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  I roll my eyes. He stumbles on a curb and I lunge out instinctively to grab his flailing hand. I hold him up for a split second, his eyes amused and mine wide, and then let go. He hits the road butt-first, groaning. Jen and Grace look behind at us, laugh, and keep walking.

  “What was that? Afraid I might hurt myself?” He winces and stands. “I figured you for the motherly type.”

  “I’m not motherly! I was just trying to –” I splutter, searching for the right words to express the slow-burning rage that’s been boiling in me since we met. “Don’t just jump to conclusions about people before you know them.”

  “I know you.” Lee grins.

  “Funny. But no. You don’t.”

  He leans in, as if to kiss me again. But instead he takes in my face. The gold of his eyes catches in the streetlights.

  “You don’t remember, do you?” He asks.

  “Remember what?”

  He stares at me a moment longer, searching for something, and then pulls away.

  “Nevermind. You’ll figure it out. Or you won’t. And that’ll break my heart again.”

  Again? I frown and jog to catch up with his long strides. “What do you mean, again?”

  “I’m not saying anything.” He shrugs. “I won’t bind you to me with old memories and should-have-beens.”

  Ahead of us, Grace and Jen wave us over to the front door of Grace’s apartment building. My mouth almost drops open – the lobby is tiny, but has marble floors and shiny elevators. We take one up to the fifth floor. The halls are carpeted in a rich red. It’s almost like a hotel instead of an apartment building. Grace fumbles with her keys and Jen helps her with the right one, opening the door. Grace tells us to take off our shoes and feels around for a light switch.

  “Ow! That was my boob!” Jen growls.

  “Sorry, sorry!” Grace giggles, and flips the lights. Hardwood floors shine up at me, with a few scattered throw rugs. The lights are embedded in the ceiling and shed soft luminance on the marble countertops and white leather furniture. Jen whistles.

  “You’ve done some redecorating since I’ve last been here.”

  “Yup. Had to make room for Lee,” Grace says.

  Lee grunts and heads to the kitchen. He starts stacking dirty plates and brings out a cutting board. Grace flops on the couch and kicks her heels off. Jen ducks into the bathroom. Feeling a little awkward, I settle on a kitchen barstool. Lee pours a glass of water and hands it to me without asking. I frown, but am grateful for it.

  “So, Rose,” Grace sits up. “You model, right?”

  I spit water on the counter. Lee chuckles and throws me the roll of paper towels. I clean the water slowly, painfully embarrassed.

  “Sorry,” I start. “No, I’m not a model. And I never will be.”

  “You could be, if you wanted to.” Grace looks me over. “Here, stand up.”

  She walks to me and holds my arms up, uses her fingers to measure the length of my legs. She puts her hands around my waist and nods.

  “You’re just a little bigger than my own measurements. Plus you’re what, 5’9?”

  “5’10, but –”

  “That’s plenty!” Grace smiles and takes her phone from her pocket. She flounces to the balcony, where the lights of L.A. twinkle against the darkness, and closes the sliding door behind her.

  “Don’t let her rope you in,” Lee sighs. He chops basil, rosemary, and onions with surprising speed. “She tried it on me and it ended in tears.”

  “Whose tears?”

  “I frustrated the photographer so bad he told me to get out. And then he told me I was beautiful and tried to get my number.”

  I smother a laugh. “Wait, so you –”

  “Tried modeling for a day. Yup. Hated it.” He scrapes the onions and herbs into a frying pan coated with butter. “If there’s one thing I can’t stand it’s people curbing my freedom. Telling me what to do, where to go, when to go there. I hated high school the same way.”

  “High school…in Spain, right?”

  He nods and leans into the fridge, taking out a slab of beautifully marbled steak. “Grace and I grew up in a stuffy, rich suburb of Madrid. Private Catholic schools. Really boring.”

  “So Grace moved here?”

  “She’s three years older than me,” Lee puts the steak into the pan where it sizzles satisfyingly. He pulls out a saucepan and fills it with water, setting it on the stove. “When she was a Junior and I was a Freshmen, she got spotted in the street during Madrid Fashion Week by some agency. She dropped out and moved around a lot – Paris a couple years, then Tokyo, and finally got sent here. Dad was pissed. Still is. They don’t talk to each other.”

