee makes food. Shirtless. I just sort of sit and watch him work with the knives and the way the light plays on his shoulders. Sometimes I tease him, trying to break the cooking concentration by blowing in his ear or tracing his spine. He gets sick of it and tackles me into the couch, and it’s all making out and tangled limbs from there. Sometimes, I wake to find him tracing my skin, my lips, all the while staring thoughtfully at my moles and scars. Sometimes showering is an excuse to have sex that smells like soap, but sometimes it’s just Lee leaning his head on my chest and letting me wash his hair like a child. We go down to the corner store, barely dressed in anything resembling real clothes, and buy wines neither of us knows anything about. I have no work this week. I skip most of my classes except for tests, making the excuse to myself that I’m way ahead in the homework. The envelope Grace left for me has five hundred dollars in it – modeling money. I didn’t expect to get anything from it, so the amount makes my eyes bug a little. Lee brings out the magazine and teases me about the spread, and I smack him playfully. I comment that I haven’t seen his fabled sleepwalking. He smiles and says it only happens when he’s stressed, or sad, and my heart lifts at the realization I’m the reason he isn’t stressed or sad.

On Monday, Lee skips a swim practice to stay with me.

He watches me, sprawled out in bed, the white sheet hiding nothing – I can see his bronze skin shining just beneath it, dark and shifting like a shadow under water. I sit on the end of the bed, between his feet. He raises a dark brow.

“Normal people sleep up here.” He hits the empty pillow for emphasis. I smile and pull the sheets up, off his feet.

“Jesus, it’s cold, Rose! Put it down.”

“Okay.” I duck my head under, sliding my body between his legs and letting the sheet go. It piles over my head and I must look like a kiddish halloween ghost, because Lee barks a laugh.

“What are you doing?”

“Diving for treasure,” I singsong. Under here I can smell his sharp aftershave so well. In the dim lamplight it’s a little hard to see, but my hands find his thighs quickly, and from there, the source of the heat between them. It’s not limp, but it’s not hard, more an in-between. I grasp the base of it and slide my fingers up slowly.

“Rose -!” Lee breathes.

“Found it,” I murmur happily. I stroke faster and hover just above, waiting until it becomes as hard in my palm as it does between my thighs.

“Rose, h-have you ever…done this?” Lee’s voice cracks – in anxiety? Or eagerness?

“Just trust me,” I coo. The closer I bring my mouth to the quivering tip, the stronger the smell of his musk assaults me – faint soap and sweat and some nameless spice that is all Lee. The skin of it is so soft, but drawn tight, and the head is the softest part of all. I breathe on it, first cool air, and then warm air, and then cool air again, and Lee’s hips give a delightful twitch and the half-swear, half-panting sound he makes sends pure lightning up my spine. He can’t see me under the sheet, so I try to compensate by providing a nice view – curling my spine and rounding my ass like I’m waiting for someone to mount me from behind.

“I’m –”

Before he can get another fevered word out, I lick him from base to tip and back down again. He groans and his hips buck and he unwittingly (or wittingly) sheathes himself in my mouth, scraping ever-so-lightly past my teeth. My tongue pillows him, wraps around and tries to circle him entirely but it’s impossible; my tongue’s too short and he’s too big. When his hips slacken from the sudden flood of sensations, I take the moment and try to remember what Kory told me – breathe through my nose, slowly and deeply. I slide my mouth up, and down, one hand grasping the base and the other pinning his twitching left hip. If I let him go crazy this’ll be over too soon. His breathing comes in short, ragged bursts, and I feel his hands fist the bedsheets as he gets closer. I let him go from my mouth with a wet pop and slink up his chest, lifting the sheet to see his face. His cheekbones are splashed with red, entire face twisted with half-ecstasy and half-confusion.

“Why did you stop?”

“I wanted to see your face.” I lay my head on his chest and look up at him with the biggest, most innocent gaze I can muster. “I didn’t know if I was doing it right so I had to check.”

“B-Bullshit, you know full well you’re doing it right,” He chuckles, chest heaving. I sink under the sheet and he’s in my mouth again, hard and hot as ever. It’s wet and a little messy around my lips. I try to keep it dry and neat but he loses total control, hips breaking free of my hand and thrusting, touching the back of my throat. I nearly gag but focus on my breathing and suddenly I can feel him pulsing, his heartbeat in my throat and a flood of something warm and slippery pooling in my mouth. Kory said I should show him. They like that. I pull Lee out, crawl up his chest, and lift the sheet. His brow is faintly shining with sweat and his golden eyes are filled with a deep content. I open my mouth, and when he sees what’s inside his gaze become darker, and he grips my chin, forces my mouth shut, and locks eyes with me.

“Swallow.”

I do. And he kisses me and whispers promises about returning the favor.

Chapter Eight

In Which Lee Montenegro Lies

When Lee’s coach’s messages blow up his phone, he finally hefts out of bed for the day and showers and dresses like a normal person and kisses me, promising he’ll be back as soon as he can manage. Today, I’m alone.

I run back to my dorm and grab my textbooks and toothbrush and a bundle of my own clothes. It’ll be nice to wear my own things instead of Lee’s clothes – not that he doesn’t get hard just looking at me in nothing but one of his oversized shirts. But if I keep wearing his clothes and he keeps getting hard so often I’m fairly certain I won’t be able to walk right for the rest of my life.

As I ride the elevator back up to the apartment, my thoughts catch up with me. What is this thing we’re doing? Is this a relationship? Or just sex? All I know is I’m happy, and Lee laughs a lot. Smiles a lot. He doesn’t get that far-off sad look in his eyes as much, and when he does I kiss it away. I don’t know what this is. But I like it.

When I unlock the apartment door, I find someone sitting on the couch. Her beautiful sheet of blonde hair is sleek, every inch of her toned and lean. Her off-the shoulder sweater and jeans make her look casually chic – and completely intimidating. She fixes her blue eyes on me and smiles.

“I let myself in.”

“Hi, um.” I clutch my clothes to my chest, like I’m trying to hide behind them. “I’m Rose.”

“Kiera,” She holds up a key from a heart-shaped chain. “A friend of Lee’s.”

She has the apartment key? I frown and excuse myself, putting my stuff on the bed and coming out to find her standing at the counter, perfectly manicured fingers running over one of my rose-patterned crème brulee dishes.

“Did he get these for you?” Kiera smiles at me. “He’s good at that - getting gifts for girls.”

Now that she’s standing I can see she’s exactly my height. But while she’s wearing cashmere, I’m in an oversized sweatshirt of Lee’s. She walks - no, saunters - over to me, and leans in close. Her perfume is light, but her stare is heavy as she picks at my sweatshirt and sniffs it.

“Smells like him.”

I pull away. “Sorry if this is rude, but why are you here?”

“He didn’t tell you?” Kiera’s blue eyes get a faux-wounded look. “Oh, he can be so cruel when he wants to be. But I’m sure he hasn’t shown you that side of him. He likes to pretend he’s a nice boy now that he’s found you, but I remember the real him.”

I narrow my eyes. “Are you –”

“An ex-girlfriend? You could say that.” She touches my crème brulee dish again. “But he never really had girlfriends. I was just the girl who lasted longest, the only one who didn’t run away crying. He used them, you see. One by one, went through them like tissues. He loves you. He keeps loving you, over and over, and fucking your brains out, and then -”

She makes a poofing, vanishing motion and laughs.

“Did he ever tell you what he did to the other girls? You should ask him, sometime. The girls themselves won’t tell you, of course. They’re too scared. Too ashamed.”

“What are you going on about?” I frown. “I’m sorry, but this isn’t –”

“You think you’re special, don’t you?” She sneers. “This has happened before, you know. The weeks of crazy sex and cooking and bad movies. The cute whispered promises of love. He’s done this many, many times. He did it to me. And he’s doing it to you.”

“You’re lying,” I snap.

“Right. Because you’ve instantly jumped to the conclusion I must just be a jealous ex. I’m an ex. I know that. And maybe I am a little jealous, I admit to that.” Kiera picks up the dish and tilts it in the light. “But I’m telling you this because I don’t want to see you get hurt. I can’t stand watching him do this to another girl.”

Something about her words makes me soften, just a bit.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think we’re talking about the same Lee. It just doesn’t sound like him.”

“Let me guess – did he pull the “I knew you when we were kids” card? He didn’t try that on me, personally, but I talked to a girl who had that scenario.”

“How –”

“His father is a scam-artist,” She says flatly. “And Lee works with him.”

“But,” I feel my stomach drop. “The will? My grandpa’s letter? Farlon came to my grandpa’s house and my parents were fine with it.”

“Were they fine with it? Or just oblivious? Farlon has a talent of sneaking into places he doesn’t belong. He was probably there to research more about you. And the will is a convincing forgery.” She rummages in her purse and brings out a paper. “Here. This was the one they gave me.”

It’s a letter from her mother, saying that if Kiera’s reading this, she’s dead. She goes on to tell Kiera she loves her, and wants only what’s best for her. She writes that she knew the Montenegro family through their social circles, and that she was close friends the eldest – Farlon’s father.

“Keep that. It’s a copy. Use it and compare it to the writing on your letter,” Kiera says. “You’ll see. The handwriting looks different, but the g’s and n’s always look the same.”

“So you’re saying this is all a big scam? The creek? My amnesia? This is…this is crazy.” I grit my teeth.

“No, it’s a very, very good con,” She sighs. “They target college-aged girls whose family members leave them money. They have connections in the lawyer business, and keep tabs on who’s about to land a windfall.”

