Elizabeth starts across the street.

My stomach drops to my knees. Oh, dear Lord. Janet told. Janet told! That rat. That hypocritical rat! Elizabeth's mouth is set in a deep, disapproving frown and she's walking very briskly, quickly closing the distance between us. I'm frozen, my feet heavy and weighted, permanently attached to the concrete. All thought bleeds from my mind. Elizabeth is nearing. She's going to yell. She's going to lecture. She's going to ruin the only good thing in my life.

I turn and run toward the house.

"Shannon!" Elizabeth calls after me, but I don't listen. I slam the front door and turn the deadbolt. I lean back against the door and breathe deeply. Dear Lord, what am I supposed to do? I can't hide forever, a prisoner in my own home.

I hear Elizabeth's footsteps on the front porch, approaching the front door. She knocks. Loudly. "Shannon!" she shouts and jiggles the door handle. "Shannon, open the door! I need to speak to you!"

I hold my breath and remain very still, eyes shut tight, silently praying for Elizabeth to simply give up and go away.

"Shannon, I can see you through the glass."

Oh. Right. But I still don't move.

"Shannon! If you don't open the door, I'm going to say what I have to say right here on the front porch. And I'll say it very, very loudly!"

Kristy is her mother's daughter.

I unlock the deadbolt and hold open the door for Elizabeth. "Hello," I greet her, pleasantly with a strained smile.

Elizabeth frowns and steps into the foyer. She slides her hands into the pockets of her long tan skirt. She doesn't speak.

"Let's retire to the study," I suggest in a breezy voice that sounds eerily like my mother's. I turn and stride out of the foyer, although I'm not sure how I accomplish such a strenuous task. My legs are jelly, wobbling unsteadily beneath me. I shut the door behind us.

Elizabeth walks into the center of the room, hands still in her pockets, and stares at me. "Shannon," she says in a quiet, even tone, "please tell me that Janet is either mistaken or simply a liar and that you are not sleeping with a twenty-seven year old man."

Oh. Well, that's easy. "I'm not sleeping with a twenty-seven year old man," I reply and it's not even a lie. Wes and I aren't having sex and he isn't twenty-seven.

Elizabeth doesn't believe me. Her frown deepens. "Are you lying, Shannon?" she asks.

"No! I'm not lying!" I protest. "I promise, I'm still a virgin."

"Are you dating a man who thinks you're twenty years old?" Elizabeth asks. "Did you spend the weekend in New York with him?"

My heart pounds in my chest. It might burst free. I don't know what to say. I don't know how much truth to admit and how many lies should gloss over the rest. I stare at Elizabeth, feeling my heart beating fast against my ribcage. Elizabeth won't believe my lies. "Yes," I reply in a mere whisper.

"Shannon!" Elizabeth exclaims, as if until this moment she did not completely believe it. "What are you thinking?"

I fold my arms and look away. "You sound like Janet," I tell her.

"Well! At least Janet's thinking with her head for once," Elizabeth replies. "Which is more than I can say for you. Twenty-seven years old? Shannon Kilbourne, what is wrong with you?"

"He's twenty-six, not twenty-seven," I correct, irritably. Janet could at least get her facts straight.

Elizabeth scoffs. "Well! That makes it all right then," she says, sarcastically.

I finally look at her. "You don't understand," I say, snappishly. "Love knows no age."

"You're seventeen years old. You don't know anything about love," Elizabeth tells me. She's agitated. She's lost all patience with me. I've disappointed her. "Does this man really believe you're twenty? What were you doing in New York with him? Do you realize what position you've put yourself in? And him? He can be arrested for having sex with a minor. He could go to prison."

"We aren't having sex!" I cry. "And of course he believes I'm twenty! He's a wonderful man, not a pervert! And no one's going to be arrested. No one's going to prison. We aren't having sex."

"Janet thinks differently."

"Janet's a moron."

"She's a lot smarter than you. At least Janet's learned from her mistakes. Honestly, Shannon! Do you want to end up like Janet and Sam?" Elizabeth demands. "All those questions you were asking me about sex and love. I hoped it was only curiosity, although I worried you were plotting a way to win back Mick Stone. I never dreamed...You may not be having sex, but you're certainly thinking about it." Elizabeth presses her fingers to her temples and closes her eyes. She doesn't say anything for awhile and neither do I. Finally, she opens her eyes and lowers her hands. "We need to decide how to get you out of this mess," she tells me.

"I don't want out," I protest. She doesn't understand. I need Wes.

"Oh, honestly, Shannon! You can't continue this charade! It's best to get out now before you do something you truly regret." Elizabeth looks at me wearily, as if she doesn't quite believe I haven't yet done anything to regret. "You need to either come clean or simply end the relationship."

I place my hands on my hips. "I'm not ending anything, Elizabeth," I argue.

