

### FIGHT THE SPARK

Sons of Sinners Part 1

Grace James

Copyright © 2016 Grace James.

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, or actual events, is purely coincidental. Some real locations or well-known buildings have been used to enhance the (fictitious) story-line but, where that is the case, the events that take place and the characters that inhabit said locales are purely fictitious. All opinions expressed in this novel are the opinions of the (entirely fictitious) characters and are not to be confused with the opinions of the (entirely real) author.

Contact: gracejamesbooks@gmail.com

Distributed by Smashwords.

Cover by Addendum Designs.

Ebook formatting by www.ebooklaunch.com.

CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

Chapter 62

Chapter 63

Chapter 64

Chapter 65

Chapter 66

Chapter 67

Chapter 68

Chapter 69

Chapter 70

Chapter 71

Chapter 72

Chapter 73

Chapter 74

Chapter 75

Chapter 76

Chapter 77

Chapter 78

Chapter 79

Chapter 80

Chapter 81

Chapter 82

Chapter 83

Chapter 84

Chapter 85

Chapter 86

Chapter 87

Chapter 88

Chapter 89

Chapter 90

Chapter 91

Chapter 92

Chapter 93

Chapter 94

Chapter 95

Chapter 96

Chapter 97

Chapter 98

Chapter 99

Chapter 100

Chapter 101

Chapter 102

Chapter 103

Chapter 104

Chapter 105

Chapter 106

Chapter 107

Chapter 108

Chapter 109

Chapter 110

Chapter 111

Chapter 112

Chapter 113

Chapter 114

Chapter 115

Chapter 116

Chapter 117

Chapter 118

Chapter 119

Chapter 120

Chapter 121

Chapter 122

Chapter 123

Chapter 124

Chapter 125

Chapter 126

Chapter 127

Chapter 128

Chapter 129

Chapter 130

Chapter 131

Chapter 132

Chapter 133

Chapter 134

Chapter 135

Acknowledgements

#

There are millions of songs written about love.

In fact, I think _most_ songs are written about love - and a big portion of those songs are about _lost_ love.

So it shouldn't really come as a big shock when someone you love breaks your heart. I mean, the warnings are all there. It's right in front of us, clear as day.

Love doesn't always last.

Sometimes it flares brilliantly for only a short time before it crumbles to ashes.

The thing is, when you find the love of your life, that feeling never really dies. You can fight it, force it into hibernation, tell yourself that it's corrupted beyond repair...

But despite all that, it's still there.

#

I can pinpoint the exact time and place that my whole world changed.

It was late summer in Las Vegas, deep in the city where the heat lingers even after the sun has set, where the desert winds are broken by the towering mountains of concrete and glass.

It _wasn't_ on the Strip, surrounded by blinding lights and tourists.

No. It was in a dark club on a dimly lit street in _real_ Las Vegas, the Las Vegas that's probably just like every other city in the world...

My friend Hayley and I had just finished working the late, _late_ shift at Realm Records, a music store that sold everything from vinyl to CDs to band merchandise. You name it, we sold it. We were fighting _Death by Musical Download_ to the bitter end, and staying open until midnight was a part of that. Jerry, our boss, figured that we could cash in on the fact that people were careless with money when they were drunk \- so we stayed open until the bar down the street closed, at which point we opened our doors and blasted music out into the night.

I wasn't sure where we stood _morally_ , but it _did_ work a treat.

Anyway, that meant that by the time Hayley and I left work and started to walk the few blocks to an all-ages rock club called The Pit, it must have been around twelve-thirty.

On our way over to the club, Hayley talked non-stop about a guy that she went to high school with whom she had recently 'reconnected' with. By that I mean that they used to be 'friends' and now they were 'friends-with-benefits' - her words, not mine.

I tried not to zone out. Don't get me wrong, I was happy that she was happy, but there were only so many times I could hear about how amazing Derren was at playing guitar, or how good his band were, or how sweet he was, or how gorgeous she thought his hair was... "So I told him that there's _no way_ he should cut his hair, I mean, can you imagine Derren with _short_ hair?"

"No, I really can't," I replied.

I was humoring her. I had never actually met the guy, despite the fact that I already felt like I knew him intimately. Maybe a little _too_ intimately. Hayley tended to over-share.

"Exactly!" she exclaimed, tossing her long auburn hair over her shoulder and gesticulating wildly into the sky. I couldn't help laughing at her. Hayley was like a ball of constant energy. If she had a power outlet, I figured that she could probably light up the whole Las Vegas Strip singlehandedly.

"Anyway," she said a moment later. "I hope you don't mind, but I invited him to the club tonight."

I smiled. "So I finally get to meet the man behind the legend?!"

She laughed. "Yeah, _and_ he's bringing one of his friends, a guy from the band who was in our grade at school. Is that okay?"

"Is this a double date?" I asked, narrowing my eyes at her in suspicion.

"No! Well, not really."

I raised my eyebrows incredulously. I knew when I was being set up.

"Okay, it is," she admitted. "But I _promise_ you won't be disappointed. Connor's hot, and a little wild, you'll like him."

"You think I'll like him because he's 'wild'?!"

"And _hot_ , don't forget _hot_. Anyway, I know you like _wild_ , I saw you checking out that biker guy last week."

"I was _not_ checking him out!"

