Everything is perfect. I smile at Darius over my drink as he finishes off the last of his steak and dabs his mouth with the linen napkin with the elegance of a royal.

"What?" he asks, his cheeks darkening with his trademark shyness. He dabs at his mouth more vigorously. "Did I miss a bit?"

"No," I answer. "I'm just thinking how much I am going to miss you, my best friend, gone off to Harvard where you'll have a new life without me."

"I'll only be a ninety-minute Gulfstream flight away," he says. "You are welcome anytime. I look forward to showing you around." He leans back as the waiter takes our plates away. "I'm sure Jake would be happy to fly you there if you asked him nicely."

I scoff and look away, taking another sip of my alcohol-free cocktail. "You know it will never happen, not unless I turn up with four bodyguards, and a pre-approved itinerary arranged to the minute." I set my glass down, feeling my mood slide toward the despair I usually manage to avoid that surrounds my life, an all-too-familiar feeling of claustrophobia. All I want is my freedom, to run free without the feeling of a leash around my neck.

"Ylva loves you," Darius says, cutting into my thoughts. "She almost lost you once. She's just scared she will lose you again."

"That was forever ago, and I was in an incubator," I say. "I'm eighteen now, I think I have proven I am no longer a fragile baby."

"I didn't mean that," Darius says, eyeing me with his dark eyes, "and I think you know it."

"Let's not talk about that, okay?" I say, knowing very well what he is talking about. "We're here to celebrate you, not talk about me."

"You got it," Darius smiles at me, his even white teeth a perfect match for his smooth, handsome features. The son of a wealthy Korean tycoon, he lives on campus in the penthouse apartment of the Academy's residence, complete with a jukebox, pinball machine, and a Pac-Man arcade game. He has a thing for retro stuff. I love how he can play Pac-Man and talk about the meaning of life at the same time. Not much wonder he is going to Harvard to study philosophy. He has the quickest mind I have ever known.

Damn, I am going to miss him. A lot. Hot tears swarm against my eyes. I grab my napkin, fake a sneeze, and swipe the tears away.

Darius, as usual, misses nothing. He eyes me, gentle, kind.

"Dessert?" he asks and picks up the menu the waiter has left for us without my noticing.

"Actually," I smile through the last of my tears, excited to tell him my secret, "I have a surprise for you. I had a whole tray of petits gateaux flown over from Yauatcha in London."

"Oh my god, Aya," Darius exclaims, his smile worth all the hassle I had to go through to get Mom to agree to the exorbitant cost. "I love their patisserie."

"I know," I say, pleased by his excitement. "I remember how much you went on about it last summer when you were there."

"I went there every day. I couldn't get enough of their delicacies."

I call the waiter over and pay for our meal, my mood buoyed up by the success of my treat, and of my anticipation of what I hope will come after.

We speed back to my house in Darius's sleek, black Dodge Challenger. At the gates to our estate, I notice the armored Land Rover that is usually parked there with two of Mom's security team isn't there. I assume they've gone for a break and jump out to key in the code to the gate, and press my thumbprint to the panel. The gate slides open in total silence, and I leap back into the car for the five-minute drive through our estate to the sprawl of the house.

Lit by the light of his dashboard, Darius tosses me a smile and mouths the words "You're the best," over the sound system playing some kind of retro wave music he loves. I know he's thinking about the cakes and what I did to get them for him, but I am thinking how handsome he looks, even a little feral in this light and there's a stirring in between my legs that I like.

It's him. It's definitely going to be him who will be my first. It must be him. I can't imagine anyone else who would deserve the honor. I have waited for so long to work up the courage to propose it. I wanted to ask him on my eighteenth birthday in February, but with Mom home, there was no way. And now, he's going to leave for Seoul tomorrow and not be back until he goes to Harvard. This is it. Our one chance to celebrate us.

I'm not going to let it slip away. I'm nervous as hell.

We roll up the gravel drive and Darius parks the car out of the way of the ten-car garage and Stuart's fleet of cars. Darius cuts the engine and the car growls into silence. Darius looks at me, suddenly uncertain.

"Um," he says, "where is Stuart? Shouldn't he be here to greet you?"

I shake my head. "It's just us tonight. I sent Dalia out with Stuart to the movies. Told them I would be at your place."

Darius's eyebrows rise, reading between the lines. "So-o-o-," he looks over his shoulder, takes in the enormity of what is on the table. "When will they be back?"

I glance at the clock on the dash of the car, still lit. "In about two hours, probably, I also bought them dinner."

"Aya . . ." Darius says. He rubs his palms against his jean-clad thighs. "You know I am leaving tomorrow for Korea . . ." He looks at me, but I can't read what he's thinking at all. He simply waits.

"I know," I answer in a small voice. I run my fingers over the worn-out Hello Kitty plushie keyring attached to my school bag, a relic from a trip to Japan for treatment that one time I got sick, now my lucky charm. "Or, maybe, you know, you don't want to?"

Darius shakes his head, his hand on the top of the steering wheel. His grip tightens and his knuckles whiten. "Oh, I want to, alright. I have been wanting to for a long time, it's just . . ."

I wait, my heart thundering. Please don't say no, I pray. Please.

"I don't want to hurt you," he finishes. It sounds lame even to me. Like that's not what he really wants to say.

"I know it hurts the first time," I say, meeting his eyes, daring him to come clean.

"That's not what I meant." He draws a deep breath and exhales through his nose.

"Tell me what you meant, then. Because if you are worried about breaking my heart, you can get over yourself. I know we won't end up together, I just wanted you to be my first."

He lets out a strangled laugh. "I wish I could, but I can't." He turns to look at me, all of a sudden looking a lot older than his eighteen years. "You just have to trust me. I'm not the guy for you. Not now. Not ever."

"Oh my god, Darius, it's only sex!" I snap and pull the car door open, mad now. "Stop making such a big deal out of it. Just say you don't want me, and then we can go eat your stupid cakes from London in peace, okay?!"

"That wouldn't be the truth though," he answers, quiet. "I do want you, but I can't have you."

A chill freezes the base of my spine. I look at him.

"My mother?" I ask.

He doesn't answer. But he has the decency to look away. Rage hits me like a tsunami. I storm out of the car.

"Fucking bitch!" I scream and throw my school bag across the drive. The Hello Kitty keyring snaps and the plushie skitters up against the edge of the drive's massive central fountain.

Darius is there. He catches me against him. His strong body feels like a wall behind me. I sag in his grip, defeated. I will never escape her control. Ever. She has probably already decided who I will marry. My life will never be my own.

"Can you at least kiss me and hold me until I fall asleep," I ask from within the cocoon of his arms.

"Yeah," he says, his voice a rumble in his chest against my back, "I can do that."

"Okay, then", I say as he lets me go and bends to pick up the plushie and clean off the gravel.

"I heard there were some stupid cakes from London in your house," he says, as he hands the plushie back to me.

I nod. "Yeah, they are stupid as fuck."

He laughs, and it's gorgeous.

We walk into the house, the door opening automatically to my biometrics. And all I can think as I pull the cakes out of the fridge is I don't know how I am going to live without him.

And that's when everything went wrong.