  “But you two do,” I say.

  “I have to,” He sighs. “Since Grace dropped out he’s set on me taking over the family business. I have to go to college and get good grades, do all the traditional stuff.”

  “He sent you here to L.A? Or did you come on your own?”

  Lee’s eyes flash. “You’re awfully interested in me all of a sudden.”

  “I just…” I chew the inside of my mouth. “I’m just curious.”

  “Dad told me to transfer to UCLA. I wanted to, of course, to get away from him. So I did. But then he told me you went here, told me to get to know you.”

  “For the money,” I insist. Lee nods and sighs.

  “He’s really bent on getting it. Our family owns race horses, but he bets on them, too. A few months ago he bet more than he had, and now the loan sharks are after him.”

  “He tried to get money from me,” Grace says, sliding the door behind her as she comes in. She flips her phone closed and settles on a bar stool next to me. “But I told him to rot in hell.”

  Lee pours her a glass of water. She thanks him and looks to me.

  “So. Good news. Alex says you can come with me to my shoot tomorrow morning.”

  “T-Tomorrow? Who’s Alex?”

  “My manager. Tomorrow we’re doing a shoot for De La Rosse’s summer collection in Laguna Beach. You’ll model with me.”

  “What?” I screech. “Wait, wait wait wait, I’m not –”

  “Relax,” She laughs. “We’ll just take a few silly pictures together and have the photographer send them to us. You can try on some clothes. I’ll be doing the real work. You can just hang around and eat the breakfast spread, if you want.”

  Jen comes out of the bathroom, crowing. “Nobody go in there without a gasmask. Whoa, Rose, you really don’t look good. Are you gonna hurl? Because you might wanna find a less-stunk-up toilet.”

  “She’s scared of coming with me to a shoot,” Grace says softly. Jen makes an ‘o’ face and pats me on the back.

  “Hey, don’t worry. I’ve been with her twice. It’s nothing big. And the food is to die for. They get it catered and shit.”

  “If she doesn’t want to go, you shouldn’t force her,” Lee murmurs.

  “Relax, pretty-boy.” Jen sniggers. “Rose’ll go anywhere there’s pastries.”

  “No, it sounds nice. I’ll go,” I say. “If it’s okay. But no modeling.”

  “Definitely.” Grace stands and flounces into one of the back rooms. “You can have the guest room! I’ve left a pair of pajamas in the bottom drawer if you need some, and there’s extra toothbrushes in the bathroom.”

  Jen sees my confused look and smiles. “She likes having people over.”

  “She’s lonely,” Lee corrects.

  “Well that wouldn’t have anything to do with you sleeping around at school and never coming home now, would it playboy?” Jen snaps.

  “And it wouldn’t have anything to do with your fear of being too out in the open with her, would it?” Lee counters. Jen flushes up to her red-pixie-cut roots.

  “Whatever.”

  There’s an awkward quiet. My stomach chooses that exact moment to rumble hideously. Lee shakes his head and Jen snickers. I mumble an apology. Lee dumps orzo pasta into the now-boiling water. He pulls out a tomato and a block
of mozzarella. He cuts a few slices, sprinkles them with balsamic vinegar, and slides the plate to me.

  “There. Eat before that monster in your stomach jumps out and kills us all.”

  “So how…how do you know how to cook?” I ask. Jen stuffs a tomato slice her mouth. I nibble on mozzarella. Lee flips the steak over.

  “When Mom died, Grace burned everything and Dad was too busy at work. I took it up, and it stuck.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know –”

  “It’s fine.” He shakes his head and brings out a bag of peas from the freezer. I suddenly feel horrible. They didn’t have a mom growing up. I can’t imagine not having Mom – Dad would be a whole other person without her, and our lives would’ve been different. Sadder. Harder.

  Jen and I set the table. Grace laughs and tells stories and pours wine whenever our glasses empty. The world spins pleasantly, and I’m warm and careless. I’ve never gotten this drunk. It gets harder and harder to ignore Lee’s fingers when they accidentally brush mine passing food around.