“But I have nothing! I’m a broke college kid –”

“Who was left a good sum of money in her recently-dead grandpa’s will,” Kiera adds.

“But, Brett? My grandfather’s lawyer? He was there, he said –”

“The lawyers are in on it, sweetie. They get paid to fake a few sentences. Trust me, as nice as they might seem, lawyers are in it for the money. Your Brett is no different.”

“No!” I shake my head. “This isn’t true. This is insane.”

“How come your parents never mentioned anything, hm? They supposedly saw that ‘will’, too.” She folds her arms over her chest. “Did Farlon say you were above eighteen so it didn’t concern them? Why didn’t you tell them?” She looks me up and down. “Knowing your type, you probably wanted to help your parents out or something, right? So you stayed quiet and didn’t tell anyone about the will. Why would you? Getting married just for the money is shameful. I know I kept it a secret. I didn’t want anyone knowing I was getting married to some guy I barely knew – hot or not.”

My head goes woozy and the room wobbles. I stagger and Kiera clutches my arm and helps me to the couch.

“Listen, I know it’s a lot to take in, and I know you don’t believe me. Just go home, get your copy of the letter out, and compare them. The g’s and n’s are exactly alike. Whoever they got to forge them is really good. They watch you for months and do their homework before they send Lee in. Don’t be ashamed. I was fooled too.”

“So you –” I swallow the urge to vomit. “You married Lee, too? And the other girls before you –”

Kiera sighs and leans back. “As far as I can tell, there’s been four, including me.”

“But, Grace,” I whisper. “Grace said –”

“Oh, you can’t trust anything the sister says, either. She was never around when I was conned, but I wouldn’t trust her. She might not like her Dad, but she loves her brother. She supports him in everything.”

Kiera grasps my hands and looks me in the eye. “They’ll take it. They’ll wait three months, and then Lee will vanish. You’ll get the divorce notice in the mail a week later. And they legally take half of what the will left you.”

“But how did you find Lee again? Why did you come here?”

“Even after I figured out he conned me, I still loved him,” She sneers, but this time it’s directed more at herself. “I stupidly kept coming back. I kept thinking if I hung around he’d realize I was different from the other girls. And then he stopped seeing me. So I followed him, And then I saw you.”

I pull my hands away and realize I’m shaking. My amnesia – was that a fake? Was it just my memory being right? Did I really not know Lee at all? The creek story had sounded too convenient – Grandpa never telling Mom and Dad I hit my head, Riley not remembering anyone by the name of Lee. I don’t want to believe Kiera, but what does she have to gain by telling me this? She admitted to being jealous and an ex – she’s not hiding those facts. If she’s trying to pry me apart from him, she’d hide those facts.

“I…I have to go –”

“You don’t have to believe me,” She says. “Really. Just check your letter against mine. That’s all the proof I needed when I didn’t believe the other girl who told me. And call your dead loved one’s lawyer and ask if he took a bribe. You’ll see. I’m right.”

“I trust him,” I say, more to myself than to her.

“So did I.” She smiles sweetly.

~~~

I rush back to my dorm room. I left Grandpa’s letter in my fancier purse. Selena is studying for once, her desk strewn with worksheets and textbooks, her hair in a messy bun and her hand massaging her forehead tiredly.

“Whoa! Long time no see,” She says. “Where’ve you been?”

“A friend’s place.” I sift through my purse and grab Grandpa’s letter and fold the two out, side-by-side. At first glance, the handwriting looks totally different – Grandpa’s the usual large, squareish scrawl I got used to seeing in my birthday cards, and Kiera’s mom’s a curly, neat, tiny print. I look at the n’s. Just like she said, the n’s in both letters have that same tiny curl at the foot, almost like a curlicue. I shake my head. That’s just a coincidence. I look for the g’s, and when I spot them I feel my throat constrict.

They look exactly the same. The same width in the loop, the same tilt, and to top it off there’s the same crooked tail. Selena, curious, looks over my shoulder.

“Look,” I point the g’s and n’s out. She nods.

“Looks like the same person’s handwriting.”

I sink into my chair, my skin losing all feeling. I go numb. This can’t be right. Lee can’t be conning me. Not after everything he’s said. Not after the way he’s looked at me, smiled at me, touched me –

Or maybe I was deluded all along. Maybe what I originally thought was right. I melted too quickly, didn’t I? I was too easy. Why would a guy like him even like quiet, nerdy me? Though I said I’d never like him, I ended up sleeping with him within a month. And every day I crave him more, burn for him in the deepest parts of me, happily and blissfully ignorant of his feelings for me. I never asked him. He never said it out loud. His actions in and out of bed spoke loudly, but what exactly were those actions saying? For all I know, I’m just another one of his girls. What am I to him? Just a con? Just a money bag?

I dig around in my purse and pull up Brett’s business card. The phone rings twice and he picks up.

“Hello?”

“Brett, it’s me. Rose Jensen.”

“Oh, hi Rose, can I call you back? I’m in the middle of something –”

“Did you really take a bribe from Farlon Montenegro?”

There’s a long silence. It’s practically a yes. I almost hang up in disgust when Brett’s voice comes back on.

“I’m sorry, Rose. My wife isn’t feeling her best, and I needed the money for the medical bills –”

His words are so final. I don’t even have the heart to snarl at him. I hang up, and nearly drop the phone as my hand goes limp.

“Whoops!” Selena saves it from hitting the floor. “Hey, you feeling okay?”

“I-I…” I can’t form words. My throat is too tight and I feel like vomiting and the ceiling is spinning. Brett took the bribe, just like Kiera said he did. The letters match.

Lee’s been conning me.

This whole time, I thought I was in love, and Lee’s been playing me like a puppet. The arranged marriage will is fake. The real will probably gives me some money, and all along, Lee’s been out to steal that, because he wants to run from his conning father. Or was that a lie, too?

He doesn’t love me.

Is that a lie, too?

I dry heave and Selena helps me into bed, and the last thing I see is her tanned face looking concerned.

~~~

The dream comes back, the one about the sunflowers. Except this time, the entire field has wilted. Brown replaces gold. It looks like the field I saw when I went to Grandpa’s house to clean, except it’s not winter in the dream. It’s hot as ever. Too hot. The sun is beating down on me and the cicadas are mocking me with their calls. Everything’s twisted and wrong. I don’t want to find the boy anymore. I don’t want to run and save him.

I want him to go away. I want to stop thinking about him.

Grandpa stands in the middle of the field. I run up to him, and he pats my head and his face is Professor Cruz’s. Your scholarship is up, she says. I’m sorry. You’ll have to leave school.

I run from her, crying, and someone scoops me up. Another Grandpa. But this time his face is Mom’s worried face. We’re going to have to let the company go, she says. I’m so sorry, Rose. I love you. But everything I love is in the company, too. Another Grandpa comes up, with Dad’s face, and they start screaming at each other and I jump out of Mom-Grandpa’s arms and run.

Suddenly, the sky is raining envelopes. I open one and inside is my acceptance letter to UCLA. All of them have the same letter inside. The pride and happiness I got opening it for the first time as a high school senior is now nothing but bitter regret that makes me cry. And cry.

And cry.

I hover in and out of dreams and a hazy, dark reality. Sometimes I wake up and it’s daytime. I feel like I’m burning up. I touch my own forehead and it’s scalding. I vaguely store away slips of memory – Selena’s face, someone brushing hair off my forehead, someone tipping water for me to drink, a hard spoon in my mouth with cold medicine on it.

At one point, I see Selena lead someone in. Someone tall, with dark hair and bronze skin. I sit up and yell.

“No! Get away from me!”

“Rose –” His voice wavers.

“I said get away from me! Leave me alone! I don’t ever want to see you again!”

“Rose!”

“No!” I scream. “No, no no no! Leave me alone!”

I scream over and over, until he backs out of the room with wounded eyes. The ceiling and walls whirl in my vision and I black out.

When I finally wake up for good, I feel achy and groggy. I sit up and instantly recoil at the smell of myself – sickness and BO. It’s dark outside. I’m in the same shirt I was wearing when I came home from Lee’s apartment. I wrinkle my nose and strip out of it, throwing it across the room. I test my legs, walking over to my closet and fishing out a fresh shirt. My bedside table is covered with empty cups of water and a half-finished bottle of cough syrup.

“Looks who’s up,” Selena says as she comes in. She pulls off her jacket and earrings, her hair mussed and her stride a little tipsy.

“How long was I out?”

“Four days, just about. On day two I got worried. The nurse came in and said it was a fever, but she didn’t think you needed medicine beyond cough syrup. Said you’d ride it out.”

“You,” I start. “You gave me water and stuff?”

Selena scratches her face sheepishly. “It was the least I could do, after all those times you helped me into bed after a party.”

“Thanks.” I smile.

“I wanted to say sorry.” She sits on her bed. “I answered your phone while you were out. This guy wouldn’t stop calling. So I said he could come over and see you. And when I let him in, I realized it was –”

“Lee,” I say with bitterness.

She nods. “I didn’t know you two were a thing. I, um. I tried to –”

“Sleep with him. I know.”

Her mouth makes a little ‘o’. “I just wanted to say sorry. If I knew you two were a thing, I wouldn’t have made a move. That’s not my style.”

“It’s okay. It doesn’t matter anymore.” I shrug. “He and I won’t be seeing each other again.”

