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“I have a car too,” I say. “And a driver.”
As she pops her Angel pill, Lisa meets my gaze. Some sort of understanding passes between us, and I know she’s going to help us before she says anything.
“Cool, I’ll come with you,” Devon says, but Lisa grabs him before he can finish his sentence. “I got you, birthday boy. Who else?”
The pill will take at least ten minutes to work, depending on how much Lisa drank. In the meantime, I hang back, trying not to draw suspicion. By the time rides are arranged for the people moving on to DeLuca’s II, Chari and I have had a full-on silent discussion.
She will be driving with me. Alone.
After an agonizing fifteen minutes, we finally leave the bar. No one seems to notice us hanging back, except for Lisa, of course. She winks at us and then jumps into the driver’s seat of her car.
Not for the first time in the past few years, my chest swells with pride from the knowledge that she’s totally sober. This is why we can’t stop now. Angel needs to be in every bar in the world.
“After you,” I say, climbing into the back seat of my car after Chari. Although she’s dressed more casually tonight, in jeans and a hunter green puffer jacket, she’s every bit as stunning as she was on our date. As soon as the door shuts behind me, I tell the driver where we’re headed and shut the privacy screen. I have no desire to waste even a half second of the ten-minute drive.
Thank God for the privacy screen.
Pulling Chari nearly onto my lap, I kiss her, hard. She opens for me, our tongues tangling. My hand finds the bottom of her sweater, takes advantage of the opening there, and meanders upward. I need to feel her skin. Pressing my palm to her rib cage, I frantically pull down the lace of her bra. But just feeling isn’t enough.
I need a taste.
I lift her sweater and lower my head to her breasts, flicking my tongue over one of her nipples before gently biting down. Chari pulls my head closer, my name falling from her lips over and over. And I swear I’ve never been so hard.
Lifting my head up, knowing we don’t have a lot of time, I replace her bra.
“It’s not enough,” I say, looking deep into her eyes.
“I can’t believe you’re here.”
I kiss her, the first of a million kisses, I hope.
“I texted you.” My hands are everywhere at once. I want to memorize the shape of her, the feel of her, to carry me through the bleak, lonely hours without her.
“I got it”—she smiles—“after I saw you walk through the door.”
I can tell she’s pleased.
“Happy to see me?”
She nods. “Beyond happy.”
“Maybe we should just tell him tonight,” I venture. While I don’t want to ruin the mood, I also don’t want to keep pretending Chari’s not important to me, that she’s just Devon’s little sister. Although I’m not at all looking forward to his reaction.
She frowns. “No, please. Not yet.”
The words sting, even though she already told me she wants to wait. And a part of me does too. But it feels like she’s rejecting me. Like she’s saying I’m not good enough.
“Are you embarrassed of me?”
The moment the words leave my mouth, I wish I could bring them back. That’s the grade-school Enzo talking, the one who was laughed at because he couldn’t read. The middle schooler who was told not to bother applying to a prep school. The high school Enzo whose guidance counselor told him flat out that he would never get into Cornell.
That Enzo is dead and buried. At least, I thought so.
“Oh my God, are you serious?”
I wish I weren’t. But honestly, I get her reluctance. If it weren’t for Switzerland, I’d not be in a rush either. Devon won’t be thrilled at first, but maybe he’ll be happy to see us together once he realizes how much we care about each other.
“Well,” I say, hating how vulnerable I sound, how weak, “you know we have to tell him soon anyway. Why wait?”