I felt my face flush with embarrassment - I _had_ been checking him out. He had come into Realm Records to buy some headphones and I'd gone all silly over his tattooed biceps. Not that I'd _ever_ admit that out loud.

But Hayley could read me like a book.

"You totally were!" she teased. "And so what if you were? You have to let the beaver out of the bag eventually."

I groaned and put my hands over my face. "Please stop talking."

"So is it okay? For the guys to come?"

"Yes. But if you mention 'beaver' even _one time -"_

She burst out laughing. "Can I say cu-"

"No!" I cut her off sharply, but I couldn't help laughing too.

#

Inside the club, everything was black - the floors, the tables, the chairs - apart from the neon signs that flashed above the bar that lined the back wall. Strobe lights flashed continuously and heavy rock music blasted through the place, reverberating through my chest.

As we walked through the crowd, Hayley adjusted her dress and tossed her hair again, gaining several appreciative glances as we passed by a group of guys. Her emerald green dress was skin tight, short and low cut all at the same time, but she could pull it off. She was a perfectly proportioned hourglass with curves like you wouldn't believe.

Walking next to her, I felt gangly and even more flat chested than normal. I glanced down at my outfit, which was boring as hell when you compared it to Hayley's. I was wearing a pale pink boat collar dress, fitted on top and flared at the hip. It complemented my long, blond hair and grey eyes but it didn't exactly scream sex...not that I wanted my outfit to roll over and beg for it, but still, it would be nice to hold my own against Hayley a _little_ bit.

"Let's get a drink," Hayley shouted into my ear to be heard over the pounding Disturbed song that was playing. We made our way towards the bar, but before we got there a skinny guy with dark, shoulder length hair and kohl rimmed eyes appeared beside Hayley. He slipped his arm around her waist, spun her around, and crashed his lips into hers, making out with her right there in the middle of the club.

When she didn't immediately punch him in the face, I figured he must be Derren.

"They'll probably be doing that for a while," a low, male voice said in my ear. I must have jumped about a foot - as I did, I felt my shoulder connect with something solid and I heard a grunted curse in my ear.

Turning around, I saw a guy - a really _hot_ guy - clutching his jaw and scrunching his eyes up in pain.

"Oh my God, I'm _so_ sorry!" I cried.

"S'okay," he said, shaking his head. "My fault."

"Are you okay?" Without thinking, I put my hand over the back of his - the one that was still clutching his jaw.

His eyes opened in mild surprise at my touch and, as they met mine, something zinged through me.

He had the most amazing green eyes I'd ever seen.

Olive green irises with flecks of jade in them, soulful and soft and completely unexpected.

The rest of him was all hard lines and angles. He was tall, six one or two, broad and athletic-looking. He had a strong, almost square jaw and high, sharp cheekbones. His close cropped, golden-brown hair was thick and luxurious looking. His lips were sculpted, sensuous and full.

Basically, he looked like one of those models you see in a magazine selling aftershave or something - their faces are always a little too perfect to be true.

His fashion sense didn't scream 'model' though, he looked more like an indie rock star - he was wearing a dark navy Henley with the buttons undone and a beaten up brown leather jacket over the top. There were a couple of rosary-style necklaces hanging around his neck, nestled in the deep V of the open Henley.

I realized that I was just staring at him, and felt a flush start to creep up my neck. I pulled my hand away from his quickly.

"So, you met Connor!" Hayley and Derren had untangled themselves and she was grinning at me smugly. "He's hot, right?" She flicked her eyes towards Connor. "Totally your type."

My flush became a full-blown blush.

"Connor, this is Amy," Hayley continued.

"Nice to meet you, Amy."

He said it slow, like he was tasting my name. Like it was something to be savored.

No one had _ever_ said my name like that before.

#

Derren and Connor got some beers from the bar and the four of us sat in a booth together, Hayley and Derren on one side, Connor and I on the other. When he'd slid along the seat next to me and casually handed me a beer, I'd had to bite my tongue to stop a silly grin from spreading across my face.

"Connor, you should tell Amy about the band." Hayley prompted.

Connor shot her a sardonic look and took a sip of his beer. "Thanks for the tip, Hayls," he said.

"You're welcome." She grinned, either misreading his sarcasm or choosing to ignore it. She grabbed Derren's hand. "Come on, we're dancing, I love this song!" She tugged him out of the booth and away on to the heaving dance floor, where they started to _undulate_ \- that really is the only word I can think of to describe their wacked out dancing.

Connor turned to me and his lips curved into a slight smile. "She's subtle, isn't she?"

"As a brick."

"So, guess what - I'm in a band."

I opened my eyes wide in mock surprise. "You _are_?"

"Damn straight."

"What do you play?"

"Drums."

"So, you're going to be a famous rock star someday?" I teased gently.

He looked back at me, dead serious. "Hell yes," he said. His tone was full of pure confidence, like there was no other option.

I was a little surprised, and I guess it showed on my face.

"Did I sound convincing?" he asked, grinning. That grin changed his whole face, making him look mischievous and a little roguish.

"Um, yeah - why?"

"My cousin Blake, he's our singer, he's always saying _If WE don't believe in us, no one else will! Sell it like ya mean it!_ " He put on a deep Rocky Balboa type voice when he imitated his cousin.

I laughed. "He's from New York?"

He looked confused. "What? No. Why?"