Selena doesn’t say anything after that. She sits on her bed with her laptop and I start towards the showers. I wash the layers of sweat off, and my words echo in my head. ‘We won’t be seeing each other again’. Just thinking it sends a hundred needles to stab at my heart. Under the water of the shower no one can see my tears. So I let them flow. I fell for it. I became just another one of his conquests. Just another girl he conned. I was never anything to him.

But for a while, he was everything for me.

I call everyone back who left messages - Jen left two, sounding really worried. Kory left one, asking if I can work his shift on Sunday. Mom left one, asking why I didn’t call like I usually did on Wednesdays. Lee left three messages. My hand hovers over the voicemail button, but I make up my mind and delete his without listening to them. I delete his texts, too.

“Are you serious?” Jen sounds incredulous when I call and tell her. “Rose, you can’t believe this chick –”

“It makes sense,” I argue. “The way Mom and Dad were never notified about my part in the will, why Riley doesn’t remember Lee or me bumping my head. The letters are the same handwriting.”

“Yeah, but what Lee said makes sense too!”

“And what about Brett? When I confronted him, he admitted to accepting the bribe from Farlon.”

Jen’s line goes quiet. After a beat, she sighs. “I don’t know what to tell you. All I know is I know Grace. She’s not involved in anything bad.”

“She’s not. She’s definitely not,” I agree. “But Farlon and Lee are. Maybe Grace doesn’t even know. Farlon’s the mastermind. Not everything Lee said was a lie. I know that much. He loves his dad. That’s why he works with him.”

“Geez, I know he’s a conceited jerk, but Lee really didn’t seem like a bad guy. My decency radar is usually spot-on about this sort of thing. And a father-son con team that targets girls? It sounds way far-fetched.”

“I know,” I sigh. “But I don’t know what to really believe anymore.”

“Your heart?”

I laugh. I can hear Jen smirking, almost.

“You could ask Lee personally. Or confront Farlon.”

“I said something really bad to Lee. He probably doesn’t want to talk to me ever again,” I laugh, but this time it’s not a nice laugh. “And besides, maybe this is good. I was too wrapped up in Lee. Now I can focus on pulling money out of thin air so I can stay here.”

“Student loan?” Jen offers.

“Yeah, that’s sounding pretty good right about now.”

“What about your family’s business, though?”

“I don’t know. I’ll figure something out. Thanks for listening.”

“Hey, no problem. I’m here whenever you need me, girl.”

When we hang up, I call Brett. He sounds apologetic, but I know it’s an act. I ask him when the will defaults the money to me. He says when I turn twenty-one. That’s a year and then some from now. By then, Mom and Dad’s business will be long gone. I feel like I’m failing them. I feel like I’m failing everyone, including myself. On top of the hole Lee ripped in me, the glass shards of regret and failure dig in.

On Sunday, I take over Kory’s shift. It’s a beautiful day that doesn’t match my mood at all; golden sun slanting through the glass windows of the bistro. The smell of baking bread wafts from the kitchen. Pierre doesn’t come into the kitchen during the day – he gets up in the wee hours of the morning, makes all the pastries for the day, and then leaves. But today, he’s baking something cinnamony, and it smells wonderful.

“Mon petite cherie!” He calls. “Come back here for one moment!”

I’m intimidated by Pierre, not just because he’s very loudly and rudely (in the best way) French, but because he’s never asked me to come into the kitchen before. The counters and utensils gleam stainless silver, and a huge dough mixer is working furiously. Pierre, in a pinstripe shirt and tight jeans under a white apron, shoots me a smile. His tiny mustache twitches with his words.

“You are very quiet today, non? Usually you are chatting it up with the customers.”

I shuffle my feet. “I’m sorry.”

“Bah.” He waves his hand. “I didn’t mean for you to apologize. It was an observation. Pass me that bowl, if you please.”

I pass him a stainless bowl with a cinnamon-sugar mixture in it. He dumps it in the dough and sighs happily.

“There is nothing better than watching something transform. Bread goes from sticky dough to beautiful gold-brown wonder. Soupy muffin mix becomes fluffy and precious. It is a very nice thing to watch.”

I nod. Pierre watches me with his dark eyes.

“This can be true of people as well. Watching the people you care about grow is another great gift. Sometimes, it is just enough to watch. You do not have to take part. Sometimes just watching is enough for the person who is growing, too. People like knowing someone is there for them, watching them. People can become even better when they have that confidence inside of them.”

He strides over and grabs a stick of butter chopped into tiny pieces, and adds it to the mix.

“I think the people who love you must be very proud.”

“They aren’t. Trust me,” I say.

“You’ve grown much from the girl I first hired. At the beginning, I was not going to hire you, but rather another person. Do you know why I decided on you?”

I shake my head. Pierre pats me on the shoulder.

“When you told me your dream of owning a bakery, your eyes lit up like fireworks. You became a different person, full of passion. I caught a glimpse of the person you would become using that passion. I thought to myself; ‘This girl is quiet and a little shy. I would like to see this girl grow into a great baker. Into a great person’.”

“I’m sorry. I’m not a great person. I’m terrible.”

“But you are changed. Little by little we become greater. We meet people and they change us, like chemical reactions, like yeast making dough rise. Without people we stay flat. Without sad and happy experiences, we stay the same. But by experiencing many things, we become greater. It is our yeast.”

He flashes me that smile again, and shoos me out of the kitchen when a customer rings the bell. And for some strange reason, the weight in my heart is lifted a little. I can smile, even if it’s small, timid, bruised smile.

He’s right.

No matter what, everything that happened helped me learn. Helped me change. Helped me grow.

~~~

LEE

~~~

Kiera never sees it coming.

She doesn’t see me sitting on the doorstep of her fancy mansion in the heart of Beverly Hills, waiting for her to get home from shopping or nail salons or whatever pathetic place she spends her father’s money at. The gardener didn’t even look twice at me as he mowed the lawn, and the maid recognized me and offered me lemonade. I declined as politely as I could and asked to wait on the marble steps of the front door.

She pulls up in her black Jaguar, circling the gravel roundabout. The headlights pass over my face so I know she’s seen me. She pretends like she hasn’t when she locks the car and turns around, blonde hair let loose and an impossibly short emerald dress on. Her blues eyes feign surprise.

“Lee! What’s the occasion?”

“Cut the bullshit,” I snarl. “You know exactly why I’m here.”

“Well, I assume it has something to do with my scintillating good looks.” She smiles. “Do you know that word? Scintillating? I suppose you don’t, you got to UCLA on a swimming scholarship, whereas I had to actually study to get into Stanford.”

“Don’t kid yourself. Your dad’s rep got you in there.”

“Money doesn’t hurt,” She agrees, and pinches my cheek. I bat her hand away. “But sweetie, you don’t get into Stanford Law without at least some brains.”

“Brains you use for your own sneaky good.”

“Let’s go inside,” Kiera sighs. “I need to change into something…more comfortable.”

The way she drags the words out oozes the implication of sex. I sneer, but she pretends not to hear it. The entrance hall is all marble and pretentious gilded staircases. A fountain burbles in the center, carved with cherubs and dolphins. Her father’s a celebrity lawyer – one of the best. Every trashed rock star and coke-sniffing diva asks for him first in prison. She skips up the stairs and into her massive bedroom. It looks the same – the same huge bed and walk-in closet stuffed with haute couture.

“What did you say to Rose?” I demand. Kiera puts her purse down and unzips her dress expertly.

“Oh, nothing really. Is that her name?”

“Don’t lie to me,” I snarl. “You know damn well what her name is. You used your daddy’s connections to get info on her, and twisted your claws into her head and now she hates me.”

“Puh-lease.” She rolls her eyes. “It’s your own fault. Arranged marriages by your grandfathers? A childhood puppy love? What kind of fairy-tale nonsense is that? If anything, I just pointed out to her how stupid the reality was.”

“You convinced her it was all fake!”

“She’s a stupid girl unworthy of you, sweetie, if she fell for it.” Kiera laughs, sinewy naked body inching towards me. It’s incredible how little I feel. My dick doesn’t even twitch. Months ago just the sight of Kiera’s thigh was enough to get me to do whatever she wanted. But now I’m repulsed by her. Rose has made me stronger.

“Leave. Rose. Alone.” I make every word hard. She gets close enough to run her hand over my chest, but I push her away. She sighs and looks at her nails.

“I never can, Lee. As long as you’re involved with her, I’ll be there to play with her.”

“Why don’t you get a normal rich girl hobby?” I snarl. “Like shopping, or tennis?”

“Oh, but this is so much more interesting. I guess you could say I inherited that from my dad. I love chess. I love people. Why not combine the two? Games and strategy and toying with things I’m not supposed to just make me so…excited.” She grabs at my crotch, but I push her away.

“For the last fucking time, leave Rose alone!” I snap. Her blue eyes get a devilish glint to them.

“Fine. On one condition.”

I wince and grit through my teeth. “What condition?”

“You tell her the truth.” Kiera glides towards me again, but this time I don’t pull away. She laces her arm around my waist and plays with my belt as she whispers every word. “Tell her the truth. Tell her that your father’s ordered you to marry me, and you just used her as a last-ditch attempt to get away from him.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No!” I push her off. “That’s not what I was doing!”

“Wasn’t it?” Her voice pitches up. “You and I met at a party your father threw seven months ago in Spain. I fell in love with you, Daddy offered to give your father enough money to pay off his loan sharks if you married me. But no, you didn’t want to do that. You turned down this,” She gestures at her naked body. “For some middle-class bookworm with no body and no experience. But not because you liked her, oh no. That would be too romantic. When her grandpa died and that will came into effect and your father told you about it you wanted to try that. You moved here to try and woo her. You thought that because there were no high-class lawyer daddies involved in it, you could somehow snatch the money and run from your father, from me! But that’s not how this will end. No. I always get what I want, Lee Montenegro, and you are no exception.”

