5. the mistake of trying

The promise of Spirit Week filled the halls of Lancaster High with the frenetic hum of excitement that Thursday. Posters were put up by the cheerleading squad on the walls, declaring the themes of each day and the activities that corresponded with the theme. But the light mood that started the day was soon overshadowed by the influx of schoolwork and the pressure of application deadlines. November 1st was looming like a dark storm forecast, which meant that, for those of us who were applying to colleges and universities Early Action or Early Decision, we should be done with our forms and essays by now. I had only just printed out a draft copy of the Common Application last night, with all the blank spaces filled out except the essay part. My intention was to fill it out on paper first before doing it online, sort of like a practice turn. Trying not to panic, I promised myself that I would take care of it on the weekend.

By lunchtime, I was already up to my neck in homework. The matron Redmont had given two writing assignments on biomolecules due the next day, impassive to the collective groans of the class. Before the bell rang—I think she took it upon herself to mention it at the last minute—she added a project for next week, saying in a patronizing tone that these things should be done with the utmost attention to details, because it would reflect poorly on our academic records if we got a B or C on a “mere” Chemistry project, especially for those who were finalists for science grants and scholarships. After that class, everything else went downhill: for English I got a composition assignment on the last works of William Wordsworth; for European History, a position paper on the political influences in Eastern Europe during the early 1900’s; for Spanish, an oral test. With all the stuff I needed to finish, after school I ditched work and Mack skipped practice. We resolved to retreat into the library, where we spent the rest of the afternoon with our noses in our textbooks and scribbling our cares away furiously.

It was a treat that Friday was Early Release Day; we only had three classes during the morning and then we were let off to spend the rest of the day at our leisure. After third period I turned in a bunch of homework here and there, then met Mack at the quadrangle in front of the school, feeling immensely relieved.

“Let’s go have pizza,” I proposed, walking with her toward her car.

“Oh, can’t today. I have a dentist appointment,” Mack replied, wrinkling her nose. “But you can come with me if you want.”

I made a face. Mack’s dentist’s office was all the way over in Colby, which was about an hour’s drive from town.

“You could flirt with the cute hygienist while I’m inside,” she suggested with a wink, propping her car door open.

I stared at her in disbelief. “Only you would come up with a thing like that, Mackenzie.”

She laughed. “That’s why we’re friends.”

A thought struck me. “Wait… Maybe you can drop me off at the Marine Park, then just come back for me after you’re done with the dentist.”

“The Marine Park?” Mack asked. “Are you going to have one of your brainstorm sessions again?”

I shrugged. “You know how the fishes make me think. Besides, I gotta start on the Yale essays. Maybe my inspiration is in the park all along.”

She looked dubious, but nodded. “If you say so.”

The Marine Life Conservation Park in Colby wasn’t as big a park as Sea World or San Diego Zoo, but was just as well-renowned for the contribution it has given to the immediate community on conservation and appreciation of marine life and aquatic resources. It also proudly housed a small research facility, which served as an extension of Portland’s Gulf of Maine Research Institute in the Kennebec county. I used to go to this park a lot back when I was younger; somehow, the sight of the blue water and its colorful, fascinating inhabitants had a calming effect on me. It got a little harder to find the time to visit especially when my father got sick, but when I did manage to, it was more because I wanted to get myself to a place where it was less emotionally-charged. An odd place to pick, I know, seeing as water was a cosmic element of feeling in Chinese astrology.

“Are you sure you just want to wait here?” Mack asked again when we stopped right in front of the park’s entrance. She was looking at me uncertainly, as though I was a small kid who might get lost if I was left alone for too long.

I smirked. “Hmm…let me think. Seeing dolphins and fishes in the tanks while waiting, or just plain waiting in a rank white room, reading old magazines? Tough choice.”

She shook her head. “Fine. I’ll be back in an hour and a half. You better be waiting out here.”

“Yes, Mommy.”

The park had just been open for an hour, so visitors were sparse, which was quite ideal for my agenda. Paying the entrance fee, I went in through the front doors and was immediately greeted by the large gift shop near the admissions counter and the pay phones and ATM machines in the lobby. Taking out my notebook and a pencil from my bookbag, I coasted unhurriedly along the cool wide corridors, gazing thoughtfully at the deep blue panes of tanks which illuminated the walkway in an azure glow, noting how very little has changed. There were a few newer exhibits like the box jellyfishes and the tropical fishes at the Tropic Zone, but most of the displays were exactly how I remembered them. Looking into the windows of the aquariums, a seed of nostalgia was beginning to lodge in me. I was suddenly reminded of happier days, when things were simpler, when it was easier to imagine a life of fantastical heights for the future. Now, at seventeen, to me it all seemed an undefined blur, an uncertain speck in a starry night sky.

I circled the park for a while, venturing into the marine mammals area, visiting my old favorites: the sea otters, the beaked whales, and the seals. Spotting an empty bench in the center of the cul-de-sac underwater viewing window of the dolphin cove tank, I sat down, facing the encased cerulean waters where four bottlenose dolphins frolicked and played. For a moment I watched them swim gracefully around, teasing each other, talking with one another in bursts of pulsing, clicking sounds, which were muffled by the thick glass. One of the dolphins swam to the surface and did a leap, and, as though not to be outdone, the three followed, performing for an unseen spectator. I felt myself grinning like a kid. If there were things in this world that never lost their magic on me, it would be these charming, majestic animals.

The first dolphin that did the jump, the one which I took as the dominant female of the pod, seemed to sense an audience from beyond the glass that enclosed them. It swam directly to me, pausing just in front of the spot where I sat, its intelligent eyes rapt and alert. Transfixed, I dropped my things on the bench and stood up, walking over to the glass, touching a hand to where its nose was. It nodded its head, its mouth in the usual dolphin half-grin. Overwhelmed by this gesture, I moved my hand in a horizontal line across the glass pane, and the dolphin followed. The three other dolphins swam up beside the first and imitated the action, noses poking at my hand, and the endearing image actually made me laugh out loud.

“Glinda always has that effect on people.”

Startled, I turned around, slightly embarrassed at having been caught unaware and laughing to myself. Seeing who it was, I almost gaped. “Cole.”

He was standing there in the hall behind me, leaning against the aquarium glass with his shoulder. A small, one-sided smile tugged on the corner of his mouth. “Hi.”

“What are you doing here?” I blurted out, trying to ignore the sudden warmth spreading in my cheeks. I hadn’t seen him since he picked me up from work Wednesday night.

