Two-way Street

33 Days Before the Trip, 6:57 p.m.

“This house,” I say, “is amazing.” I take a soda out of the refrigerator, pop the top, and pour half of it into my glass. I can’t believe I’m in Miami. It feels exotic for some reason, just saying that.

“It is pretty awesome,” Jordan says, sitting down next to me at the bar. I hand him my glass and he takes a sip of my drink.

“So what’s this place like tonight?” I ask. Jordan, B. J., Jocelyn, and I are going to the beach, then out to dinner, and I want to make sure I’m dressed appropriately.

“What do you mean?” Jordan asks. He hands me back my soda.

“I mean, is it dress up or what?” I bought this amazing black dress that I can’t wait for Jordan to see me in. It has a flowing, crinkly skirt and a low back.

“You don’t have to dress up,” he says. “But you can if you want.”

“And what about after?” I say, leaning in close to him. “What are we going to do after?”

“What do you mean?” he asks, grinning. He shifts in his chair and moves closer to me.

“I mean are we going out to a club or anything?”

“A club?” Jordan throws his head back and laughs. “You want to go to a club?”

“Of course,” I say. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Um, because you don’t dance?”

Hmm. This is true. But I feel like dancing tonight. “We’re in Miami,” I say. “Isn’t that what people do in Miami? Besides, I do so dance.”

He raises his eyebrows.

“It’s my new thing,” I say. “Dancing is my new thing.”

“Oh, really?” He leans in close to me and puts his forehead against mine. “Since when?”

“Jordan,” I say, “are you trying to say I’m a bad dancer?”

“No,” he says. “Of course not.”

“Good,” I say. “Need I remind you that my dancing was the thing that attracted you to me in the first place?”

He tilts his head to the side, then kisses me lightly on the lips. “That is true,” he says. “You’re a very hot dancer.”

“I know,” I say. “And tonight I’m going to be a dancing machine.”

“Okay,” he says, kissing me again. “But you have to promise you’re not going to dance with anyone else.”

“No one else?” I say. I cock my head to the side, pretending to consider. “But what if some really cute guy asks me to?”

“No,” he says. He kisses me again, a little more forcefully again. “I want you all to myself.”

“What about girls?” I ask, smiling. “Can I dance with girls?”

“Only if I can watch,” he says, grinning.

“Eww,” I say. “You’re dirty.” I push him playfully, but he grabs my arms, and this time, I kiss him. He kisses me back, and his hands are in my hair and on my face.

“We have to stop,” he says, after a few minutes, pulling away. But I can’t help but think about what would happen if we didn’t stop, if we just kept on kissing, if we just kept going and didn’t stop.

“I don’t want to,” I say, trying to pull him close to me again.

“We have to,” he says, giving me another light kiss on the lips.

“We don’t have to do anything,” I say.

He laughs. “We’re supposed to be going to the beach,” he says. “With B. J. and Jocelyn, remember?”

“Yeah,” I say, sighing.

“And if we don’t go, they’ll probably end up killing each other.”

“True,” I say. “I don’t want to be responsible for the deaths of our friends.”

“Then come on,” he says. He holds his hand out, and I slide my palm into his. “But later,” he whispers huskily, “you’re mine.”

You have no idea, I think. I follow him happily up the stairs to where Jocelyn and B. J. are waiting.