“Shut up!” I grab her wrists and pin her to the dresser. The wicked gleam in her eye turns lustful again.

“You were using her to get away from me.”

“No, it started out like that, but it wasn’t –”

“An idea just came to me.”

“I don’t want to hear your shitty ideas!”

“I’ll leave Rose alone. You won’t have to tell her the truth, you little coward. In fact, I’ll pay off her family’s company problems and her tuition, just like you were planning to do with your end of the money if you married her. That is what you were planning to do, wasn’t it?”

My face burns red. She laughs and kisses my cheek.

“How noble. Sacrificing your freedom from your father for hers.”

“What’s the catch?” I sneer. She smiles.

“Come closer and I’ll tell you.”

Chapter Nine

In Which Lee Montenegro Learns To Hate Me

The loan office smells like weak coffee and hairspray. I try to smile and look agreeable, even though on the inside I’m terrified and a little sad. The woman who calls my name and leads me to her desk has bright red, curly hair and a nametag that reads; Iris.

She asks what type of loan I’m interested and explains them to me. I ask for the lowest interest rate and she smiles a smile that tells me she hears that all the time. As she looks up my student number and class schedule, I sneak a glance at my phone – a missed call from Mom. I’ll call her back after this.

“I’m sorry.” Iris adjusts her glasses. “What classes did you need the loan for?”

“The ones I signed up for next semester. They should be right there. Economic Analysis, Sociology 303 –”

“Yes, I see them.” She nods. “But it says here they’re already paid for.”

“What?”

She tilts the computer screen to me. There are my classes for next semester, and next to each of them a little green ‘PAID’.

“Sorry,” I stutter. “It must be a computer glitch. That can’t be right.”

“That’s your name? And your birthday? And your student number?” She taps the screen. I nod. “Then it’s right. Maybe your parents paid for them and didn’t tell you?”

“Maybe,” I give a nervous laugh. As I leave the office, I try to keep myself from screaming. It has to be a glitch. I’ll go to the Accounting office and tell them. But if I do, they’ll go back to being unpaid. Should I let the glitch go through? Ignore it and feign ignorance when they finally catch on?

I sit in the cafeteria with a smoothie and call Mom back. She answers, breathless.

“Rose! Oh god Rose, you won’t believe it!”

“What? What is it?”

“Someone offered on the house!”

“That’s great!”

“A nice man and his daughter were driving by and loved it. They offered right there! Oh honey, you should see your father, he’s making a horrendously tall cake –”

“So,” I try to sound casual. “They didn’t pay for it yet, right? Like, you don’t have the money.”

“No, not yet. The paperwork has to go through the real estate office and then come back to us. We won’t see anything until two weeks, at least, but it’s official!”

I cheer and laugh as Mom regales the full story. It’s so nice to hear her in high spirits. The company will be fine. But if she didn’t pay for my classes, who did? Somehow, everything is going right. My classes are paid for. Mom and Dad’s company is off the hook. Two huge weights have been lifted off my chest. But I want to know how, and why. I can’t accept it until I know what happened. It’s too coincidental. Good luck doesn’t happen to me like this. I work hard – I don’t get lucky.

I learn quickly just how difficult a night alone can be.

Sometimes I wake up at midnight, shivering and reaching for someone who isn’t in my bed. Sometimes I wake up hallucinating in the morning light and see his bronze skin and strong roman profile on the pillow next to me. Sometimes, when I’m alone in the dorm, I can ease the desperate ache in my body by using my hands between my legs in a pale imitation of what Lee could do with his. My body burns for him, my dreams thick with him. The dreams can be tender – us kissing sweetly, and they can be wild and vivid – Lee fucking me into oblivion with a feral smirk. I can’t control them, and when I wake it doesn’t matter which type of dream I’ve had. Both leave me with a dull, unsatisfied ache and a lingering bitterness when I realize I told him I never wanted to see him again. He probably hates me. But if he conned me, he doesn’t care about me at all.

I still don’t know what to believe.

He never said it. The ‘L’ word. And it’s not like I expected him to, because boys saying that is a rare thing. They don’t like saying it. But every day of that blissful week I told Lee how much I liked him. And every time I did, he’d kiss me or touch me, but he’d never voice his feelings in return. Sure, he complimented me in cheeky ways, but he never said his feelings as clearly as I did. In my haze of our crazy week I didn’t hear the doubts, but now that we’re apart they’re loud and clear and yelling in my ear. If he was trying to con me, I can never forgive him. But if he wasn’t, and everything was sincere…

And there’s still the mystery of who paid my classes. I tried to get a receipt from the Accounting office, but they insisted only the person who paid could request one. When I asked them who paid, they pursed their lips and said it was confidential information. Other students got receipts. So why all the secrecy around mine?

I float through my classes in a daze. Mercifully, I don’t see Lee around campus at all. Whenever I meet up with Jen in the cafeteria for dinner, she always tries to get me to eat more. My stomach’s too upset to eat much lately. After a month my old jeans start to sag off my hips and I look like I’m swimming in my old shirts that used to fit so well. Everyone talks about their Christmas plans. Jen practically forces me to agree to coming to the Battle of the Bands she’s competing in on Saturday, and I agree. Listening to music and watching her play will be a thousand times better than lying in my bed trying not to think about Lee or burying myself in studying.

“You’re going out?” Selena asks when I start rummaging through my closet.

“Yeah. Down to the Battle of the Bands.”

“Oh, that’s in Club Harper, isn’t it? I saw a flyer for it.”

I nod and choose a white blouse and leggings. Selena smiles at me over her mug of cocoa.

“Well, I’m really happy you’re going. I’ve…been worried, I guess. Have fun.”

“Worried?” I pull my blouse on and quirk a brow at her.

“Yeah. You’ve lost so much weight. And you stay up so late studying almost every night. I know it’s none of my business, since we aren’t really good friends or anything. But I get worried.”

Her sincere tone melts a little of the bitter iciness that’d wrapped itself around my heart lately. I smile as best I can.

“Thanks. For worrying about me. It means a lot.”

She waves out the dorm window and I wave back as I cross the quad. I left my hair long and my makeup light, and the frigid air caresses my cheeks. Walking to the club, I feel better than I have in weeks. The last rays of the sun peek out as streaks of orange and peach over the buildings, and pigeons are cooing as they sit in rows on the power lines. Mom and Dad’s business is long saved. Riley called to talk earlier in the week and he sounded happy again. My classes are paid for, for now. Everything I was worried about earlier is resolved, and I’m on my way to a club to have fun and see my friend play in her band. I should be happy. And I am. I’m learning how to be happy again, slowly.

The line for the club is huge, almost around the block. I get in the back behind a guy in a dark peacoat. It takes me a second to realize that the back of his head looks familiar. Really familiar.

“Brendan?” I say.

The guy turns, and his smile is bright and warm and his hair is sandy as ever.

“Hey, Rose! How are you?”

“I had no idea you were going to this, too.”

“Yeah, last minute sort of thing. My friend is one of the bouncers.”

“Nice. So you’re the one with all the connections. Remind me to keep you around.”

He laughs, and we talk about what we’ve been doing for the past month or so. I don’t mention Lee. Brendan starts to mention a girl named Lisbeth, but trails off awkwardly. By the way he winces ever-so-slightly, I can tell it ended badly. I distract him by asking how he’s been doing in school, and we both agree the mid-terms were killer. I forgot how easy Brendan was to talk to. Time flies and the sky gets darker and before I know it we’re at the head of the line, the music booming from inside. Brendan says hi to his bouncer buddy, and we go in. The darkness of the club and the masses of writhing bodies in the crowd make me feel a little claustrophobic, and I instinctively gravitate towards Brendan, hiding myself behind him and holding on to his sleeve.

“Not used to rock clubs?” He shouts over the noise.

“I’ve been to one before. But it didn’t have this many people.”

“Yeah, Battle of the Bands is a big thing around here.” He leads me to a corner where we can see the stage clearly but are still far away from the heart of the crowd. I feel a little better and let go of his sleeve, embarrassed. I don’t want to send the wrong signals. After the band is done, the MC comes on and asks for the crowd’s judgment. The crowd cheers and screams and claps wildly. The MC introduces the next band. They’re alright, but they don’t sound very unique. I say that to Brendan, and he agrees with me. When they’re done playing the MC asks for the crowd’s judgment again. This time the screaming and clapping is softer.

“Which one is your friends’ band?” Brendan asks.

“The Break-Ins.”

“We did a piece on them in the school newspaper a while back.”

“Did you? Awesome.”

“We interviewed Jennifer Vega, I think?”

“She’s my friend.”

“Small world.”

“Absolutely microscopic,” I agree.

Jen’s band comes on, and I stand on the base of a pillar and cheer, waving my arms wildly. She probably can’t see me. They launch into a song, pumping up the audience with adrenaline. I don’t know how it’s possible, but they’ve gotten even better from the last time I saw them perform. Jen’s playing is phenomenal, and their singer has a magnetic aura as she struts around the stage in leather pants and safety pins earrings. The crowd loves them. When they finish, the screaming is so loud I can barely hear the MC ask for judgment. The next band comes on, and Brendan looks at me.

“I think we might have a winner.”

“If they won I would be so happy,” I say.

