AS OUR FOOD was served, I reached for the bottle sitting in the midst of flowers and appetizers on the elegantly set table, my brain still in a buzz from all the soft, classical romantic music I'd been listening to for the past forty-five minutes.

The crystal chandeliers above our heads bathed us in a glittering mellow light, and I wasn't sure what it was about tonight that was making my chest throb with something I hadn't felt in a while, but it brought a smile to my face. Maybe that was just what getting your high school diploma felt like. Or maybe it was more.

I studied the label on the bottle of wine and waited for the kind waiters to leave before reading it aloud. "Conte Priola Chianti."

Across from me, amusement darted across Takoda's eyes. "If the waiters hear you say that, they'll have multiple seizures," he commented. "It's pronounced kee-un-ti."

I raised my eyebrows. "Well, I don't know much beyond rosé and champagne, so."

"That's why I'm here—to teach you these things."

Despite the soft, almost faultless tone he said it with, I felt heat creep up the sides of my neck until I was itching beneath my silk dress. I couldn't help the onslaught of memories of everything he'd "taught" me. To cover up my bashfulness, even though I knew there was no need to with him, I asked with a teasing smile, "Are you trying to get me drunk, Calebs?"

"No," he promptly responded, his smile matching mine. "I'm just living through you. I never got the chance to graduate conventionally, and this is something I would've loved."

"Fine dining?"

"A celebration, Cleo. Just for me."

His and his father's fame, and all the situations surrounding it, didn't allow Takoda to attend a conventional high school. His academic life had been a cocktail of homeschooling and online lectures, both for the purpose of his safety and his peace of mind. The student body of the private school I attended was mostly comprised of the kids of millionaires, billionaires and semi-famous people—children of former teen stars who hadn't gotten too much time in the spotlight since the 70s and 80s sitcoms/horror films they'd starred in but still had cult-like followings, children of people who'd starred in one or two commercials and had been the face of a couple brand endorsements, etcetera.

They were constantly in contact with people like me, some of them already modeling freelance, appearing in lesser-known films, and releasing singles, making names for themselves, some even dating young celebrities, so I mostly went unnoticed, but I knew it would've been different for someone like Takoda.

I kinda felt for him, mostly because he never got to experience high school life and was currently not experiencing university life to the fullest, either, but a part of me agreed that I would've chosen homeschooling any day over the fake friends that only cared to talk to me because of my sister or the fact that I was semi-famous. The only thing high school gave me that I was really grateful for was Robin, who was currently sending me fifteen-second videos and Snapchat-filtered photos from a club in Hollywood, where I had no doubt she'd finally put her fake ID to use. We'd bonded over a mutual love-hate relationship with all the science subjects the system forced us to endure, physics especially.

"I refuse to believe you haven't been planning this since second semester started. I mean, look at this place." I gestured to the high glass ceiling and general magnificence of the restaurant we were in. It looked like one of those eating institutions where you had to make a reservation at least three months in advance because tables were almost always unavailable.

It had a name I couldn't pronounce and looked a little Romanesque. Historic. And it was definitely expensive. Takoda and I were at the VIP section on the top floor, for our privacy, he'd said, and I really couldn't complain. The view from up here was great. L.A. looked like a sea of lights from this height.

He cut into his steak with a smile playing on his lips as he said, "You know, normal people just say thank you and eat their food."

I snorted, the action as odd as a pangolin in red sequin at the Grammys in this pricey place. People talked in hushed voices, the sounds backed up by the clinking of heavy gold cutlery against porcelain plates. Snorting was not allowed, but my body was refusing to adjust. It wasn't like I hadn't been to a place like this before—because I'd been plenty of times. Rather, it was the boy sitting across from me and the fact that he was doing all this just to celebrate me graduating from high school that was tilting my world on its axis.

I was off-balance and slightly dizzy, and he was just there, his steady presence intoxicating in a way wine could never be. That gave me whiplash, made my emotions start to feel overwhelming, like I'd suddenly found myself in the presence of a mystical being and could no longer remember how to breathe.

Once upon a time, I'd thought love was for the experienced. I'd thought any emotion you felt for a person before you reached a certain age was just a misunderstanding, something you'd call silly, something you'd laugh over when you were old enough to truly understand the mechanisms of the world. Throughout high school, I hadn't looked in the direction of any boy, and at some point, I'd begun to ask myself questions. Why was I the way I was? Why didn't I feel those emotions everyone else did?

Then came Takoda.

