I tried to fight down the corners of my mouth as I looked at him. He caught me trying not to laugh and just shook his head in my direction. After the merry-go-round, we went on the Tilt-A-Whirl, and then another handful of rides that I'd never heard of before that made me dizzy, and laugh, and alright, even scream as we raced through the corkscrew on the rollercoaster.

The whole evening was almost surreal. Ian smiled so much that when he wasn't looking I actually pinched myself, convinced I must be dreaming. I was like a whole different person too, letting loose and without a care in the world. Our sungla.s.ses eventually found a home in my purse, but the hats stayed firmly in place. No one even gave us a second glance, except for maybe the women who were checking Ian out, but I was getting used to that.

I craned my neck back as we waited in line for the Ferris wheel, watching the neon lights spiral around the outer edge. It was huge. So tall that it actually hurt to bend my neck that far back to look at the top.

After scanning our card, we slid into the open car that had the number twenty-one painted on the side. The operator closed the door behind us, locking it.

The motor of the ride whirred and we were on our way, coasting slowly back and then up into the air. I clung to the edge of the window, watching the people and the ground shrink. As we started down the other side of the loop, I turned back to Ian. His foot bounced up and down against the floor, his hands rubbing against the soft denim of his jeans.

"Ian?"

"Yeah?" He answered, without even turning to look at me.

"You all right?"

"Fine."

Now this was the Ian I was used to, but for the life of me I couldn't pinpoint what caused the shift. I leaned back in my seat, the enjoyment of the night seeming to leach out of me with his plummeting mood.

The Ferris wheel started its second revolution, but I just picked at the hem of my shirt, plucking at a loose thread. I made a mental note to cut it when I get home before it got any worse. As we neared the top again, Ian took a deep breath next to me, his shoulder brushing against mine.

I flicked my eyes up to him and found him watching me, looking at me with such an intensity that I was instantly concerned. A thought clicked into place. "You're afraid of heights, aren't you?"

"No." He dipped his head toward me, and the brim of his hat collided with mine. A curse slipped through his lips. I could only stare as he tossed my hat onto the opposite seat and whipped his around so that it sat backward on his head.

This time I knew what was coming, but I was still just as surprised. My mind stumbled over itself, so dizzy that it couldn't get a grip. His lips pressed against mine, soft but dry. No other part of his body touched mine, and after what I approximated as three seconds, he drew back, his chest filling with uneven breaths.

We sat next to each other, both staring straight ahead. Awkward didn't even begin to describe it. Saying it was the worst kiss I'd ever had wouldn't be an exaggeration. Even the math major had been better. And hadn't he just told me that he didn't date? It made no sense.

"What just happened?" I couldn't look at him when I asked, fixing my gaze on a half-peeled-off sticker affixed to the corner of the opposite seat.

"I know it's been awhile since I've kissed anyone, but that's the first time I've ever gotten that reaction." He thumped his head back.

My mind raced-from the fact that what I thought was amazing chemistry was actually the complete opposite to a huge realization that I should have figured out long before now-the list. I wanted to smack myself in the forehead and blurt out, "Duh!"

"You kissed me because of the list." G.o.d, I was so stupid. I should have seen it coming from a mile away.

"Yes." He still hadn't looked at me.

My heart sank. He kissed me because of Renee's list. Not because he wanted to. Not because this thing I'd been feeling between us was mutual. Nope. I was an item on a list. I was the nice gesture so that I could cross it off. Who else was I going to get to kiss me on the top of a Ferris wheel?

Someone in the car in front of us started laughing, and as we neared the ground I sent up a prayer that the ride would stop and I could exit my own personal torture box. It didn't. I pressed my lips together to bite back a sigh. The night sky loomed outside the window, blacker than black and p.r.i.c.kled with stars. The silence between us was oppressive. I didn't know what to say. Maybe "thank you," but I wasn't sure I could utter it right now without it sounding bitter.

We reached the top again for what I fervently hoped was the last time. Once we were back on the ground, I planned on excusing myself to the bathroom again and whipping my emotions firmly back into place.

Ian crowded into my s.p.a.ce, and I slid my gaze back over to him. His tongue ran out over his lips, and my eyes dipped down to follow its path before sweeping back up to him.

"Ian, what are you doing?"

"Trying again."

This time around, his hand slid up the length of my thigh to rest on my hip as he leaned over me. The kiss was less tentative, more demanding, his lips playing over mine. His tongue ran along the seam of my lips, and I followed his lead, parting them for him on an exhale. I reached out a hand tentatively, resting it along the side of his throat and threading my fingers through his thick hair. Underneath my thumb, his pulse pounded heavily.

I shifted away from the cold plastic behind me, pushing toward him, and his hand slid from my hip to my lower back to hold me in place. His fingertips grazed skin in the small gap between my shirt and pants. My tongue tangled with his, tasting him, pressing him for more.