“So would I.” A third voice comes from behind me. I turn and see Grace – wearing a tiny black dress that shows off her longs legs. Her dark hair is left sleek and free, like a curtain, and her makeup is likewise dark and thick. She smiles at Brendan.

“You’re here with a friend, I see.”

Why do I feel so nervous all of a sudden? “Y-Yeah. Brendan, this is Grace, a friend of Jen’s. Grace, Brendan.”

“Hi. Jen’s playing is really good tonight,” He says. Grace laughs.

“Yes, she’s really giving it her heart and soul. Would you mind if I borrowed Rose for a moment?”

Brendan shakes his head, grin faint. Grace pulls me by the arm to a quieter corner of the club, near the doorway.

“What do you have to say for yourself?” She demands.

“What do you mean?”

Grace sighs. “Thank God he isn’t here tonight.”

‘He’. She means Lee. My stomach churns.

“Look, Grace, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for anything to –”

“You didn’t mean for what? For you to break my brother’s soul?” She glares. “I leave for two weeks and come back and…he’s so different. Whatever you did, you made him different. He sleepwalks now more than ever. He pretends to smile but I know it isn’t a real smile. He doesn’t talk to me anymore. Didn’t you get my texts?”

I flinch. I’d ignored her in the hopes I could forget about Lee. Just seeing her name on my phone reminded me of him, too.

“What happened between you two?” She presses. “What did you do to him?”

I suck in a breath. “Did he ever tell you about the will?”

“What will?”

I shake my head. “Nevermind.”

“Who cares about wills? He likes you, Rose. He really, really –” She cuts off and bites her lip in frustration. “He’s never liked a girl like this. Never. They’ve always come and gone. He talks in his sleep, you know. And he says your name.”

My heart caves in on itself.

“You slept together, didn’t you?” She asks finally. After a torturous moment in which I relive every kiss and touch in a second of flashing memories, I nod.

“Well it was more for him than just sleeping together,” Grace sighs. “And you broke it off. Obviously.”

“Grace, your dad –”

“I don’t care,” She snaps. “About Dad. I only care about Lee. Why did you break it off with him? You never struck me as the type of girl who wanted a quick lay.”

I flush, more in offense than embarrassment. But I deserve her harsh words. Because I don’t know what to believe - because I’m suspicious and distrustful - I hurt Lee. I said I trusted him. But with the evidence Kiera presented, how can I trust him completely?

“You just don’t care for him as much as he cares for you,” Grace concludes. “That’s it, isn’t it? Because he’s not some cold, unfeeling, dominating bastard who forces his way around, because he shows his emotions and is considerate, he’s some sort of pussy. ‘Girls like bad boys’. Is that it?”

“No! Never. He’s fine just the way he is!”

“Then why –”

“A girl talked to me. Kiera. She said…she said he conned her into marrying him and made off with her money.”

“Marry –” Grace sputters, then slaps her forehead. “I should’ve known. You’ve never had to deal with this, have you? Boyfriends with jealous ex-girlfriends.”

“But, but she had the letter that was written by the same person who wrote mine! It was forged,” I argue. “She said my lawyer took a bribe from Farlon, and when I called him he said he did and apologized!”

“Kiera is the rich one,” Grace murmurs. “I think. I can’t remember them all, but she drove a Jaguar and talked about Stanford. And her clothes were mostly Chanel. It would be easy for someone like her to bribe her way into paper forgeries.”

“And my lawyer?”

Grace sighs. “My father bribes many people. It’s how he operates. I don’t doubt he bribed your lawyer, but perhaps not for the reasons Kiera said he did. You didn’t ask what he took the bribe for, did you?”

It dawns on me, slowly. Terror and horror creeps in. Maybe subconsciously I’d been waiting for something to go wrong with Lee and I, so when Kiera came, I swallowed her lie at face value. Gorgeous Lee, liking average and unremarkable me. It seemed too uneven. Part of me thinks I’m worthless. So worthless that it makes no sense why someone as amazing as Lee would even give me the time of day. My insecurities drove us apart.

I did it.

I’m the evil one.

Grace looks towards the stage. “Looks like the last band is on. They’ll announce the winners soon. But you don’t care about that. That’s my thing to care about.”

Her slender hand rests on my shoulder comfortingly, and she smiles that brilliant smile.

“What you care about is in my apartment, moping around.”

“I can’t. I don’t deserve to –”

“If there’s anything I’ve learned from being with Jen, it’s that we all deserve a second chance at love. No one gets it right the first time.”

I bite my lip. Brendan comes up to us.

“Hey, everything alright? They’re about to announce the winners.”

“I have to go,” I say. Grace smiles and turns back to the stage.

“Right now? It’s pretty dark out. Will you be okay?” Brendan asks.

“Yeah!” I nod. “I know my way. It’s just a few blocks.”

“Let me walk you there. I can’t let you go through this part of town in the middle of the night alone with a good conscious.”

“Alright. Sure. Why not? Let’s go.”

I take off at a breakneck pace, my sneakers practically flying on the cement. Brendan has to jog to keep up with me. When we pass a group of drunk frat-boy-looking-types, he leans in closer to me. I’m grateful, and a little flattered he cares so much, but my mind is riveted to Lee. To what I’m going to say to him when I see him. ‘Sorry’ has to be first. Will he even forgive me? Sorry, and maybe a kiss? Or would that be too soon? All I want is his kiss, to feel him, to see his smile again –

Finally, we get to the apartment building. I press the buzzer. Brendan jogs in place to ward off the cold, and doesn’t ask questions, which I’m grateful for.

“Hello?” Lee’s voice sends molten shocks through me. My hand slips on the button but I regain control.

“H-Hi. It’s me.”

There’s a long silence. My heart feels like it’s going to sprout horns and teeth and eat itself alive. But I’m the one who was wrong. I have to melt the frost first.

“Can we talk?” I ask.

The intercom buzzes, then goes quiet. The door doesn’t click open. He hung up. I swallow the bitter disappointment in my throat.

“No luck, huh?” Brendan walks up to me. I barely manage a smile.

“Y-Yeah. I guess he really hates me after all. It’s…it’s understandable, though.” I sniff. “I was the one who hurt him. So it’s okay if he hates me. I-I can understand that.”

Hot tears well over my cheeks. Brendan reaches out and rubs my arm reassuringly.

“Hey, it’s okay. He’ll come around. You’re an awesome girl.”

I wipe my nose on my sleeve. “No, I’m horrible. Horrible and nasty and suspicious –”

“Don’t say that. I’m sure –” He stops. I look up, and there, just behind the glass door in the lobby, stands Lee. Watching us. His hair is mussed and the shadows under his eyes are darker than I’ve ever seen them. Grace wasn’t kidding. He looks gaunt. It doesn’t make him any less handsome, but it exacerbates his angles and lines, and makes him look so much more feral. His golden eyes flicker from me to Brendan and back again. He walks out and holds an envelope to me. I’m too stunned at his appearance to form words, but I take it like a rusty machine, slow and unsure. He ducks back inside just as I regain my senses.

“Lee!” I run up to the door and bang on it. “Lee! Let me in! We have to talk!”

He ignores me – getting in the elevator and disappearing from my sight. My heart sags, but I turn the envelope over in my hand. There’s a thin card inside. I tear it open. It’s an invitation to a dinner at a fancy hotel. Some sort of Christmas fundraiser. My ticket’s inside, and it says ‘black-tie attire’. Lee’s handwriting is in the corner; ‘Ask for the reservation under Montenegro at the desk’. A party? He won’t talk to me but he wants me at a party?

Brendan taps me on shoulder. “Hey, you okay?”

I stuff the invitation away and wipe my eyes. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

Brendan walks me back to campus and we say goodbye. He smiles one last time before striding away into the night.

“No matter what you think about yourself, you’re a really great person, Rose. I hope that guy deserves you.”

As pathetic as it was, a few weeks ago seeing Lee’s cold, unresponsive expression directed at me would make me cry myself to sleep. But not anymore. I suck it up. I stare at the invitation on my bedside table and try to smile. He wants me there. So I’ll go. I have to tell him how I feel, and apologize, even if he hates me. Even if it’s the last time we ever talk, I need to say what’s in my heart.

I’m glad he’s giving me one last chance. It’s all I need.

It’s all I can have.