Cole tugged on the royal blue t-shirt he was wearing. It had the park’s logo embroidered on the left breast. “I work here.”

“Really?” I stared at him stupidly. “Since when?”

He grinned, walking over to me. “I’ve been working here since ninth grade, Kate.”

“Oh.” Somehow, I felt an unwarranted surge of envy. While I was slaving away busing tables in the restaurant industry all these years, Cole has been working in the aquarium with all these wonderful animals. It hardly seemed fair.

“It’s just a volunteer post,” he explained, as though reading my thoughts. “There’s an allowance, but it’s not much. And I only work here twice a week.”

“But still,” I mustered, smirking. “It must be great, if you get to see these guys every time.” I motioned to the dolphins which were now spinning around the water, chasing each other.

His smile widened, and he nodded. “Yeah… That’s definitely one of the perks.” His gaze strayed over to the bench where my things were, then he glanced back at me in question. “How about you, what are you doing here?”

“Oh. Just looking around,” I said, struggling to appear casual. “I thought I’d drop by since it’s Early Release and all.”

“All the way from school?”

I ignored his doubtful tone and shrugged noncommittally. “Yeah.”

“Really.”

I focused my eyes on the dolphins and nodded, avoiding his all-too-knowing gaze.

“Okay.” I felt him smirk. But whatever else he thought, he let it drop. Instead, he pressed his palm against the glass of the dolphin tank, and motioned for me to do the same. I did, and a few moments later, the four dolphins came back, their noses prodding against the glass.

“That’s amazing,” I gushed, staring at the beautiful sleek animals.

Cole nodded, grinning. He pointed to the biggest one in the group. “That’s Glinda. She’s 18 years old, and she was rescued off the coast of Prospect six years ago. She was badly injured by an orca.”

I winced, gazing at Glinda. True enough, there were tell-tale scars along the length of the left side of her body, and I could only imagine the extent of her wounds. Killer whale attacks could definitely cause traumatic injuries to other marine mammals, especially dolphins; it was a miracle Glinda even survived. I moved my hand along the glass to where her nose was pressed. “Hello, Glinda.”

She bonked her nose on the glass in response, then joyously swam away, the three others tailing her. I turned to Cole. “Why wasn’t she introduced back into the sea?”

“Well, she sort of works for the park now,” he answered. “See those three dolphins? She raised them. They were calves when they were brought here. That one—” He directed toward the smaller dolphin that was swimming last in the pod, “—that’s Marmaduke. He was born with a stumped fluke, which caused him to swim badly because his tail just kept creating bubbles. He’s been fitted with a prosthetic tail from Japan.”

“I’ve heard about that on the news,” I said, remembering the story of Fuji, a bottlenose dolphin in Okinawa that had a mysterious skin disease and had to have part of her tailfin amputated. The veterinarian had a trial prosthetic tail constructed for her, made first from rubber, then silicone, and then eventually acrylic, which they’ve found was lighter on the water and gentler on the animal. I looked at Marmaduke, who was trying hard to catch up with the bigger dolphins, falling only a little behind. “How is he doing so far?”

“He’s still in rehabilitation training,” Cole replied. “It’s been tough for him because the tail is new, but I think Glinda encourages him a lot.”

I watched the pod of dolphins whirl about before us, carefree, seeming to enjoy the human company. Greatly awed and enchanted by these animals, I couldn’t think of a thing to say.

Cole turned to me. “You okay?”

I met his gaze and nodded slowly. “Yeah,” I murmured. “It’s just a little overwhelming.”

He smiled then, his eyes a dark ocean blue in the dim light of the water. “It is.”

I stared back at him in consternation, mildly aware of something intense and unprecedented that was brewing within me, a fondness that has been stirring to life for some time now but which I’ve only chosen to ignore.

“Listen,” he began, coming closer to me. “My shift doesn't start until two… You want to go grab some lunch? They have these great sub sandwiches at the café.”

I blinked at him, a little surprised by the invite. He must have noticed because he raised his eyebrows.

“What? Are you meeting someone here?”

“No,” I said hastily, smirking at him. “We’ll have to split the sub though.”

He grinned. “But you don’t eat enough as it is.”

“Are you harping at me?” I asked with an arched eyebrow, and he laughed. He helped me pick up my things from the bench then I followed him out of the viewing area.

“So how come you’re here alone?” Cole asked me as he led the way to the courtyard café, which was located on a terrace just above the Atlantic zone, overlooking the beaked whales. “Where’s Mack?”

“She’s at her dentist’s office in town,” I told him. “I’m just waiting for her here.”

“It’s a little far from Fairfield for a dentist appointment, isn’t it?”

“That’s what I thought. But at least it got me a chance to stop by here.”

We agreed on a turkey breast and ham sub and settled down on a table with a view. Looking out, I marveled at the large gray whale breaching on the surface of the dark water of the pool. I couldn’t help but let out an astonished breath. “I can’t believe I haven’t been back here in a while.”

“Did you come here often?” Cole asked, taking a big bite of his sandwich.

“I used to, before ninth. This was sort of my thinking place.”

His eyebrows shot upward. If he hadn’t been chewing then I was sure he would have managed a smart-ass retort.

“The fishes make me think,” I added, then realized how even stranger that must have sounded. Looking away, I started munching on my half of the sandwich.

“I know what you mean,” he remarked after swallowing, and he wasn’t laughing.

“You do?”

I must have appeared so doubtful because he cracked a smile, and gave me a nod. “Yeah. I’m the same way. I guess it’s because it’s quiet here, and you don’t have to worry about impressing anyone else. You just look and wonder at the environment, the way the animals live, and it all gets you thinking.”

“Exactly,” I said, a little impressed.

“So is that why you were in the dolphin cove?” He prompted curiously. “To think?”

I smirked. “More or less.”

“About what?”

I shrugged dismissively. “Just stuff.”

He snickered. “You think just because you said that, I’m going to stop asking?”

“Um, yes.”

Cole shook his head. “Tell me.”

I hesitated. He was gazing at me a little too intensely with unguarded eyes, waiting for me to speak. But in spite of the reluctance I felt, I was certain that whatever I do tell him, he would never judge me. “Sometimes, I think it’s easier to lose myself in the moment,” I began in a soft voice. “Watching Glinda and the others, I actually forgot where I was. It was like I was there, swimming with them. And I wished it even, to feel so untroubled by the everyday stuff.” I chuckled at myself. “Does that make sense?”

He nodded, smiling. “It’s like you envy their innocence, that they don’t know any better, and that they just live for the moment.”