"Your impersonation, it sounded a little like Sylvester Stallone."

"It did?" He shrugged. "I guess he is kind of a meathead."

"Your band's called Sons of Sinners, right?" I asked, sure that was the name Hayley had mentioned.

"Yeah, you ever seen us play?"

"No. What kind of music do you play?"

He leant closer to me, raising his eyebrows questioningly, that roguish grin tugging at his lips again. "Can't you guess?"

I grinned. "I think so." Derren's appearance screamed hard-rock or heavy metal. Connor looked more mainstream, but there was definitely a slightly alternative edge to him. "Rock?" I ventured.

He nodded and took a drink of his beer. "You got us figured."

"What kind of rock? What bands would you compare yourself to?" I was curious to see what he would say.

"We've got our own sound," he said, almost dismissively, as he leant a little bit closer to me. His eyes narrowed slightly, smoldering a little, as they caught mine. "I guess you'll have to decide for yourself, when you come see us play."

My stomach fluttered in response to the almost-invitation.

Just then Hayley and Derren flopped back down in the booth, both a little sweaty from dancing.

"Not to piss you off, man, but _you know who_ is here," Derren said to Connor.

I saw Connor tense beside me as he looked across the table at his friend. He grumbled a curse before taking a long swig of his beer, draining the bottle dry. Then, abruptly, he turned back to me. "Want to get out of here?"

I stared at him in surprise. "Uh...what? Right _now_?"

"To late, Con," Hayley said, sighing. "She's seen you."

Out of nowhere, Connor took my hand in his. The dry warmth of his fingers on mine made my skin tingle. "What do you say, Amy?" He looked right into my eyes, pinning me with his gaze. "Escape with me?"

#

Those _eyes_. That _face_. The way he was _looking_ at me.

Escape with me?

Oh, hell yes.

But I didn't want to give it up that easily. No matter how gorgeous he was, I had _just_ met him. I at least wanted to protest a _little_.

"Who are we escaping from?" I asked.

"A crazy bitch who wants to wear my balls as earrings," he said, without missing a beat, his face completely straight.

"It's true," Derren piped up. "She's an evil genius, like The Brain from _Pinky and the Brain._ Don't let her get her claws in him, Amy, she's like Hannibal Lecter! If she comes over here he might as well be at the bottom of a pit putting on lotion!"

I turned to see Hayley laughing at him. "That's Buffalo Bill, jackass!"

"Same difference, they're all crazy as a hamster on crack!" He glanced across the club. "Incoming, bro," he said to Connor.

I leant around Connor to see a petite brunette in a low cut dress approaching the booth from the other side of the club, a hateful glower on her pretty face.

"What do you say, Amy?" Connor asked again, grinning. "Come on an adventure with me?"

I barely nodded before he was pulling me out of the booth with him, his warm hand clasped firmly around mine.

"Where are we going?" I asked as he ushered me towards the door.

"How do you feel about breaking and entering?"

" _What_?!"

He burst out laughing. "Kidding!"

I soon discovered he _wasn't_ kidding, not even a little bit.

#

As we emerged from the club into the night, I became intensely aware of Connor's hand in mine, of the feel of our forearms brushing together as we walked. I stole a glance at him out of the corner of my eye.

He was looking at me.

My heart rate kicked up as I glanced away again, feeling self conscious under his scrutiny - or admiration - or whatever it was.

When I looked back at him he was still looking at me, but now he was smirking a little like he knew he was making me nervous and he _liked_ it.

"Hayley told me you were really pretty," he said. "I think she undersold you a little."

"Oh, um, thanks." I felt my cheeks begin to heat.

"Are you easily embarrassed?"

Yes! Obviously!

"What? No! Just - I didn't expect you to say that."

"You don't like compliments?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Well, _everyone_ likes compliments..."

"Ah - but you look a little uncomfortable."

He was right, but only because he was _deliberately_ trying to make me feel uncomfortable...I think...or maybe he was just direct. I couldn't figure him out.

"Do you?" he pressed.

"Do I _what_?" I asked, feeling myself prickle a bit.

"Do you feel uncomfortable? Do you want me to tell you you're ugly instead? 'Cause if that's what does it for you, I can do that." Abruptly he stopped and, very obviously, looked me up and down. "Shit, no. I really can't do it. Too hot." He shook his head ruefully, like he was disappointed in himself.

I didn't _want_ to laugh at him, but I couldn't help it.

He grinned at me and started walking again. We walked in silence for a minute or two before he stopped suddenly in front of a liquor store. "Hey, hang out here a minute?" He cocked a thumb over his shoulder at the store. "I just gotta grab a couple things."

"Um, sure..."

He shrugged off his leather jacket and held it out so that I could slip my arms into the sleeves. He settled it, still warm from his body, around my shoulders. A tang of old leather, smoke and stale whiskey drifted up into my nostrils. It wasn't exactly a _pleasant_ smell but it wasn't horrible either. It was kind of _untamed_ , a little dangerous. And, if I'm being completely honest, it turned me on just a little bit.

"See if you can hail a cab? I'll be out in a few." He shoved into the store without waiting for me to respond.

By the time he came back out carrying a brown paper bag, I had a taxi waiting by the curb. We climbed in to the back seat and Connor rattled off a downtown address before settling back with the bag on his lap.

