“Are you sorry you didn’t go to prom?” Griffin asked loudly over the blender, where he was crushing ice for a new drink for me to try. Sometimes I think my men felt guilty that they had not exposed me to the “normal” highlights of childhood.

I considered Griffin’s question as I watched him concoct his drink. He took his shaker and combined Maker’s Mark and other ingredients. If my brother favored scotch, I tended to prefer good bourbon. I had learned to be picky about my whiskey. I could tell the difference even on this side of eighteen. Griffin placed a martini glass in front of his shaker. I was intrigued. I noticed Griffin rimmed the glass in sugar. I had never seen this before. His question about the prom lingered in the air between us.

“Are you kidding? I’m doing exactly what they’re doing, only better. They’re drinking cheap beer, cheap wine, or cheap liquor and getting drunk and then heading to the back seat of somebody’s car. Not my idea of a good time. Rum and Coke? Where’s the imagination in that?”

He handed me the apricot-colored drink. I hoped it tasted as good as it looked.

“A sidecar,” Griffin announced. It looked prettier than the pomegranate martini he’d fixed me last week. He placed it in front of me next to the honeydew and mint sorbet. I surveyed the drink before picking it up.

“Cheers!” I brought the glass to my lips. Talk about potent potable. It would become my signature drink for the rest of my life. Griffin Hardwick had made it for me before anyone else.

He walked around the island and over to me. “Go easy, girl,” he said and picked up the spoon to finish my sorbet. I wanted to know what the combination of the drink and the sorbet tasted like together, so I leaned in and kissed him. To my astonishment, he kissed me back.

The taste of his mouth and his proximity to me were more potent than any drink he could have fixed me. He pulled back.

“Why can’t you be older? Why are no other girls like you?” He was looking at me for an answer, but I’m not sure it was to a question he had posed yet.

“Because, Griffin, I am an original,” I said confidently. More confidently than I felt as my feelings churned inside.

He threw his head back and laughed and then resumed kissing me gently. We went on like this for a while. He pulled away. “What are we doing?”

“Exactly what everyone else my age is doing except I hope we’ll be doing it in a nice bed.” I could tell he was wrestling with himself. Wrestling with his feelings.

“I’m just not sure you know the ramifications.”

“You said it needed to be my choice. You said the person shouldn’t be drunk. You said—”

“I’m stupid. You shouldn’t be listening to me or Henry.” He paused. I could see he was pondering what to say next. “You are special. Nobody is like you. Nobody.”