“All right, thank God that’s settled,” Dean says, grinning. He swings his leg back over the bike and turns it on. The engine roars to life and the bike shakes with the sound of the motor. I climb up behind him, slipping a little on the back of the seat. “Just wrap your arms around me,” Dean says, looking back at me over his shoulder. “Here, so you don’t fall.”

He reaches around and takes both of my arms, wrapping them around him and clasping my hands together. I can feel the hard muscle of his stomach through his shirt and I run my hands over it, trying not to be obvious.

Andrew kicks at the gravel of the driveway. “Where you guys headed?”

There are only two pizza places in town, a place that sells cheap slices and always smells like old beer, and Giovanni’s, the little Italian place we always go for my birthday. It’s the kind of place with checkered tablecloths and melted candles, and I’ve always wanted to go there with a guy.

“We should get nice pizza,” I say, “not slices.”

“Cool, nice pizza it is.” He nods toward Andrew. “See you later, dude.”

Andrew raises an arm up to say goodbye. “Yeah, see you later,” he says, giving us a thumbs-up.

Dean pulls the bike out of the driveway, spraying a cloud of gravel behind us.

TWENTY-ONE

THE RIDE IS bumpy and fast, and I hold on to Dean for dear life. The wind whips at my face, bringing tears to the corners of my eyes, and I bury my head in his back, against the leather of his jacket. The trees whip by in a blur on either side of the road. At each turn, the bike leans to the side and I scream, laughing and tightening my hold on Dean’s waist. I’m so glad Andrew forced me to wear the helmet—though I’ll never admit that to him.

When we get to the restaurant Dean pulls the bike up to the sidewalk and hops off. I climb off after him, my legs shaking and unsteady. I feel giddy, adrenaline coursing through me like I’ve just gotten off some amusement park ride. Who knew feeling out of control could actually be so fun? Still, I’m thankful to be back on solid ground again, and I relish the feel of the hard sidewalk beneath my feet. I’m still alive.

“High five, Prom Date,” Dean says, holding his hand out to me. I hit it with a satisfying smack. “You were a natural at that. You gonna drive us home?”

“Can I?” I ask, and then laugh in surprise.

Dean looks surprised too. “Easy, tiger. Maybe just around the parking lot.”