Our chemistry was palpable, conversations were easy, and even though I'd tried to deny it at first, even though I'd translated everything I was feeling to something else, it remained undeniable, constant. Here we were now, with enough information about each other to publish an encyclopedia, and I was realizing that there honestly weren't any words I could use to describe this hum thriving just behind my ribcage. It was relatable now—how people never really knew what to say when asked how they knew they were in love. They just knew.

And I knew without a doubt that I loved Takoda Calebs. I just didn't know how to tell him.

I didn't know if those three words would scare him and make him turn away. I didn't know if I would be able to live with myself if they did.

"When have I ever been normal?" I asked him, fighting around the emotion blocking my throat. My smile felt wobbly, but he thankfully wasn't looking at me.

I put the bottle of wine down, and he reached forward with a piece of meat hanging off the prongs of his fork. His smile made me smile.

"Really?" I asked, fighting off a laugh.

"It's really good, trust me."

"I do trust you. It's just . . ." I shook my head, letting out a quiet laugh. "I can't believe any of this is happening."

He nudged the fork closer to me, and I had no choice but to lean forward and take the steak in my mouth. A burst of flavor spread across my tongue immediately, and my eyes grew two sizes wide as I chewed, while simultaneously quirking my eyebrows at him. I moaned a little because wow. That was hands-down the most delicious piece of meat I'd ever tasted. I couldn't even bring myself to feel embarrassed at the fact that I moaned.

He gave me a satisfied smile before returning to his food. "Pricey, but worth it."

"Totally."

We spent the rest of dinner talking, laughing, and sharing our food over the flowers on the table, and after he expertly opened the wine, I felt his leg against mine beneath the table. He didn't seem to be aware of it, judging by how casually he poured the wine, but when I tapped the side of my right heel against his left boot, he gave me a smile that nearly killed me, still focused on his task.

"To you," he said as he lifted his glass after filling it halfway, and, still a little dizzy, I raised mine, careful not to spill the wine.

"And to you."

Like the adults we weren't, we clinked our glasses together, trading smiles over the rims.

A cool blast of night air hit me square in the face the moment we stepped out of the restaurant, hand in hand, and a laugh immediately tore out of me. An uptight, middle-aged (fake) blonde woman dressed in a chic, baby pink two-piece I thought fit in better in an office on the twenty-fifth floor of a skyscraper, slipped right in the middle of the main dining area for everyone to see, thankfully catching herself on time, but she refused to acknowledge that sometimes gravity happened and instead turned to glare at her husband, who was quietly following a few paces behind her. Her face was what did it for me, and since I couldn't laugh in the semi-quiet building, I had to hold it in until I got outside.

My hand tightened around Takoda's as I doubled over, and I could feel him shaking his head at me.

"That was priceless," I said between laughs. "The stuff of viral videos."

When I spared a look at him, I wasn't surprised to see him doing what I thought he was—shaking his head but looking amused. "You're evil," he said, like he was telling me it was nighttime. "She could be your mom."

I stood upright and playfully shoved him in the arm. "Oh, come on. It was funny, mostly because she had her nose stuck in the air a few seconds prior. Gold star." I shouted my last words into the night, attracting some unwanted attention. My face and neck felt warm, and that vibration in my chest had spread its tendrils until I could feel it in my head, just beneath my skull.

"You're buzzed." It wasn't a suggestion. Again, he said it like he was telling me something he thought was painfully obvious.

The cobblestone path leading to the parking lot was lined with palm trees that were just a little taller than him, and their earthy smell managed to provide a much-needed lull to the general aesthetic of the rest of the property.

I looked at Takoda again as our footsteps echoed in the quiet night, like I couldn't get enough of him. "Blame it on kee-un-ti."

He chuckled. "Yeah, you're definitely buzzed."

I moved to stand in front of him, maneuvering our hands so they didn't detach with the movement, and before I could think about it, I tugged his arms forward until they were around my waist, then I was leaning up to kiss him.

His lips were quick to respond, moving in sync with mine even as we refused to stop walking. I was a little unsteady in my heels because of the alcoholic buzz, but I knew I wouldn't fall. I'd already hit the ground, and there was nowhere to go beyond that.

Takoda's arms were warm around me, fitting perfectly in the curves of my waist, and I fiddled with one of the fancy buttons on his soft shirt. He had a thing for casual but elegant fashion, and his stylists had caught on, so even when he wasn't given the opportunity to dress himself, you could still see a lot of personality in what he wore. I could count the number of times I'd seen him in traditional suits on one hand, and I didn't know if it was because I was a goner, but I found it attractive that even in the wide music industry, he still found ways to stand out.