The ride shuddered to a stop, our car swinging ever so slightly like a tiny pendulum. He pulled back, and he looked about as confused as I felt.

The operator yanked open the door, interrupting the moment. Ian exited ahead of me, and I ran a thumb over my lips, trying to memorize the feeling. I'd been wrong, the chemistry between us was everything I thought it would be. It was fireworks-hot and sizzling and explosive.

On some type of mutual agreement, or just the fact that neither of us knew what to say to the other after that, we walked back to the car without another word. The sound of the car doors closing seemed to echo in the parking lot, and before I knew it, we were on our way back home.

I leaned my elbow against the door, my chin in my hand. I was so busy thinking that I didn't remember to get carsick. He kissed me because of the list. He'd said so. But there was more than just the list in that kiss, more than that swirling in his eyes when he opened them. I was good at reading people, had to be when I moved in the senator's circles, and in Ian, I had seen pa.s.sion, frustration, and indecision.

I must have dozed, my forehead pressed into the cold gla.s.s of the window, because the next thing I knew, we were pulling up outside my apartment and Ian was shaking me awake.

I blinked sleepily, trying to get my bearings. Unbuckling my seatbelt, I looked at him, trying to settle on the words that I wanted to come out of my mouth. I hesitated there, trapped between what I wanted to say and the false plat.i.tudes I could let dive off my tongue with practiced ease.

"Bianca?"

Maybe I didn't need to ask him, and maybe with Ian I didn't need to know all the answers. I knew that anything long term wasn't possible with him. In another four months, I'd be on my way to the other side of the country.

For once I knew what I wanted and decided I was going to take it. Not because it was the right thing to do, or it was something I needed to check off the list. I was going to do it just because I wanted to, because kissing Ian made me feel more alive than I'd ever felt before.

I pushed up against the center console, aiming my mouth for his. Pausing a few inches away, I waited for him to back away. His eyes flared, but instead of retreating, he closed the miniscule gap between us and kissed me again.

My heart grew wings and took flight, soaring straight out of my chest. But when it came back to me a few minutes later, it felt like a tiny piece of it was already missing.

Ian rested his forehead against mine, his thumb running the length of my jaw. "I can't promise you anything."

"I never asked you to."

Chapter 18: Ian.

7 Years Earlier I stuck a finger under the edge of my bowtie, giving it a tug to lessen the strangling sensation.

"Ian, stop fidgeting," Mom said, lowering the camera an inch so that she could glare at me.

"Sorry, Ma." Up the camera went, snapping another picture and nearly blinding me with the flash. My phone buzzed in my pocket, vibrating against my leg. I silently thanked whoever was calling. We'd already taken approximately six hundred and forty-seven pictures, and we hadn't even gotten to Rachel's house yet. For c.r.a.p's sake, it wasn't even the first time I went to prom.

Pulling out my phone, I excused myself to the kitchen, fumbling through the cabinet for a clean gla.s.s to get myself some water. I tucked the phone between my ear and shoulder. "This is Ian."

From the other end the sound of blaring music nearly deafened me. I yanked the phone away from my ear to check out the caller ID. "Ben? h.e.l.lo?"

"Ian? You there?"

"I'm here. Man, where are you? Mom's looking for you for pictures."

As the silence dragged out on the other end of the line, the roast beef sandwich I had for lunch congealed into a greasy, nausea-inducing lump in my stomach.

"Listen, I'm not going to be able to make it tonight."

I bit my lip to hold back the profanity-laden yell I wanted to toss at him, resorting to slamming the gla.s.s down on the counter hard enough that I was surprised it didn't shatter.

"Everything okay in there, Ian?"

"Fine, Mom," I yelled back to her, covering the mouthpiece. Pacing across the kitchen floor, I pulled the phone back up to my mouth. "Tell me you're f.u.c.king with me, Ben, because I swear to G.o.d if you're not, I'm going to snap your head off with my bare hands. I mean, seriously, do you know what this is going to do to her?" I snorted. "Who am I kidding? You don't give a s.h.i.t about anyone but yourself."

"I'm sorry, so sorry. You have to believe me, I-"

His voice disappeared from the other end of the line, and was replaced by an unfamiliar feminine giggle. "h.e.l.lo? h.e.l.lo?"

"h.e.l.lo," I gritted out from between clenched teeth.

"Listen, whoever this is, Ben is very, very busy." Another giggle. "He's gonna have to call you back later."

The line went dead.

I ran a frustrated hand through my hair, just barely stopping myself from heaving my phone against the wall just for the satisfaction. He was always doing s.h.i.t like this. Bailing at the last minute, flaking on his responsibilities. It was bad enough when he disappointed Mom and Dad, but standing Rachel up for prom? It might be the worst thing he'd done yet, and that was really saying something.

