From What I Remember (34 page)

“Yes,” I say, trying to sound cool, calm, and collected. But what I really want to do is shout it to the world. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

I’ve been waiting for this moment to arrive forever, and now that it’s finally here, it’s even better than I could have imagined.

I’ve got my hands in the air, I’m dancing up a storm, sweating like a pig. Some of my moves feel a little rusty, but, frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn. I’m enjoying myself far too much to care. This is the best night of my life. If only it didn’t have to end in the morning.

I saw Kylie and Max making out on the dance floor (which was almost as shocking as the fact that I’ve been making out on the dance floor), but the next thing I knew, they were flying out the door, like fighter jets off to war. Normally, I’d be worried and chasing Kylie down the street, making sure she’s okay. But I haven’t got time for the pain. I’ve got one night only. One night to make Juan mine. And if I do, who knows what can happen next? A whole world of wonderful. At least that’s what I’m gunning for.

Hopefully, girlfriend can take care of herself while I’m taking care of myself. Or, rather, Juan is taking care of me. How awesome would that be if Kylie and I both lost our virginity on the very last night of school? Talk about bringing back a rocking souvenir from Mexico. Fingers crossed.

“Can I have this dance, gorgeous?” Juan’s high school friend Antonio asks me.

I turn to Juan to make sure it’s okay. “You cool with that?” I ask him.

“By all means. Everyone wants a piece of the beautiful new boy in town,” Juan says.

Beautiful new boy? Who? Me? I look around to make sure Juan isn’t talking about someone behind me, in front of me, to the left or the right of me. He’s not. He’s looking straight at me with his baby blues. Hot much? Be still, my heart.

Antonio, meanwhile, is quite the specimen. They know how to grow these boys in Mexico. And he wants to dance with me. Me! That is the freaking craziest thing I’ve ever heard. It’s like an alternate universe here in Ensenada, where the duckling is a swan. I’m handsome, suave, and popular. I could get used to this.

As Antonio and I shake our booties to the Scissor Sisters, I’m beginning to question my decision to return to La Jolla in the morning. I promised Kylie a ride back, but if tonight goes well, why bother trucking over the border when I’ve found paradise right here in Ensenada? Does it get any better than this? I highly doubt it.

Juan is staying in Ensenada for the summer. Maybe I should stand by my man. Though Kylie has to be at graduation, there is no pressing need for me to be there. Or anywhere but here, for that matter. The only sticking point is that Juan isn’t exactly out to his family. The macho Latino culture is a bitch. But I can help with that. Coming out is my forte.

Sure, Mom and Dad will be bummed that I’ve missed graduation, but I’ll make it up to them by losing the women’s clothes and dressing like a guy, for the first time in years. Dad will be so happy he’ll probably start handing out cigars. I just hope Kylie will understand when I hand her the passports and put her and Max on the first bus back to San Diego.

have no idea how long we’ve been making out on the pier. As far as I’m concerned, the world could end here and now. Because everything I never knew I wanted, I just received. Thank you, more please, Max Langston. We’re sitting up now, having gotten a few splinters from rolling around on the wood. I’m on Max’s lap and his arms are wrapped around my waist as his lips work their way toward my ear. His tongue plays with the fleshy part of the lobe and it’s so pleasurable I’m not sure I can bear it. Who knew my earlobes were so sensitive? How can someone be this good at kissing? His lips, his tongue, his teeth, they all work as a team, constantly doing new things, reinventing themselves. Just when I think he’s exhausted his repertoire, he’ll gently bite my lip and then his tongue will work magic somewhere new in my mouth, or on my neck, finding sweet spots I never knew existed.

“Look.” Max points out toward the horizon. His face pulls away from mine, and I feel like someone has cut off my oxygen.

And then I see it. A pod of dolphins has swum into the harbor and is leaping out of the water, spinning in the air and splashing back down. Max and I watch, mesmerized by their show. A few fireworks pop in the sky. Ensenada is going all out tonight. I guess it
was
a dolphin I saw earlier. My luck appears to be turning around, at least for today. I’m seeing stars, dolphins, and fireworks. And liking it. I’ve suddenly gone all soft, which is fine by me.

I jump up and look down at Max. “I’m going swimming, Langston. You coming?”

