Smitten

The faint din of the party drifts through the air. Dance music is blaring. People are laughing and talking energetically in the distance. But Fish and I have grown quiet and still as we stare into each other’s eyes.

Fish swirls his thumb across the top of my hand, sending arousal into that pulsing spot between my legs. “So . . .” He takes a deep breath. “Tell me about you, Alessandra.”

I want you to kiss me. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

I consider my answer. “Well, I’m an only child, as I mentioned.” Besides being a girl who wants to be kissed. “For about a year, when I was nine and Georgina was eleven, we lived together, as sisters, after my mother married Georgie’s father. But our parents divorced after only a year. It was a blip for our parents, but Georgie and I have remained sisters ever since.”

“Best of both worlds. You’re an only child with a sibling. That’s like me, too. I’m an only child with a whole bunch of siblings. Dax and Colin, Dax’s brothers and sister. Dax’s whole family is my adopted family. I shudder to think who I’d be without them.”

“That’s like Georgie and me. She saved me.”

“From what?”

Damn. Why’d I say that? I didn’t mean to steer the conversation that way. All I want to do is kiss this cute boy—not talk about my life’s greatest tragedy. How the hell do I get him to kiss me?

“If you don’t want to talk about it . . .” Fish begins.

“Oh, no. It’s fine.” I take a deep breath. “My father passed away when I was eight.”

He frowns. “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you. My mother was too heartbroken after that—and then too distracted by her whirlwind romance with Georgie’s dad, Marco—to pay all that much attention to me and my grief. So, for a while there, Georgie became a much-needed lifeline. My guardian angel. My best friend, protector, and cheerleader. She was the one who encouraged me to get into music, actually, to help me deal with my grief. She’s the one who listened to my very first songs and told me I was destined for greatness.” I chuckle, remembering Georgina’s passionate exuberance about me, even back then, before adding, “To this day, Georgina is the first one to hear any new song of mine, no matter what.”

“How’d your dad die, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“He was killed by a hit-and-run driver while out for a morning jog.”

Fish looks deeply pained. “I’m sorry.”

I nod. “It’s a terrible thing to lose the person who ‘gets’ you the most. My mom loves me, of course. But she doesn’t get me. My dad always did. He was a musician and so sweet and gentle. So accepting and kind.” I sigh. “Sometimes, I wish he were here, and then I think how cruel it is that, if he were still here, I wouldn’t even know Georgina. And, of course, I can’t imagine my life without her. Life is crazy like that sometimes, huh? The way it forces a person to choose between two amazing things as an either-or proposition?”

Fish nods. “I’m really sorry for your loss, Ally. But I’m so glad you have Georgina.”

I lean my cheek on Fish’s shoulder and inhale his delicious scent. “Who’s the person who gets you the most?”

“Dax. He can read me better than anyone. I don’t even have to tell him what’s on my mind. He just knows.”

I feel flushed, all of a sudden, being cuddled up with him like this. Telling him about the deepest parts of myself. I feel tingles and flashes of heat in my body I’ve never felt with anyone before. But I can’t help wondering, despite all the times Fish has called me his date tonight . . . Is he not feeling the same kind of physical attraction I’m feeling to him? I’ve never been kissed before, so, obviously, I’m not an expert about how first kisses finally happen. But I feel like I’ve been nonverbally shouting at this boy to lay one on me for at least the past two hours. Am I that bad at flirting? Or has Fish decided to friend-zone me, like so many others have done in the past?

I swallow hard, and keep my eyes trained on the view. “Hey, Fish?” I whisper. Suddenly, I feel determined to ask him, once and for all, if he’s interested in kissing me tonight. If he says no, I’ll be crushed. But, at least, I won’t have to wonder. But when I raise my head from his shoulder and look into his green eyes, I immediately lose my nerve.

He raises his eyebrows, waiting to hear whatever’s on my mind.

I clear my throat. “Do you . . . have any . . . advice on . . . overcoming stage fright?”