* * *
I won’t admitto rushing through my shrimp paella, butI might haverushed through the shrimp paella.
“Do you have somewhere to be?” Ember asks. She tilts her head to the side, her eyes big and wide. She’s feigning innocence.
“Yes, I do. There’s an unexplored place I need to investigate.” I wiggle my eyebrows.
She sputters on her bite of Oaxacan sea bass.
Slow isn’t the word I would use to describe how Ember’s eating now. Let me put it this way—the tortoise could lap her.
I drum my fingers on the table and watch.
She laughs.
Finally, the server clears our plates.
“Is that our prom dinner?” she asks.
“I thought you didn’t care about prom?”
Her eyes become worried. “I don’t. I just hope you don’t either.”
“I’m where I want to be.”
She beams and I’m certain I’ll never see a sight so beautiful. We’re quiet on the short drive back to the beach house. Ember’s hands are wedged between her rigid knees.
“Nervous?” I ask, pressing the button for the garage. I look at her while it opens. The darkened car makes it hard for me to decipher her expression.
She tucks a strand behind her ear and nods.
I pull into the garage and cut the engine. She starts to climb out, but turns around when I speak. “We don’t have to do anything, okay? That’s not why I brought you here.”
“Why did you, then?”
“So I could get more time with you. We’re always running off to practice or work, and we hardly see each other at school. I want more than that.”
She smiles. “Would you like to know why I came here with you?”
“Why?” My stomach feels a little sick now. I have no idea what she’s about to say. With Ember, it could be anything.
“To have sex with you.” Her admission is simple and pierces through all the pretense. I love it. I love her.
Prayer hands lifted, I mouththank youto the roof of the car.
She laughs and gets out.
Inside, I get to work. Fire in the fireplace. Thankfully it’s a gas fireplace and I only have to press a button. If it were wood-burning we’d be out of luck.
Chilled white wine poured. The fact that my parents keep the place stocked with Sutton wine works in my favor.
Should I turn on music? Would that be too much? Trying too hard? Maybe I should stop overthinking. No music.
“I feel so fancy,” Ember jokes in a silly voice when I hand the wine to her.
We sit on the couch and sip. Ember stares into the fire but doesn’t say anything. I’d be worried, except this is how she operates. She doesn’t need to express her every thought or concern, she trusts her feelings enough not to need input from others.
When my wine is finished and Ember’s is half-empty, she takes both glasses and sets them on the side table.
