The meal did take forever, but as much as I was aching to get Simon alone again, I also never wanted this night to end. We were served a beautiful paella, coastal style with chunks of prawns and spiny lobster, chorizo, and peas. Made in the traditional way, almost impossible to recreate, the simple shallow dish it had been cooked in allowed the saffron rice on the bottom to become crunchy and nutty—delicious in every sense of the word. We’d finished a lovely bottle of rosé and were now lazily sipping tiny glasses of Ponche Caballero, a Spanish brandy with hints of orange and cinnamon.

The liquor was spicy as I rolled it around in my mouth. I was pleasantly warm and more pleasantly tipsy. Not drunk, just heady enough that I was hyperaware of my surroundings and found anything and everything sensual: the way the smooth brandy slipped down my throat, the feel of Simon’s leg against my own under the table, the way my body had begun to hum. The entire population, it seemed, was out and about tonight and in a celebratory mood for the festival kicking off in the center of town. The energy was raw and a little wild. I sat back in my chair, teasing Simon with my big toe, a silly smile on my face as he stared at me hard.

“I ate your paella once,” he said suddenly.

“Pardon me?” I sputtered, catching the drop of brandy on my lip before it rolled off onto my dress.

“In Tahoe, remember? You made us all paella.”

“Right, right, I did. Not like we had tonight, but it was pretty good.” I smiled, thinking of that night. “As I recall, we polished off quite a bit of wine as well.”

“Yes, we ate paella and drank wine, got the others together, and then you kissed me.”

“We did, and yes, I did.” I blushed.

“And then I acted like an ass,” he replied, his blush present now as well.

“You did,” I agreed with a smile.

“You know why, right? I mean, you have to know that I, well, that I wanted you. You do know that, right?”

“It was pressed against my leg, Simon. I was aware.” I laughed, trying to play it off, but still thinking of how I’d felt when I ran away from him in that hot tub.

“Caroline, come on now,” he chided, his eyes serious.

“Come on now, yourself. It really was pressed against my leg.” I laughed again, a little weaker this time.

“That night? Jesus, it would have been so easy, you know? At that moment even I wasn’t totally sure why I stopped us. I think I just knew that…”

“You knew that?” I prompted.

“I knew with you, it would be an all or nothing kind of thing.”

“All?” I squeaked.

“All, Caroline. I need all of you. That night? Would have been great, but too soon.” He leaned across the table and took my hand. “Now, we’re here,” he said, raising my hand to his mouth. He laid kisses across the back then opened my palm and pressed a wet kiss at its center. “Where I can take my time with you,” he said, kissing my hand once more as I stared back at him.

“Simon?”

“Yes?”

“I’m really glad we waited.”

“Me too.”

“But I really don’t think I can wait any longer.”

“Thank God.” He smiled and signaled the waiter.

We laughed like teenagers as we paid the bill and began our trek up the hill to the car. The festival was in full force now, and we passed through part of it on our way back. Lanterns lit up the sky overhead as a heavy drum beat pulsed, and we saw people dancing in the streets. That energy was back, that sense of abandon in the air, and the brandy and that very energy knocked Nerves back down, way down to my gut, where LC and Wang threatened to beat her within an inch of her life. LC and Wang, it sounded like a rap duo…

As we reached the car, I went to grab the door handle when I was whirled suddenly by a very intense Mr. Parker. His eyes burned into mine as he pressed me against the car, his hips strong and his hands frantic in my hair and on my skin. His hand slid down my leg, grasping my thigh and hitching it around his hip as I moaned and groaned at the strength I was about to let run wild across my body and soul.

But I slowed him down, my hands pulling at his hair, making him moan in turn. “Take me home, Simon,” I whispered, pressing one more kiss against his sweet lips. “And please drive fast.”

Even Heart seemed pleased, floating around above. She was still singing, but a song that was infinitely more dirty.

Chapter Nineteen

I LOOKED AT MY REFLECTION in the mirror, trying to look objectively. When I was a kid, especially in those charming early-teen years, I used to see myself very differently. I saw dishwater-blond hair and pale, uninteresting skin. I saw flat green eyes and knobby knees that bisected skinny, bird-like legs. I saw a slightly upturned nose and a bottom lip that looked like I might trip over it if I wasn’t too careful.

When I was fifteen, one afternoon my grandmother told me she thought the pink dress I was wearing looked nice against my skin. I scoffed and immediately disagreed with her. “Thanks, Grandma, but I got about three hours of sleep last night, and the last thing I look today is nice. Tired and pale, but not nice.”

I rolled my eyes in that way teenage girls do, and she reached for my hand.

“Always take a compliment, Caroline. Always take it for the way it was intended. You girls are always so quick to twist what others say. Simply say thank you and move on.” She smiled in that quiet and wise way she had.

“Thanks.” I smiled back, busying myself with the spaghetti sauce and turning my face so she couldn’t see my blush.

“It breaks my heart the way young girls pick themselves over, never thinking they’re good enough. You make sure you always remember, you’re exactly the way you’re supposed to be. Exactly. And anyone who says otherwise, well, poppycock.” She giggled, her voice lowering a bit at that last word, the closest she would ever come to swearing. Grandma had a list of bad words and really bad words, and poppycock came close to approaching the latter.

The next day at school I mentioned to a friend that I thought her hair looked great, and her answer was to run her hands through it with disgust.

“Are you kidding? I barely even had time to wash it today.”

Even though it did look fantastic.

Later on after gym class, I was changing in the locker room when I observed another friend touching up her lip gloss. “That’s pretty. What’s the name of that color?” I asked as she pursed her lips in the mirror.

“Apple Tartlet, but it looks terrible on me. God, I have no tan left over from summer!”