Then I glance to the road and realize the Challenger has died in the middle of the road and we’re about to slam into it. “Shit,” I mutter and one of the gears grinds as I downshift and the tires skid in the dirt, the car swerving a little. I know if I don’t get control of the car something bad could easily happen. It’s not the first time this sort of thing has happened, but Ella is always the first thing to come to mind, which makes it more important for me to regain control.

“Micha…” Ella says as I crane the wheel to the side and downshift again.

The car fishtails, the back end winding a curvy path against the dirt as we swerve to the right. I hold my breath as we veer sharply around the Challenger and just about over-correct, but I use force to straighten the wheel out. I get it under control, but there’s little time for a celebration as the end of the road appears.

“Damn it.” I jerk on the e-brake and the tires screech.

We spin out of control, the engine making a lot of noises, but I get everything under control and in the end we’re racing back toward the finish line.

I release a breath as I floor the car, even though the Challenger is still stalled.

“Faster or slower?” I ask Ella playfully, because I’ve pretty much won the race.

She grips onto the door handle. “Faster of course.”

I grin because I’m not surprised by her answer and she laughs as I slam my foot on the gas pedal. The trees and dark sky blur by as the headlights light up the dirt road ahead of us. I shift gears, increasing the speed, and people scatter out of the way, worried I’m going to lose control because sometimes it happens. But I easily make it over the finish line, winning, and Ella looks so happy that it makes all the tension between us dissipate.

I smile this really stupid, goofy smile that makes Ella giggle and then I lean my head back against the seat, relaxing for the first time tonight. “Fuck, I thought I was totally going to slam into the back end of him for a moment,” I say with a laugh.

“I didn’t,” she says and I turn my head and give her a doubtful look, but still smile. “What? I knew you had him.”

“We had him,” I say. “And we have one hundred bucks to split.” I get really excited over the fact that I just won and she’s with me and she’s smiling, which was sort of the whole point of the night anyway. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I say, amped up as I pound on the steering wheel.

She snorts a laugh. “You’re such a goofball.” She laughs a little more and I swear to God the sound of it is the most amazing thing I’ve ever heard. Rare and beautiful and it makes me want to touch her so fucking much. Without even thinking, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, I lean over the console and pull her into a hug.

For a second, I worry she’s going to flip out on me because she hates getting hugged but she’s happy enough at the moment that she hugs me back and I can’t help but breathe in the sent of her. It’s intoxicating, along with her warmth and, God, I get so swept away in her, wanting to touch her, kiss her, be inside her. Before I even know what I’m doing, I tilt my head to the side and press my lips to hers. I don’t even know why I do it—I’m usually more careful—but I slip up and I know it the second our lips touch and she tenses, sucking in a sharp breath.

I panic and before she can say anything, I pull back and get out of the car. I’ve seriously fucked up, not just because I know she’s going to be upset with me, but because I took a happy moment and ruined it.

Shit.

I procrastinate as long as I can, celebrating and collecting my money from Danny and then we chat a little while about cars and other stupid shit, but I barely pay attention, distracted by the lingering sensation of Ella’s warm lips on mine. Yeah, I know I messed up but, God, the taste of her was so incredible.

Ella sits in the Chevelle for what seems like forever and then she finally gets out and goes and hangs with Renee and Kelly, even though she doesn’t really like Renee. Ella was obviously in a bad mood when I’d woken her up from her nap earlier, but my kissing her only made it worse.

As I’m chatting with Danny, Trixie something-or-other comes up behind me and whispers in my ear that we should go to my car and hang out alone. I briefly consider it, but all I can think about is Ella and I know it’s time to go face her wrath. I decline Trixie’s offer and walk up to Ethan’s truck, where Ella’s sitting on the tailgate arguing with him, while Renee and Kelly share a bottle of vodka.

“Knock it off.” Ella puts her hands on her hips, giving Ethan the death glare. “You’re trying to pick a fight with me.”

Ethan shakes his head as he takes a swig of beer. “Bullshit. You’re just in a pissy mood as usual.”

“Hey, you ready to go?” I interrupt, playfully nudging Ella’s foot with mine like nothing happened, like we didn’t just kiss.

“If you are,” Ella replies, her expression undecipherable, so I have no idea what the hell she’s thinking. She jumps off the tailgate and walks past a row of cars, heading to the Chevelle parked over by a tree. She’s wearing a pair of cutoffs and it’s hard not to stare at her ass the entire time. I know if she looks back and catches me checking her out things will only get worse, but I take the risk and only look away from her when she gets into the car.

“Good luck with that.” Ethan rolls his eyes as Renee hands him the bottle of vodka. “What the hell did you do to her? She’s even bitchier than she normally is.”

I release an uneasy breath. “I fucked up,” I say and then turn for the car, feeling bad about kissing her, but the way she tasted was so fucking mind-blowing, it makes it hard to regret.

I prepare myself before I pull open the car door and climb inside with her. I slam the door and the soundlessness that follows is unnerving.

“Do you want me to drive slow or fast back home?” I try to make light as I put the keys in the ignition and turn over the engine.

She slowly turns her head toward me. “I thought we were going to our spot?” she asks, surprising me. I’d honestly thought that idea had gone out the window for tonight because I thought she’d be too pissed off.

I shove the shifter into drive and tap on the gas while pushing down on the brake, revving the engine. “You still want to go?”

