He looked at me. “Well, what’s open now? You want to go to the diner?”

I was perfectly sated by the dry chicken française and stringy green beans with almonds. I shook my head but shrugged, as I hadn’t an idea in my mind that didn’t involve the hotel.

We ended up at this dead-end road some kids go to that overlooks the reservoir. It’s all trees, and the living sounds of the forest come up close to you so that they’re nearly inside your head. You can watch the lights of the airplanes landing at the airport across the way, the control tower in the distance. In the moonlight, the water looked like a knife of fine silver.

He said, “I know what you were thinking.”

I looked at him.

“I figured you probably already knew,” he said, wrapping his long fingers around the steering wheel. “I’m waiting for marriage. I want to find the person I want to spend the rest of my life with. So you don’t have to worry.”

I blinked. “Oh. I…”

“It feels like you could be that person.” He reached over and took my hand. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone, Hail.”

I leaned back in the leather seat, making it rip out an unladylike squeak. I cringed.

“I want our first time to be really special. Not something we do because Deer High tradition says so.” He smiled. “That’s stupid.”

My stomach dropped. Our first time.

Maybe he meant the first time for him and me together.

But I didn’t think that.

All I saw was me. The sinner. A sin that grew and spread with every second that ticked by without me setting the record straight.

I nodded. “Yeah. Of course. Right,” I said shortly.

He looked up at the dark sky for a moment, at a streak of red making its way to the runway. My hand had gone cold in his. I pulled it away and pointed my eyes to the passenger’s side window, pretending to be interested in something in the darkness. I hated that I could see his reflection in the glass.

I waited a few minutes, trying to make it seem like I was fine and dandy, never better. But fifteen minutes later, when he asked me what I wanted to do next, I told him I was tired and ready to go home.

Saturday, February 23

The cheap beer is plentiful, the music loud, the lights low.

Recipe for disaster.

Kane knows I don’t want to be here. I’m not sure if he was expecting the party to be good for me. But it’s heading in an unhealthy direction.

Even I can tell that, and I’m not all here.