It’s all I deserve.

~~~

Jen’s band got second place.

She’s not down about it, though. The first three places get to send their demo into a recording company downtown, so she’s working hard and excited and flustered and in love. With Grace. It’s so easy to tell by the way she smiles and gives me affectionate noogies with every other sentence. I’m happy for her. She deserves to be happy.

Me? Not so much.

I call Brett and apologize. He apologizes too, for taking the bribe. I ask him what the bribe was for, this time, and he says it was to lie about the timeframe.

“Three months,” Brett says. “Farlon bribed me to lie and replace your letter with a copy that said the required time to get the money was three months. The original is one month.”

“Why would he want that?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe he thought you’d agree if it was a longer timeframe, rather than a shotgun wedding . After one month passed, the money would be transferred.”

“No,” I say slowly as it dawns on me. “He didn’t make you change it to three for me. He did it for Lee - so Lee would think he knew when the money was coming. Lee thinks it’s three months, but it’s really just one, and Farlon gets his mitts on the money and Lee is none the wiser as he waits for the remaining two months to be up.”

“That makes sense,” Brett agrees. “He did strike me as the type of man to be concerned with money.”

“He has loan sharks after him.”

Brett makes a little ‘aha’ noise. “I’m sorry again, Rose. I –”

“It’s okay, really. I jumped to conclusions and it’s landed me in a hot mess and I’m learning my lesson. Thanks for not hating me for it.”

“Nonsense. Your grandpa would be proud, Rose. You’ve grown into a fine young woman with a good head on your shoulders.”

I chew my lip, thinking. “You were friends with Grandpa, right?”

“In a way, yeah.”

“Did he ever talk about a doctor? Not in a hospital, but like a home visit type of guy.”

“I don’t know, but he mentioned seeing a Doc Tanner for his arthritis a couple times. Does that help at all?”

I smile. “Yeah. A lot. Thanks.”

I do a little Google searching and come up with a Doctor M. Tanner living about two miles from Grandpa’s house. That must be him. I call the number and a scratchy voice answers.

“Doctor Tanner’s office, how can I help you?”

“Hi, Doctor. You don’t know me. But you knew my grandfather – James Jensen.”

“He’ll be missed,” The Doctor says after a tired sigh. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thanks. I was just calling to ask about something that happened a long time ago. Grandpa brought me in to you.”

“That he did. Little girl with head trauma. The boy with James wouldn’t stop crying until I gave him a lollipop.”

“That little girl was me.”

“Was it? It’s good to speak to you again, then.”

“I…the amnesia I got from that accident. I just learned about it a few weeks ago. I guess…I guess I just wanted to see if you were real. If what happened was real.”

“I can assure you it was. You came with a head injury. Scalp injury, to be precise. Pretty common among kids. You had bad bruising and a big gash, and the impact jolted your brain around a bit. I was worried about vessel tearing, but you didn’t get any of that. I kept you overnight for observation.”

“So, my amnesia –”

“It’s not strictly amnesia.” I can hear the frown in his voice. “Amnesia induced by head injury doesn’t last for years. I’m no psychologist, but I’m a pediatrician. Sometimes when something painful and bad happens to a kid, they block it out so well they can’t remember it when they grow up.”

“You think I blocked it out?”

“Oh yeah. Scary struggle in a creek and a fall like that? I’d block it out, too. You were a brave trooper. Never once complained about the stitches or anything.”

“Grandpa kept it from my parents.”

“I imagine he might have. He was worried about your mother finding out in particular. Strained family relationships and all that. But he’s gone now. Don’t think it’s much of an issue anymore, is it?”

“No. You’re right,” I pause. “Thanks, Doctor.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart. Give your family my best wishes. James was a good friend of mine and it ticks me right off he beat me to the grave.”

I laugh an awkward half-laugh and say goodbye. When I hang up I feel light. Lighter than when Mom and Dad’s company was saved. Lee wasn’t lying. I should’ve tracked down Doctor Tanner a long time ago, or at least looked for evidence before I jumped to believe Kiera.

Kiera. I won’t be trusting her ever again, and I certainly won’t ever like her. She’s a flawless actress. I’d seen that. She fooled me once. But she’ll never fool me again.

On Friday, I take the bus up to Mom and Dad’s. We drive to Grandpa’s house together to see it one last time and clear out the final bit of junk from the garage before the new owners move in. Dad drives, Mom stares out the window at the passing fields, and Riley and I are in the backseat, him on his phone texting and me listening to music. We share a bag of gummi worms between us. Riley flicks one at my face every so often and I shove a few down his shirt in retaliation. Whoever attracts the attention of Mom and Dad by making noise or moving suddenly loses. It’s sort of a ritual car game for me and him. We’re too old to play it, but that’s never stopped us before.

While Mom and Dad are busy with the house, Riley and I visit the creek one last time. He skips a rock across the chilly water and sighs, breath puffing out as a white cloud.

“Lots of memories here.”

I nod. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and continues.

“It’s okay though. Leaving memories behind but keeping them inside is part of growing up, I guess.”

“When did you get so wise?” I quirk a brow. He chucks a pebble at me and I duck, laughing. There’s a nice silence as we take in the water and the forest and the way the black winter moss grows on the rocks.

“You’ve lost a lot of weight,” Riley says.

“Stress.” I shrug.

“I thought you’d be less stressed when Mom and Dad got bailed out,” He sighs. “Don’t tell me it’s about that boy.”

“I’m fine, Riles. Really. School’s been tough is all.”

“Whatever.” He pouts and shoves his hands in his pockets. “I can tell when you’re lying. You suck at it.”

“Just like you suck at being mature,” I singsong. Riley picks up a handful of pebbles and pelts them at me.

“What was that? Take it back!”

When he gets tired of throwing stuff at me, he leaves and tells me not to stay out too long because of the cold. I wave him off and walk downstream, to the small waterfall. To where I fell.

I never saw it in my dream. My dream just led me to the creek. Led me to Lee. But it couldn’t show me the creek, or Lee, or what really happened. I’d suppressed the accident – and the boy who caused it – deep down in my mind. I still don’t remember it. Maybe someday I will, but I’m not sure I want to relive it. Maybe I don’t need to remember it to believe it. It happened, whether I believe it or not. And all I can do now is move forward.

I need to have more faith. Faith in the past. Faith in myself. Faith in Lee.

I wonder how Lee felt – seeing me go over the edge. It scarred him, too. But he didn’t suppress it like I did. I wonder how Grandpa felt, running out to a crying Lee and seeing me bleeding over the rocks. They were both probably scared. Terrified beyond words. But Grandpa scooped me up and acted fast and in the right ways. He saved me.

I take out his letter from my pocket and read it again. It’s not forged, I know that now. How could I ever think that Grandpa’s warm words were forged? He wanted me to marry Lee. No – to try marrying Lee. Was it a way to make up for the fact I forgot him? Was Grandpa nudging me towards my repressed memories in the hopes Lee would bring them to light and let them free? Maybe he felt guilty about my accident until the very end. All the hugs and Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners – all the smiles and the way Grandpa would clasp my hand – were those all riddled with guilt?

Maybe. But in his eyes, love shone brighter.

I feel guilty now, too. Guilty I believed Kiera. Guilty I betrayed Lee. Guilty I wasn’t smart or secure enough to keep myself from hurting him. And for a while that guilt ate me alive. It’s still eating me. But that’s fine. I can withstand it – embrace it, even, as long as I know Lee is told how I feel. I can try to piece my shattered self together and try to move on as long as I tell him.

I fold the letter up and put it in my pocket, and skip one last stone on the creek’s surface.

“I’ll become stronger, Grandpa. For the people who love me. That’s what life is about, right?”

I laugh and muss my hair up.

“Quit talking to yourself, self.”

I pull my hood on and head back to the house. A black Jaguar is parked in the driveway – Mom and Dad and Riley and two other strange people gathered around it, talking. As I get closer I see one of the people is an older man – gray hair, small glasses, and dressed in a polo and slacks. His face is stern and frowny. The other person is a girl, my age or a little older, with bright blonde hair. She wears tight jeans and a fluffy faux-fur lined jacket. She turns to look at me and my insides freeze over.

Kiera.

“Hi, Rose!” She plasters on a pretty smile and waves. Mom looks between us.

“You two know each other?”

“We’ve seen each other on campus a few times.” She lies and smiles bigger.

“Kiera knows everyone. She’s got her nose in everyone’s business,” The gray-haired man sighs. Kiera slaps his arm.

“Daddy! And who taught me how to socialize? You!”

Mom laughs. Dad shoots me a weirded-out look and Riley mimics his face. Mom puts her arm around my shoulder and draws me into the circle.

“Rose, these are the new owners of the house. Kiera and Charlie Rothman.”

I don’t look Kiera in the eyes. I can’t. Not after what she did. But I can’t confront her like this – in front of my family – either. She knows that. I can see it in her little smiles. And a part of me is scared of her. Scared she manipulated me so easily. Scared that she might be able to do it again. So I can’t let her in. I can’t acknowledge her. Not even a little. I give her one curt nod, and that’s it.

Mom gives them the grand tour of the place. Riley bounces ahead with her and hangs on the stairs, the railings, the doors. He’s excited there’s a pretty girl. If only he knew. Dad lags behind with me and hugs my shoulder.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. It’s just…” Seeing Kiera in Grandpa’s house, knowing she’ll have the place where Lee and I first met, makes me sick to my stomach. “Seeing strangers in Grandpa’s house is bizarre.”

“I know how you feel. But it’s for the best this way. Your mother and I can’t afford to keep up the mortgage, not with the company recovering like it is.”

Charlie, Kiera’s father, has been staring at us intently. Mom shows Kiera the kitchen and they squeal together about the ‘french windows’, whatever those are. Charlie clears his throat.

“We’ll be remodeling the house. The basic frame is strong and suitable. We’re converting it into a nursing home for the elderly.”

“What about the garden?” I ask. For some reason, I’m not as afraid of Charlie as I am of Kiera, even if he is strict-looking.

“That will be kept and expanded. We’ll be hiring several gardeners to maintain the grounds. The sunflower fields in particular are a wonderful addition. Something about seeing sunflowers in full bloom brightens the soul.”

Dad agrees. And somewhere deep down, I do too.

“You have to take good care of it.” I frown. “This place was important to us. To Grandpa. If you don’t take care of it, I’ll never forgive you.”

The conviction in my words shocks even me. Charlie looks a little surprised, but smiles in a small, warm way.

“I promise you, young lady. This place will be well-used and well-loved.”

Kiera is staring at me. Her eyes flicker between her father’s smile and my face, and her own smile flashes sour for an instant.

We say our polite goodbyes in the driveway as darkness sets in. Riley and I stare out the back window of the car as Mom drives away. We watch the house until the top of its frosted roof disappears behind the trees, and we say goodbye to the memories we had there. Our childhoods.

Chapter Ten

In Which Lee Montenegro Gives Me One Last Dance

The invitation said black-tie attire. The only dress I have that’s even slightly suitable is the beautiful blue one Bianca gave me that day when I modeled. The dress sags slightly around the bust, but Selena insists I look ‘totally hot’. I can’t help but laugh gratefully. She’s been nothing but supportive and helpful these last few weeks.

I slip on a pair of heels and Selena offers to do my makeup. When she’s done with me, my lips are baby-pink and my eyes look bigger and lashier than ever.

“You’re a witch,” I whisper and lean in to look at my reflection closely. There’s not one zit showing. “You know how do to magic.”

Selena laughs. “As if! It’s called ‘putting-makeup-on-since-fifth-grade-and-spending-all-my-life-looking-fabulous’. Now get going! You’ve got a party to be sexy at.”

I slip my purse over my shoulder. “Thanks, Selena. For helping me. It means a lot.”