  “I told the guy to keep walking, but he had no idea the camera was on him, and he just stood there in the bushes, peeing,” Grace stops to laugh. “So finally, one of the makeup guys chased him off, but the guy left his pants, so he was naked from the waist down and running away and – oh God, it was the funniest shoot I’ve ever been on. When Chole and I do shoots together now, we still hike up our pants during breaks and pretend to pee in front of the camera.

  Lee smiles and takes a sip of wine.

  “Well, since Lee cooked, I’ll clean,” Jen offers.

  “I’ll help,” I say. While Jen and I wash, Grace and Lee talk on the sofa. Their voices are too low to hear, but they’re definitely speaking Spanish, and they shoot looks at me every once in a while.

  “How did their mom die?” I whisper to Jen and pass her a dish. She pauses.

  “Car accident. She was American. Lived around here, actually.”

  “That’s horrible. But...is that why they speak without an accent?”

  Jen shrugs. “Yeah. They used to visit their Mom and Grandpa here. Plus they went to a fancy international school or something.”

  I think back to Grandpa’s letter. He said Lee came to the farmhouse for a few summers. Why don’t I remember that? I have fuzzy memories of playing with faceless, nameless friends our age there, but no specifics. If Lee was there, I can’t remember him.

  When the dishes are done, Grace and Jen show me the guestroom. It’s spacious, with a queen-sized bed, floral blankets, a dresser and a small TV.

  “The bathroom’s just down the hall.” Jen motions.

  “Awesome. Thank you so much for…everything, really. I’ve never –” I trial off. “ - never had this much fun before.”

  Grace hugs me lightly, a bird’s-wing embrace. “Sleep well. The car comes at four. I’ll wake you up.”

  “‘Night, braniac.” Jen salutes.

  “Where are you sleeping?”

  She flushes and looks at Grace retreating down the hall. “Um.”

  “Oh!” The realization hits me. “O-Oh, okay. Goodnight. And nice playing tonight. The music was great.”

  Jen smiles, relief coming over her features. “Thanks.”

  When the door closes I fall back on the bed and let the wine haze consume me. These sorts of outings seem way more up my alley than the sort Selena goes to. Not all partying has to be crazy, and I learned that tonight. Maybe I just hadn’t been having fun before now because I hadn’t put myself in the right places with the right people. And Jen – how did I not see it before? Jen and Grace are dating. All of Grace’s excited faces at the club suddenly make sense. They’re really cute together, too. It makes my heart glow a little to know Jen is so happy with her.

  I get changed – Grace’s pajamas almost too small. I shuffle to the bathroom, trying to stay quiet so I don’t bug anyone. I reach for the door handle just as someone opens it. Steam pours out and Lee stands in the doorway, towel wrapped around his waist and bronze chest bare. His wet hair hangs in his surprised eyes.

  “Geez, what is this, the second time you’ve seen me naked? Do you have special sensing whiskers for this shit or something?” He asks.

  I glue my eyes to the ceiling. “Sorry. Um. I just wanted to brush my teeth.”

  “Apology not accepted.” He leans in, so close I can see the water droplets stuck on his chest. I’m suddenly hyper aware of the way Grace’s pajamas don’t cover all of my stomach and legs. I hadn’t noticed it the first time we ran into each other – literally – but his physique isn’t bulky at all. He has broad shoulders but a narrow waist tapering into his towel. His arm and stomach muscles have the barest definition. His skin is dusky and the skin hairs light, surprisingly light for how dark his head hair is. He has a small mole on his neck and for some reason that snaps me back to reality – he’s a real, breathing person and I’m standing here gawking and making a fool of myself.

  “I just, if you’re done, I need to –” I try to squeeze around him, but he blocks the door with his body.

  “Need to what?”

  “Please move!”

  He smiles and leans closer. “That’s more like it. Using your words and asking for what you want clearly is always a good thing.”

  His heat engulfs me, and I feel hesitant, feather-light touches on the back of my neck as his hand ghosts up it. I jerk away.

  “Don’t play me like this,” I snap.

  “Play you like what?”

  “Trying to get me in your bed won’t make me like you.”

  “I could probably change your mind about that once we’re in it.” He grins.

  “I won’t marry you, ever,” I hiss. “And I won’t let you toy with me just so you can get that money.”

