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After taking a shower, I tackle my closet for something to wear. Is a dress to formal? Jeans and a t-shirt too casual? When he drove me home I asked him where we'd be going and his reply was in his native tongue. Bimil. The word rolled off his lips low and and effortlessly. I knew from the way he said it and the impish smile in his eyes exactly what it meant. It's a secret.

I decided to go down the middle for a mix of both, a yellow sundress with thin straps and golden flowers sprinkled into the design. It doesn't hit the bullseye of too dressy or signal the I don't-really-care of a shirt and pants. But maybe it's be better for him to think I wasn't putting too much thought into it.

I think of all the other things I should be doing. Studying, campaigning to raise money for the club next year, looking into the financial aid resources for Columbia and Yale. I should not be going on dates with the cute boy next door.

Natalie never once went on any dates in high school. She always knew she wanted to study to be a marine biologist at Princeton and she worked hard every day to get there. She took on a part time job to save up for college, was captain of the soccer and swim team her junior and senior years, and kept her grades above a ninety seven. I adore her for her diligence and passion in life and in so many ways strive to be like her and our real father, both IVY League alumni.

I take a bottle of perfume and hold the nozzle over my neck, pressing the spray down. My reflection watches me with worn eyes. I have my father's nose, his eyes, Natalie's complexion, her dark hair. Amongst them, where am I? My insides scramble, like marbles on a boat in choppy waters. For some reason I am frustrated, my ribs boiling in acid. I keep thinking of what I should be doing, as if there is only one right choice, a single way to live correctly.

But if I had all the say, if I could freeze all the anxieties and stress of school, pick by hand all the things that made me happy, I wouldn't cancel today's plans.

In fact, today would have happened two weeks ago. In another universe I mop away the rejection I gave him in the janitor's closet and spread the word we both crave into his ear. I would corner his lips in the empty classroom and take what I've wanted all this time, before he could even register the situation, before he could even close his eyes.

。。。。。

"You look beautiful," Jason says with a smile as I get into his car.

For the first time in years I feel like a true girl and blush. This sundress was the right choice. "Thank you."

The drive with Jason is quiet and nice. The volleyball game and previous school load are a drowsy wedge in the back of my mind. Air billows through the open windows and dilutes the comfortable silence. We pass by green lights, fancy restaurants, and shops with pastel flowers hugging their windows. Where he's taking me is a mystery.

As we turn a corner, I spot a strikingly familiar boy with blonde hair sitting on the edge of the curb. His eyes are red and swollen, his jeans torn and sneakers scruffy, with a cigarette hanging from his mouth. Later, it hits me who he resembles. But it couldn't be him, no way, not dazed and torn like that.

Nearly a quarter hour later, we park on the outskirts of an isolated bushy field. Birds chirp in the trees above, swirling in the perfect clear blue skies. Besides Jason and I, there is not a single other person in sight.

"Are you going to kill me and bury my body in the woods?" I raise my eyebrows at him while stepping out the car.

He laughs with his head thrown back, his bright teeth on display and his baseball cap shading his face. "Maybe."

I know he's joking and stand frozen in place to mess with him.

"C'mon, agi." Jason says after coming around the back of his car, a woven wicker basket in his hand. With his other, he takes my hand and links our fingers. I look down at our intertwined fingers then up at him. "This is a date, Maddie."

Date. Like the thing two people do when they're into each other. Is this already some indirect confession that I like him and he likes me?

My awareness of his presence and body is already magnified a thousand times on loop. The crease in his eyes above his high cheekbones when he smiles, the two impressions of dimples below. How he smells like soap, his room, and today a hint of fresh fruit and bread. The warm safety of his hands, rough but gentle, around mine.

We come to the thick shield of bushes and tree branches the height of a small house. It seems only woods and bugs have a place here. Jason lifts up a leafy patch and a door-like threshold is revealed, a large opening of low-cut grass set upon a high over hedge. We step through and I marvel at the view. Below us is the city, a park where children play frisbee and old women walk their dogs. Cars roam by in the suburbs and two teenage boys laugh through a window.

"How did you find this place?"

He shrugs. "Chance. Curiosity."

Jason sets down a blue and white checkered blanket and places the wicker basket atop it. I can't believe I didn't realize sooner; we are on a picnic. He opens the basket and out pours the lovely smells of sweet fruit, fried chicken, and just baked loaves. There are even blue mochi balls, just like the ones I had on the first day I went over his house.

"I thought you really liked them last time so.... I spent a few hours making some last night. Just for you." Beneath the shade of his baseball cap, redness creeps in his cheeks. A bonfire is ignited in my abdomen.

I admire the organic smell of the food and sink my teeth into a drumstick. It is crispy and full of deliberate juiciness, the type made by skilled and gentle hands in a kitchen.

"Did you make this all yourself?" I ask.

