“Hey, chica!” Lizzy says from the other end.

My shoulders sag in disappointment, and I look at the clock. It’s after eight p.m. “Hey, Liz,” I mutter.

“Any word from lover boy?”

“He texted me to let me know his grandma had roped him into a card game and he’d try to stop by later.”

“He’s with his grandma!” she howls, outraged.

“No way!” I hear in the background. Hanna, no doubt.

Normally, I wouldn’t be bothered by Will playing cards with his grandma instead of spending the evening with me. Because William is just that kind of guy. He plays poker with his grandmother and her friends every week or so. I’ve never gone (though he’s tried to convince me on several occasions), but from what I gather, the women get rowdy drunk and play a cutthroat game.

But it’s our one-year anniversary, and I had hoped for more. I’d planned for more. I guess this is what I get for not reminding him of the date. Honestly, I didn’t think I needed to, and it hurts, realizing how wrong I’d been.

“You need to call him and let him know how disappointed you are,” Lizzy says. “If you don’t, I will.”

“Please don’t.” I walk over to the window and look outside, half expecting to see him waiting with roses and a smile. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Liar,” she says.

“You know how his grandmother can be. I’m sure she laid on quite the guilt trip, and he didn’t feel like he could leave her.”

“But it’s your anniversary,” Lizzy whines.

The sound of dishes crashing echoes down the hallway from the kitchen. Shit. Mom must be cooking drunk again. “I have to go,” I say quickly. “I’ll call you later.”

“You better,” she says.

I hang up and slide the phone into my pocket before heading to the sound. I’m met in the kitchen with the sight of my mother putting dishes into boxes. My heart skitters to a stop. “What are you doing?”

“I’m packing.” She looks up at me and smiles. It’s a real smile. Not one of those Vicodin-laced plastic ones. Her eyes are clear, like maybe she’s sober for the first time in months. “You girls and I are about to begin an adventure. A new life in Las Vegas.”

“What are you talking about?” Maybe she is high. She’s not even making sense.

“In a few weeks, we’re moving to Las Vegas. Aren’t you the luckiest teen in the world?” She grins at me like she really believes what she’s saying.

“I’m not moving anywhere. My life is here. You can’t seriously expect me to just throw away everything because you want to follow some whim.”

Glass clatters as she slams the platter she’s holding onto the counter. “This isn’t a whim. This is me taking control of my life, making something of it. That’s what you told me you wanted, right?”

“I didn’t mean—”

“You know, your sisters are excited. Don’t ruin this for them.”

My sisters are too young to understand what moving away means. “What about Dad?” I manage.

She winces then hides her face behind tissue paper as she resumes packing. “He’s the reason this is happening. He wanted to quit his job and go on some spiritual quest in Bali. I decided it was as good a time as any for us to divorce. We haven’t been happy together in a long time. This divorce is giving us what we both want.”

“Well, I’m staying here.” My voice sounds pathetic, desperate.

“You’ll love it in Vegas. The lights, the excitement. It will be a fresh start for all of us. Everybody wins.” Her smile doesn’t look so sure anymore, though.

“Except me,” I whisper. “I don’t win. I don’t want a fresh start.”

“Well, it’s time you grow up enough to understand things aren’t always going to go your way.”

Fear sits like a stone in the bottom of my stomach. It leaks its toxins into my limbs, making my arms and legs heavy. I can’t move. I’m frozen in this spot until she fixes what she’s broken. Until she unsays what she just told me.

“Don’t look at me like that. I deserve happiness too.”

“You’re hijacking my life. You get that, right? You’re taking something good and destroying it for your own purposes. That’s the opposite of what a mother is supposed to do.”

Her eyes fill as she stares at me, and I feel like I’ve just slapped her. “I know I haven’t been a good mother, but I’ve done what had to be done. The girls at the bowling alley told me what the boys at school said about you, the rumors they spread.”

“One boy spread one rumor. It’s over now.”

“I know that’s my fault. I’m doing something right for once. I’m cleaning up and fixing my life. I’ve met someone and I’m ready to move on. So either help me pack or go to your room.”

“You’re going to change your mind,” I say, maybe more for myself than her. “Packing is a waste of time.”

I wander back to my room in a daze and shut the door behind me. The soft knocking on my bedroom window pulls my attention from my thoughts. In the darkness, I can barely make out William’s face on the other side of the glass.

My chest hurts at the thought of leaving him, but I push the ache aside—there’s no way Mom’s going through with that—and hurry to open the window. “You have something against the front door?” I ask.

He grins. “I didn’t want to wake up your sisters.”

Just the sight of him makes me feel better. His smile warms me all the ways down to my toes, and I return his grin as his fingers lace through mine.

“How was poker night?” I ask, determined not to let my disappointment from earlier ruin our time together tonight.

“They’re still going, but I excused myself after a couple hands.”

“By which you mean you’d already lost all your money to the sharks?”

He chuckles. “Maybe I lost on purpose so I could see my girlfriend.”

Oh, God. It’s silly and childish, but I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of him calling me that.

“Do you want to come in?” I ask. I want him to.

“Nope. I want you to come with me.”

I squelch my disappointment and climb out the window to join him. I’d been thinking of locking the door and lying with him in my bed, touching, kissing, letting things go too far. I’m ready to go too far.

He helps me hop down from the window and onto the grass. Unlike when we started dating at this time last year, the weather has been warm. And tonight the sky is so clear, the thick crescent of moon is enough to light the night.

“I missed you.” He steps closer and places his hands on my h*ps before lowering his mouth to mine. His kiss starts patient and slow. When I fist my hand in his hair and press my body against his, it changes, growing hungry and impatient. When we break the kiss, we’re both breathing heavily.

