“Hello, Liss,” he said, sweeping in on her and kissing her full on the mouth, in front of everyone, his arm locking around her waist. She could taste the beer on his breath.

“Ty!” she said, pushing him away. “You’re drunk.”

“I ain’t so very drunk, Melly,” he lisped. A line from Gone with the Wind; her heart melted. He grinned, knowing he had her. “Want to go for a walk?”

She nodded, ignoring Muriel’s arch glance as they set off.

They walked out the barn’s wide door into the mild night, heading toward, and then into, the Schiemmers’ hay field. It was late, perhaps eleven, and the stars glittered above, growing brighter as Elissa and Ty left the light and noise of the barn behind them. His hand was warm in hers, and the tilled earth soft under her feet. With every step, its fecund smell drifted to her nose, and soon the chirping of crickets was louder to her ears than the music and shrieks of the party.

They passed two haystacks before, at the third, Ty stopped, and pulled enough hay out of the stack to make a nice bed on the ground. “Ty, all Mr. Schiemmer’s hard work,” Elissa protested, but he just grinned, held out his hand. Next thing she knew, she was lying in the hay and he was on top of her, kissing her, tasting like beer, the sweet, rich smell of the hay surrounding them. It was heavenly, and she was a little disappointed when he rolled off her onto his side. “I’m going to remember this forever, Liss,” he whispered. “The way the moonlight looks on your hair.” He kissed her softly. “The way your eyes are shining.”

“Ty,” she sighed.

His fingers caressed her neck, and trailed down to rest over heart. He kissed her again, pressing his body close to hers. “Promise me—promise me you’ll always remember this, too,” he said.

Ty seemed nervous when he drove her home, and was largely silent—unusual, for him. She hoped she hadn’t offended him when, ultimately, she’d squirmed out from underneath him, brushing the hay from her sweater, and insisted they go back to the party. His hand had wandered farther up her skirt than ever before, and had made her nervous, and then he had pressed himself heavily against her so that she could feel his desire—he had never done that before, either. The heat of him, and her nerves, sparked, burned, became unbearable, and though part of her wished she were the type of girl who could just lie back and—well, she wasn’t, and that was all. They had spent the rest of the evening avoiding each other’s eyes.

“Lissa,” he said, when they pulled up to the curb at her house. “I hope I didn’t—upset you?” His eyes flashed to her, luminous in the moonlight.