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brightness in the middle of . . . Oh, hell. I’m lying. The truth is, I don’t get it.
    “Actually,” Gabby says, “why don’t we get out? Is that cool, Mark? Can we park and take a quick picture by the lights? Hannah’s first real night back in L.A.?”
    Mark nods, and when the light turns green, he pulls up to the curb. We get out of the car and head to the center of the lights.
    We take turns taking pictures of each other, round robin–style. Gabby and I stand between two rows of lights, and Mark takespictures of us with our arms around each other. We wear oversized grins. We kiss each other on the cheek. We stand on either side of a lamppost and mug for the camera. And then I offer to take a picture of Mark and Gabby together.
    I switch places with Mark, getting out my own phone to take the photo. Gabby and Mark tuck themselves together, holding each other tight, posing underneath the lamps. I back up just a little, trying to frame the picture as I want.
    “Hold on,” I say. “I want to get all of it.” I can’t get far enough away from them to get the top of the lights in the shot, so I walk to the edge of the sidewalk. It’s still not far enough away, so I push the walk button and wait for a signal so I can stand on the street.
    “Just one sec!” I call out to them.
    “This better be good!” Gabby yells.
    The light turns red. The orange hand changes to a white-lit pedestrian, and I step down into the crosswalk.
    I turn around. I frame my shot: Mark and Gabby in the middle of a sea of lights. I hit the shutter. I check the photo. I start to take another for good measure.
    By the time I hear the screeching of tires, it’s too late to run.
    I am thrown across the street. The world spins. And then everything is shockingly still.
    I look at the lights. I look at Gabby and Mark. The two of them rush toward me, mouths agape, arms outstretched. I think they are screaming, but I cannot hear them.
    I don’t feel anything. Can’t feel anything.
    I think they are calling to me. I see Gabby reach for me. I see Mark dial his phone.
    I smell metal.
    I’m bleeding. I don’t know where.
    My head feels heavy. My chest feels weighed down, as if the entire world is resting on it.
    Gabby is very scared.
    “I’m all right,” I tell her. “Don’t worry. I feel fine.”
    She just looks at me.
    “Everything is going to be OK,” I tell her. “Do you believe me?”
    And then her face blurs, and the world mutes, and the lights go out.

S o I decide to stay out with Ethan.
    I’m eager to spend time with a good man for a change.
    I turn and say good-bye to Gabby and Mark. That very second, “Express Yourself” comes on in the bar, and I know I’ve made the right decision. I absolutely love this song. Sarah and I used to make our parents listen to it over and over in the car, singing at the top of our lungs. I’ve got to stay and dance to this.
    “You don’t mind, right?” I say as I hug Gabby. “I just want to stay out a bit longer. See where the night takes me.”
    “Oh, please, go for it!” she says as I hug Mark good-bye. I can see a sly smile on her face, visible only to me. I roll my eyes at her, but a small grin sneaks out at the last minute. Then Gabby and Mark head for the door.
    “So,” Ethan says as he turns to me, “the night is ours for the taking.” The way he says it, with a little bit of scandal in his voice, makes me feel as if we’re teenagers again.
    “Dance with me?” I say.
    Ethan smiles and opens the door to the bar. He holds it for me to walk through. “Let’s do this,” he says.
    We only get a minute or so before the song ends and another starts playing. This new one has a Spanish feel to it, a Latin beat. I feel my hips start to move without my permission. They sway for a moment, back and forth, just testing the waters. Soon I just let go and allow my body to move the wayit wants to. Ethan slips his arm around the lowest part of my back. His leg just barely grazes the