He nods, a shy smile on his lips.

Forget lunch in a restaurant with chandeliers and obscure Greek dishes, or buckets of popcorn in the dark chairs of big-screen rooms. This picnic is the most romantic kind of date. For a second, I have an instinctive urge to wrap my arms around his shoulders and kiss him. I fight it with another bite of chicken.

"Mmm. This is so good. How did you learn to cook like this?"

We both face out to the green park below. Jason's long legs are stretched out onto the grass, he holds a chicken sandwich oozing with hot sauce. Our shoulders are nearly touching. A golden hue floats in the late afternoon sky, calm and lazy.

"My uncle taught me. He owned a restaurant once, when I was little." He takes a large bite of his sandwich.

Each past tense hammers a nail inside my skull. Taught, owned, once.

"This was back in Korea?"

He nods.

I build the courage to ask. "Does your uncle still own his restaurant?"

A few seconds go by, the wind rustles in the bushes.

"No, he passed away two years ago. And his restaurant was demolished into rubble, turned into a bike shop or something." His jaw clenches and his dark eyes turn hard, losing themselves into the horizon.

Slowly, I reach out, placing my hand on his. Jason turns to look me in the eyes before curling my fingers in his palm.

"What about you? How does Eamon fit into your family?"

I lean into his chest and his chin comes to rest on my head. This, I have always denied this, yet I have wanted this for so long.

"He's my stepdad. My father died when I was eight. He was in a hit and run, witnesses say they saw a man fleeing in a black Camry, but no one was ever caught."

I swallow saliva down my throat, it scratches down like sandpaper. Jason doesn't say I'm sorry like other people who apologize for grievances they've never committed. It's okay, but it's not okay it happened. It's okay and I'm okay now. It's okay because it's never been your fault.

It's okay because now he takes his baseball cap off, his curls fall over his forehead, and he presses his lips into the top of my head. I have no words. Only the humming of my heart in my chest. More, Jason, that wasn't enough.

"Do you have any siblings?"

"My sister, Natalie, she's two years older than me and goes to Princeton in New Jersey."

"Smart girl. I'm guessing you look up to her. She's why you try so hard to be a good girl."

The breeze carries the scents of Jasmine and car exhaust in the air. The sun has dipped low in the sky, coloring the horizon a deep rose and orange. I'm warm and comfortable in Jason's arms, the day seems infinitely calm, like I could close my eyes and drift away at any moment.

"I don't try, I just am," I whisper.

I feel his head leave me. He looks me straight on, his eyes challenging.

"Are you?" He brings his face just centimeters apart from mine. With one hand he holds my chin and runs his thumb, slowly, over my bottom lip.

I don't have the strength to push away, nor do I want to.

Jason's lips brush mine, then take me hungrily. His hands cup the back of my head, hold my waist, and his tongue is hot and dominant in my mouth. I swing my legs over his hips and rake my fingers through his thick, dark hair.

I don't have to be good. Not for you, not right now.

I lose myself in his arms. My thoughts are melting and my need for him grows exponentially every second. When he slightly shifts his hips, a hardness presses into me, without thinking I grind down, riding the wave in his pants.

Jason flips me over and my back slams the ground. His legs are between mine, his face close, pupils large, and he pins my arms over my head. "Maddie, you frustrate me in so many ways."

My breath comes out fast. For a minute our bodies are close and touching, our inhales and exhales one. The frenzied air around us clouds warm and still I am unable to think as clearly as I should. I think I am being rational. I want him to kiss me again. Kiss me, Jason, and don't stop.

His face lowers and I grow hot believing he will, but his head comes to rest against mine on the ground, his body sliding off me. He pulls me into him, his hair tickling my forehead.

I look Jason in the eyes, the buzz of him still on my lips. "I'm not sorry,"

A corner of his mouth upturns. "Good. I'd cry if you were. Next time, let's have more fun when we're a little more responsible."

Possibilities of next time swirl in my head like birds caught in a tornado. Another date, another kiss, another time for something more.

The time flashes across my phone. "It's late, I gotta get home." My words fall flat even to my ears. Leaving is the last thing I want to do, yet I don't trust myself to stay either.

"Okay, agi."

We pack away the blanket and remaining food into the brown wicker basket. The air is night-cool and dusk has completely set in by the time we get into the car. Fatigued, everything triggers me to give in to sleep.

"If you have a car, why do you walk to school every morning?" My words are mixed with a yawn.

He mumbles a reply. "...with you." The end of which I think he says, but I'm too tired to hear.

Events blur like a dream and I'm convinced I'm in one, already sleeping. Strong arms carrying me, my body placed in a large and soft bed, the covers drowning me.

"It's too hot," I complain groggily. I slip out the straps of my dress and turn in bed. I fall asleep with an arm draped across my bare skin.

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