Elizabeth places her hands on her hips. "Then I'll do it for you. Give me his name and number. I'll call him. Or I could do it in person. Which do you prefer?"

I almost laugh. She doesn't even know his name! Janet didn't tell her! Janet met him and didn't bother to remember his name. Ha! Janet thinks she's so smart. "No," I reply. "I won't give you his name. You aren't spoiling this for me, Elizabeth."

"I'm not spoiling anything for you, Shannon. I'm saving you from a lot of heartache and regret. Someday, you'll thank me," Elizabeth says, matter-of-factly. "Now, where are your parents? If you won't give me any answers, I'll simply speak to them about the situation."

I really laugh now. "They aren't here," I tell her. "Mom's in Chicago. I have no idea where Dad is. The last I saw him, he was in New York. We haven't heard from him since. And Mom didn't leave the number of her hotel, so you can't call her," I say, triumphantly.

Elizabeth's eyes sort of bug out. "You don't know where your parents are?" she asks, appalled.

My triumph melts away. Embarrassment takes over. I fold my arms, self-consciously. "No," I answer. "But they won't care. Dad already knows about him. He doesn't care."

Elizabeth frowns. "Your father knows you're dating a twenty-six year old, who believes you're twenty, and he doesn't care?"

Well, more or less. I shake my head. "He knows. He knows we were in New York together. He thinks it's amusing."

Elizabeth looks at me, sadly. Pityingly. I glance away and stare out the window.

"I'm still speaking to your parents," she tells me. She doesn't sound angry anymore. Just sad. "You know this isn't right, Shannon. You're smarter than this." Elizabeth crosses the room to me and envelopes me in her arms, holding me tight. She whispers in my ear, "I will find out who he is and I will tell him the truth. You may hate me, but not forever." Then she releases me and kisses my forehead.

I don't know what to say. My arms are still folded. I lower my eyes to the floor. "Don't tell Kristy," I say, quietly.

"You can tell her yourself," Elizabeth says. "Or not." But I know that Elizabeth will tell Watson and Nannie. They'll talk about me later. What will they say? What will they think?

Elizabeth opens the study door and I follow her out. Just as we step into the foyer, Maria comes out of the kitchen, eating cherry pie filling from a can with a spoon. And Tiffany and Tyler come down the stairs, Tiffany buttoning her blouse, her hair mussed and lipstick smeared in the corners of her mouth. All three freeze and stare at Elizabeth, who stares back.

"What is going on in this house?" she demands, aghast.

I don't think Kristy or David Michael will ever be allowed over again.

No one speaks until Elizabeth leaves. "What was she doing here?" Tiffany asks me, irritably. Her cheeks are flushed with embarrassment.

I wave my hand. "Nothing, nothing," I say, quickly and start across the foyer on my jelly legs. I grab the cherry pie filling from Maria. "We'll order pizza," I tell her.

"Really?" Maria turns and follows me into the kitchen.

"What's going on?" Tiffany asks, suspiciously, coming into the kitchen, her arm hooked through Tyler's.

"Nothing," I reply, taking out the phone book and flipping it open. "Don't you like pizza?"

"Of course, but you never let us order it."

I scan the page for the Pizza Express phone number. "I have to be somewhere. Soon. This is easier. And it's better than eating pie filling. Is pepperoni okay?"

"Yes," Tiffany and Maria agree.

I dial the number and place an order for a large pepperoni pizza, then I retrieve my checkbook from the study and write out a check. I give the check to Tiffany, who's still watching me suspiciously. I gather my books into my messenger bag. I won't have time to finish my homework now. I'll wake early and complete it then. I have more important concerns on my mind. I dash upstairs, leaving Tiffany, Maria, and Tyler in the kitchen. It's after five. I'm supposed to be at Wes' at six. I can't wait that long. I have to go now.

I tear through my closet. Last night, I decided on my gray skirt and ivory-sweater for this evening. That isn't right now. I need something better. I remove my violet silk dress with the floral-print, the dress I wore the night I met Wes. Maybe he'll remember. And he'll remember why he liked me in the first place.

I may not have ruined everything in New York. Wes may still want me. He may still love me. But Elizabeth will ruin things. If she tracks him down, I know she'll tell. What if Janet remembers his name? Or Mom actually cares when Elizabeth tells her of my deception? I may not have much time left with Wes. Soon, he could know the truth. And he won't love me anymore.

I button my coat over my dress so Tiffany won't ask questions. I lie and claim I'm going to the library. She narrows her eyes at me from where she sits on Tyler's lap at the kitchen table. But she doesn't say anything. She doesn't accuse me of lying. I speed all the way to Wes'. It's five minutes after five-thirty when I knock on the door to his apartment. I glance around nervously while waiting for him to answer the door, as if there's a chance Elizabeth followed me. Silly, I know.

Wes is surprised when he opens the door. "Shannon!" he exclaims and checks his watch. "I wasn't expecting you for another half hour."

"Oh, I thought you said five-thirty," I lie, stepping passed him, quickly. When he shuts the door, I take his face in my hands and kiss him, pushing my tongue into his mouth. I'm pleased when his tongue glides against mine and his arms tighten around my waist.

When Wes breaks the kiss, he's grinning. "I guess you missed me," he says. "I'm glad you came early. I'm not ready though. I still need to change. I'll go do that." He's wearing a blue collared shirt with a striped tie.

"You look very dashing," I tell him, griping his hand. "But I'll help you pick out your shirt."

"Okay," Wes replies and pulls me toward the bedroom. He glances back at me. "You look beautiful, you know. I love when you wear that dress."

I beam at him, then pull open a dresser drawer. It's full of socks and underwear. I try the next one. Shirts. I browse through them and select a long-sleeved green and yellow-striped polo. "This one," I tell him, handing it over.

Wes is unbuttoning his shirt. He pulls it off and lets it drop to the floor, then tugs the polo over his head. "Good choice," he says.

I pick up the discarded shirt and attempt to toss it in the hamper, except Wes' evil cat's sleeping there. She opens one eye, stares at me, and hisses. "Your cat hates me," I inform him, folding the shirt and setting it beside the hamper.

"She hates everyone but me. Don't feel too bad. The girl I paid to feed her while we were in New York, apparently Darth jumped on her head. Ripped the girl's headband to shreds. It's nothing personal. Darth will get used to you."

Doubtful. I eye the cat for a moment, then turn back to the dresser. Wes has photos slipped in along the bottom of the mirror. A photo of himself with his parents, one of his demonic cat, school photos of his cousin from the SHS volleyball team and of a younger boy, who must be her brother. Then there's a photo of me. I try to hide my smile as I pick it up. Wes asked for a photo of me last week. I couldn't give him a school photo from SDS and my parents haven't taken photos of my sisters and I for years. So, I gave him this photo. It's of Anna and I outside her grandparents' house in the Hamptons. Abby took it last summer. I'm wearing dark jean shorts with an eggplant-colored tank top. My hair is blowing in the wind. I look very grown up.

"It's a great photo of you," Wes tells me, taking the photo from my hand. He slides the other photos over a little. "They're a little misarranged," he says. "Your friend is cute, but I usually keep it like this." Wes places my photo back on the mirror, then moves it over so Anna's obscured by his cousin's photo. Only I am visible.

I slip my arm around his waist and kiss his neck. "I'm so glad you've forgiven me, Wes."

"Of course. I understand. You weren't yourself."

Wes leads me back into the living room, although I'd like to stay in the bedroom. I'd like to push him back onto the bed and show him how sorry I truly am. Later. I will show him. But I don't want to spook him again.

"What are you making me?" I ask Wes, leaning against the kitchen counter.

"Uh...you know how I told you there's only one thing other than meatloaf that I can make decently?"

I laugh. "Are you making me a grilled cheese sandwich?"

"Yes, but with three kinds of cheeses, so it'll be kind of like you're eating in a real restaurant," Wes replies, opening the refrigerator. "I should take you out. Would you rather go out?"

"No!" I answer, then add hastily, "Um...didn't you want to talk?"

"Oh, right."

I breathe a small sigh of relief. I have to be extra careful now with Elizabeth prowling the streets, looking to wreck my life. She'll probably have Watson, Nannie, and Janet doing the same. It's no longer safe to have Wes pick me up at my house. It's not safe to be seen around Stoneybrook either.

"I love coming to your apartment," I tell him. "I love the privacy."

Wes grins. He sets three blocks of cheese on the counter. While he slices, I butter the sourdough bread. Then we make a salad together. It's such a pleasant, normal sort of thing. It makes me happy, much like at the hotel in New York when Wes and I unpacked together. I enjoy these little couple moments. They feel safe and so homey. Wes and I eat on the couch with our plates resting in our laps. I sit pressed close to his side.

"Have you spoken to your father?" Wes asks me.

"No. I haven't seen him. He hasn't come home."

"Is he still in New York?"

"I don't know."

Even though I can't see Wes' face, I know it's clouded with confusion. "You don't...you don't know where he is? What about your mother?"

"She's on vacation," I reply and take a bite of my sandwich.

"Do you know where she is?" Wes asks, a bit hesitantly.

"Somewhere in Chicago."

Wes doesn't say anything for a moment. "That's...kind of weird."

I set my plate on the coffee table, having lost my appetite. I lay my head on Wes' shoulder. "We're very dysfunctional," I tell him. "Things haven't...they haven't been good for a long time. My parents live their own lives and my sisters and I live ours. My parents don't want to be parents anymore. They've shoved us aside into a corner to collect dust. Sometimes they take us out to parade around like prizes. But most of the time, we're regrettable burdens."