“You sure you don’t want to come into my room?” I say, grasping on to my courage before it fizzles away. “You could lie down with me.” On me. The idea of the weight of his body on mine sends a shiver through me. The good kind that has my imagination on fire.

He groans, fingers curling hard into my hips. “You’re killing me, Cally. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you wanted me to break your rules.”

“Rules were meant to be broken.”

He blinks at me. “Are you sure?”

Am I? My heart slams in my chest. Nerves. Anticipation. Desire, low and heavy in my stomach and sinking to between my thighs. What if this is my last chance? What if Mom is serious about Vegas?

He kisses me hard, his hands tightening their hold. “I don’t need everything. I just need you.”

I turn to lead him back to my window, and he stops me.

“Not here.” He pulls a silky black necktie from his pocket and offers it to me. “Put this on?”

Laughter slips so unexpectedly from my lips that I throw my hand over my mouth, afraid I might have woken the girls. “Aren’t we missing some steps between kissing and bondage?”

He steps toward me and takes the tie from my hands, settling it around my eyes. “Trust me.” He presses a kiss to my nose, and then he’s taking my hand and leading me—somewhere.

“Okay, but I’m just going to tell you now that I don’t think we’re ready for handcuffs yet.”

His soft laughter mingles on the night air with the song of the frogs.

“Where are we going?”

“Patience, grasshopper. You’ll see soon enough.”

I’m quiet for what feels like forever as we walk. Nerves knot in my belly and every so often he squeezes my fingers. I try to guess where we are from the turns and the sounds of traffic, but New Hope after dark isn’t exactly a hopping place.

Finally, we stop. “We’re here,” he says.

“Hmm. And where’s here?”

He releases my hand, and I feel him press a kiss to the top of my head. “Stay right there.”

I listen carefully as I wait. I can hear him rustling around with something. Maybe the tinkling of glass. Something clicking. And then, behind all that, I make out the water splashing softly against something. I grin. “We’re at the river.”

“Don’t go ruining my surprise,” he murmurs as he releases the tie on my blindfold. When he slides away the fabric, I open my eyes.

“Oh.”

We’re on an old boat dock behind one of the closed factories on Main Street, and he’s laid out a picnic on the concrete. Atop a red-and-white checked blanket sit two fat pillar candles. Their flames wink against two empty wine glasses. A glass serving platter is piled with crackers, cheese, grapes. Next to it sits a bottle of light pink liquid. “Is that wine?”

He grins. “Don’t tell Grandma, but I snagged one of her bottles from the basement. It’s strawberry.” He takes my hand. “Join me?”

We settle onto the blanket, and he takes a slice of pear and tops it with soft cheese. Bringing it to my mouth, he whispers, “Try it.”

My lips close around his fingers as I take the bite into my mouth. His blue eyes grow darker, smoky, and he goes for more. I let him feed me. Grapes, olives, cheese, crackers so thin and buttery they melt on my tongue. Every bite is a decadent discovery, and somehow his feeding me seems more erotic than kissing.

When he stops to pour the wine, I look around. I can see why he brought me here. It’s the perfect view of the river and, above it, the stars.

“What did I do to deserve this?” I ask.

He hands me a glass. I drink, smiling when the sweetness explodes on my tongue. I’ve never had wine before, and I like how it sends warmth sinking into my belly.

“This is your reward for putting up with me for twelve months.”

He remembered.

My chest tightens, like there isn’t enough room to contain this feeling growing there. I don’t know what to say, so I kiss him. I press my mouth against his and slide my fingers into his hair. He tastes like fruit and strawberry wine, and I move closer as our tongues touch.

When he moans against my mouth, I break the kiss.

I wait until his eyes open and then lift the shirt from my head. I set it to the side and watch him in the light of the candles and the moon as he takes me in.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to get to you tonight,” he says. “I wanted to get everything set up. I wanted it to be perfect.”

“It is.”

He pulls at my hips, and I lie back on the blanket, bare to the moon and stars and to William’s hungry eyes. He sips his wine and gives me a mischievous grin before tipping his glass and spilling a little puddle of it on the flat of my stomach. The liquid runs in cool rivulets over my belly and down my sides, but he dips his head and opens his mouth to the puddle. His tongue is hot, and shivers race through me as he licks away the sticky liquid, leaving my skin damp and hot in the night air.

I need to tell him about mom, about her packing, but I don’t want to believe what she told me, and telling him makes it too real. Tonight, being here with him is all I need. Giving voice to my mother’s crazy ideas would ruin everything, so instead I say, “Touch me.”

***

William

“Rules were meant to be broken.”

I don’t think I’ve recovered from her speaking those words. Because the only thing I’ve wanted more than to break her rules was for her to ask me to.

Sliding my hands slowly up her thighs, I part her legs and kneel between them on the blanket.

“Come here,” she says, reaching for me.

“I’ll get there. Be patient.” I circle her navel with my thumb, watching her face as the sensation whips through her. Her eyes float closed and she arches toward my touch. Then I replace my thumb with my mouth and trace an invisible path across her belly. She gasps, lifts her hips, and draws up her knees. I love that I can do this to her, love how she responds so completely to every touch.

I slide my hands up her torso and cup her breasts. They’re so beautiful and I want her out of that bra so I can suck her ni**les into my mouth.

“Cute,” I murmur, running my fingers over the soft cotton of her bra. Cally likes underwear, so the Thompson twins bought her a whole load of it for Christmas. Some cute, some silky, some lacy. Watching her pull each piece from the gift bag after Christmas had made me lose my mind as I imagined what it would look like on her. This bra is covered with little penguins wearing top hats. “I’m guessing the underwear matches?”