If he hadn't hung up on me, I would have asked him why. Why agree to come if he was just planning on standing her up? I couldn't believe he asked her in the first place, but he did. Even went so far as to rent a tuxedo. A corsage of tiny pink roses was chilling in the refrigerator this very moment, ordered by the a.s.shole himself.

I took a deep breath, trying to tone down the anger that was simmering through my blood like a wildfire. With a flick of my thumb, I dialed Maggie.

"Mags?"

"Ian, hey, what's up?"

"I need you to buy me some time," I said, letting my disappointment come through in my voice.

"Dammit," she said. "He didn't, did he?"

"Of course he did."

"Rachel's going to be crushed."

"I know." I let out a defeated sigh. "How much time can you give me?"

"Thirty minutes?"

"I'll take it." Mom's ancient blue fan started its trip to the left, ruffling my hair with a cool breeze. "Hey, Mags?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

"Love you too, Ian."

The limo pulled to the curb outside Rachel's house, my parents' Subaru parking behind it. I turned to John, who was sitting on my left. "Thanks again for doing this last minute. I owe you."

"Owe me?" He laughed, giving his head a shake. "Trust me, man, you don't owe me a d.a.m.n thing."

He slammed the door behind me once I was out, stopping a second to b.u.t.ton up his tuxedo jacket. My parents trailed us to the front door, giving me the liberty of ringing the doorbell. No sooner had I pressed the b.u.t.ton then the door was whisked open by Rachel's mom, Helen.

"Mrs. Carroway," I said, offering her a smile.

"Ian." She squeezed my hand in hers. "Lovely to see you, as always."

As she turned to greet my parents, John and I slipped through the door. I handed off the plastic box holding Rachel's corsage to him, tucking my own box underneath my arm.

Maggie was the first one to make an appearance. Her wildly curly hair had been tamed for the night, tucked back in some fancy updo. She held the edge of her dark green dress clutched in her hand as she practically hurtled down the stairs.

Taking one look at John, a brilliant smile lit her face a second before she launched herself into my arms. I caught her easily, settling my hands comfortably under her thighs. With her hands draped around my neck, she leaned forward so that her lips were pressed up right next to my ear. "Have I ever told you that you're the best man I've ever known? Every time I think I can't love you any more, you do something like this and I fall even harder for you."

She pulled back, and I kissed her long and hard, slipping my tongue between her lips and no doubt ruining whatever lip gloss she might be wearing.

A loud throat clearing came from somewhere on my left, and I slowly eased Maggie down, not giving up her lips until her feet were steady on the ground. I flicked my eyes toward the noise and found Dad rolling his eyes at us, Helen furiously blushing, and Mom was at it again with the camera.

Heels clicked against the wood staircase as Grace, Rachel's younger sister, made her appearance. She was the opposite of Rachel in nearly every way; they both favored their fathers rather than their mother. Grace was the reincarnation of Tinker Bell to Rachel's brunette rendition of Jessica Rabbit.

Offering me a small smile, she kept on her way toward her mother, who was already gushing at her appearance. Rachel was the last one down, and I caught her hesitating at the top of the stairs. The red dress Maggie had twisted her arm into getting was the perfect dress for her, though I could see self-consciousness written all over her face. With a deep breath, she smoothed her hands over the dress and started down the stairs.

I saw the moment she saw beyond me, noticing that John was standing at my side and not Ben. The corners of her mouth twitched, like it might collapse on itself, but steadied. Her eyes, though, showed the real story. Maggie gnawed on her lip as she watched Rachel, waiting for her reaction. Whatever she was waiting for, though, never came.

John walked pa.s.sed us, stopping at the bottom landing. "Wow," he said. "You look . . . wow."

A smile crept across Rachel's face, dazzling in its intensity. While Helen continued to gush over Grace, snapping an avalanche of pictures, my parents abandoned them and headed for us.

Mom wrapped first Maggie, and then Rachel, in a hug. "You girls look so beautiful. Now, I know you're all anxious to get on your way, but just a few pictures?" She held her camera aloft.

"Just a few," I told her.

We posed as a group, then as couples. The last shot was of just Rachel and me.

"Where's Ben?" Rachel asked, the words appearing without her even moving her lips.

I hesitated, not wanting to hurt her more than she already was. "Does it matter?" I asked, trying to talk around my smile like she did. "He's not here."

I could feel her looking up at me, so I finally met her gaze. She ran her tongue over her teeth, and blinked her eyes so fast it looked like a bird trying to take flight. Crinkling her nose, she sniffed, and gave her head a quick shake. It seemed I didn't have to say it, she could read everything she needed to know in my expression.

"I'm so sorry, Rach-"