Two weeks into their junior year, she turned seventeen. At lunch, on her birthday, he watched as Max and Michael and Liz and Maria gave her gifts. Alex gave her a gift too, and when she hugged him, Kyle felt sick and hot and jealous and stupid. He told himself that he was getting what Alex wanted and he didn't have to give Isabel gifts or anything else.

He gave her the gift he got for her anyway, slipped into her locker during fifth period, when he was supposed to be in study hall. He'd agonized over buying it for her for weeks, embarrassed by his own mawkishness. He'd spent all the money he was supposed to be saving for college, had something made for her. There was a silversmith in town, a guy who made his living selling little silver figurines of aliens to the tourists, and hand-made jewelry to everyone who lived in town. He'd had a headband made. It was silver, and it was little stars, all connected together. She always wore her hair back, and although he liked it better down, he'd never told her that. But he liked the idea of Isabel with her hair down, and stars scattered in it.

So he'd put the headband in her locker and debating skipping his last class, which he had with her. He was terrified that she'd come in and laugh at him, tell everyone what he'd done, and then everyone else would laugh at him for ruining a sure thing with his stupid ideas.

She grabbed his arm when he was walking down the hall, still trying to decide if he was going to class or to his car. He was surprised because she was usually very careful not to speak to him where anyone else could see them.

"I..." she said, and he was startled to see tears in her eyes, and a smile on her face. She dragged him down the hall and pulled him into the eraser room.

"What are you doing?" he asked her. "Someone could have seen you, and you wouldn't want that." He was proud of himself for saying that, for sounding as detached and as disinterested as he wanted to be.

"Shut up" she told him. "Don't spoil this. Kyle....thank you." And then she kissed him on the cheek.

She looked as surprised as he felt when she pulled back. Her face puckered for a moment, and he didn't know what to do. Then she ran her hands down his chest, her fingers moving to the button on the waistband of his jeans and they both relaxed. She bent down; stroking, her fingers moving. He heard the sound of his zipper opening. This was familiar territory, very familiar territory.

He was enjoying himself. What she was doing was great. He looked around the room, and repeated the sentences in his head again. . He was in the eraser room with Isabel Evans. Half the guys in school probably dreamed about that at one time or another.

She was giving him a blowjob. He knew he'd dreamed about that, even before this whole crazy thing with her started.

He should be in heaven. She didn't want anything more than what they had, she just wanted the occasional foray into a closet or a grope in his room, his car. A quick, great fuck and nothing else. She didn't want a relationship. Every guy's dream.

But it wasn't all he'd hoped it would be. Currently, she was making it hard for him to breathe-but he had no idea what she was thinking. He didn't know if she liked the birthday present he'd given her, thought he guessed from what she was doing that maybe she did. But he didn't know if she'd ever wear it. He didn't even know if she liked him.

He pulled away from her and tucked himself back into his jeans, hoped that his zipper wouldn't catch on anything. She looked up at him. "What are you doing?"

He knelt down on the floor and looked at her, reached out a hand and touched her face. He'd done that before, countless times, but still her skin was softer than he thought it should be, than he remembered it being. "I just want to talk to you."

She shook her head. "No. No. I don't want that. I don't want to think. Kyle, you promised..."

He ran his thumb down her cheek. He had promised her, but he couldn't help himself. He wanted to know her. He wanted her to want him the way he wanted her -he wanted what they'd had that one time in his room, that happiness, that sense of rightness, he wanted that every time. "I won't hurt you" he whispered to her.

She closed her eyes and swayed towards him, her mouth tilting up towards his. "I'll hurt you," she said, and her voice was a promise.

He shook his head and kissed her. How could she hurt him? All he wanted to do was know her. How could that be a bad thing? She pulled back and looked at him, and he felt the world tilt a little more. A frisson of feeling ran through him, and he should have noted it. His instincts, warning him. How could things between them-he was human, she was alien, she had secrets, he knew some of them, but not all, never all-ever work?

But he looked into her eyes, saw that there were things there that he wanted, saw a person that he wanted to know, someone he knew he could love-and he fell, happily, easily, freely. He thought he'd found paradise, and at sixteen, who can see that paradise is something that you're never allowed to keep?

**

December 31st

He's still in the car, and it's still dark outside. He laughs and runs his hand down his face, thinking of himself, at sixteen, at seventeen, at eighteen. So sure of himself, so sure of everything. So trusting. So stupid.

He'll never be that boy again, and he has her to thank for that. Yes, she owes him. Yes, he'll find her.

He looks at the clock on the dashboard.

4:48 A.M.

He'll have to stop soon, get some sleep. He hopes he won't dream when he does.