As the cab pulled into the traffic, I felt a trickle of apprehension course through me. "What did you get?" I asked him, gesturing towards the bag - although I was pretty sure I already knew. He'd gone into a liquor store, it wasn't exactly a mystery. But, although he definitely looked older, I was pretty sure from what Hayley had said about them having been in the same grade at school that he couldn't be twenty one yet.

He opened the top of the bag and showed me: A six pack of Lonestar, a fifth of Old Crow Bourbon and a pack of Lucky Strike.

"How old are you?" I blurted.

"Twenty seven."

"Twenty _seven_?!" I didn't believe that. No way.

He grinned. "Yeah. Here, look." He pulled an ID card from his wallet and handed it to me. A fake ID. Of _course_ he would have a fake ID.

"This looks _nothing_ like you!" I said, looking at a picture of a fleshy guy with black hair.

"Sure it does, I've lost some weight."

"Riiiiight. So your real name is _Alphonse Ramirez_?"

"Just call me Big Al."

I snorted and handed the card back. "Okay, _Big Al_ , how old are you really?"

He tucked the card away. "Twenty. You?"

"Nineteen. And what's your real last name?"

"Maxwell. You?"

"Scott."

He nodded, then broke into a grin. "Amy Scott is pretty hot. Your name rhymes with hot."

"Oh my God," I giggled. "You're real smooth."

"Yeah, I know." He puffed out his chest like he was showing off, but his grin told me he was kidding. "So, you and Hayls work together but you're in college here too, right?"

"Yeah."

"Then I guess the next question is what's your major?"

"Business."

He cocked his head to the side and studied me a moment before nodding to himself. "That fits."

"Um, thanks..." _I think...wait, is that an insult?_

"So why Vegas?" He asked before I could question his response.

"Why Vegas what?"

"Why did you pick Vegas? For college, I mean. Weren't there a million other places you could have gone?" The way he said it made me think that he didn't see why anyone would voluntarily live here.

There were a few reasons I chose Vegas, not least because it seemed like the most exciting place on the planet when you compared it to my hometown - a little place just outside of Sacramento - but I was more interested in hearing about him at that point. He was like a mystery I wanted to crack. "You don't like it here?" I asked.

He shrugged.

"But its _Vegas,_ baby!" I said, quoting every movie, ever.

He burst into a brief laugh. "Can't argue with that, I guess. You big into gambling? Is that it? You a shark?"

"Totally," I said, going along with the joke. "It was here or Atlantic City, and I like the heat."

He laughed again; it was warm and infectious. Without warning, he reached over and took my hand, cradling it in his, rubbing his thumb over my knuckles. "Well, I'm really glad you picked Vegas, Amy," he said softly.

Just like that, all the apprehension I was feeling disappeared.

#

Twenty minutes later my apprehension was back in full force - and then some. We were standing in a deserted parking lot outside of an old, abandoned bowling alley. It looked like it had been boarded up long ago and the area around the outside of the building was littered with beer bottles and soda cans.

"Um, Connor, not to be paranoid or anything, but you don't have a roll of duct tape and a set of knives hidden around here somewhere, do you?" I was joking...mainly.

Shaking his head, he said, "Not this time," without a trace of humor.

"Uh...that's actually really creepy."

He grinned. "Sorry. I'm not a psycho murderer, call Hayley and check if you want."

I narrowed my eyes and pointed a finger at him. "Aha! That's exactly what a psycho murder _would_ say to put me at ease."

"He'd probably also tell you to trust him and that you're completely safe...but I'm not gonna do that - 'cause I'm not a murderer."

"Smart," I said. "I feel better already."

"Happy to help."

I gestured towards the bowling alley. "So, this is _nice_ and all but..."

"What the fuck are we doing standing outside a deserted bowling alley at one in the morning?"

"Yeah."

"You'll see," he said cryptically, taking my hand and leading me around back of the building. There were some dumpsters against the back wall and Connor shoved a wooden crate over to the foot of one of them. Then he closed the lid of the dumpster and turned back to me. "You think you can climb up there using the crate, or do you need a boost?" he asked.

"And _why_ are we climbing on a dumpster?" My voice betrayed my uncertainty.

"Because we need to climb through _that_ window." He pointed toward a smashed window on the first floor, just above the dumpster.

"You said you were _kidding_ about the breaking and entering thing!"

"Technically, it's not _breaking_ and entering - that window's already broken, so it's just _entering_."

I looked at him doubtfully. "I'm not sure a judge would see it that way."

He shrugged and looked down, like he was _really_ disappointed. "We don't have to go in if you don't want," he sighed. "I guess you're not really dressed for climbing...and it's pretty high, you're probably scared of heights, right?" He shot me a look out of the corner of his eye, and _that_ was when I registered the gentle goading in his voice.

Asshole was trying to play me. I _knew_ it. And yet, I didn't want him to think that I was boring. Also, I really hated guys underestimating me.

"Alright, let's go in," I said brusquely, starting towards the dumpster.

"Here, I'll help you up," I noticed he was trying to disguise a grin as he placed the paper bag on the floor and linked his hands together to give me a boost.

I ignored his offer of help, stepped onto the crate and effortlessly pulled myself up on to the dumpster in a fairly fluid motion - although the trade off for that little move was that I was pretty sure I flashed my panties as I went. When I was up, I put my hands on my hips and turned to look down on him, raising my eyebrows expectantly. "Well, are you coming or not?" I asked.