“Yeah.” I matched his smile with my own. “That’s exactly it.” I glanced down towards the whales again. A pair of them was lounging lazily along the surface, basking in the warmth of the sunlight. “Do you get to swim with them?”

Cole followed my gaze. “Once in a while, with the dolphins mostly. It’s the reason why I took this job.”

“It must be wonderful,” I said reflectively.

“It really is,” he agreed. “But it’s definitely a lot better in the open water with a whole pod of them. They have more freedom in the sea.”

“You’ve done that before?”

He nodded thoughtfully. “It was with a family of spinners, though, a few years back, in Belize.”

“Belize?” I echoed, surprised. In truth, I’ve never known anybody who’d been to the Caribbean before. I passed him a wicked look. “Was it during a wild spring break?”

He chuckled. “I wish. But, no. It was the summer before sophomore year—my dad and I went diving there with a bunch of his buddies. We were on our way to the Blue Hole, and a whole school of these spinners just showed up, about twenty of them, swimming along the bow of our boat. I couldn’t resist—I grabbed my snorkel gear and a pair of fins and just jumped in the water.”

“Oh, wow.” I could almost picture the scene my mind: the clear, warm turquoise waters, the bright summer sun, and the playful spinner dolphins leaping in the air. I felt a wave of longing in my chest. “Do you always go diving with your dad?” I asked, curious.

“Every summer, if there’s time.”

I smiled. “So you’re certified?”

“Yeah,” he answered, nodding. “I got my Advanced Open Water certification that year in Belize.”

“Is that where you learned?”

“Just for that diving course certification,” he said. “But I learned to dive way before that, when I lived in Florida. See, my dad’s a PADI specialty instructor and owns a dive shop down in Key West. He was the one who taught me.”

“That sounds fantastic,” I said dreamily. It made a whole lot of sense now, why, when he came back to our neighborhood, he had a look of worldliness about him that I could never know. I folded my elbows over the table and leaned forward to peer at him in a conspiratorial way. “Can you teach me?”

Cole laughed out loud. He shook his head, gazing back at me in mock sadness. “As much as I’d love to do that, unfortunately, I can’t. I’d have to be a divemaster, at least, to be able to teach you.”

“Well, that’s the biggest letdown I’ve ever had,” I muttered jokingly.

“If it makes you feel any better, I could teach you skin diving,” he suggested.

“And what’s that, diving without clothes?” I narrowed my eyes at him. “I think I’ll pass.”

He laughed again. “Close. It’s just snorkeling.”

Snorkeling? I perked up at that.

Seeing my interest, he smirked. “You want to?”

“You could teach me?”

“Yeah. It’s actually very easy.”

Distracted, I bit into my sandwich and chewed musingly, toying with the idea in my head. An unexplained excitement began to well up inside me. But as quickly as the idea blossomed, another sobering thought replaced it immediately. “Wait,” I frowned at Cole. “Where would you teach me? At the lake in Mack’s backyard?” Fairfield wasn’t exactly teeming with swimming pools or tropical beaches.

“That could work,” he said seriously, and I glared at him. His face broke into a grin. “Just kidding, Kate. No, not at the lake.” He leaned back on his chair, pensive. “Well… There’s a big pool at the back of the park where the dolphins are trained. It’s empty when Marmaduke’s not in training. I could teach you there.”

I raised my eyebrows. “You think they’d let us use it?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know yet. But I could ask.”

“Really?” I stared at him in wonder. “You’d do that?”

He met my gaze. “Yeah,” he said simply. “I would.”

The intensity of his dark eyes made my breath catch. Cheeks warming, I glanced away, focusing my attention back to my lunch. It was hard to comprehend how fast he could make my head spin in just a matter of a few moments.

He was still looking at me. “What time’s Mack picking you up?”

I glanced at my watch. “Uh, in twenty minutes, I guess. Why?”

Cole shook his head, lips quirked in a half-smile. “Let’s finish up here. I want to show you something.”

“What?”

“Just eat.”

Instantly intrigued, I sought to chew as quickly as I could. He had wolfed down his half of the sandwich in less than five minutes, leaving me munching on a mouthful of soft bread and lettuce by myself. And it didn’t help that he watched me the whole time.

“Stop that,” I managed to say, extremely self-conscious.

“But you eat like a bird,” he remarked, snickering. When I had finally finished, he clapped his hands in a mock applause. “Next time I’ll take you out for a big burger and a beer.”

“Ha ha,” I muttered, but secretly beamed at the pleasant thought. We got up from the table and put away our trays by the café counter then I followed him down the stairs to the lobby. “What’s the big mystery?”

Cole didn’t say anything, but guided me into the spacious expanse of the Tropic Zone section of the park, where we breezed along the large, brightly-lit tanks of the bobbing jellyfishes and the brilliant reef fishes. We stopped at the end of the hall, right before a door on a white partition wall set across the narrow arched alcove. The sign posted at the front of the door read Authorized Personnel Only.

I glanced up at Cole uncertainly. “A broom closet?”

He smiled, shaking his head. “Oh, this is so much more than a broom closet.” Opening the door, he took my hand and pulled me inside with him.

At first, I thought it was just a dim empty hallway with a round fish tank on the opposite side. But when Cole shut the door behind him, the room was blanketed in darkness, and I could only make out the light of the fish tank several feet away. My hand clasped tightly in his, Cole walked ahead towards the direction of the tank, and I shuffled blindly behind him, completely mystified. When we reached the light source at the end of the dark hall, I was astounded. The glimmering glass of what seemed like just a fish tank opened up over and around us in an arc, revealing a stretch of underwater tunnel, spanning ahead of us about 30 feet along. I stared up in awe past the arched clear acrylic windows, where schools and schools of vibrant tropical fishes swam in the vastness of their aquatic surroundings, their colors enhanced by the light overhead and their coral habitat around them. I stood there wordlessly, reveling at how much I was seeing and feeling all at once, the surreality of it totally flooding my senses. Cole tugged on my hand and pointed right above him. A pair of sharks was passing over us, their dark silhouettes swimming languidly across the top of the tunnel glass.

My breath caught in my throat. “Oh my god.”

Cole smirked. “This, right here, is my thinking place.”

“And no wonder,” I said, entirely captivated. I trailed my eyes on the sharks that were gliding almost leisurely along the water, their silky bodies glistening menacingly. “I’ve never seen sharks before in my entire life.”

“Amazing, huh?” Cole remarked. “Those are blue sharks. You can tell by their long pectoral fins, see?”

