“This is the ultimate bad-boy date, isn't it? Breaking into a different country.""Hey, it makes a change from hot-wiring cars together.""Been there, done that....Alex seriously, are you sure no one's going to shoot us?”

“You know that half the girls in school would have been after you."He gave a soft laugh. "If they were into someone who was flunking out...I don't think I'd do too well with having to go to class when a bell rings or caring about homework...""A bad boy--even better. You'd have done well in Spanish class.""If I ever went to it."We lay in silence for a awhile; Alex's arms felt so warm and safe that I was starting to get sleepy. "Say something in Spanish," I mumbled.He kissed my hair. "Te amo, Willow," he said quietly.I came awake, smiling into the darkness. "What does that mean?" I whispered.I could almost hear his own smile. "What do you think it means?"I hugged him, kissing his collarbone and wondering if it was possible to actually die of happiness. "Te amo, Alex.”

“Alex grabbed our things from the bike and bought them inside; then he fastened the tent closed, securing us in."Come here, babe, I'll keep you warm.”

“For a long time we just held each other, our hearts beating hard. My eyes were closed, my face pressed against the warm dip between his shoulder and neck. Alex. I felt a happiness so great that it was like a deep stillness within me, as if something I'd been looking for my entire life had just slotted into place, making me whole.Finally Alex drew back. Stroking my hair from my face, he kissed me slowly, and I wanted to melt. "I can't believe that I can just do that whenver I want to now," he whispered. "You may not be getting much done for the next few weeks. Or months, or years."Years. My heart skipped, hoping that was true. "I think I can live with that," I said. Hardly able to believe that I could touch him whenever I wanted to, either, I slid my hand down his arm, feeling the different textures of him: hard muscle, smooth skin. "Do you want to go to bed?" I asked softly. Then, for the second time that night, I felt my face flame at the question.Alex smiled and touched my cheek. "You still mean sleep, right?""Still sleep." My skin was on fire."Just making sure. Yeah, sleep sounds good. I'm sure I'll manage to drop off. Eventually." His smile turned teasing. "Do I have to put my shirt on?"I couldn't help smiling, too, though embarrassment was still singeing through me. "No, I'd rather you didn't," I admitted.”

“Alex propped himself against the metal railing where Willow had just stood. "Okay, let's get something straight," he said in Spanish."If you think I don't know you're after my girfriend, you're crazy. And if you try to put any sleazy moves on her while you're here, you're going to regret it." Seb's knapsack was at his feet. He took out a pack of cigarettes; tapped out the last one and lit it.Settling back against the door jamb, he gave Alex a considering, faintly humorous look. "Sleazy moves?" he repeated. "Don't worry, I don't do sleazy moves." "Let me rephrase," said Alex coldly "Any moves, just keep your hands off her.”

“Querida, it's alright," he said. "No one has hurt me in years.""Hey, you're supposed to be my brother," I said, trying to joke. "Brother's don't hold their sisters' hands or call them querida."Seb smiled, his hazel eyes starting to dance. "Yes, they do," he said. "This happens all the time.""Well I guess things are different in Mexico then," I said. "Because in America, no way. And I'm an American.""But you're in Mexico now," he pointed out."Right. And you're saying here, boys holds hands with their sisters and call them sweetheart.""Oh yes. We're very friendly, we Mexicans.”

“Holding my pendant, I lay on my side without moving, noiseless tears streaming down my face until the pillow grew damp beneath my cheek. I didn't want to die. I wanted to live, to be with Alex, to experience so much more than I had so far. But just then, it was Alex I was crying for. All that he'd gone through, all those deaths of people he loved--and now he was having to experience it again, with me. Thinking of what he was going through was like being beaten up inside; it was even worse than imagining whatever might happen the next day. Part of me hoped that he really did hate me now--maybe it would help; maybe it would make it not hurt so much.And more than that, I guess I was crying for both of us...that it hadn't turned out to be always, after all.”