I nodded in agreement as the waitress expertly cleared the table.

"Some dessert?"

Connor shook his head at her and then looked across the table at me, "I'm sorry, Red. Now that

we might make the states, Coach is insane about us being home by ten when there's no game. He

called Matt's house last week to check up on him."

"Don't worry about it," I said. "I'm stuffed."

"I'll bring the check," said the waitress.

As we sat there, Connor stroked the back of my hand, and I felt the tingles I always got when he

touched me. "That dress is really hot," he said.

His look made the whole rice fiasco suddenly worthwhile. "Thanks," I said.

"Wow, I've been yapping away," said Connor, smiling at me. "You're a really good listener."

That smile. It made me dizzy. "Thanks," I said again.

"But I want to know more about you," he said, turning my hand over and pressing his palm into

mine.

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"What do you want to know?" I asked, suddenly anxious. I should have prepared some funny

anecdotes about myself. What could be more boring than a person just launching into her life

story? Well, I was born in Los Angeles, and after my mother died when I was three ... Connor

would be asleep before I hit fourth grade.

Luckily, just as I was considering narrating an imaginary but fascinating childhood posted in port

cities around the globe, the waitress brought our check. Connor took out his credit card and

handed it over. His casual confidence as he dealt with the check was sexy; it made him seem

older. Not so old that it was gross he was going out with a high-school girl, though. He seemed

just older enough.

"Thank you for dinner," I said. It came out more formal than I'd meant it to, as if I were thanking my friend's dad or something.

Connor didn't seem to mind, though. He raised an eyebrow at me. "Sure, Red. But I still owe you

a dessert." It sounded flirtatious, like we were talking about something way more intimate than

gelato.

"Maybe I owe you a dessert," I said. I hoped I sounded flirtatious, too, and not like I'd been tallying up what each of us had spent on the other.

Connor gave me his killer smile. "All the dessert I need is you in that dress," he said. Then he let out a howl like a werewolf.

We both laughed, and when the waitress brought

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the credit card slip for Connor to sign, we were still laughing. When we finally stopped laughing

he said, "You're hilarious, Red," even though he was the one who'd made the joke. It made me

feel witty and amusing.

At the door, Connor helped me into my (his) jacket, and outside he leaned me up against the car

door and we started making out. His tongue traced a line from my ear to my collar bone. I

wished we'd just skipped dinner and spent the whole night in his car fooling around, but it's not

exactly like you can suggest something like that.

The whole ride home Connor held my hand; luckily he had to fix the equalizer on the stereo a

couple of times, so I was able to wipe my palm on my dress before it could get too sweaty. And

he didn't just hold my hand like it was a rock he'd happened to drop his hand down on. He held it

perfectly, tracing my fingers with his thumb and then squeezing my hand into a fist, or brushing

his fingers over my knuckles. I didn't know what Connor's career plans were, but he could

definitely get rich teaching other guys how to hold a girl's hand.

When we pulled up in front of my house, Connor kissed me lightly on the lips. "Thanks for

understanding about curfew, Red," he said. "Even if we make the states, it's only a few more

weeks, and then we can stay out until dawn. And I expect you to wear that dress." He lifted my

hand up to his lips and kissed it.

Since I planned to set fire to my dress as soon as I

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got inside, Connor probably wouldn't be seeing it again. I didn't mention that, though, especially

since staying out until dawn with Connor sounded like a fine idea to me. We sat in the car,

kissing, until the clock on the dashboard read nine fifty-five.

"I gotta go, Red," he said softly.

"Yeah," I said. I remembered to undo my seat belt before I opened the car door.

"I'll call you tomorrow," he said. I shut the door and waved; before he pulled away, he mimed

howling at the moon.

When I got into bed, I closed my eyes and replayed Connor's kisses in my mind. Then I got out

of bed, grabbed my iPod, and replayed them again, this time to music. I turned out the light and

snuggled under the covers, leaving the music on. I closed my eyes, feeling Connor's hands on my

face, his lips gently tracing the curve of my ear. The last song I heard before I fell asleep was

"Little Red Corvette." I tried to figure out why it was the perfect sound track for the night, and when I came up with the answer, I almost laughed out loud.

Of course it was perfect.

It was Prince.

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Chapter Thirteen

Connor called me during the South Carolina game on Sunday, and we "watched" the whole

second half together. Later he called again, and we stayed on the phone until the end of the pre-

game show, when he had to get off because he'd told his dad they'd watch the game together.

Monday right after first period, he came up behind me, put his hands over my eyes, and

whispered in my ear, "Guess who," and I felt my stomach drop with familiar excitement. I turned

to face him, wrapped my arms tightly around his waist, and we backed into a locker as some guy

I didn't know called out, "Get a room." I could feel Connor smiling, but he didn't stop kissing me until the warning bell rang.

"Catch you later," I said, pulling away and raising my eyebrow at him.

"Not if I catch you first," he said.

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It was weird, though--I seemed to be leading two separate lives. At school, I was never alone.

When I sat down in one of my classes, within seconds, two or three people were competing for

every desk in the vicinity of mine. At lunch, Madison, Jessica, and I sat squeezed together while

people who'd ignored me for two-thirds of the year clamored for a seat at our table. Sometimes

when we had classes in totally different parts of the building, Connor would call me on my cell

between periods, so I'd be talking on the phone to him and to whomever I was walking with.

There weren't enough hours in the school day for me to see and talk to everyone who wanted to

see and talk to me.

But my fairy godmother must have forgotten to sprinkle her magic dust over my house, because

whenever I happened to be home in the evening, Mara and my stepsisters were either out or they

completely ignored me. Not that I cared. I just couldn't help noticing.

The Friday after my sushi dinner with Connor, my dad got home while Mara was driving the

Princesses over to their dad's house. He walked in the door just as I was taking Connor's jacket

out of the closet in the entrance foyer.

"Hey, Goose," he said, dropping his garment bag and giving me a hug. "Hey," I said, hugging him back.

He looked me up and down. I was wearing jeans and a pale yellow T-shirt.

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"Now I may not know much about fashion, but I have to say I really prefer this to that red dress

of yours."