“Yeah…” I went closer to the glass, staring after the animals as they glided away from view to the darker recesses of the pool. “They’re beautiful.”

“I know.” He heaved out a soft sigh. “It’s a shame, because even though the blues are considered to have the most abundant shark population in the world, they’re now on the near threatened list for overfishing. In just the last year, their numbers have dwindled almost 70 per cent in the North Atlantic alone.”

“That’s terrible.” I felt a sudden, unknowable sense of sadness. “Why are they being hunted, though? I don’t think it’s because they’re aggressive, they look so docile.”

“No, you’re right, they are docile. But the demand worldwide for shark fins has increased in the last decade. And shark fins are an expensive delicacy.”

“Jeez,” I muttered in disbelief. “It’s awful that while those people are getting fat and rich, these animals are being depleted by the minute.”

“Exactly. It’s a sad, sad world out there.” He walked further along the tunnel, his gaze scanning the breadth of the water. “Come over here and look.”

I ambled over to his side, and eagerly focused on what he was pointing at. A hulking solitary figure of a gray-brown spotted shark was skimming along the low rocks of the pool, its needle-like teeth visible from his slightly opened mouth. Despite the reverence I felt for the shark, an unwitting shudder went over me. “He looks mean.”

“He’s a sand tiger,” Cole stated informatively. “The species is quite common along the gulf of Maine.”

“Are they as vicious as tiger sharks?”

“Oh, no. They’re actually slow movers and prefer to be at the bottom, coasting along the reef for fish.”

I turned a critical eye on him then. “How do you know all this?”

He shrugged indifferently. “I’ve always just been fascinated by sharks. They’re very misunderstood, which makes them all the more interesting.”

I smiled, feeling a little stunned. It was as though I was seeing another version of Cole, a side of him that was far different from the one who comes to sneak into my bedroom window. There were so many surprising facets to him that I wondered if I would be able to discover all of it.

His eyebrows shot upward. “What?”

I shook my head. “Nothing,” I murmured, glancing back at the large shark which was now swimming right in front of us. “Damn, he’s huge.”

“Yeah. About eight feet in length.”

I tailed it thoughtfully as it slithered along parallel to the tunnel. I could hardly fathom the size of it, but its seeming bulkiness was diminished in large contrast by how easily and lightly it moved in the water. It was no understatement; the shark was truly in its element. “Have you ever seen one in the open water?” I asked Cole.

“A sand tiger?”

I shrugged. “Any shark.”

“Hell, yeah.” Cole smiled as though in memory. “A few tiger sharks have ventured into the beach in front of Dad’s shop.”

“Really!” Despite the horror of it, I couldn’t help but chuckle. “You were in the water?”

“Nope. I was on a row boat with one of the local kids who lived in the area. We were about to go snorkeling but when we saw that big tiger—I was like, dang, no thanks, let’s just go get ice cream.”

I laughed at the cartoony picture it made. “Were you scared?”

“Hell, yeah.” Cole grinned at me, giving me a light nudge. “And it’s not funny.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Well…yeah, it is, now that I think about it,” he snickered. “And I didn’t tell Dad about it, you know. He wouldn’t have let me back in the water.”

“But how about in your diving trips? I’m sure your dad knew one way or another you’d encounter sharks.”

He tipped his head. “He does, and we’ve come across a lot of them. It just comes with the territory.”

“What kind?”

“Blues, lemons…some silver tips, black tips…gray reefs…schools of scalloped hammerheads...”

I blinked, incredulous. “Schools?”

He nodded nimbly, and went on, “Yeah… That was just last summer. We were about seventy-five feet under off the coast of Kane’ohe with six tourists, and we were just supposed to let this photographer take a few pictures of the reef. When Dad and his divemaster started rounding up the group to surface, these hammerheads just sort of came out of nowhere. There were literally hundreds of them.”

“God, it must’ve been awesome,” I commented. “Scary, but awesome.”

“It was,” he agreed. “I used to think that if I encounter something like that, it would be the scariest thing on earth… But it was only a minor part of it. The rest of the experience was… I don’t know—unreal?”

I could barely imagine what it would be like to be surrounded by hundreds and hundreds of sharks. I’ve only seen scenes of it on television and already the mere thought of it takes my breath away. Heck, being in this underwater tunnel is already a surreal experience for me. But hearing the things Cole had already seen and gone through in the world out there somehow brought me a semblance of hope. I knew then, and was sure of it, that the realm of possibilities was endless. “So what did you guys do?”

“Well, apparently Dad has already encountered that sort of thing down in Mexico, and it was actually usual for scalloped hammerheads to form huge schools like that before they go to feed at night. I froze, because it was the first for me,” Cole stated with a slight shake of his head. “But for a while we just stared at the sharks. The tourists weren’t happy, of course, but the photographer took advantage and got some pretty wild shots. Eventually we had to surface, and the strange thing about it was, the sharks left us alone. They weren’t like the blue sharks or the sandbar sharks that are very curious about people. The hammerheads just gave us a wide berth.”

“Wow,” I managed. I gazed back out to the waters that enclosed us, the fishes and the sharks swimming idly by. “I guess this whole tunnel thing is a little lame for you, huh? Compared to what you’ve seen.”

“Are you kidding? This is my favorite spot in the whole park.”

“It is kind of breathtaking,” I said admiringly. “Does it feel like diving, being here?”

His gaze swept the scene before us and he nodded. “A little, yeah.”

A hum of quiet fell between us as we indolently observed the marine environment around. Cole was right; the tunnel was definitely an ideal thinking spot. I could just as easily lose myself in my thoughts in this place as I had done in the dolphin cove. I wandered along the tunnel, vaguely following the progress of an octopus, my mind deep in the waters.

“Can I ask you something?” Cole said abruptly, breaking me from my reverie.

“If I said no, will that stop you?”

He grinned. “No.”

I smirked. “What is it?”

“You said earlier that you wanted to be untroubled by the everyday stuff,” he started in a gentler voice, as though afraid he might scare me away. “What was troubling you when you came here?”

Clearly, he was trying to pry, and the odd thing was, I didn’t mind. Had he asked at another time I would’ve easily told him to shut up and mind his own eggnog, but having shared these last few quiet moments with Cole, it would somehow feel like a betrayal if I kept my reasons to myself. I turned to him, intending to make light of it, but when I met his serious gaze, I blanched. “It’s…It’s nothing serious,” I said, nonplussed.

“Tell me.”

