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I lean down and take him between my lips. There’s too much. I use my hand to help.

I’d be certain I was doing this poorly were it not for his quiet groans. I love the power I have over him now, that my tongue and my hand are enough to make him pant and plead, to make his jaw lock, to make his muscles tighten.

I love that no matter what I do, he appears to enjoy it. Desperately.

I take him as far back as I can, to the point that I gag. Some day—not this one—I'd like to be skilled enough to torture him a little. To intentionally get him close, but then⁠—

“Oh fuck, Grace—” He arches, and I pull back, panicked I’ve hurt him.

He comes on my face.

I blink at him, shocked, and then I start to laugh quietly.

He’s breathing heavily but after a moment he opens a single, heavy lid. “I can’t believe you’re laughing at me.”

I reach for another tissue and wipe off my face. It’s in my hair. It’s dripping down my cheek and my neck. “I’m not laughing at you. I just...I thought I’d hurt you and then...”

I laugh again, and he does too.

“Come here.” He pulls me onto his shoulder.

“It smells like bleach,” I say. “Have you ever noticed that?”

He laughs harder. “I can’t take any more sexy talk from you, Grace. Two times was enough.”

I smile. “So, it was okay?”

He runs a hand over his face. “It was...ridiculously good. You’ve ruined me. How was it for you?”

I shrug. “I mean...it was fine. It was over a lot faster than I thought it would be.”

His smile flashes in the light. “I think I’m supposed to be embarrassed by that.”

I know he’s going to leave any minute now, and I don’t want him to. I nestle closer, allowing myself to be lulled by the quiet movement of his chest.

“Grace,” he says, just as I’m about to doze off, “I don’t want you to go to Bolivia.”

The words soothe me. This is what I've wanted to hear from him. Even if nothing can come of it, I’ve wanted him to ask me to stay.

And...I'm considering it.

My parents would be furious. They might be willing to look past it, if I came back to New Hope after college, but my only options for marriage and family at that point would be the boys who didn’t find someone in Bolivia, and those options tend to be lackluster.

But if I didn’t come back—and it’s hard to imagine I would, after four years of absolute independence—I’d never see my sisters again.

Maybe this is one of those situations where leverage would come in handy.

26

Spring break comes late this year, in mid-April.

While half the country is heading to Florida this month, Penhallow, Florida is heading elsewhere. Kappy’s going to Antigua; Alex is going to Costa Rica. They lead such amazing lives, and they don’t have a clue. Even Ford is going away, though it’s just to Grayton Beach with his friends.

I only get away with Ford once more before break begins. I don’t mention the way Tommy’s visit makes the end of the school year—only seven weeks from now—scarier than it was. I say nothing of the way he pulled me aside before he left for the airport to tell me he’d be counting the days until I arrived, or how he and my father exchanged secretive smiles afterward—as if they’d struck a deal they were eager to announce.

Ford kisses me goodbye. Today, it’s temporary, but it’s hard not to think about the way it won’t be temporary a few months from now.

Over dinner that night, my mother claps her hands together. “We’ve got a surprise for you all,” she announces.