made from the same glass they use to make the windows of the president’s car, because the way it blocked out the noise of all those rowdy teenagers and their rowdy teenage music was nothing short of a miracle.
I didn’t expect anyone to be out here. It was a cold night for late April, and judging by the claustrophobia of the living room, every teenager within a hundred-mile radius was packed like sardines inside the house. But there was one person sitting out in the cold.
And he wasn’t about to let me slink off unnoticed.
“What did you steal?”
Those were the first words Tristan Wheeler ever said to me.
Later, I would debate whether or not I should needlepoint them onto a decorative throw pillow.
“I really hope you stole something,” he went on, “because that would be the perfect crime. Pilfering precious gems in the wake of a high school house party. Way too many suspects to narrow down.”
“Huh?”
And that was the first word I ever spoke to Tristan Wheeler. Definitely not throw-pillow worthy.
I turned around to see him sitting on the edge of the pool. His shoes and socks were off and his feet were dangling in water that had to be as cold as the stuff that killed fifteen hundred Titanic passengers.
“The way you left that house,” he explained. “It was very … criminalistic. You are definitely running from something.” He stopped to contemplate. “Or someone? Let me guess again. You cheated on your boyfriend, you’re feeling horribly remorseful, and now you’re disappearing into the night before he notices you’re gone.”
“I’ve never had a boyfriend.”
That was the second thing I ever said to Tristan Wheeler.
Yup, I was on a roll. I wanted to vanish right then and there. I wanted to dive into that pool and never resurface.
His eyebrow cocked. “Never?”
I was still standing there like an idiot, not sure if I should dash to the side gate and make my getaway or continue along with this scenario, which I’d now completely convinced myself was a dream.
“Not even like one of those two-hour relationships in third grade where you exchange valentines and then discover she actually gave the same valentine with the same message to three other guys?”
I barked out a laugh. “That’s really specific.”
He bowed his head in shame. “Yeah, I know.”
“What was her name?”
“Wendy Hooker.”
I couldn’t help but snicker. “That’s … an unfortunate name.”
And then it happened. That was the first time I saw it. The single-dimpled, heart-stopping, cocky grin that would change my life forever.
“I should have known, right?” he joked.
I stared at my feet, hiding the grin that was spreading across my face.
“So,” he went on, but I didn’t have the courage to look up. I could already feel the world shifting. I was already memorizing this entire conversation to play back over and over again in my head. “You never answered my question.”
Why was it suddenly so hard to breathe? Had I entered that party and exited on another planet? One with a significantly thinner atmosphere?
“No,” I said to the stone pathway under my feet. “I’ve never had even a two-hour relationship.”
His chuckle made my head whip up and my face flush with heat. Was he laughing at me? At my humiliating lack of experience?
“I meant,” he clarified, “what did you steal?”
“Oh.” And there went all the blood that once called my head home. “Right. Um, nothing.”
He pulled his feet out of the water and hugged his knees to his chest. “A likely story.”
I jerked my thumb over my shoulder. “I was just looking for my friend. I wasn’t actually invited.”
“I don’t think this is the kind of party you have to be invited to. Or if it is, then I wasn’t invited either.”
“I hardly doubt that.” All the breath in my chest left with the words, and I couldn’t manage to get any of it back. It was like my lungs were suddenly closed for business. Out of order. On strike. Please try again later.
I ducked my head so he couldn’t see the blush that was inevitably making my cheeks glow like the alien’s finger in that ET movie.
Thankfully he chose to ignore my humiliating comment. “So, this friend that you allegedly couldn’t find—”
“Allegedly?”
“Yes,” he said in all seriousness. “Allegedly. I have no proof that your alibi holds water.”
“Are you interrogating me?”
“Do you have a reason to be interrogated?”
I laughed at this. I couldn’t help myself. “I’m a minor, so technically you can’t interrogate me without a legal guardian present.”
“Are you saying I should