There was no possible way of evading his question. His eyes had trapped me where I was, and I could only return it flinchingly. “It’s this whole college application thing,” I said. “It’s been bugging me for weeks.”

“Is that why you have sad eyes lately?”

I frowned. “What?”

“You have sad eyes,” Cole stated, stepping a little closer. “It’s been there for days. The only time I didn’t see it was when you were watching the dolphins.”

I stared back at him, speechless. Mack’s words began resounding in my head, He watches you when he thinks nobody’s looking. His nearness only served to fluster me even more. All at once, like an unplanned attack, I was drowning in confusion. I couldn’t fathom him at all.

As though he had read me, which was no longer a surprise now, Cole looked away but kept his body angled towards me. “I could help you if you want,” he murmured softly, his bright eyes scanning the reef beside us.

“You could?”

He nodded. “Which college are you applying to?”

I almost hesitated. “Yale.”

He let out a whistle. “An Ivy, huh?”

“That’s the plan.”

“It’s a good school,” he admitted blandly. “But I’d bet you’re having trouble with the essay?”

“Two essays,” I corrected, and he grinned. “How did you know?”

He shrugged. “Everybody’s having trouble with the essay, Kate.”

It was meant to be a comfort, knowing I wasn’t the only one who was delaying the inevitable, but it made me feel worse. I looked out to the makeshift sea, resting my eyes on the same pair of blue sharks that had circled above our heads just minutes ago.

“Look,” Cole began in a more subdued tone. “The essay is the most personal part. Just write what you know. Don’t just think about trying to impress the admissions officer, because you’ll end up sounding rehearsed and artificial.”

“But that’s the problem. I don’t know what to write.” I sought to keep the sound of desperation out of my voice.

“Quit worrying. We’ll figure something out. I’ll drop by sometime this weekend and we’ll brainstorm it over, alright?”

I met his gaze and he was looking at me so earnestly that it was hard to stay skeptical about the whole thing. Placated, I nodded my assent. Despite the heady mixture of feelings toward him, I felt reassured by his words, by his presence. “Thanks, Cole.”

A corner of his mouth inched up. “Anytime.”

Covertly warm, I returned his small smile. And another tender moment passed between us, something unacknowledged but was already there, staring us both in the face. I was aware of it as certain as the sun was bright. There was no denying that he felt it too.

He quickly looked away, clearing his throat at the same time. “Do you think Mack’s already outside?” He said, somehow breaking the idyllic moment.

One step forward, two steps back. “Oh…right,” I managed weakly, unwittingly glancing at my watch. I tried to ignore the sting of frustration in my chest. “I should go.”

“I’ll walk you out.”

Reluctantly I followed him out of the blue sanctuary, my mind in a blur. At the door of the partition wall, a fleeting thought occurred to me. “How come that part of the park is hidden?” I asked.

“It’s still in the observation stage but I think they’re going to open it in three weeks,” Cole answered simply. “It’s going to be part of the new Tropic Zone wing.”

“So you still have it to yourself for another three weeks,” I remarked, and he smirked.

“Yeah.” He cast me a sidelong glance. “You should come by more often.”

I shrugged in an off-hand way, the way he usually does. “I’ll try.”

He shook his head, a hint of a smile on his lips. I could only guess at his unvoiced thoughts.

At the front doors of the park, I spotted Mack’s car almost immediately right on the spot where she had dropped me off. She didn’t look too happy, having to wait out on the driveway for me for who knew how long. Cole walked me out to the curb, and seeing Mack’s startled gaze, he gave her a wave. I was mumbling my goodbye to him when he touched me tentatively on the arm. I glanced up at him.

“Stop worrying so much,” he murmured mutely, his eyes going over my face.

His gesture had more of a lasting effect on me than his words. Inwardly, I already knew everything will be alright. I bobbed my head at him. “Thanks.”

This time, I watched him walk away. It was a relatively cool day, but when I got in the car I was feeling overly warm. Mack glared at me, suspicious and indignant.

“I didn’t know he worked there, Mack,” I told her breathlessly, fanning my hands over my heated face.

She didn’t say anything, but she shrugged. Pulling out of the park’s driveway, a slow smile breached her stony silence. “I guess your inspiration was in the park after all.”

*   *   *

 The weekend held something of a foreboding for me, something that seemed tame and asleep, but had an impending threat gripping me at the seams nonetheless. In the spirit of unrelenting friendly support, Mack came over our house late that Saturday morning, armed with her characteristic cheery smiles and her good company. It was only Grams and me who were at home, with Mom having gone along with Rory to his school’s annual trip to Portland. I endeavored to shake the bad feeling off, even as I listened to Mack chat my ears away, but a tiny, needling sense of it remained in my chest. It was a hopeless, painful case, denying the undeniable.

“Why are kisses so easily given these days?” Mack pondered out loud. She was on my bed, lying on her stomach, rifling through her last month’s issue of Cosmo Girl which she had left in one of the drawers of my desk the last time she had dropped by.

“Huh?” I mumbled absently from inside my restrictedly dull closet. In an effort to distract myself, I sought to look for an appropriate thing to wear for that night. It was only then that I was starting to realize I didn’t own too many clothes at all.

Mack padded over to where I was sniping at each skirt, blouse, and dress I saw in my hanger rack. “What are you doing?” She asked impatiently from the door.

“Trying to smother myself with my stuff,” I said, shaking my head at a pink ruffled blouse I couldn’t even believe I owned. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Panicking,” she said, and with a long sigh, she pulled at my arm. “Get out of there. I’m going to pick something out for you. Jeez, Katie.”

It wasn’t as simple as not knowing what to wear, exactly. I couldn’t place the squirmy feeling I had just thinking about the date with Adrian. I trudged out of the closet past Mack, went over to the bed and plopped face down on my pillow, letting out a muffled aggravated groan.

“Why don’t you ever wear these clothes?” Mack bleated from inside the cramped space, her labor’s progress marked by the click of one hanger hitting another as she browsed through my clothes. She pulled out something from the rack and held it out for me to see. It was a chocolate-brown strapless dress I once wore to a party last spring.

“No,” I murmured, “that’s too pretty.”

Mack stuck her head out of the closet to peer a look at me, her eyebrows cocked upward. “Too pretty? Isn't that the idea?”

“No,” I said, shaking my head against the pillow. To look pretty for Adrian was the furthest thing on my mind.

“Oh. I see.” She had narrowed her gaze at me.

“What?”

She clucked her tongue. “You don’t want to seem like you’re trying for him.”