She shrugs as I turn the headlights on, lighting up the trees in front of us. “If you still want to go.” Her eyes are unreadable in the dark, but I can tell by the silent plea in her tone that she doesn’t want to go home.

“Of course I do,” I tell her and then I release the brake and peel out onto the road. “I was just making sure you still do.”

“You said I had to,” she reminds me. “That you weren’t going to let me sulk around at my house all night.”

“I know… but I’m giving you an out.” As a sorry-for-kissing-you-even-though-I’m-not-really-sorry.

“I don’t want an out.” She stares out the window with her arms crossed over her chest. She has the same tank top on as the one she was wearing when I woke her up, only she put a bra on so sadly I can’t see the outline of her nipples anymore. But I do notice how forcefully her chest is moving up and down. She’s anxious and I don’t think it’s just because of the kiss. In fact, whatever is making her anxious now is probably the thing that had her sleeping in her bed at three o’clock in the afternoon.

I don’t saying anything else and drive in the direction of our spot, a secluded area in the middle of the trees beside the lake. By the time we get there it’s past midnight and Ella’s drifting off to sleep. I park the car not too far away from the water, and then silence the engine but leave the headlights on.

Ella blinks and sits up, quiet for a while as she stares out at the water. Finally she reaches her arm across the console and turns the key back over, so the battery turns on. Then she picks up the iPod from the dashboard and turns on some Spill Canvas, before getting out of the car. She treads up to the shore, stopping just before she arrives at the water, then crosses her arms and looks up at the stars, her hair blowing in the light summer breeze.

I climb out of the car and cautiously walk up to the side of her. The moonlight reflects in her eyes as she bites on her bottom lip, refusing to look at me. I consider saying sorry for kissing her, but it’d be a lie and I hate fucking lying to her.

“My mom had one of her episodes today,” she says quietly, breaking the silence as she hugs herself. “She was looking for a picture of when we all went to the beach, even though we never have. I spent all day looking for it, even though I knew I’d never find it and finally I had to just lie to her and tell her I think I lost the photo, so she’d let it go.” She closes her eyes and breathes in deep. “And I was so glad when she finally fell asleep… so fucking relieved. I’m the worst daughter in the world.”

“No, you’re not.” I sweep her hair off her shoulder and she stiffens when my fingers brush against the back of her neck. “You’re a hell of a lot better than most daughters.”

She shakes her head as she swallows hard. “No, I’m not. I get so tired of it… all of it. Sometimes I just want it to all stop.” She pauses, catching her breath.

I rack my brain for something to say to her that’ll make her feel better, but I’m not sure it’s words I’m looking for. So I back away from her and she doesn’t look at me, her eyes fixed ahead. When I reach the car, I open the door and lean inside to get the iPod. Then I shuffle through the songs until I stumble onto one of the slower, softer classics and then I crank up the volume and hike down toward her again.

She looks over her shoulder at me as the music floods the forest around us. I stick out my hand, letting her know what I want to do, because we’ve done it before and I’m sure we’ll do it again. She stares at my hand undecidedly before she guardedly moves over to me, her expression impartial.

“You’re such an old man with your music sometimes,” she says, stopping just out of my reach, her arms still folded over her chest.

I keep my hand extended to her and force a grin, even though I’m a little nervous. “Hey, ‘Girl from the North Country’ is a classic. And it’s got Johnny Cash and Bob Dylan.”

“It’s old-man music.” Her tone is tinged with humor. “Because inside, you’re an old man.”

“Then that would make you an old lady for hanging out with me.”

She rolls her tongue, restraining a smile. I grab hold of her hand and jerk on her arm, tugging her against me and her laughter slips through. The sound breaks the tension between us and I know I’m off the hook for now.

I twirl her around a few times and she laughs even harder, her hair falling in her face as she stumbles to keep up with me. I continue to twirl her until I know she’s dizzy, like when we were kids and we’d hang out in my backyard, spinning in circles.

“Micha, please stop,” she begs, laughing and stumbling over her feet. “I can’t see straight.”

I stop and she crashes against me. She clutches on to my shoulders, holding on to me for support as I slip my arms around her and rock us to the rhythm, supporting her weight. My palm makes a path down her back, stopping when I near her ass, knowing I can’t push things any further, at least not tonight.

She relaxes her head against my chest and I breathe in the vanilla scent of her hair. “You’re too nice to me sometimes,” she says. “In fact, you spoil me. You should really stop.”

I leave one hand on her back and move the other to her head and hold her against me. “You deserve to be spoiled,” I say, because no one else will except for me. No one’s ever made her feel special, given her birthday presents, taken her to places, and I’m pretty sure neither her mother nor father have told her they love her. That became my job the moment I got her to climb over the fence.

“Feeling better?” I ask her, kissing the top of her head.

“I am,” she says, her hands sliding up my shoulders and hitching around the back of my neck. “But Micha?”

I try to remain calm, but it’s difficult when she’s touching me like this. “Yeah.”

“If you ever kiss me on the lips again without permission,” she says, “I’ll kick you in the balls.”

I snort a laugh. “Okay, sounds fair.”

She pinches the back of my neck and another laugh escapes me. “I’m being serious.”

“I know you are.” And I’m sure she’s telling the truth but I’m just relieved she’s letting it go.

She doesn’t say anything else and I hold on to her until the song finishes. The next song turns on and we keep dancing, not stopping until five more songs have played through. I pull back only when I feel her weight lean heavy against me, like she’s falling asleep. When I look down at her, her eyes are shut and her grip on me is loosening.