She shoos me out the door and closes it in my face. There’s no going back now. I have to go to this party. I have to face him, even if it feels like my insides are being chewed by nervous rats. I ruined this. I need to fix it. That’s what growing up means; fixing the stuff you broke instead of sweeping it under the bed where no one will see.

I shake my head and smile. Now I’m starting to sound like Riley.

I hail a cab. The night is dark and smoggy – I can’t see the moon or stars. The Hilton glows like a bright, warmly-lit candle against the night. Christmas lights and trees line the driveway. The loading zone is swamped with people in suits and gorgeous dresses getting out of cars and making their way inside. I get out, suddenly horribly self-conscious about my dress. I know I look out of place and immature compared to these people - like a kid in her mother’s clothes. But I shake the anxiety off. I don’t care about these other people. I’m here for Lee. To apologize. Nothing else matters but him right now.

I follow the stream of fancy-dressed people through the lobby and to a ballroom. Its doors are flung open – sprays of fresh red and white flowers everywhere. A concierge checks and double checks invitations at his podium before letting guests in. I can see dozens of white tables clustered around an open marble dancefloor. A quartet plays in the corner, the sweet sounds of the violin and cello mingling with the chatter of the crowd. Some people are already dancing in pairs – ballroom dancing, the type of dancing where everyone moves in sync and knows the right moves. I swallow. You couldn’t pay me to go anywhere near a ballroom dancefloor, and especially not tonight. I’m just here to tell Lee my feelings, and then I’ll leave. I spy a menu next to the door. Crab in butter sauce and herb penne with foie gras. Black forest truffle cake and mango-raspberry sorbet with mint relish. My mouth waters. No! I’m just here for Lee. Who cares about food? I have to find him as quick as I can.

And that’s when I see him. Farlon. He’s standing by the bar, sipping a whiskey and looking much taller in his suit. His salt-and-pepper hair and his oily smirk are even more noticeable. Why is he here? I shake the mystery out of my head and walk up to the main desk. A pretty woman in a suit smiles at me.

“How may I help you?”

“Hi. I was, um, told to ask about the room reservation under Montenegro?”

“Ah, you must be Ms. Jensen.” She smiles and hands me a keycard. “Penthouse suite three, last floor. Enjoy your stay.”

Penthouse? I take the elevator up to the eleventh floor. Why would Lee rent the penthouse? Since when did he have that kind of money? I could see Grace renting a penthouse. But not Lee. The rats gnawing my insides turn to chewing tigers as I get out on the top floor and open the door to the suite with my keycard. The suite is nicer than anything I’ve been in – the bed is huge and hung with a dark canopy, like a bed out of a fairytale. Dozens of pillows are stacked on it, and on top of the biggest two pillows are a stack of chocolates tied with gold ribbon. The lights are dim but warm and welcoming. A huge plasma TV sits opposite the bed, and the balcony is almost as big as the suite itself, and has a hot tub on it.

“Lee?” I call out. No answer. He’s not here yet, if he intends to come at all. I sigh and slip my shoes off, letting the soft carpet caress my tired soles. I forgot how much work heels are. I munch on the pillow chocolates to ease my nerves as I check out the rest of the room. The mini-fridge is stocked with tiny bottles of alcohol, cookies, and chips. The bathroom is huge – the tub nearly the size of the bed and a shower stall with glass walls beside it. The room service menu sits on the bedside table, and a card says I get a complimentary massage in the spa downstairs. Like any of that matters. I’m too nervous to think about anything besides my impending confession to Lee.

I sigh and lie on the bed, staring at the canopy. What is this all about? Is Lee going to come up here? Why did he invite me to the function if he told me to come up here first? The bed feels so heavenly I feel my eyelids drooping. The beeping of the door jolts me awake. There, in the hall, stands Lee. His tall, lean frame is accented by the sharply tailored suit he wears, and his usually messy dark hair is slicked back. His dress shoes are polished. My heart wrenches around in my chest when I look into his golden eyes – the same coldness. The same gauntness in his face. He looks so sad. No, it’s more than sadness. It’s hopelessness.

“Lee –” I stand from the bed, chocolate wrappers scattering around me. “I –”

“You look beautiful.” His face never changes as he says it.

“I don’t care about that! I came here…I came here to say I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I listened to Kiera but I never asked you. I didn’t trust you. I’m sorry. I was just…you’re just so different from me, Lee.”

He snorts. He might as well have stabbed me in the heart with the sound, but I won’t stop now.

“You’re handsome, is what I mean. And kind. And funny. And you always know what to say, and you’re a good listener, and you’re popular, you make me feel…right. I never even knew I wasn’t right until I met you. You showed me what I was missing out on. You showed me a whole other world. And instead of repaying you, I betrayed you.”

“Stop,” He sighs. “You’re pathetic.”

Those words rip the air from my lungs. I fight to keep breathing, but the tears I swore I wouldn’t shed are starting to overflow.

“I know that! I know. You have every right to hate me. I didn’t come here to try to get together again. I know after what I did that’s impossible. I want you to move on and find someone better. Someone nicer, and prettier. Someone who trusts you a lot,” I laugh weakly through the tears. “I have no right to want anything for you. But I want…I want you to be happy. With someone better than me.”

I can’t disguise my tears anymore, so I let them spill.

“I like you.” I force a smile. “Boys don’t like me. They cheat off my tests or borrow my notes from class, but they don’t really like me. I’m only good at studying, and carrying around stupid dreams about bakeries. I’m no fun.” I laugh and say it louder, like I’m cementing it into place. “I’m no fun. I can’t make anyone feel good, or feel happy. I can’t even make them laugh. I couldn’t even support my family when they needed me. I’m not a good friend, or a good person. But you know how to make people feel special. And you know how to make them laugh. And even though your Dad is a jerk, you stick by him faithfully. Someone like you with someone like me…it just doesn’t make sense. So. So it was nice when you liked me. Even if it was only for a little while. I can move on, as long as I can keep the memories, you know?”

He doesn’t say anything. I wipe my face and laugh.

“We weren’t even together that long. It’s stupid. It’s stupid how much I like you for how short a time we were together.”

I stand up and smooth my hair and grab my purse from the bed. I’ve said what I wanted to, and he doesn’t seem to want to talk. I might as well leave before I break into full-on sobbing and embarrass myself.

“You’re right. I’m pathetic. I’m just going to go.”

I pass him by with a sinking regret swallowing me up. I thought apologizing would make me feel better. It’s only torn the hole in my heart bigger. But I’ve done all I can. I’ve said all I can. I don’t know how to make it better. I can’t make it better. So I have to walk away.

The grip on my wrist is familiar. Lee pulls me back, eyes boring into mine.

“You’re pathetic,” He says again. “For thinking I could ever hate you.”

Before I can blink he pulls me into his chest and crushes me with a hug. His fingers claw at my back, like he’s trying to absorb me, fuse us together. His breath is hot in my ear.

“I will never hate you, Rose. You’re a better person than I’ll ever be.” He breathes deep into my hair and my tears leak onto his suit.

“Sometimes, when I was younger, I’d lie awake and think about you. Sometimes I’d wonder what it’d be like to hold you like this. I’d wonder what your voice would sound like saying my name, or laughing, or what your smile would be like. What your hair would smell like.”

He covers my blush in kisses.

“I wanted to talk with you about everything – people, emotions, religion, our goals, movies - until sunrise. I wanted to protect you from anybody who called you anything less than incredible. I wanted to make you see just how beautiful you really are.”

“What’s with all the past tense?” I murmur.

He smiles, sadly, and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “Sorry.”

“Sorry for what? You’re making me nervous, Lee.”

He presses his forehead to mine and closes his eyes. “Let’s just enjoy this - this moment - while we still can.”

Now that he’s near me, I can barely breathe. It was so much easier when we were apart – no, that’s a lie. It was brutal. But now that we’re sharing the same space at the same time, my body aches for him all over again. His mouth is on mine, tongue aggressive and lips holding a cinnamon-burn aftertaste. His crisp suit wrinkles against me, strains to accommodate his chest pressed into mine. I kiss back with all the weeks of longing I kept buried in my heart, pushing him gently into the wall. His hands roam up and down my back until he finds the zipper of my dress, working it off me. When it’s a pool of silk on the floor, he hefts off the wall and pushes me in turn, into the bathroom, where he pins me against the towel rack and ravages my neck with kisses. I work his belt off and snake my hand down his dress pants, freeing his cock to the cool bathroom air. He hisses and bites my neck softly as my hand pumps around him fast and hard. There’s no gentleness, no slow, sensuous moves – just the inferno of weeks of pent-up desire for each other searing our flesh.

I kiss the corner of his mouth and it undoes him, emptying into my hand with a soft grunt. He watches me lick my fingers clean with slow, taunting enjoyment. Something in him snaps, and before I can finish he turns me around and growls.

“Don’t move.”

I stay perfectly still, listening to my heartbeat and the rustling behind me. His cool hands unclip my bra and slide my panties down. He nudges my thighs apart and leans himself over me, his bare chest flush against my spine and his face in my neck. Something white moves over my head and laces around my wrists, drawing them together and tying them to the towel rack. It takes me a second to realize it’s the sleeves of his dress shirt. He ties a firm knot I can’t slide out of. When he’s satisfied it’s tight enough, he teases my nipples with his fingers as he hilts inside me with one fluid movement. My eyes roll and I relish the sensation of being filled by him.

His pace is unforgiving. I can barely inhale a full breathe before he fucks it out of me. Every thrust is magnified by the way I can feel each of his ridges and veins rub inside me. He plants sloppy, desperate kisses along my back, marking a pattern, a message, a story that tells me just how much he missed me, that he craved me as I craved him – no, that he craved me more. I want to touch him, kiss him, but the knot around my wrists binds me in place. I can’t move an inch. He has total control and he’s taking me against the wall at his pace, and the fact I can’t do anything about it makes me even wetter. The pleasure creeps up like a glorious shadow, sparse at first and growing darker as it gets closer, finally eclipsing my vision in throbbing black euphoria. Lee’s thrusts become even faster, but his withdrawals get slow, agonizing, and almost tender in the way he drags each pull out.

“I love you,” He pants. “I love you, Rose Jensen. Don’t you ever fucking doubt that again.”

Between his words he snaps his hips hard, and on the last word spurts inside me, his whole body shuddering as he furiously kisses and nips the back of my neck. We stay like that until our breathing calms. Lee’s the first to move, pulling out slowly, so slowly, like he wants to stay inside me forever. He gathers up his clothes but leaves the shirt tied around my wrists. When he tries to leave, I make a pleading noise, and he leans down and kisses me on the forehead, whispering.

“Come down to the party. There’s something you should hear. And I love you. Don’t forget that. No matter what happens from now on – never forget that.”

I hear the room door open, then close. I’m alone, alone to savor the last dregs of my high. But it’s not the same without him here with me. My legs are useless jelly, my thighs and wrists a little bruised. Why couldn’t he stay? Why couldn’t we talk more? We could go down to the party together. He could’ve at least untied me! I bite my tongue in concentration and try to wiggle free of the knot. As I struggle, warmth slides down my thighs and drips white on the tile. I blush and work the knot harder.

Bastard.

What did he mean by ‘don’t ever forget that’? It sounded so final – like a goodbye. My stomach sinks as I glance at the clock. The invitation said nine o’clock for dinner. I’ve got ten minutes. Just enough time for a shower and learning how to walk right again.