“Hah.”

She rolled her eyes upward and shook her head. “You’re demented, Katie.”

“Yeah?” I buried my face in the pillow and felt an almost sinister clenching in my chest. Somehow, the pillow still smelled of Cole’s skin. I sighed. “What am I supposed to do? Tell me.”

“You know what to do. You’re just scared shitless.” Mack put the dress back inside the closet and immediately pulled out another one. “Well, well. This one’s perfect.”

I turned to her. She was holding a breezy, short cotton dress of a deep coral color. I remembered it as that one-time impulse purchase during one of our shopping excursions in Langford which I’ve never had the chance to wear before. “No,” I opposed almost instantly.

She hung it on the hook outside the closet door and crossed her arms across her chest. “You’re wearing it tonight.”

“I’m saving it for special occasions,” I argued dimly.

“What special occasion? Thanksgiving? Or when Cole finally asks you out?” She shook her head again. “That guy needs to know first that you’re a girl before he realizes that he wants to ask you out. He’s just plain stupid.”

Despite my disinclination, I laughed at that. “Oh, Mack. What would I do without you?”

“Stew in your own sweat inside this room and die miserably.”

“Sounds lovely.”

Mack walked to the bed and plunked down right beside me. Head propped up on a pillow, she gave me a serious look. “You know, Adrian is a nice enough guy. Maybe if you took your head out of the clouds for a second, you might learn to like him. He seems real sweet.”

“I know.”

“And he tries for you,” she added in emphasis, as though this was the most important thing in the world.

I considered that in thoughtful silence. Hugging the endearing pillow close, I bit my lip discontentedly. “Cole said he doesn’t trust him.”

Mack snorted. “Cole is an idiot.” She turned her reflective glance to the ceiling. “He’s been lurking around like a stalker, yet he doesn't do anything but watch you. It’s creepy.”

Somehow that made me smile. Mack caught a hint of it and snickered.

“So you like the creepy type?”

I ignored the quip and turned the question on her. “Like you like the conceited type?”

She blinked innocent eyes at me. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, now you’re pulling that look on me? Unbelievable.” When she still didn’t give it away, I let out an exasperated breath. “Ty, Mack. I know you like Ty.”

She didn’t say anything, but the sudden color in her cheeks spoke volumes. I laughed at her discomfort. It was rare that I get to be the torturer between us.

“He called last night,” Mack finally said in a small, almost breathless voice. “He asked if Connor and I were dating.”

I didn’t see Ty as the straightforward kind of guy, so I admired him for that move somewhat. “And you told him what?” I urged.

“Of course, I told him no. But I didn’t want to seem too available either, you know?”

I sighed. “Don’t play games, Mack.”

“Katie, everyone plays games. I know it, and you know it. It’s just a self-preservation kind of thing.”

“Don’t you ever get tired of it?” I prompted. “I mean, things just ought to be simple and uncomplicated, you know?”

Mack shook her head fervently against the pillow. “That’s just it—nothing is ever just ‘simple and uncomplicated.’”

I balked at that. She was right, of course. Everything in life was a complex waltz, and it was crucial to know the steps. You have to be careful not to have your foot stepped on. If falling in love can happen unexpectedly in a small part of a second, so, too, can having your heart broken. “Did he ask you out?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Mack murmured. “He wanted to go out tonight, but it was too short notice for me.”

“What? But you’re not doing anything tonight.”

“That’s not the point. If a guy asks you for a date on the following night, it means that he has found nothing better to do on the weekend and has left it as a last resort.”

I snorted. “But it could also mean that he’s been trying to ask you out for ages but didn’t have the nerve to until that moment.”

“Do you really believe that Ty is the nervous kind of guy?”

Now that I thought of it—“No.” I turned my gaze to her. “But I also don’t know Ty all that well.”

“Exactly.” Mack smirked. “If he’s really interested, he’ll ask me out again.”

I saw Mack’s point, but didn’t fully understand it. The fact of the matter was, playing games, most of the time, just ends up in hurt feelings. I may not be as experienced as Mack in relationships, and I usually just go with what my instinct tells me, but I also know how people can use others as a means to an end—to make somebody else jealous, to show their superiority, or just to spite someone. It was not in my nature to deceive, to lie, or to play these childish games. In my opinion, if you like a person, time is better spent if you just come right out and say it. Although it would save you from embarrassment and dejection if you know for certain that the person likes you back or not.

“What were you saying earlier?” I asked Mack, inadvertently snuggling my face against Cole’s pillow. “About kisses?”

“Oh. I was just thinking,” Mack replied. She fumbled from underneath her for the magazine she was leafing through earlier and held it up for me. Pointing to one of the cover’s features, Ten Fabulous Ways to Kiss your Man, she said, “It’s annoying how kisses are just freely given, like it’s not an intimate thing anymore. The mystery’s all gone. We used to watch old movies and we used to wait for the final perfect moment when the characters kiss in the end, and it’s such a special moment. But these days… Be it on the TV or in the movies, it’s all about sex now. We have somehow become desensitized, and it doesn't seem so romantic anymore.”

I managed a puzzled smile. “I didn’t know you were so old-fashioned.”

“Shut up,” she retorted with a laugh. “It’s not about being old-fashioned, even.”

“I know.” I peered at her. “Does that mean you think about kissing Ty?”

She met my gaze. “All the time.”

I guess it’s just what we girls do when we like someone. Vacant hours are spent in heated imaginings—lips on lips, skin on skin, breath on breath. The next encounter with him is spun with an invisible magic, not entirely seen but completely felt. I was beginning to consciously grasp how different I was becoming. A month ago I would not have bothered with thoughts like these. Now…I was wrapped in a tumult of emotion.

After a late lunch, Mack and I humored ourselves and watched period piece movies on DVD while Grams took her nap. Slouched against the couch, we judged the heroines in the films, criticizing which things each had done wrong, with thoughtful consideration to the era and social norms of the story. It was a wonder how even then people played stupid mind tricks on others, especially with the ones they cared about. Mack said it was only human nature to be elusive. I didn’t agree with her. I think people are naturally scared to reveal their true feelings, all because it leaves them at the other person’s full mercy, vulnerable to pain and stripped of pride. Pride is the real enemy, but it also protects us from being hurt by others. How many marriages have already been destroyed by pride? Instead of spouses admitting their faults, pride keeps them from saying sorry and instead puts blame in the place of a sincere apology. The capacity of a person to hate and blame overshadows their capacity to love and forgive—for what? For a bit of stupid pride? It hardly seems worth it.

Mack left at around three, giving her ample time to run a couple of errands around town. Her parents were going out that night to a cocktail party, leaving her to babysit Jillie. Grams, fresh from her nap, was tinkering around the kitchen, preparing to bake her signature apple pie, and I was left in the den staring off into space, my head filled with unwanted thoughts. The smell of cinnamon roused me from these things and I looked longingly in her direction. “You need help, Grams?” I called out.

“Sure, sweetie.”

I got up from the couch and walked into the kitchen, stopping by the counter where all her ingredients were neatly laid out in front of her in small clear bowls. She was starting to core the peeled apples but pushed that chore to me when I came over.

“You’ve been thoughtful,” Grams said as I began coring the freshly halved apples. She cast me a fleeting glance. “What were you just mulling over in the chair?”

“Nothing much, Grams.”

She was lining the tin pan with her ready-made piecrust but she paused in her labor and gave me a straight look, one that told me I wasn’t exactly fooling her.

I passed her a tiny, sheepish smile. “A number of things, actually.”

“Like what?”

I faltered for a second. Talking has always been our thing. I know that I could always talk to Grams about anything—school stuff, leisure trips, books I’m reading, things about friends…but boy stuff? I’ve never ventured that far out with Grams before. “Like…” I swallowed. “When you want something but you’re not completely sure about it, yet it’s within your reach… How do you know when it’s safe to take it or not?”

Grams took this in for a minute. “Is it really a question of safety?” She asked finally.

I blinked. “What do you mean?”

She fitted the piecrust into the tin pan and turned around to pre-heat it in the oven. “I mean, is your unwillingness to act coming from something else besides just the question of safety? Do you mean, because of your uncertainty, you would rather just wait until you become more sure-footed?”  

“Well… Yeah. Of course.”

Grams arched her eyebrows. “Why?”

I frowned. “Why what?”

“Let me put it this way,” Grams said, while beginning to mix the apple fillings with the spices in a deep large bowl. “You want to go to Yale but you’re not sure if you’ll be admitted. But you go ahead and apply anyway. Why?”

I shrugged. “Because I want to take the chance.”

“Exactly.” She gave me a wide, kind smile. “We do things because of chances. Honey, life doesn't offer us certainties all the time. We either succeed or fail—it’s always one or the other. But that doesn't stop us from taking risks, does it? Everyday is filled with rich possibilities.”

“Even if it means…? You know.”

“Even if it means what?”

I bit my lip. “Getting hurt.”

“And why should that scare you?” Grams asked empathically. “We get hurt all the time. It’s a very unpleasant experience, making us feel small and powerless. But without pain, or failure, or difficulty, how do we have courage?” She gently pushed the mixing bowl to me. “Failing gives us the opportunity to practice being brave, honey.”

I winced despite myself. Being brave, having courage—these were not easy tasks, especially when taking a risk involved so much of myself.  Slowly, broodingly, I churned the contents of the ceramic bowl, my head wandering off to a different, less populated place.

“And besides,” Grams added meditatively, “whatever you decide to do, I’m sure you’ll be great at it.”

I smiled at her gratefully, inwardly amazed and relieved that her unconditional love instilled so much confidence and support. It unquestionably helped in times of misgivings, because it’s usually when I keep second-guessing myself that I was my own true enemy.

We finished preparing the filling in silence and soon enough we had the pie in the oven. The warm smell of baking apples and cinnamon wafted in the kitchen air, loading me up somewhat with a euphoric sense of well-being. No matter what happens, whether I lose my heart on the way or gain a better understanding of the world, I was sure of one thing: I will always have Grams to talk and cry to.

            At about six o’clock that evening, I found myself once again neck-deep in qualms. I’ve been studying myself in my dresser mirror for about fifteen minutes, ignoring the sharp, biting urge to call Adrian and rescind the whole thing. My old friend doubt was back. I looked at my reflection critically, noting how the deep coral color of the dress was complimenting my skin too much, or how the smocked empire waist hugged tightly at the bodice, making me appear smaller. The thin straps and the low surplice neckline showed off a little more skin that I would’ve wanted, and I wondered if the dress was a bit shorter than when I first bought it, falling just shy above the knees. It was a gorgeous dress, to be sure, but wearing it now didn’t feel particularly right.

The age-old primping ritual was done—make-up, hair, and perfume. All I had to do now was wait. I wasn’t nervous, but I wasn’t ecstatic, either. When Mack had called up half an hour ago and I told her I was feeling strangely neutral over all this, she told me it was just ‘nerves in disguise.’ I shook my head at the term, but knowing Mack, she only wanted to make good sense out of everything.

But, judging from what I was seeing in the mirror, and no matter how toughly I assessed myself, I didn’t look bad. Therein lies the problem. Mack was right; I didn’t want to try, simply because trying entailed putting an enormous amount of effort onto something you want so badly. But going out with Adrian wasn’t something I was truly desperate for. Harsh as it may sound, it was just something that happened; an opportunity of sorts. To try for Adrian would have been the just and right thing to do—perhaps that was the reason why I stared at my reflection for a long time, evaluating whether I was sparkling and shining enough, like a trinket in a velvet box. My cheeks had an eerie rosy glow, but my eyes had a dull, glazed look. I sighed heavily. There was not much else I could do but to brave the night and wile it away with a hopeful outlook.

I was putting on a nice pair of pearl stud earrings to go with the dress when the bedroom window abruptly slid open and Cole came climbing through. I turned to him, a little stunned. He was the last person on earth I had expected to see tonight. “What are you doing here?”

He was taken aback by my sudden fierceness. “I thought—we agreed we were going to work on your essay—” He stopped short, his startled gaze taking me in, slowly going over me, from my face down to my dress. His hands gripped and unclasped around the thin rolled-up paperback he was holding. “Uh, you going somewhere?”

I hesitated, almost afraid to say it. “I have a date.”

His brows furrowed. “With whom?”

My mouth went dry, but I met his dark gaze evenly. “Adrian.”

An inscrutable expression crossed his face so briefly I thought I’d only imagined it. “Oh. Again?” he mustered. “Two weekends in a row, huh? Must be something special.”

I pursed my lips. “I told you. He’s a friend.”

“Right.” He paused. “Has he kissed you yet?”

I didn’t know what infuriated me more at that moment, his obvious lack of concern or his lighthearted attempts to mock me. “Is that really any of your business?”

He chuckled in response. “So he hasn’t kissed you.”

I gave him a dirty look. “And that’s funny because…?”