  I dart into the steamy bathroom. When I hear him walk down the hall and go into his room I breathe a sigh of relief. That was too close. My hands and heart are trembling, and I feel like I’m running a fever. I brush my teeth and stare at my reflection. I’m nothing special. Nothing compared to the sorority girls he probably sleeps with. There’s no way he’s attracted to me. He doesn’t even know me that well. So he has to be playing me, toying with me for the money.

  I feel sick.

  ~~~

  I dream.

  At first it’s a nonsense dream about green dogs, but then it turns specific. There’s a small field of sunflowers. I know this place – Grandpa’s yard in the summer. I’m shorter, younger. The sound of cicadas and the heady scent of hot earth and pollen overwhelm me. I’m short and chasing someone through the sunflowers, scratchy stalks biting at my skin as I push through them to find who I’m looking for. I’m shouting a name, a name I can’t remember.

  I know he’s close.

  In the dream my heart thuds painfully with every breath and I only know one thing.

  I have to find him.

  Chapter Four

  In Which Lee Montenegro Tries To Kiss Me While Sleepwalking

  It’s still dark out when Grace shakes me gently awake. The dream of sunflowers fades slowly, yellow smudging my eyelids and the burning desire to find ‘him’, whoever he is, lingering in my heart.

  I roll out of bed and take a quick shower while Grace picks clothes for me to wear – a flowing skirt and tank top. I pull my jacket on and we stumble out of the apartment, laughing groggily. Grace looks completely different without makeup, but her skin glows and she’s got a little smile on her lips. The car waiting downstairs is a black Lexus with a serious-looking chauffeur. We sit in the backseat and Grace hands him a slip of paper.

  “That address, please.”

  He nods and we pull out of the lot. L.A is pitch dark – everything closed save for a few neon twenty-four-hour stores and clubs. Businessmen and women on their way to work stream in and out of coffee shops and the subway. The highway isn’t crowded.

  “So, where do your parents live?” Grace asks.

  “San Fran. They have their soap company up there.”

&
nbsp; “Very cool.” Grace smiles. I stare out the window at the passing city. Mom’s tears and the bankruptcy papers are fresh in my mind. I didn’t call them last night – but I did say I might sleep over at Jen’s place, so hopefully they aren’t worried.

  “You love them a lot, huh?” Grace asks. “Jen told me how hard you study at school to keep up the scholarship so they don’t have to pay much.”

  I shrug nervously. “I don’t know if that’s love, really. I’m not helping them or contributing. Just staying afloat.”

  “You will. Someday. You don’t have to do everything on your own, right now.”

  “You are,” I say. Grace laughs.

  “I got very lucky, and now I have a good career. But I’m selfish. I don’t give any of it to anyone.”

  “You let Lee stay with you.”

  “Lee helps with rent – he has his own money from before father gambled it all on the horses. I’m not really helping Lee.”

  “You are,” I insist. She laughs and leans her head against the window.

  “If the marriage between you two doesn’t work out, it’s only a matter of time before father drags him back to Madrid for good to take over the business. Lee won’t say no. He loves father, and cares a lot for family. He’ll sacrifice his freedom to make father happy.”

  “You know about the will? And the marriage?”

  Grace nods. “It’s all Father started talking about after Grandfather died; the chunk of change he’d get when Lee married you. The money that will save him from the loan sharks for good. Pathetic. I don’t blame you if you don’t do it – marriage isn’t the sort of thing a will should dictate. It should be love.”

  Grace’s words are full of hard-earned wisdom. Is Lee living a free playboy life because he’ll know he’ll be shackled with a heavy, inevitable responsibility of his father’s business? The sad darkness I saw flicker behind his eyes every so often – could that be it?

  By the time we get to Laguna Beach, the sun is high. The surfers are out, but not many people crowd the pale winter sands. Grace thanks the driver and we get out. She waves to a group of people under a pavilion. It has three canvas walls and is bigger up close – space enough for expensive camera equipment, the camera crew, a dressing room with screens for privacy, and a chair with a mirror for makeup artists. A long table is spread with clipboards, water bottles, and fruit and pastry platters. Plates of ham and cheese and fresh juice dispensers are at the end. Grace eats a few grapes and I wolf down a pastry.