The look of happy surprise on his face made me feel badass. "After that little show? Try and stop me."

#

"This is actually really incredible," I breathed, looking at the view from the roof of the bowling alley. Connor had led me through the almost pitch black gloom of the deserted building before opening an emergency exit door onto the huge, flat roof. There was a chest-high wall around the full structure, with a couple of ladders leading over it - presumably leading to fire escapes. There was a gigantic tower of vertical lettering that spelled out 'BOWLING' in red and white. The letters must once have lit up but now they were dim and lifeless against the night sky. They stretched upwards maybe forty feet from a rickety-looking scaffold that was attached to the roof only a few feet away from the surrounding wall.

"Yeah, it is," he agreed, moving to rest his forearms on the wall next to me. The building was tall, and the lights of the city stretched out around us like neon candles adrift on a midnight sea.

"So, how come you knew we could even get up here?" I asked. "Do you hang out in abandoned buildings a lot?"

"Sometimes."

"Seriously?!" I turned to look at him.

He acted like he hadn't heard my question. "Want to play a game?"

"What kind of game?"

"Truth, Dare or Drink." He started to empty the contents of the bag onto the wall. "I'll let you go first."

"Why do I get the feeling you're just going to choose the 'drink' option every time?"

"That's not how the game works."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah, you have to do it in that order: truth, dare, drink."

"Okaaaay...I'm not drinking bourbon."

"The beer is for you." He opened the pack of cigarettes and offered me one. He seemed to find it amusing when I shook my head and wrinkled my nose. "What do you say?" he asked before he stuck a smoke in his mouth and lit it with a Zippo from his back pocket.

"I go first?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, then." I paused for a moment, debating whether or not to ask him what I _really_ wanted to know. In the end I just decided to go for it. "Okay, I have to ask...why does that girl from the club want to murder you?"

"Knew you'd ask that," he said smugly.

"You didn't!"

"I did. And I told you - crazy bitch."

"That's not a real answer!"

"People don't need a reason to be crazy - they just _are_."

"Hmm," I shot him a side eye. "For someone who really wanted to get me up here to play this game, you kind of _suck_ at it."

That got him.

He snorted a laugh, blowing blue smoke into the night air. Now, I wasn't generally into guys who smoked, but there was something about the way that Connor looked with that cigarette hanging carelessly out of the corner of his mouth that just made me want to jump him...or maybe it was just that he was the hottest guy I'd ever met. Could have been that.

"Alright. That was Carley. She's my ex. We broke up a couple months ago and she's...bitter."

"Were you together for a long time?"

He narrowed his eyes, like he was thinking. "Maybe three months."

"Why did you guys break up?"

He pointed a long finger at me. "You know you're cheating, don't you?" he admonished. "It's supposed to be _one_ question. My turn. Why did you agree to leave the club with me?"

How do you answer a question like that?

Maybe a more confident girl would have laid it on the line: _Because you're like James Dean on his best day and God knows no sane woman could resist that._

When I didn't answer right away, he just watched me with a faint smile on his face.

I groped for something to say. "You seemed like fun," I said eventually.

He raised his eyebrows expectantly - then he realized I wasn't going to continue. "Is that it?!"

"One question - that's the _rules_." I pointed at him, using his own tactics against him.

"Okay, then it's my dare now. I _dare_ you to tell me why you left with me."

"No! It's _my_ dare now, your dare comes after!"

"Then hurry up and dare me so that I can have my turn."

"On one condition."

He nodded. "Go on."

"If you chicken out of the dare I give you, you forfeit your dare."

"Now you're just inventing rules."

"This is a made up game anyway!"

He thought for a second. "You _really_ don't want to tell me why you came with me do you?" He waited for me to answer, but I didn't. "So now I've _got_ to know - there's no way I'll back out of this dare - give it your best shot."

I folded my arms across my chest and gave him a smug look. I was pretty confident I had him. I pointed to the enormous 'BOWLING' sign that towered up from the roof. "Climb that, right to the top. Then I'll tell you."

He took a final pull on his cigarette before throwing the butt to the floor. Then he looked me dead in the eye. "Deal."

#

It was like something from a movie. Him climbing this swaying, groaning structure with a manic grin on his face, me standing at the bottom screaming at him to come back down.

The damn scaffold creaked with every move he made and, by the time he had scaled it half way, I could see the bolts that were anchoring it to the concrete start to move. The massive tower of letters was so close to the edge of the roof that, if he fell, there was a good chance he'd hit the ground. Like, the _actual_ ground - which was at least fifty feet below where _I_ was standing on the roof, so from where _he_ was...well, let's just say they'd be hosing him off of the parking lot.

"Connor! _Please_ come down! It's going to fall!" I had my face in my hands and I was peering through the gaps in my fingers - _really_ not wanting to watch, but unable to look away.

"This is what you wanted, Amy. If I fall, it's _your_ fault!" The glee in his voice made me want to kill him - if he didn't fall to his death, which he looked like he was about to do.

"I didn't think you'd actually _do_ it! Please stop! I'll tell you anything you want to know! Just _come down_!"

He hooked an arm around the huge 'W' and leant over so that he could look down on me. The structure let out a loud _screeeeeach_ at the shift in weight.

I thought I was going to throw up.

