When her eyes hit the neon signs of Bourbon Street, Joan could feel the lightness in her head that would feel heavy tomorrow. She knew she should call it a night. But instead, she said, “Where’s Vanessa?”

“She went back to the hotel after, like, two minutes in there,” Lydia said.

“Oh,” Joan said. “I should head back, too.”

“Do you want me to walk back with you?” Griff asked.

Joan looked at him. He was so handsome. And kind. And patient.

“You don’t have to,” she said.

“At least let me put you in a cab,” he said.

The next thing Joan knew, they were walking arm in arm away from the crowd.

When they were out of sight of the others, Griff took her hand for a moment. Joan loved the warmth of his skin on hers, the feeling of another hand entangled with her own. “It’s been a wild night,” he said.

“Yeah. Pretty crazy.”

Griff smiled at her. “You’re drunk.”

“Not really.” But even she didn’t buy it.

He looked at her. His eyes were light brown, so soft. Why couldn’t she love him? Maybe she could. She leaned toward him, giving in—to what she did not know.

But he pulled away from her. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for months now,” he said.

Joan opened her eyes.

“But not when you’re drunk.”

“But I want to,” Joan said. “Right now, I want to. And I may not want to tomorrow.”

Griff smiled, but his eyes were sad. She could see that.

“Then we shouldn’t,” Griff said.

Joan had seen enough movies to know what to do. She grabbed the lapels of his jacket and pulled him toward her, pulled him against her, her body pressed against the brick wall behind her.

He gave in to her then, put his hands on the wall and pushed against her. He kissed her back.

He tasted like rum, and she wanted to gag. The roughness of his chin. The smell of him. She hated it as much as she’d known she would.

She pushed him away—she had to.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” she said. “I don’t think we are…like this.”

He frowned, but she felt such relief. She had finally said it. He could stop trying to love her now. Because she did not want him. She wanted something, she wanted it so badly. In her bones and her legs. But she did not want him at all.

He backed away a step, and then he laughed to himself in a way that wasn’t funny. “It’s okay,” he said. “I had a feeling this would happen. It’s why I haven’t made a move.”

“I’m sorry, Griff,” she said. “It’s just…it’s complicated.”

Griff nodded. “I thought it might be. I thought you might be.”

Joan did not want to know what he meant.