The Apple Tree by Kara Jimenez Page B

spend the day, if it weren’t for the cleanup afterward. But that was life after all, unless you lived in a castle with a hundred servants, which was laughable. She was no princess.
    When the kitchen sparkled, she sat down at her computer to write up the recipe, trying to inject just the right amount of humor into the explanation. Which was better? Pancake-tastic or Pancakarific? Although, she wasn’t sure if it was actually funny or if she’d just made a fool of herself, but either way, it was out there for the world to see.
    As soon as she hit the post button, Stephanie called.
    “ My mom came over this morning and she totally stuffed my freezer with tamales. Do you want some? I’ll never eat all these.”
    “ Yeah, I love your mom’s tamales,” Bianca answered. “I’m still waiting for her to show me how she makes them.”
    “ I’ll remind her for you. Now listen, I know you’re going to fight me on this, but I’m taking you out dancing tonight.”
    Bianca groaned. “Let’s just hang out and watch a movie. Stuff ourselves with ice cream.”
    “ No. I thought about it after you called last night and you need to get out. Forget about that creepy stalker guy.”
    “ How is dancing going to help?”
    “ Because it’s freeing! We’ll get our buzz on and maybe you’ll meet a nice guy who doesn’t spend his spare time sitting outside your apartment. It’ll be fun, I promise.”
    “ What about Owen? I think my mom’s working tonight.”
    “ Then I’ll pay for his babysitter.”
    Obviously, she wasn’t getting out of this. But she had to admit, Stephanie knew how to have a good time. “Okay, fine. I’ll go.”
     
     
    Loud, pulsing music greeted them as they stepped into the downtown club, La Cantina. The room was dark, except for the flashing strobe and colored lights moving across the sea of dancers. They squeezed their way through sweating, jumping bodies, to get their drinks at the bar, and then sat down at a nearby table.
    “ Drink up.” Stephanie handed her a shot and a huge lime wedge covered with salt. “Because we’re about to get our groove on.”
    Bianca rolled her eyes and flung back the tiny glass. The liquid burned her throat, but she’d need the buzz if she was going to dance. “Why are you so into this anyway?” she shouted over the noise.
    A woman walked by, stumbling into their table before straightening herself and continuing on her way. This place was crazy.
    “ Because it’s fun, and because you need to forget about that stalker guy,” said Stephanie.
    Bianca took a sip of her cocktail. “I have forgotten about him.”
    This time Stephanie rolled her eyes. “You talked about him the entire drive here. And about how you think Peter is sexy trouble.” She laughed. “I agree with that one.”
    Stephanie dragged her out onto the dance floor. Bianca swayed to the music, feeling awkward at first, but loosening up after a few songs. By the third, she jumped and pulsed to the beat, truly enjoying herself.
    A guy wearing a sleeveless Abercrombie t-shirt and too much cologne inched closer. “Hey,” he shouted, nodding at her and moving his hips so close that she kept knocking into him.
    “ I’m going to take a break,” she shouted to Stephanie, a few feet away. Making her way through the crowd, she found their table, sat down and sipped at what was left of her drink.
    She scanned the room, stopping when she noticed a pair of eyes staring back at her, familiar brilliant blue eyes, framed by strands of black hair falling over his forehead.
    Peter.
    A bead of sweat slid down her forehead. She grabbed a napkin, turned and dabbed her face, hoping he wouldn’t notice her sweaty mess.
    When she faced him again, he nodded and started squeezing through the crowd to get to her table. Her stomach fizzled like she’d just eaten a bunch of pop rocks. He looked amazingly sexy, in a crisp white button down shirt, the first several buttons open and the sleeves folded past his