But Connor was laughing. "You'll tell me ANYTHING?"

"Yes! God, Connor, just _come down_!"

"You won't lie or dodge the question?"

"No!"

"You promise?"

"Yes! I fucking promise! Now _please_ _come_ _down_!" It was a measure of how beside myself I was that I swore like that, because I hardly _ever_ swore. Only in life or death situations - which this looked like it was about to become.

"Okay...oh, SHIT!" The tower rattled and groaned as he lost his footing and slid, his hands fumbling to stop his fall. I saw him jerk to a halt as he got a grip on part of the scaffold.

"OH MY GOD! Are you okay?!" I shrieked.

He was roaring with laughter. "Oh, shit, you should have seen your _face_!"

"Are you KIDDING ME?! Did you just _pretend_ to fall?!"

He just laughed harder, throwing his head back and howling into the night.

That moment, right there - THAT was my first clue.

#

"You _idiot_!" I shouted, as Connor's feet finally hit the ground. "You scared me to death!"

He was still chuckling like a little kid at a fairground. "Come on! It wasn't that bad."

His casual dismissal made me livid. "Wasn't that bad? _Wasn't that bad?!_ You could have died! Look - look right there, at those bolts, they're practically -"

"You're really cute when you're mad," he interrupted.

That threw me.

Before I could gather my wits enough to respond, he spoke again.

"Now, you _promised_ me on my death bed \- almost - that you would tell me why you really left the club with me."

I folded my arms across my chest and gritted my teeth - I wanted to _strangle_ him...and kiss him. He was really hot. And exciting. And _crazy_! So maybe Hayley was right about me, maybe 'wild' was my thing. Who knew?

"Or you could _not_ tell me and I'll just have to climb back up..." he said nonchalantly, starting to back away slowly towards the sign.

"Fine!" I snapped. I took a deep breath and looked down, unable to meet his eyes as I spoke. "I left with you because you're gorgeous and confident and I thought you were interesting and I wanted to spend more time with you," I paused, feeling my face burning. "But _now_ I realize that you're actually _insane_ -"

"Amy?"

" _What_?" I demanded, still not looking at him.

He stepped closer to me and reached out, tracing my bottom lip with his thumb, placing his forefinger under my chin and gently tipping my head up so that I was looking at him. My breath hitched in my throat at the contact and I saw the green of his eyes shrink slightly as his pupils flared. It felt as though the moment stretched forever, his thumb caressing my sensitive lip as heat gathered at my core - all from the touch of his fingers.

I held my breath as he leant forwards and brought his mouth to mine - but he didn't kiss me.

Instead, he nipped my bottom lip lightly with his teeth - just the slightest hint of pain - before he released it, and then licked along it slowly with his hot tongue.

Oh God.

It was the most erotic non-kiss of my life - not that I'd had much experience.

"Damn," he breathed against my lips. "You're beautiful." His hand moved to the nape of my neck, pulling me to him as his lips pressed against mine. He tasted of smoke and bourbon, but with an underlying tang that was just Connor. I felt his other hand press against the middle of my back as he pulled me towards him; I snaked my arms around his neck in response and our kiss became more intense. His breathing had quickened and I could feel his desire in the way that his mouth moved over mine, the way his tongue penetrated my mouth, like he wanted to taste every inch of it. His tongue caressed mine skillfully, tantalizing me, making my nipples harden and my lower stomach clench.

I couldn't help it, I moaned into his mouth.

His grip tightened around me and he pulled me flush against him. My breasts pressed against his hard chest as I arched into him, the friction of our clothes rubbing together tormented my already aching nipples.

He groaned and I felt the hardness in his jeans grind against my belly. The sound of his arousal, coupled with the obvious _feel_ of his arousal, caused a tightening deep in my core.

The knowledge that I was exciting him as much as he was exciting me both thrilled and scared me all at once.

It was completely new territory for me - I'd had one boyfriend in high school and I'd only dated one other guy in my freshman year at college. I was currently at the beginning of my sophomore year and I had never even gone beyond second base.

It hadn't been a conscious decision to remain a virgin. I mean, I wasn't _against_ sex. It had just never happened for me. I just hadn't liked the guys I'd dated _enough_ to sleep with them, and I didn't want to do it just to be able to _say_ that I had, so...

I felt my body tense in anticipation and apprehension.

Connor must have felt me tense up, because he broke the kiss and pulled back to look at me. His eyes were dark pools of lust. "What's wrong?" he asked, his voice even lower than normal, thick with desire.

I stared at him, suddenly embarrassed beyond measure. "I - uh..."

His eyebrows furrowed. "Did I do something?"

"No! It's just...I've never...you know...before, so..."

He shook his head, bewildered. "Never what?"

Feeling my face pulsing red with embarrassment, I pulled away from him.

Suddenly, understanding hit him and his eyebrows flew upwards. "You're a _virgin_?!"

"I take it you're _not?_ " I shot at him, awkwardness and embarrassment making me snappy.

He was looking at me in slack jawed shock. I wanted the ground to swallow me up but, at the same time, I was angry with myself for being embarrassed. I _knew_ there was nothing to be embarrassed about, but I couldn't help it.

"Hell, no!" he exclaimed, running a hand through his hair.

"Well, sorry to disappoint you!"

