Of course, I’d die, too, but maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. At least I wouldn’t have to live with his murder on my hands. Maybe I would balance the scales of justice by sacrificing my life along with his still-innocent one.

“Like what you see?” Bandit arches an eyebrow.

Oops, I’m staring. Although I’m not sure how he knows that, since his eyes haven’t left the road.

“Very much.” I intended the words to be sarcastic, matching his tone, but my voice is too low. My tone too rough. I end up sounding like I did when I promised to be with him anytime.

His mouth parts, and he glances at me before returning his attention to the road. A few moments later, his eyes wander back again, as though he knows he can’t divide his focus—but can’t resist looking.

I wet my lips. I can just see the news story now. A dark, windy road along a cliff. Two teenagers, distracted by each other. Uncle and nephew, victims of separate car accidents on the same day. A sick twist of fate or something more sinister? The police will investigate. But by then, it will be too late.

Don’t think, Alice. Don’t let memories of your life run through your mind. Don’t fling any goodbyes into the universe, not to Dad or Archie, not even to Lalana or Zeke. Just reach out and yank down that steering wheel.

When I was a kid, I used to be scared to go off the high dive. “You can’t dwell on it,” Dad counseled. “The longer you stand on the board, the harder it will be to jump. Just get up there and launch yourself into the air. No hesitation, no thinking.”

That’s what this situation is. The high dive. Higher—and more dangerous—than any fall I’ll ever take.

I square my shoulders. And then before I can change my mind, I slide across the bench seat until I’m sitting right next to him, not thinking. My thigh presses against his leg, and I’m still not thinking. I reach for the bottom curve of the steering wheel. Not. Thinking. At. All.

His gaze dips down to the collarbone displayed by my T-shirt and then rises up and fastens on my lips. I stop breathing.

Oh no, I’m thinking again.

Would it be so bad to kiss him on the way to our untimely demise? We’re already going to die. Shouldn’t we enjoy the last few seconds of life?

I raise my mouth just a fraction of an inch. An instant later, his warm lips are caressing mine. This kiss is even sweeter, even more potent than before. How is that possible? I melt into the leather upholstery. His hand glides up my jean-clad thigh, over my hip, and underneath my T-shift, touching the bare skin of my waist…