Wes sets his plate down. He strokes my hair. "I'm sorry, Shannon. I knew something wasn't right. You never talk about your family. Now I know why. Your parents are very selfish. It's their loss, not knowing what a wonderful person you are." He kisses my temple.

"You probably think I'm foolish for the way I reacted in New York. I already knew my parents didn't have a marriage anymore. I suspected them both of cheating. I shouldn't have been surprised. I don't know why I was."

"You weren't foolish," Wes assures me. "You were upset. And I admit...as scary as you were in the moment, looking back, it wasn't so bad. It was almost sort of nice seeing you drop your guard."

I laugh and look up at him. "You're joking!"

Wes laughs, too. "No. Really."

"I never lose control like that. I don't know why I reacted that way. It's so embarrassing. I'm glad I didn't frighten you away."

"Oh, I've had girls hurl vases at my head plenty of times."

"You have not!"

"Okay, there was only one other girl. And she hurled multiple things at me on multiple occasions. So, you have at least fifteen more chances to use my face as target practice before I get fed up."

"I don't intend to ever throw anything at you ever again. But I do intend to do this," I tell him and press my lips to the underside of his jaw. I trail kisses down his neck and swing my leg over to straddle his hips. I kiss his mouth, hard and desperate, invading his mouth with my tongue. If this is it, if everything is spoiled tomorrow, I will show him how I feel tonight. There won't be any doubts in his mind.

Wes kisses me back and slides his hands under my skirt, resting them on my buttocks. I squeeze his hips with my knees and lean in closer to him. I kiss his earlobe and whisper, "The bedroom. I'm ready."

"Are you sure?" he whispers back.

"I'm ready. I'm ready," I assure him.

I slide off his lap and lead him to the bedroom, flicking on the light as we enter. "Unzip my dress," I command, turning my back to him. Wes obeys, slowly pulling the zipper down. I kisses the back of my neck. I let the dress fall to the floor and step out of it and then out of my heels.

I stand beside the dresser in only my white lace panties and bra and watch Wes undress. He does it very quickly. Any hesitation he felt on the couch has melted away. Soon, Wes has stripped down to only his black boxer briefs. He comes to where I stand and slips his hands around to my back. He unhooks my bra and gently pushes the straps off my shoulders. The bra falls to the floor.

And his cat hisses.

"That cat isn't staying in here," I tell him, sternly.

Wes grabs the cat off the hamper and throws her out the door. He slams it behind her. Then he flicks off the light. For a moment, I stand still in the dark, then the lamp on the night table switches on, filling the room with dim light.

"That's better," Wes says and pulls back the plaid comforter on his bed.

I walk around the side of the bed and climb in. I lay back. I don't feel so confident anymore. I don't feel so certain. Wes leans over and kisses me. He doesn't climb completely on top of me and I don't beg him to like I did in New York. I want to, but restrain myself. He isn't backing out again. I'm not scaring him away. We kiss for awhile, up and down each others bodies, and finally Wes hooks his fingers inside my panties and pulls them off. Then his boxer briefs join them on the floor. Wes opens the drawer of the night table and takes out a condom.

"You know, lambskin doesn't protect against diseases," he tells me.

"Oh, I know," I say, even though I didn't know that. "I don't have any diseases."

Wes laughs. "Of course not. You're a virgin. I just want to assure you that I don't have any diseases either. I thought I'd mention it."

"Oh. Okay. Thanks," I reply, but I'd really like for him to stop talking and get on with it.

Wes unwraps the condom and slips it on, then he climbs on top of me. "You're ready?" he asks, quietly.

"Yes," I whisper and I think I am. I hope I am.

Wes pushes inside me. I cry out, startled.

"Are you okay?" Wes asks, alarmed.

"I'm fine," I gasp. "It hurts. Keep going."

It takes a lot longer than a minute and a half. It isn't exactly enjoyable. I don't know what I expected. It hurts and it's uncomfortable. And I'm not certain what I'm supposed to do. So, I lay still and occasionally groan, sweat gathering on my brow. Wes doesn't seem to mind. He keeps pumping and making odd little grunting noises. We're both breathing heavily. It isn't horrible. Someday, I might enjoy it. Finally, Wes comes. I don't, but I didn't expect to.

Wes groans and collapses on top of me. He kisses my collarbone, lips trailing down to my breasts. "That was wonderful," he pants. "How do you feel? Are you okay?"

"Fine. I'm fine," I reply, quietly, although I'm not quite sure. "It was great, Wes." I try to sound much more enthusiastic than I feel.

Wes kisses me softly on the lips. "I love you, Shannon," he tells me.

"I love you, too," I reply, but I don't add what I'm really thinking, that now, he can't leave me.