UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

..................................................................

THE SMELL OF COFFEE AND BACON NUDGED ME awake. And then a flash of last night—kissing Madison—had it really happened? That five minutes—or five seconds—seemed like an eternity. Then, our night cut short.

I could just hear Tanner . . .

Dude, cock-blocked by cocoa? Epic.

Not that there would have been enough of anything going on to block, but the thought of being alone with Madison made a beat pump through my brain. When would that happen again? Last night had been perfect, like stars and planets aligned perfectly. Was it Fallingwater? The chocolate cake? My guitar playing? A magical combination of everything? God—the way she looked at me—being around her was a total rush.

Charlie burst through his door.

“C’mon, everyone’s awake. Breakfast!” He raced out of his room with more enthusiasm than anyone should be allowed to have in the morning. I grabbed a shirt and made a pit stop in the bathroom to gargle with a swig of mouthwash before heading out to the kitchen. Madison was up already, talking to Sara as they sat side by side at the table.

Dead puppies, Great Whites, genital warts. Be cool, Jess.

My smile was a force that could not be stopped.

I grabbed a plate and sat across from Madison.

Don’t stare.

Her presence was a magnet pull. It took all my effort not to look at her because once I did, I knew I’d just start laughing or dropping silverware or losing all control over my senses because all I wanted to do was swipe the breakfast dishes away and continue where we left off last night.

“I taught my friend how to do a fishtail braid, so yes, your hair is perfect for that,” Madison said to Sara. “Hey, Jess, we have time before we go, right? I can fix Sara’s hair?”

Her eyes planted on mine. Gone was that hungry look. Her face was so neutral, she could have been ordering a chai from me. As if we hadn’t swapped spit out in the pasture, or I hadn’t saved her from a mutant buck, or dazzled her with my guitar prowess. Nada.

“Ah, yeah,” I said.

“Great.” She dug into her plate of eggs. Something tickled my foot. I flinched and looked under the table, expecting to see one of the dogs. Madison’s socked foot slipped under the cuff of my jeans. Proof last night wasn’t a dream. I bit back a grin and reached for some bacon.

After breakfast and showers and hair braiding, we said good-bye and started the long trek home. The farther away we got from my aunt’s house, the more unreal it all seemed, at least to me. Madison stared out the window, taking in the scenery as we drove. It was a good day for a drive—perfect, cloudless blue sky and open roads.

When we hit the first two-lane road, I pulled into a gas station and shifted the car into park.

“Jess, I think it’s closed.”

I unhooked my seat belt and leaned toward her, my hand in her hair. She paused, before bringing her face toward mine. Our lips touched, soft, sweet. I squeezed my eyes shut, imagining last night’s starry sky, the perfection of that moment, of this one, of her. Her tongue teased mine as we kissed deeper. I could not get enough of her. I kissed the tip of her nose, her forehead, finally breaking away.

“I wanted to do that all morning,” I said.

She put her fingers to her lips and smiled. “Me too. Does it have to end? Can’t we just go back? Screw school.”

“We could squat at Fallingwater. You could sketch.” I pulled the car back onto the road.

“And you could entertain everyone with your guitar. Could you imagine? How freakin’ awesome would that be?” She hunkered down, propped her feet on the dash, and put her hand over mine, nudging her index finger underneath my pinkie on the eight-ball stick shift. I smiled.

“Although, we couldn’t walk around naked or anything,” she said.

I laughed. “Are you trying to make me drive off the road?”‘

“Never.” She squeezed my hand.

“We could just live in that guesthouse, have our own private pool.”

“You were paying attention.”

“Of course,” I said.

I could have driven like that forever, just one long winding road, with Madison holding my hand. My mind kept interrupting, though—making me think. Questions I was afraid to ask because I knew they would wreck the mood, but I wanted to know the answers anyway. What were we doing? Could I kiss her again? Were we . . . together?

Why ruin the moment with reality?

Madison spoke first.

“So . . . why did you and Hannah break up?”

Ah, so she had questions too.

“Where’s my grape?”

She smiled. “No grapes today. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want.”

I peeked over at her. She chewed her thumbnail and studied my face. Talking about Hannah didn’t bother me, but the dose of reality made it seem like Hannah was in the backseat, leaning forward, waiting to hear what I would say about her.

“It’s cool. Ask away.”

“How long were you together?”

“Forever.”

She shifted in the seat, taking her feet off the dash. “Hmm, that sounds like a long time.”

“We live on the same block, so I don’t know, it has always sort of felt that way, but we weren’t together, together until the end of her freshman year.”

I spilled more than I planned, but something about being behind the wheel, driving through the mountains, not looking her in the eyes—made it easier to talk.

“What made you break up?”

“You’d have to ask her.”

“So you didn’t want to break up?”

There was something in the tone of her voice that made me want to change the subject. The whispering, sexy, chivalrous guitar god was turning back into average-Joe barista in the noonday sun.

“I, um . . . at the time, I guess no. I didn’t really expect it, I was sort of blindsided. They’re happy together—it hurt to see them like that at first, but now, it’s okay I guess. I mean, I don’t want to hang out with them or anything, but, you know, if I bump into them, I think I’ll be all right.”

“Did you break up because of the drummer?”

“At first I thought so, but it was more than that. We didn’t spend any time together. And then I was late for her birthday party. Sweet sixteen. Shitty thing to do, but at the time—”

“Her birthday?”

“Yeah.”

Her brow furrowed. “Ironic, no?”

“Huh?”

“Think about it. We just had this awesome time for my birthday. Maybe you’re trying to make up for that. Subconsciously or something?”

“No. That’s ridiculous.” Wasn’t it?

She laughed. “Chill, Jess, I’m just fooling around. Wielding my AP Psychology knowledge. I didn’t mean to hit a nerve. Sorry.”

“You didn’t hit a nerve.”

She curled her feet underneath her and fiddled with the radio.

“Man, do you think we can find a station without static?” She fiddled around until she hit upon what sounded like a pop station. Closed her eyes. End of conversation.

Was it true? Had I just orchestrated this whole thing for Madison’s birthday because I was still somehow trying to make up for my mistake? No. No. The truth was . . . it never would have occurred to me to do something like that for Hannah, and that made me feel worse. My relationship with Hannah had been easy, I never had to work for any of it. She was pretty and easy to talk to and we had this history, but Madison challenged me. I’d wanted to surprise her, to do something that would really matter. I was over Hannah. Over us. And our breakup had nothing to do with Duncan and everything to do with me.

We finally reached Madison’s house at dusk. I pulled into the spot in front of her house and killed the ignition. I’d been so confident after last night, and in the morning when I’d pulled over at the gas station, but in our everyday reality, the spell was broken. She made a move to get out.

“Wait,” I said.

“What’s up?”

“What you said before—the whole subconscious thing—”

She slumped back down into the seat. “Jess, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it. I was being a smartass. That’s sort of what I do, when things get too real.”

“Real?”

“The past twenty-four hours have been maybe some of the best of my life. It flew by, and the thing is—I never even thought about wanting to be anywhere else. Or with anyone else. It was nice.”

She played with the string on my hoodie, pulled me close.

“I like you, Madison. I didn’t do this to make up for anything. I did it for you. And I really hope we can do this again. Not this exactly, but do stuff. Together.”

Maybe I was being too real, but I couldn’t help it.

“Me too, Jesse,” she whispered, and put her lips to mine. “Walk me up?”

“Yes.”