"Wait, _what_?!" He shook his head like he was trying to clear it. "I'm not disappointed, okay? Not even close."

"But-"

"I'm just...surprised - "

"I'm only nineteen, it's not like I'm forty!"

"I know."

"Then why the reaction?"

"I just -"

"Just _what_?"

"I just can't believe someone as hot as you hasn't had sex already - like, _lots_ of sex. Guys must try and get you in bed all the time."

For a beat I stared at him in silence, then I broke into a wry smile as something occurred to me. "Like you did tonight you mean?"

He looked momentarily taken aback, then he chuckled. "Yeah, just like that," he admitted.

I deflated, waiting for him to say something like _Well, this was fun and all, but if you're not going to put out, maybe I should just call you a cab._

But he didn't.

#

"What's your favorite movie?" Connor asked mildly.

I double blinked. "What?"

He grinned. "Your favorite movie? I assume you have one? What is it? Like, _The Notebook_ or something?" He walked over to where he had left the drinks on the wall and opened a beer before offering it to me.

I looked at him tentatively as I took it. "Um, I've never seen _The Notebook_."

"Every chick's seen _The Notebook_."

"Well I haven't, and last time I checked, I was still a ' _chick'_." I put air quotes around the last word.

He chuckled and took a swig of his bourbon. "Alright, then what is it?"

" _True Romance_."

"No shit - I love that movie! Tarantino's a God."

"You know, Tarantino didn't actually direct it -"

"- he just wrote it and sold the screenplay so that he could make _Reservoir Dogs_ , I know." He shot me a slightly smug look in return for my look of surprise and took another swig of his bourbon. " _Reservoir Dogs_ or _True Romance_ , imagine having that choice."

"Which one would you have picked?" I asked.

"I'd have had to go with _Dogs_."

"Shocker - guy chooses violence over romance."

He grinned and shrugged.

"Okay. What's your favorite movie?" I asked.

" _Space Odyssey 2001_."

"Really? That's your absolute _favorite_ movie of all time?"

"Why is that so hard to believe? Kubrick's a legend."

"You just seem more like a _Full Metal Jacket_ kind of guy."

He shook his head in mock disappointment. "Judgmental."

"You're the one making 'every chick' comments - that's not judgmental?"

"Nah, that's just me making you mad 'cause you're cute when you're mad." He reached out and took my hand in his, urging me to stand next to him at the wall.

"You're kind of annoying," I said softly.

He laughed loudly. "Apparently hot girls like annoying guys."

"They do, do they?"

"Based on the evidence in front of me, yeah, they do. You're still here aren't you?"

He was still grinning a little as he slowly leant in and kissed me again; it was an innocent kiss, no tongue, just warm lips, like he was testing the water, unsure if I would pull away. Just as I started to melt into him, he pulled back.

"Anyway, you never answered my question in the cab, about why you chose Vegas."

"Noticed that, did you?"

"Not much gets past me." His tone was a little self-mocking. "So tell me, why Vegas?"

I sighed and tried to fight the blush of embarrassment that was spreading over my face. Once again, I was unsuccessful. " _True Romance_ ," I said quietly.

He looked down at me quizzically. "You gave that answer already. You can't just use it again."

I giggled. "No, honestly, _True Romance_ is the reason I chose Las Vegas."

"But Vegas isn't even in that movie."

"I know, but Alabama mentions it one time, she talks about how they stopped off in Vegas and bought clothes. And then there's that scene with the phone booth - it looks like it was filmed just outside of Vegas."

His eyes lit up with mischief as a slow smile spread across his face. "Yeah, I know that scene. Great scene." His smile was replaced by a look of incredulity. "That can't be why you moved to Vegas, to have phone booth sex? 'Cause if that's the reason -"

"No!" I swatted at his chest. "Of course not!"

Although that scene did make phone booth sex look pretty hot...

"Aw, damn..."

I rolled my eyes. "It was just the adventure of it all, the unpredictability. You know, waking up one day and having no idea your life was about to change in the most crazy way. It just seemed like a million miles away from how I grew up. I'm from a small town and not much happens there, Clarence and Alabama road tripping across the country just seemed so exciting and romantic..." I trailed off and shrugged, feeling silly.

"So you're a romantic?" he teased gently, which made me blush even more. Seriously, I was probably rivaling a tomato by that point.

"I guess," I admitted.

He took a sip of bourbon and seemed to consider for a moment. Then his mouth tilted impishly. "That's good to know."

#

We talked for hours. Connor held my hand and kissed me off and on the whole time, but he never tried to take it further - though I kind of wished he would.

As the sky started to lighten, he pulled out his cell phone and checked the time. "Damn, I have to go. Blake gives me a ride to work and he's a dick if I make him late."

"What do you do?" I asked. "Or - wait, do you do the band full time?"

"Not yet, we both work construction."

"Oh, do you like it?"

"Yeah, it's okay - it's not forever."

"Right, because rock stardom awaits." I grinned mischievously.

He put his hand over his heart. "Thanks for believing in us," he said with mock sincerity. "It really means a lot."

"No problem."

"Alright, at least come see us play before you write us off completely."

"I was being supportive!"

"You were being a smart ass," he said, grinning.

"Okay, I was. Seriously though, I would love to see you play."

"Yeah, you probably would actually." His grin widened. "We're playing Friday night at Blake and Kane's house \- it's just a backyard gig, but there'll be one hell of an after party. You should come."