Our lips parted so we could walk faster, but as soon as cobblestone gave way to paved ground, I turned to face him again. He smiled against my lips this time, and I let out a small giggle as my body tingled in response to his touch.

It took us a while to spot his Lexus among the other luxury cars in the lot, but we scrambled in like little kids and shut the doors, securing ourselves behind black-tinted windows. Then I was in his lap and he was reclining his seat to give us more space. From my ears to my nose to my jaw, he touched as many spots of exposed skin with his lips as he could, and I did the same to him.

My elbow brushed against the window as I kissed a trail along the side of his neck, and the little breath that escaped him made me smile against his skin. I wasn't exactly sure what pulled the words out of my mouth—his thumbs drawing patterns on a spot just above the hem of my dress, his warmth cascading down my back, spreading through my fingers, Calebson No. 9 in my nose, muddling my thoughts, his soft lips on my skin, making me shiver despite the heat, the Chianti—but my lips moved up until they were placed right next to his ear.

Then I whispered, "I love you, Takoda."

Three things happened at once: Takoda's hands tightened around my thighs, I stopped moving, and a cold breeze impossibly rolled down my back, multiple times.

We remained that way for a numb moment, and right as his hands retreated from my skin, the feeling of dread sank down to the bottom of my stomach like an anchor in the ocean. Except, this anchor didn't help to steady me; it just weighed me down and was persistent on keeping me there. I realized what I'd just said, realized the implication of my words.

Slowly, I pulled away, my eyes colliding with his. The only light illuminating the car came from the distant restaurant, so his eyes looked like dark chocolate, swirling with emotion and the residue of the want he felt for me just a few seconds ago.

Takoda blinked, erasing every emotion on his face until the only thing left was surprise.

My lips parted long before any words came past them. "I don't know what I just said. I'm—" I struggled painfully with words for a few heartbeats, and he just kept looking at me. My brain was blank, my body unresponsive, and I think I was shivering a little.

I wasn't fully conscious when he reached up, his eyes glazed over, to gently swipe pieces of hair from my face, but my body worked without my permission when he leaned up and reconnected our lips. The kiss was slow and purposeful this time, dragging out for seconds and minutes and hours all at once, and he put some weight on my lower back until I was flush against him, until all the air in the car was compressed between the heat of our bodies.

Even behind my closed eyelids, I felt dizzy, because Takoda had kissed me plenty, but never like this.

In an insanely professional way, he deepened the kiss, and it was almost easy to forget that we'd both given our virginities to each other. It was almost easy to think he'd been doing this since before our conversation on my sister's patio last year.

When he pulled away from me, I was out of breath, and his hand skimming my side wasn't helping to settle my vibrating body. He adjusted his weight in the seat, easily taking me with him, then stared at me for a charged moment. I leaned in, my hand on one side of his face, and gave him one more slow kiss.

"I want this," he whispered against my lips, his barely moving. His hand moved up to my face again, and his thumb gently brushed against my cheek. His gentleness was starting to drive me crazy.

"What?" I managed to ask around a tight throat.

"Us. I really want this, to make us official so we could stop sneaking around like this."

I got his point. As thrilling as it was to have this little secret, to steal looks, touches and kisses when no one was looking, it was also exhausting and very high-maintenance. I wanted to tell my sister that I was in love with her best friend, wanted to tell my mom that I was in love with the son she never had, wanted to go out with him in the daytime and stop pretending like we were just friends when people were around.

I wanted us, too. Badly.

"You can have it if you want," I told him quietly. "I want this, too."

He let out a breath, his hands once again falling from my skin. "That's the problem. I can't."

I stroked his hair, loving the way a lock lazily lay over one of his eyes and nearly brushed against his jaw. "Why not?"

He took a moment too long to respond to me, leaning into my touch, and I tried not to be nervous. "I don't think I'm ready, Cleo."

Against my will, my body stilled, my fingers malfunctioning in his hair for a moment.

"I want to give my all to you. I'm just not sure I'm in the right state of mind to do that right now."

"Then what's the difference?" I asked him.

"The difference between what?"

"What we're doing and an official relationship. What makes your state of mind different?"