~~~

LEE

~~~

I can’t get Rose’s smell off me.

It’s all around me – on my skin, in my mouth. She’s here, even in the silence of my hotel room.

It’s not really my hotel room. It’s ours. Mine and Kiera’s.

I laugh, bitterly, and run a hand through my hair. Kiera and I. I should get used to saying that, I guess.

The hotel door beeps and I duck into the bathroom before Kiera can come in and smell her on me. That would break our deal; me never seeing Rose again in exchange for the purchase of Rose’s grandpa’s house, the payment of her tuition, and the payment of my father’s outstanding bets to the loan sharks. Everything solved. All the people in my life I care about, happy because of me.

Rose will be fine. That guy I saw with her when I gave her the invitation – Brando. He’ll take care of her. He didn’t seem like a bad guy. And she seemed to like him.

I laugh a bitter laugh that echoes in the bathroom.

I jump in the shower and slather myself with soap. Kiera knocks on the door and opens it slowly. I can see her through the mottled glass of the shower. She’s stripping.

“May I join you?” She pokes her head through the door and giggles.

“Shouldn’t we wait for our wedding night, dearest?” I drawl sarcastically.

Kiera giggles louder and snakes her hands around my torso. She likes it when I’m mean. She’s like the other girls – starving for any attention from me, she’ll take the cruelest thing I can manage. Or maybe she just likes my darkness. Maybe she likes thinking she’s the cause of my bitterness and pain. I wouldn’t put it past her. Egotistical bitch.

“We should learn each other all over again,” Kiera whispers in my ear, her hand sinking ever lower. “We’ll be together a long time, after all.”

She wraps her hand around me, and all I can think about is Rose. I pretend it’s Rose. It can’t be, with the sting of manicured, long nails. She’s not Rose – no gentle hesitancy. No endearing eagerness to please. No love. Kiera is raw, jagged lust. But I can drape a cloth over her edges. I can use the memories and play in a make-believe world, no matter how unreal it is.

As long as Rose is happy.

As long as Rose is safe from this witch.

~~~

By the time I fix myself up and make it downstairs, dessert is being set on the table. A curtain’s been drawn back, revealing a stage I hadn’t seen there previously. A podium and a microphone are being set up. Someone very familiar takes the stage and starts talking. His hair is gray, glasses small on his nose. Charlie Rothman, Kiera’s dad. I look around wildly – is Kiera here too? I can’t see her.

Charlie thanks everyone for coming and donating to the cause - a children’s hospital funding. He talks about the goodness of people and how giving is receiving in this Christmas season, but I’m barely listening over the confusion in my head. Why is he here? And why did Lee ask me to come down? Was it for this speech?

“Now that we’re all settled and full of fantastic food, I’d like to be selfish and announce some very happy personal news of mine.” Charlie motions to the side of the stage, and Kiera walks out in a dazzling purple silk dress hugging her every curve. Her jewelry alone nearly blinds me as the stage lights flicker off her diamond necklace and earrings. Her blonde hair is piled on her head, and her smile is sweet as she takes her place beside her dad. Someone follows her out. Someone in a suit, with long legs and dark hair and broad shoulders. Lee.

And he’s smiling.

He moves to Kiera’s side, so close they’re touching. Charlie grins at the two of them.

There’s a moment where I understand what’s going on before Charlie says it. My heart stops. It has to have stopped. There’s no way it hasn’t stopped – I’m cold all over and inside and something is stabbing at my stomach and heart and lungs all at once with poisonous thorns. I’m numb. I can’t even blink. All I can do is stare with a breaking heart and breaking eyes and a breaking body as Charlie says his next words and nails shut the coffin of my hope.

“My daughter, Kiera Rothman, recently became engaged to this handsome, devilish man here - Lee Montenegro.”

The applause is thunderous. Lee snakes his hand into Kiera and squeezes, looking deep into her eyes.

With love.

“The wedding is set for September –” Kiera hits Charlie’s shoulder playfully. “I mean, October. I can never keep up with the changes.”

More laughter from the crowd.

“I look forward to seeing you all there. Please give your best wishes to my daughter and her new fiancé, and thank you again kindly for being here tonight and supporting this charitable cause. And please, enjoy the rest of your night.”

People get up and start mingling, or dancing, or finishing their drinks. Kiera and Lee dance, his arm laced around her waist and their hands together.

“Don’t they look good together?”

I turn my head to the voice – Farlon. His smile is devious and satisfied.

I try to form words but they stick in my throat, dry and splintered.

“She met Lee at a party of mine in Spain, on our ranch, roughly seven months ago. They fell in love,” Farlon continues, and sips his wine. “Her father’s a very important man, you know. Very rich. He proposed a unification of our families that would prove beneficial to both of us – him, starting a law firm in Spain with my contacts, and me, well. Let’s say he’d get rid of some very pesky loans for me.”

I’m going to vomit.

“So you see, my canary.” Farlon dabs his mouth with his napkin. “We never really needed you. You, with your little will and my father’s quaint ‘bet between friends’, were never needed at all. I was simply giving Lee freedom, don’t you understand? You were wrong. I was a good father. I am a good father. I gave him options. And you were the one he simply didn’t choose.”

This is what it feels like to die. This pain is what it feels like to die. Inside my head, one high-pitched scream ricochets, asking ‘why’.

Lee’s words echo in my head.

I love you, Rose Jensen. Don’t you ever fucking doubt that again. No matter what happens from now on – never forget that.

Acknowledgments

~To my wonderful, beautiful, talented friends and comrades in writing; Sarah, Laura, and all my LBs! You guys constantly wow me and support me wonderfully!

~To the incredibly fantastic bunch of lady-authors who inspired me to go down this road; Kelli Maine, Katie Ashley, Emily Snow, and Michelle Valentine. Thank you for your support and love and just being awesome role models!

~To the fam-bam – thank you for putting up with my crappy days and shining with me on my bright ones!

~To the community – you guys have been nothing but supportive. Thank you so, SO much.

~To the reader; you are beautiful and fantastic. Thank you, THANK YOU, for reading this book. It means more to me than you will ever know. You’ve helped me realize my dream and I send you all my love and hope for a wonderful, romance-filled life. <3

About the Author

Sara Wolf is the author of ARRANGED, a college-aged romance centered on an arranged marriage. She’s addicted to the Vampire Diaries, loves chocolate and romantic angst, and can’t get enough of damaged heroes. For additional books, news, teasers, and giveaways, visit her at sarawolfbooks.blogspot.com or facebook.com/sara.wolf.3304

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten