“A limited Mercedes-Benz C63 AMG Edition 507. There are only 200 worldwide, yours was one of the only six red ones that exist.  Existed.”  Slowly, you walked into the hospital room, your arms crossed, a gimlet eye fixed on the handsome boy in the hospital bed.  

“Angel,” Yifan greeted, smiling as he sat up in bed.

“I told you, my name is Carmelle.”

“But you’re an angel to me,” he grinned, patting the bed beside him.  

You sat on the chair, and looked him over.  Now that he wasn’t covered in swamp, you saw that he wasn’t too much older than you, and you were thankful that he was so slender, otherwise trying to drag a man of his considerable height with any bulk up the bank would have proven impossible.  “Glad to see that you’re upright and taking nourishment,” you quipped.

“Thanks to you.”

“Anyone would have done the same.”

“Well, that’s not true.”

“Anyone with a conscience would have done the same.”

He momentarily looked out the window before playfully cutting his eyes to you.  “You know, in some cultures, if you save someone’s life, it’s yours.”

“I can’t afford you,” you answered tartly, before looking around.  “Where are your parents?”

He shrugged easily.  “France, Canada, Shanghai, who knows?”

“You didn’t tell them what happened?”

“I’m sure that someone did.  But I’m still alive, so...no need for pointless displays of emotion.”

“Were they mad about the car,” you asked sympathetically.  

He used the control to raise the bed, before settling back comfortably.  “I have 20 other cars.  It’s fine.  They’re probably having another one shipped as we speak.  How did you know that about my car, though?  Are you into cars?  Or, are you…” smirking playfully, he looked you up and down, “stalking me?”

Scoffing, you tossed your hair over your shoulder.  “Don’t flatter yourself, stringbean.  My daddy was into cars.”

His expression softened.  “Was?”

“Was,” you affirmed.  

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.  “What happened?”

“Gators got him.”

Yifan grimaced.  “How the heck did that happen?”  Red faced, he snapped his jaw shut.  “Sorry, forget I asked that.”

Shrugging, you leaned back into the chair.  “I don’t rightly remember.  I was six.  Anyway, where you from?  You don’t sound like you’re from around here.”

“I’m here for school.  Business major.  Sophomore.”  At your raised eyebrow, he smirked.  “Guangzhou.  Vancouver.  Quebec.  Paris.  Seoul.  LA.  Take your pick, I’ve been everywhere.”

Nodding in acknowledgement, you leaned forward, elbows on your knees, clasped hands under your chin.  “So, Wu Yifan from everywhere…  You make a practice of stealing girl’s first kisses?”

“Was that your first kiss?” he asked, chuckling.  “When you look like that?!”  He shook his head ruefully.  “What are these Louisiana boys doing?”

“Most boys round here are too scared that maman is gonna work roots on them if they look at me sideways, which is especially funny considering the fact that she has been trying to get me to get out, loosen up, and have fun since I turned 16.”

“Well, angel,” he started, sitting up in bed and reaching out to brush your hair behind your ear.  

You froze at the unfamiliar sensation of a handsome boy touching you, your brain short circuiting as his finger traced the delicate shell of your ear, before he leaned forward to whisper.

“Maybe you should listen to your mom.”

***

You had no idea why you were here.  This was really not your scene.  Loud music, and even louder people and you had lost Yifan.  You were uncomfortable in the white crop top and tight ripped jeans that he had bought for you, and you had stashed in the back of your closet until he insisted that you wear them to tonight’s party, and the smell of beer was starting to become overwhelming.  

“You lost, babygirl?”

Rolling your eyes, you turned to see a tall frat boy looking down at you with what you supposed he felt was a seductive stare.  He was attractive enough, but you couldn’t be less interested.  “Tell me, just how a body could get lost on the beach?”

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he smiled, posturing a bit.  “A spicy one.  I like that.”

“Good for you,” you nodded, turning to leave.  “Enjoy your night.”

“Hold up,” he said, reaching out to grab your arm.  

Yanking it out of his reach, you spun back around to glare at him.  “I don’t like being touched by strangers.”

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, holding up his hands defensively.  “Not trying to grab on you--I just want to get to know you.”

“I’m uninterested in knowing you.”

“Awww, now, that’s not nice,” he pouted, tilting his head.  “I promise if you give me some time, we could have a lot of fun.”

“I’m sixteen,” you snapped.

He shrugged.  “So?  You’re here, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, with someone, hear?”

He looked around.  “I don’t see anybody.  Want me to help you find her?”

“It’s a beach.  He shouldn’t be too hard to find.”  With that you turned and started off.

“I’m sure he’s around,” he said easily, catching up to walk beside you.  “What you need is a beer so you can loosen up a little.”

“You’re just trying to break all sorts of laws tonight, aren’t you?”

“Why?  You a cop?”

Looking around, you tried to see if you recognized anyone, but everyone there was a stranger.  Stopping, you faced him.  “Look, you’re attractive enough, and I’m sure that plenty of girls here would be into the whole frat boy thing, so if you want to get laid that badly, why don’t you go bother one of them?”

“But I like you,” he said, laughing softly.  

“Not going to happen.”

“You don’t even know me.  If you relax--,” Just then, you passed a barrel full of ice and beer, and he reached inside, grabbed one, and opened it, “here, have a drink.”

“I don’t want one.”

“Just one sip.  Have you ever had beer?  It tastes like crap, but it makes you feel good.”

“I’m sober, and you’re not taking no for an answer.  Why would I be stupid enough to get drunk around you?”

“Stop being so uptight and just have one.  You’ll like me.  I can make you feel good.”

“No, thank you!”  He grabbed your arm, there was a brief tussle, and the beer spilled all over your top.

He just stood there dumbfounded for a moment before laughing.  “Black bra.  Nice.  Now you have to stop playing.  I know that girls don't wear bras like that unless they want someone to see.  Here, look, I’ll drink some, too.”  Throwing his head back, he chugged the beer before throwing the can to the side.  “See?  It’s not like it’s poison or anything.”  Grabbing another beer, he opened it, but you walked off before he could hand it to you.  Unfortunately, he reached forward and tugged you back by your arm.  “Look, one beer, and I’ll leave you alone.”

“No.”

“Come on.”

“I said no.”

“A kiss, then.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Come here,” he said