Kiss me, she wished with all her might. Please for once, kiss me . . .

And maybe it was her turn for a miracle because he did. He bent and kissed the top of her head.

“Dylan,” she whispered with all the longing in her heart that felt like it might burst.

He stilled. “Tee—”

“Please?” she whispered, tipping back her head.

He groaned and crushed her to him. For the most perfect moment in all the moments of her entire life, he lowered his mouth to hers. Soft. Gentle. Patient.

But Tilly wasn’t feeling any of those things, so she tugged him in even closer. Then, on a mission, she touched her tongue to his and . . . the kiss exploded.

It was like nothing she’d ever felt in her entire life as he hauled her in tight and kissed her deep. Her heart pounded, her skin felt too tight for her body, and she loved it.

But then he pulled away.

With a little mewl of protest, she tried to wrap herself around him, but he gripped her arms and held her off. “Tee. Tee, stop. We’re not doing this.”

“Why?” she demanded, and if he said it was because she was too young for him, she was going to—

“You deserve more.”

“I don’t. You’re all I want,” she told him with all the fierceness of her entire soul. “I love you, Dylan. You’re mine, and you know what else? I’m yours.”

He sucked in a hard breath and she realized he was shaking. Shaking with the effort to not kiss her again. Her hands came up to his chest and she fisted her fingers in his shirt, aching, aching . . . for more.

But it wasn’t going to come because he gently wrapped his fingers around her wrists and brought her hands down and stepped back. “’Night, Tee.”

“’Night,” she whispered. Dammit. She took longer going home, dragging it out another good ten minutes, in spite of everything smiling to herself the whole time.

He’d finally kissed her! It had been a life-changing kiss, the kiss of all kisses, and no matter what he said, there’d be more.

Because he loved her too.

She knew that now, and because she did, she could wait for the rest.

She moved around back to the kitchen door, which was much quieter than the front door. Not wanting to wake up Quinn and alert her sister to the fact that she’d sneaked out, she quietly tiptoed in and . . .

Found Quinn leaning against the counter eating out of a gallon ice cream container with a wooden spoon.

Chapter 32

I made it through the day without beating anyone with a chair. I’d say my people skills are improving.

—from “The Mixed-Up Files of Tilly Adams’s Journal”

Quinn had been up late, unable to sleep, wishing she’d talked to Tilly, wishing she wasn’t such a big, fat chicken that she’d pushed Mick away instead of letting him know how she felt about him. The only thing she had going for her peace of mind was knowing Tilly was sleeping, safe in her bed.

Turns out, the joke was on her. She’d been halfway through a carton of ice cream when her sister had come sneaking in the back door and Quinn stared at her in shock. “What the hell?”

Tilly froze and then made a recovery attempt, taking her time shutting and locking the door.

Tink, sitting in the middle of the kitchen floor watching Quinn eat with the single-minded intensity only a cat could pull off, didn’t even spare a glance at the teen.

But Quinn spared a glance. And a second. And a third as she visibly searched for signs of what Tilly had been doing.

What do you think she’s doing, sneaking in at midnight with that guilty look all over her face? Don’t you remember fifteen?

Tilly leaned over and peered into the ice-cream carton. “Hey, isn’t that mine?”

“Nope, I ate yours yesterday. Let me repeat. What the hell?”

“I went to go see Dylan,” Tilly said, sounding very fifteen. “He needed me.”

“We’ve had this discussion, Tilly. You tell him to come here. I don’t like you out at this hour alone. Hell, I didn’t even know you were out. Do you have any idea what kind of trouble happens after midnight?”

“The same kind that happens at any other hour?” Tilly asked.

“Don’t be a smart-ass.” Quinn set down the ice cream. “I think we should have The Talk.” And not the one that she’d hoped to have either.

“What talk?” Tilly asked suspiciously.

“You know, the birds and the bees.”

Tilly looked horrified. “What century were you born in again?”

“I’m serious,” Quinn said. “Do you know your options? Do you know that you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do?”

Tilly closed her eyes. “I’m having a bad dream—”

“Speaking defensively is a sign that you’re feeling pressured,” Quinn said. “Never let a boy pressure you.”

“Oh my God,” Tilly groaned, covering her face.

“I’m serious.” She paused. “Listen, I’m just going to come right out and ask you. Are you sexually active?”

“Let me repeat. Oh. My. God.”

“It’s a yes or no answer, Tilly.”

Tilly sighed. “No,” she said, looking so wistful that Quinn actually believed her.

“Okay,” Quinn said, taking a breath for calm. “Can you promise to tell me before that changes so we can . . .” She felt ridiculous, but forged on. “Discuss your options?”

“I’ll promise you whatever you want if you’ll stop talking.”

“You can’t just sneak out, Tilly.”

“And you can’t tell me what to do.”

“Actually, I can,” Quinn said. “You’re a minor.”

Tilly sighed. “This sucks.”

“You oughta try it from my side of the fence.”

“I’d switch places with you in a heartbeat,” Tilly said. “You’ve got it easy.”

Quinn nearly choked on her laugh. “Anyone ever tell you to pick your battles? You don’t have to show up to every argument you’re invited to.” She paused. “And you think I have it easy?”

“I know so,” Tilly said.

“Then you have a deal.”

“What?”

“You just said you’d switch places with me in a heartbeat,” Quinn said. “Let’s do it. Tomorrow you be me, and I’ll be you.”

Tilly stared at her. “But tomorrow’s Sunday. I’m supposed to work the morning shift serving tables and you’re in the back barking orders and cooking.”

“Yeah. So?” Quinn asked.

“Fine. Whatever. If you don’t care, neither do I.” She shook Quinn’s hand. “Deal. But just so you know, tomorrow you’re going to tell me I was right, that you have it easy compared to me.”

“Or,” Quinn said. “You’ll tell me that I was right. That your life doesn’t suck nearly as bad as you think it does.”

Tilly didn’t look convinced. “So what now, we go to bed angry?”

“Never go to bed angry,” Quinn said. “Stay awake and plot revenge.”

THE NEXT MORNING they walked over to the café together and told everyone about how they were switching roles for the day.