I don’t even care if Max sees my big old butt. Maybe he’ll like it. Maybe he won’t. I just want to splash around in the ocean, under the stars, while a full moon lights up the night sky. This is one moment that’s not going to pass me by.

“Hell, yeah!” Max says. “But what about the eels?”

“I had forgotten about them, but thanks for reminding me.”

“Sorry, my bad. Still going in?”

“I’m going to take on the eels. You with me?”

“All the way,” Max says, standing up and pulling off his shirt. His chest is so exquisite, so perfectly sculpted, my heart skips a beat. Is this really happening?

I pull my dress off, standing in front of Max in my bra and underwear. If he’s going to think I’m fat, might as well let him have at it.

Max’s eyes graze my body. I can feel them moving from my neck down over my breasts and resting on my stomach. He reaches out and touches me softly with his fingers. His hands wander over my body. I want to kiss him again, but he’s keeping me at a distance, just touching me. It feels so nice. His hands wind their way along my sides until both palms rest on either side of my butt.

Why isn’t he saying anything? Does he think I’m fat? I’m certainly plumper than bony Lily Wentworth. I mean, baby got back. I’m Latino. And Jewish. I like to eat. What can I say? I’m not a stick and I never will be. Say something, Max.

“You have the most beautiful body, Kylie. I can’t believe you hide it away in those baggy jeans.”

What?
“Shut up,” is all that comes to mind. Brilliant.

“I’m serious, Kylie. I love your ass. All the girls at Freiburg are so skinny. You’ve got a perfect ass.”

“No way.” Another genius retort. It’s official, I’m a blathering idiot.

And then, because I can’t really discuss my ass any longer, I rush toward the edge of the pier, soar off the edge and into the water. It’s warm, silky, and bubbly. It feels like swimming in champagne. Max throws off his jeans and dives in after me. He swims up to me, takes hold of my hands, and we float together as the gentle waves toss us about. The dolphins play a few hundred yards away. The fireworks have finished—the literal ones, that is. Metaphorical ones are going off at an ever increasing speed.

“If you put your head underwater, you’ll be able to hear the dolphins speaking to each other,” Max says.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I used to do it as a kid. It kind of sounds like little clicking noises. Wait, I’ll try.”

Max plunges under the water, stays down for a few seconds, then pops back up.

“You can totally hear them. Go see.”

I take a deep breath and submerge myself. After a second or two I hear it, little clicks and screeches. It’s unmistakable. It sounds like they’re chattering away in a foreign language. I come back up to the surface.

“Very cool!”

“I know. It’s hard to hear them in San Diego. Too many people. They don’t come this close to shore.”

“What do you think they’re saying?”

“Probably talking about corruption in Mexico. I don’t think they’re fans of Felipe Calderón.”

“Listen to you, talking Mexican geopolitics.”

“Just trying to impress you. How am I doing?”

“You’ve impressed me, Langston. Enough already. I’m starting to feel like an underachiever here.”

Max leans in and kisses me. We bob up and down and side to side as we attempt to kiss, breathe, and somehow stay afloat.

Max points to the pier. “Check it out. Total crowd scene happening out there.”

I look to the pier and notice that people have gathered on the dock, men in suits, woman in dresses like mine.

“You think they’re watching us?” I ask.

“Definitely. They heard about the Americans swimming in their underwear in the harbor and they’ve come down to check it out.”

“Oh my God.”

“Kylie, no one cares about us.”

“I’ve never gone swimming in the ocean at night before. Ever.”

“Seriously? Night swimming is the best.”

“This is amazing. If I lived here I would do this every night,” I tell Max.

“If I lived here I would have a little boat, and I’d take us out on the water at night, maybe a little sangria, some of those tripe tacos. We’d lay back and look at the stars as we tool around the harbor. It’d be sweet.”

“You are sweet, Max Langston.”

“You are amazing, Kylie Flores.”

I can’t help myself, I’m giddy and grinning from ear to ear. I’m barely recognizable even to myself, and I’m liking that a lot.

“What are you smiling at?” Max asks me.

“I’m having a great night.”

“Me too.”

I lie on my back in the water, moving my hands just enough to keep me afloat. The stars are blazing above me. I feel like the luckiest girl in the world. Even though I know there might be an expiration date on this kind of thing.