He shrugged, stifling a grin. “Nothing. I just think—” His expression sobering, he fixed his level gaze on me. “I’d have kissed you on the first date, that’s all.”

I stared back at him, bewildered. Games. All this time, we’re only playing games. He was trying to bait me, trying to gauge my reactions, and I was having none of it. “Well. Maybe he’ll kiss me tonight,” I retorted.

“Don’t sound too hopeful.”

There was more force to the remark than he was willing to let on, but I noticed it. Was he bothered? I couldn’t tell. Instead, I turned back to the mirror and pretended to fix my hair. “Since you’re here, tell me what you think.”

“About what?”

“How do I look?” I asked, my gaze challenging his reflection.

Cole came closer toward me. He stopped just right behind my shoulder, meeting my gaze in the mirror. Then, in a slow and deliberate manner, his eyes dipped from my face to my shoulders, then down to the low neckline of my dress. An imperceptible thrill ran through me, covering my skin in a spray of goosebumps. He was driving me crazy with his heated look, with the delight of his nearness. My heart pounded loudly in my ears.

In my head, things happened differently. In my head, Cole raised his hand to thread his fingers through my hair, to sweep it off my shoulder. Then he bent his head and brought his lips to my skin, his mouth hot and open against the nape of my neck. I trembled in my thoughts, a liquid sort of heat simmering in the southern part of my body. The sweet imaginings only served to double my anticipation. Of course, he didn’t really do any of those things; but, all the same, his gaze had the faint stirrings of a light caress.

And there it was, the pure truth grasped at last: I wanted Cole. It became as clear to me as the water in a mountain spring. But I was only just realizing my grave mistake as he looked at me, as I saw what he must be seeing now: the perfect hair, the perfect dress, all done not for him, but for someone else.

“Isn't it a little chilly for that dress?” He asked curtly, stepping back a little, his gaze suddenly unreadable. “Go wear something over it.”

It was an unmistakable command, given with an undercurrent to his voice. Mutely, I went to my closet without questioning his intentions. By rights, I should have been haughty—furious, even, for this interference. But I wasn’t. I didn’t want to fight him, not again, and especially not over Adrian. Instead, I pulled out an ivory cropped sweater from my clothes rack and put it on without a word.

“Where’s he taking you?” Cole prompted.

“I don’t know yet,” I said, shrugging.

His frown deepened. “You don’t know?”

“No,” I murmured, idly stepping into a pair of wedge sandals. “We’re going to dinner and a movie, if that helps, Mr. Detective.”

A half-smile formed on his lips. “Look, I didn’t mean to be on your case. But you know how I feel.”

I looked up at him in surprise. It was the first time he had brought up anything about feelings. Before I could even have the chance to reflect on what he had said, he was already walking to the window. Straddling the wooden sill, he doubled back.

“Hey. If that guy tries anything on you, call me quick, alright?”

“What?” I echoed, raising an eyebrow. “You mean if he tries anything I don’t like, right?”

“I mean anything.”

Who died and made you the jealous boyfriend? I ached to retort but stopped myself. “I think I can handle myself, but thanks for the concern.”

“Katie.” His flat tone did not allow for any other answer.

I rolled my eyes. “Fine. If he grabs my ass, maybe I’ll call you then.”

“I’m serious.”

I crossed my arms over my chest and glared at him. “What are you so worried about? You think Adrian will manhandle me or something?”

He pursed his lips together. “I’m just looking out for you.”

In spite of the swift pleasant feeling that had brought, I was largely defiant. “I can take care of myself, Cole.”

He shrugged. “Whatever,” he muttered. “Just do what I told you.” With a last, hard tap on the window sill, he slipped out onto the approaching dusk, leaving me gaping after him in utter confusion.

            I had half-expected Adrian to pull a surprise that night, but everything went according to modern convention. He arrived at my house right on time, charming my mother greatly by bringing me a regal bouquet of Casablanca lilies. Mom insisted in a stage whisper that I ought to put the beautiful flowers in a delicate china vase and display them on my desk in my room, like a trophy of sorts. I paled at the suggestion, thinking suddenly of Cole. But I did as bidden, suppressing the impulse to stick the flowers in my closet. It was as though it wasn’t my bedroom anymore to which I previously had sole rights; now the room felt more like a shared, secret place, and the presence of the flowers somehow possessed a wickedness that didn’t quite belong there.

I followed Adrian out of the house with an empty, longing feeling, and as we were getting in his car at the curb I noticed that Cole’s Equinox wasn’t in their driveway. Stupid putz. I strove to become passive, fooling myself into thinking that I didn’t mind anyway. Adrian was chipper in mood, and in all fairness to him, he looked confidently dreamy in a crisp wine-colored shirt, and his black jacket made his shoulders look broader than usual. It wasn’t hard to like him, actually. If I were the kind of girl who changed her mind variably, I would’ve had a big crush on Adrian. He wasn’t so bad looking at all; his light brown hair was longish, falling randomly over his hazel eyes, which had a perpetual brilliant glint. He had what old women would call a friendly, handsome face, and I couldn’t exactly oppose to that, seeing how the girls from my class had reacted to him during Harvest Night. So it was only right that I didn’t close my mind to him entirely—that I, in all sense of the word, try.

Probably humoring me, Adrian took me to a swanky French restaurant in Langford called Mon Petit. The place, staying true to its name, was intimately small, diffusedly lit by soft incandescent lights and warm votive candles. It must have been the pessimistic in me, but I saw the place as having the manner of flamboyant pretension. The people around the dining area were elegantly dressed, and smooth classical music played in the background. I had the vague impression that maybe Adrian overdid the romantic evening theme a bit, because the restaurant definitely had the air of a place where you get proposed to, where you had to call months in advance in order to book a table. When the maitre d’ addressed Adrian by his last name familiarly and ushered us to a private table in the back of the dining hall, I was almost convinced that Adrian’s parents either had invested shares of the place, or owned the restaurant.

“This place is great,” I murmured, a little intimidated at the sight of the enclosed room, the table in the center and its china and crystal place settings, as Adrian moved to pull a chair for me.

“It is,” he replied genially, sitting down across the table. “The food here, c’est magnifique.” He said that last in a perfect French accent. I suppose his good looks pulled it off quite well, because if it had been, say, Ty or Connor, or even Reese, who had said that, it would come off as totally cheesy. And I won’t even begin to imagine Cole saying it.

The waiter brought menus to us shortly. One glance at it and I blanched, not solely for the p