Page 1 of A Night to Remember

PROLOGUE

Kayla

I can feelthe bass inside my bones, like a heartbeat that reverberates through my entire body. I start to sway my shoulders, feeling my hair sweep against my bare arms, and take another swig of my Miller Lite. All around me, my classmates laugh and shout and grind; Steven O’Connor’s graduation party has quickly devolved into a teenage mating ritual. But I’m not looking for a boy. I just want to dance alone, disappear into the music. That is, until a deep voice cuts through the surrounding chaos.

“I like your moves, Johnson,” Gabe Wilson says, clinking his bottle against mine.

“I have no moves, Wilson,” I laugh. “I just wiggle my hips.”

“That’s the part I like,” he says, starting to swivel his own. I like Gabe. Sure, he belongs to the snooty rich-kid set, but he never really seems comfortable around them. He always seems like he’d be happier with his sleeves rolled up, fixing an oldChevy Silverado, than pursuing the corporate law career his father is pushing him towards.

“I passed calc, by the way,” he says, coming steadily closer. “Thanks to you.”

“No way,” I reply. “You would have passed on your own, you were just looking for an excuse to hang out with me.”

“Guilty,” he responds with a grin. Honestly, it’s a wonder either of us passed. Gabe’s a smart guy, but he’s also a total goofball: I spent most of twelfth-grade calculus trying not to snort-laugh every time he leaned over my paper and whispered suggestively, “Hey… nice asymptote.” Studying together after school had led to hanging out at the diner where I work, which had led to…

…nothing. Thankfully. Sometimes I worry that he might want more, but he’s never asked me out. He’s never tried to kiss me. We’ve never gone to a dance together. We’re friends, that’s all. So what if I occasionally admire his warm amber eyes and broad shoulders? So what if a secret thrill runs through me whenever he playfully tickles me or slings a companionable arm around my shoulder? I didn’t want a boyfriend in high school. I don’t want one now that I’ve graduated.

But tonight this admittedly sexy goofball is edging his way towards me, slowly, as if daring me to stop him. He affects an over-the-top seductive expression. I laugh. Maybe it’s the beer, maybe it’s the music, maybe I just know I can trust Gabe Wilson, but I give him a look that invites him to come closer. He doesn’t need much encouragement. Slowly, he reaches out and lightly puts a hand on my hip, pulling me to him as the music continues to pulse.

And suddenly it’s not a joke anymore. My breath hitches when our hips meet. The smile falls away from his face as he slides his hand to the small of my back, holding me against him. He takes my other hip, gently but firmly, and I reach uptentatively to touch his shoulders as we ease into a rhythm. We’ve touched before. We’ve even danced together before. But this is different.

“You okay?” he says, his voice slightly hoarse. I nod, all capacity for speech having left me. I’m more than okay, even though I shouldn’t let a guy get to me like this. Normally I keep boys at arm’s length. I know that letting my guard down will only make me swerve off my path. I want to graduate from college. I want to be a writer. I want to make my own way in the world, and not be distracted by…

Gabe. Gabe is no ordinary teenage boy. With him, I never feel too smart, too poor, too tall, too anything. And my body has never responded to anyone else likethis. My skin flushes; the bass that moved me before has now been replaced by the pounding of my own heart. I wrap my arms around his neck, every part of our bodies now touching. I run my hands through the bristly hair at the back of his head, breathing in his scent. Suddenly I feel his hardness against my leg, but instead of pulling away, I press more firmly into him. Would it be so bad to give in, just this once?

Gabe runs one hand up my back and fingers my bra clasp; the other traces a line from my hip to my rib cage. “God, Johnson, I’ve wanted this so long,” he whispers into my ear. There isn’t a hint of flirtation in his voice, only raw need.

“Me too,” I reply breathily. I’m realizing, very quickly, how true that is, and how ridiculous it was to dance around each other for an entire school year without acting on what is obviously a very strong attraction.

“Do you want to go somewhere more private?” he asks, his breath warm on my neck.Yes, every part of me shouts. But?—

“Aren’t you leaving tomorrow? For Italy?” My rational mind has just struggled back to the surface.

“Maybe my family would let me stay behind?” he murmurs, brushing his lips just below my ear.

“From the trip they bought you as a graduation present?” I force out.

“Well… there’s always the phone, right? And school breaks?” His grip on me tightens slightly, like he wants to wrestle me to the ground right here on this patio and is struggling to hold back. “Please, Kayla.”

He never calls me that. We’ve always been on a last-name basis, like we’re locker-room buddies. Hearing him whisper my name like that feels intimate. Tender. I melt into him. The hand on my back slides up to the nape of my neck, tangling in my hair. Then he leans away from me just enough to reach my mouth, which gives me the millimeter of space I need to slow. This. Down.

“I should find Allison,” I say, pushing him away slightly.

“Wha— who?”

Allison, my best friend. He knows who she is, of course, it’s just that his brain hasn’t come back online. Allison is adorable and flirty and fun and everything I’m not. She has a tendency to overindulge at parties, and the last time I saw her, she was hanging around the keg with three very untrustworthy football players.

“I’ll come back,” I promise.

“You’d better,” he replies, smiling a little woozily. “You’ve got me all worked up—maybeIshould go find Allison.”

I swat him playfully on the arm. “Five minutes!” I shout. I move through the crowd into Steven’s house. I really am looking for Allison, but I’m also trying to catch my breath. Am I going to have sex with Gabe Wilson tonight? He would be my first, but there’s a first time for everything, isn’t there? And Gabe didn’t balk when I suggested, like an idiot, that this could be more than just a hook-up.That’s crazy, though, I think, trying to talksome sense into my racing heart.No boyfriends, remember? No distractions.

I scan Steven O’Connor’s living room. Allison isn’t part of any of the couples locking lips on the sofa, nor is she one of the people obnoxiously taking pictures of them. Could she have gone upstairs with one of those guys? I hope not. Slowly my concern for my friend pushes thoughts of Gabe out of my mind.

I make my way up the carpeted staircase, calling Allison’s name. The first door on my right is closed. Based on the noises coming from the room, someone’s teenage mating ritual has progressed into full-on teenage mating. I knock softly.

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