I nudged him. “Don’t be embarrassed. Two weeks ago if someone told me you’d be saying that to me, I would have thought they were legitimately insane.”

“Would you have wanted me to kiss you two weeks ago?”

I could only manage a side glance; then my line of sight dropped to my feet dangling from the tailgate. “No.”

“No?”

“For the same reason I don’t want you to kiss me now.”

His eyes lit up with realization. “Alder.”

“Yes,” I said, pressing my lips into a hard line. He nodded once, conceding. “Is there something going on at the Diversion Dam tonight?” I asked, desperate to change the subject.

Weston leaned back and folded his arms behind his head. “I don’t know, and I don’t care.”

I crawled up next to him, and while looking up at the stars, we exchanged memories about grade school, how much we loathed Mrs. Turner, and everything else in our world with the exception of Erin Alderman.

“Are you going to miss high school? I mean, you must,” I said, shaking my head in amazement. “You’re like a god here.”

He laughed once; then his face crumbled. “The god of Hell is the devil. Not really much of a compliment.”

“Touché.” I let my legs swing back and forth, feeling the chilly spring breeze blow through the thin fabric of my pants. It was warm enough that the bugs were chirping and buzzing in the grass. I listened to their symphony, our own little private show.

We drank our pops, and Weston crunched them in his man hands and tossed them behind us. He helped me down and walked around to my side, opening the door. I climbed up and sat, and he looked up at me.

“You doing anything for Spring Break?” he asked.

I shook my head.

“My parents are going skiing with our church group. I was supposed to go to South Padre with Alder and Brady and pretty much the whole football team and cheer squad, but I’m going to back out.”

I frowned, confused.

Weston was clearly amused as he leaned his elbow on the bottom compartment of the door, looking up at me with his perfect, sweet smile. “I’m going to stay here.”

“Won’t your parents pitch a fit?”

“They’ll understand. Besides, I’m eighteen. Not really much they can do.”

“Alder won’t understand.”

“I’m not worried about it.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You’re going to leave me out of it, right?”

“Yes, Easter. I wouldn’t throw you under the bus like that.”

“I just feel like I should remind you that I’m moving away in a few months. I’m not crazy enough to think you’re doing all of this for me, but if even a small part of it . . .”

“What if I was? Doing all of this for you.”

“I would ask you why. Why all of a sudden are you so interested in me?”

“Who says it’s all of a sudden?”

I tried not to smile. The only things that kept my face smooth were my next words, and I said them with conviction. “Weston, you’re a nice guy. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like you. But I’m getting the hell out of here.”