He didn't say anything, looking at me like I'd just asked him to conjugate verbs in French, and I pulled my hand away from his face, suddenly feeling sour. I wasn't feeling hesitant about us. Not at all. But this wasn't the first time I was having the feeling that he was. He was unsure, but he kept kissing me senseless and whispering gorgeous things into my ears.

"I think it's about commitment," he finally said as I pushed myself off him and dropped my weight into the passenger seat, his eyes a little far away.

I looked out the window for a moment like I could actually see much outside it. "You don't think I'm worth it?"

"Of course I do," he replied, sounding a bit incredulous, like he couldn't believe I'd just asked such a question. He remained reclined in his seat as he continued. "I guess I'm just having a hard time explaining it to you."

The car was silent for a few minutes, both of us in thought, then he was reaching across the console for my hand. He slowly took my fingers in his, one after the other.

"Cleo."

"Yeah?"

"You know I love you too, right?"

"You never told me."

"Well, I do, and I mean it with all my heart."

I tried hard to keep my emotions under control. I strangely felt like crying, but I couldn't tell if it was because he'd just told me he loved me or because of the conversation we were having.

"You know, the first thing I ever heard you say was hey." He was staring wistfully out the windshield, the smallest of smiles on his face, but his thumb continued to move over my skin. "I'd spent so long hearing your laugh travel down the hallways at your place that I started to wonder what your talking voice sounded like."

"You were fantasizing about my voice?"

He laughed, his eyes crinkling in the corners. "I thought you were really pretty, Cleo. And you were just so . . . I don't know, effortlessly cool. In ways I only dreamt of being. Every time I was over at your place, I'd see you and you'd just sort of not look in my direction, and there I was, thinking I couldn't breathe whenever you were around."

A laugh tore out of me, against my will, and I heard him backing me up. "Coco was right in front of you, Takoda. There's no way I'll believe you thought I was pretty when Coco was right in front of you."

He met my eyes. "Why—you don't think you're beautiful?"

"I'm okay."

He looked towards the ceiling of the car for a moment, leaning his head further back. "You're killing me." He reconnected our gazes. "You're absolutely killing me."

"What do you mean?"

"You're beautiful in the way the sky is," he said, his voice dropping in volume. "Undeniable, painfully obvious, breathtaking."

"Oh, please, don't start with your song lyrics with me again."

"They're not song lyrics."

"They sound like song lyrics."

"I'm serious, Cleo. I had the biggest crush on you. I was fifteen-ish, you were thirteen, so you might not have noticed the uncontrollable staring sessions."

I let out another laugh, a quiet one this time. There was something a bit surreal about finding out that Takoda Calebs had a crush, and not just on any girl. Me. He had a crush on me. He'd always seemed far away. I was looking at the stars through a telescope, and even though they were right there, in front of my eyes, they were still unreachable, millions of miles away. Takoda was one of those stars.

I knew people would argue that I was famous too, so I couldn't be too different from him, but I'd always felt a little disillusioned by the concept of fame. What made one person more special than others? Why should people scream my name when they catch sight of me when I was breathing the same air that they were? When I was just like them? I wasn't even doing anything, just on the show because I was lucky enough to be Coco Lavigne's sister, so I didn't consider myself famous.

"And then one day, by some miracle, you finally looked at me and said, hey. My brain forgot how to function and the next thing I did was give you a chin nod. I hated myself for the next twenty-four hours because I knew I could've done better than that." He watched me for a minute, and I could feel my eyes brimming with admiration for him. Then he lifted my hand to his face and pressed his lips to the backs of my fingers without breaking the eye contact. "I've tried retracing my steps, trying to figure out the exact moment I fell in love with you, but I never found it.

"I just know that I'm crazy about you. I love everything about you. The way you talk, the way you smell—God, the way you smell—your hair, that sarcastic laugh of yours . . . Everything. I know I never said it, but it was only because I was scared and a little clueless about how to go about it."

"You're doing a pretty good job at it," I told him, feeling happy tears in my eyes, and he smiled.

"Just . . . give me some time, okay?"

I didn't want to ruin this moment by lengthening the relationship conversation, so I quietly leaned towards him, our hands still joined, and kissed him again.

"You haven't gotten me ice cream yet," I said, slightly pulling away, "so I still consider this celebration incomplete."

When he smiled and ran his fingers through my hair, I realized that I was wrong and there was really no limit to falling. Because even with my back against the ground, I still felt weightless, like a feather being carried away by the wind.

this long chapter is dedicated to me, for finding out not too long ago that it's pronounced kee-un-ti. proud of you, fay.