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“I guess I’ll leave my porn magazines at home, too, then.”

Our laughter drew even more attention, but neither of us cared.

Because of the rules about cell phones, I couldn’t use mine until lunch. I called Jordan then, but she was already at lunch with some of her friends. When I confirmed that I’d be going to Ryder’s house, I thought she said a strange thing.

“I’ll have to tell Donald,” she said.

She hadn’t ever said that to me before, whether I asked if I could go or told her I was going to a party or to another friend’s house. I wanted to ask her why, but I didn’t.

“Be careful” was the only other thing she said.

I guess my deep thinking about it was written on my face. When I joined Ryder at the table, he immediately asked me what was wrong. Of course, he followed that with, “What, they don’t want you to go to my house now?”

“No, chill,” I said. “Everything’s not about you.”

“Well, it should be,” he said, trying to joke about his hair trigger. “So what’s the problem?”

“Look, here’s the problem I live with,” I began. “Because their older daughter was equivalent to a time bomb, they measure everything I do now against what she did. They look for resemblances.”

“Are there any?”

“I hope nothing like the things they’re looking for,” I said.

“You don’t sound so sure.”

“I’m sure, Ryder. Damn.”

He stared at me. I thought his lips actually trembled. Now I was the one with the hair trigger. We were really alike, and maybe because he saw something more of himself in me, it bothered him. He already knew what he was capable of doing and not doing.

“Okay. Let’s drop it. I’ve got to warn you, my parents will probably be home.”

“Why do you have to warn me?”

“You’ll see for yourself,” he said.

After he said that, I couldn’t help being nervous the remainder of the school day. When I looked at him in class, I thought he looked nervous, too. Now that the shoe was on the other foot, I realized how much he had been worried about what the Marches thought of him. Maybe that was why he had been antagonistic with Donald almost immediately. I was sure Ryder had brought other girls home. Perhaps none of them was good enough for him in his parents’ eyes, or maybe his parents were just too protective of their own celebrity reputations. Whatever, I was concerned about what they would think of me. Had he told them anything about me? Did his sister know he was bringing me to their home today? Did she learn anything about me, and was she telling her parents things? I worked myself into such a mental knot about it all that I almost decided to cancel.

His house was in Beverly Hills, off Sunset Boulevard. He gave me the address to put in my GPS in case we were separated by traffic, but the plan was simply for me to follow him. As we walked out of our last class, I asked him if he had told his sister he was bringing me to their house.

“Tell her? Why?”

“I just wondered.”

Instead of saying any more about it, he simply grimaced. If he hadn’t told her, I assumed he would after we had left the parking lot. Fortunately, I was able to follow him closely and not lose him. If I had, I might have used it as an excuse to avoid going. I was that nervous.

Fifteen minutes later, we turned off Sunset and then turned into the driveway of a palatial Beverly Hills home. It wasn’t an estate, but it was an impressive-looking Italian villa, a Tuscan residence, also gated. It was then, I imagined, that Summer realized I had been following them. She turned back to look at me waiting right behind them for the gate to open, and then she asked Ryder something. Whatever he said made her turn back to look at me again, and then she turned away. Even from where I was, I could see from her posture that she was upset. I imagined that any boyfriends were off-limits to her for now, and she was jealous of him.

We approached the house over a cobblestone motor court. There was a black Mercedes sedan parked beside a Lexus convertible with the top down. Ryder pulled up alongside the convertible, and I pulled up beside him. Summer practically leaped out of his car and headed toward the front entrance before I could say hello. He got out slowly.

“Your sister looks upset,” I said when I got out and looked after her.

“She was born upset. Forget about her. Well, here it is. Home sweet home,” he said.

“It’s beautiful.”

“A famous Hollywood producer was the original owner. The previous owner was from Saudi Arabia. My mother had the place totally redone. She might have it redone again in two weeks. She has ADD when it comes to decor, fashions, and cars. As far as I know, not men, though. Now, as for my father, I won’t swear the same,” he added as we walked slowly toward the front door.

I didn’t say anything. He glanced at me, I think to see if I was spooked by the things he said. I already knew that he could say something just to get a reaction out of me.