"He lifts my chin up to face him. "Why aren't you afraid of bein' with me?" "Are you kidding? I'm terrified." I focus on the tattoos running up and down his arms. "I can't pretend to live a squeaky-clean life." He holds up my hand so it's palm against palm with his. Is he thinking about the difference in the color of our skin, his rough fingers against the nail polish on the tips of mine? "In some ways we're so opposite," he says. I thread my fingers through his. "Yeah, but in other ways we're so similar." That gets a smile out of him, until Enrique clears his throat again. "I'll meet you here at eleven on Sunday," I say. Alex backs away, nods, and winks. "This time it's a date."