"That sounds fun."

"So you'll come?" he pressed.

"Yeah, sure."

"Give me your phone?" I handed it to him and we swapped numbers - then he called me a cab.

As it pulled up in the bowling alley parking lot, I took off his leather jacket and offered it to him. He took it, and then hooked his free arm around me and pulled me to him one final time and kissed me - hard and deep this time, like a promise.

When he broke the kiss I was pretty much gasping.

He grinned at me as he opened the cab door for me. "See you Friday, Beer-Drinking, Ball-Breaking, Dumpster-Climbing Amy Scott who's pretty hot."

I was still giggling when the cab pulled out of the parking lot.

#

I shared an apartment with my roommate from freshman year - Melanie Black. She was a Psychology major from Nashville. After summer break, we'd moved into a small apartment just off the UNLV campus. It was a little ratty, but the rent was reasonable and it was just big enough for the two of us.

As I walked into our small apartment that morning, my mind was still firmly on Connor.

Until I saw Mel.

Although only about five foot two and tiny all over, she had a natural air of authority about her, and could turn on you like a pit-bull if you pissed her off. Which I had.

As soon as I entered the apartment she sprang off of the couch and ran at me. "Where the hell have you _been_?!" Her voice was shrill with worry.

"I went out with Hayley -"

"Yeah! Last _night_! I know! But where have you been _since_ then? Did you - _oh my God_ \- did you go home with a guy?! Amy, I've been worried about you. You _never_ stay out all night. I called you, I texted, I was starting to think you'd been _raped_ and _killed_ and thrown in a _dumpster_!"

"Well, actually there _was_ a dumpster involved..." I teased.

She had a look on her face like she was trying to stop herself from tearing my face off.

"Okay, I'm sorry," I said quickly. "And I love you for caring, but I'm fine, Mel, really. I'm sorry you were worried. I should have let you know I wasn't coming home - but I didn't actually _know_ I wasn't going to come home...it just kind of happened."

She looked slightly mollified. She pushed her thick brown hair behind her ears and puffed out a long sigh. "So, where were you? _Did_ you meet a guy?" The expression on my face must have given me away because her hazel eyes widened. " _You did_! Tell me everything!" she ordered, putting her hands on her hips and staring me down (well, a more accurate description would be 'staring me up' - I was a good few inches taller). It was like I was thirteen and had just been caught sneaking out of my bedroom window to meet a boy.

"Yes I met a guy," I admitted, grinning.

"Did you go back to his place?!"

"No..." I couldn't help the smile that spread across my face at the memory of the unexpected place I _had_ ended up.

"Tell me _everything_ ," she repeated.

So I did, I told her every detail.

When I had finished, she looked at me for a few seconds before she spoke. "You're totally going to sleep with him." No speculation. She said it like it was a fact.

Mel was nothing if not direct. And right. That girl was _always_ right.

#

Connor walked into Realm Records on Friday night at 8PM, just as I was finishing my shift. I was serving a customer at the cash register when I saw him.

I was immediately struck by his gorgeousness. My God - I'd forgotten just how good looking he was. He was wearing faded black jeans and a thin gray hoodie with the sleeves shoved up to just below his elbows, showing off perfectly formed forearms - all sinew and tight muscle. My breathing quickened just looking at him.

His soft green eyes took me in as he walked towards me. "Hey, Amy Scott," he greeted me with a grin. "You almost ready?"

"Sure, just let me change out back. I won't be long."

I quickly changed in the restroom - I kept my skinny jeans on, but I swapped my t-shirt for a white, sleeveless blouse and swapped my Converse for brown ankle boots with a heel.

Connor was browsing through the vinyl records section when I re-entered the store.

"See anything you like?" I asked. "You get a free pin with every purchase." I grabbed an old Limp Bizkit pin from the basket on the counter, raising my eyebrows and opening my mouth in mock excitement.

"Twelve year old me would've loved that," he said.

I laughed. "Me too. Here." I tossed the pin to him. "A souvenir."

Flashing a grin, he pinned it to the back pocket of his jeans, then turned so I could see it. "What do you think?"

"Of your ass or the pin?"

_Because your ass is yummy,_ I thought \- but _didn't_ say.

"The pin. I already know my ass is epic."

I burst out laughing. "Modest much?"

He shrugged, like _Why would I bother? LOOK at me._ The guy had a point.

I shook my head wryly. "Let's go - I need to watch you guys play so I can write you off completely."

He frowned, looking confused. "Huh?"

"What you said the other night - 'at least come watch us play before you write us off completely'? It was a joke..."

He shook his head. "I don't remember that."

"Oh, well -"

"But I _do_ remember kissing you." He grinned and slipped his hand into mine. I felt a warm tingle spread up my arm at his touch. Leaning in quickly, he nipped my lower lip between his teeth, like he had on the roof of the bowling alley. Mmm. "Come on," he urged. "Let's go rock your world."

When we got into the parking lot, Connor led me towards a rusty Chevy pickup - it must have been dark blue once upon a time but the paintwork had faded and was chipped and scratched in places.

Connor hopped in and leant over, opening the passenger side door from the inside.

"I thought you didn't have a car?" I said as I joined him.

"It's my cousin's," he explained. "It's a hunk of junk but it's better than walking...just. And we can fit all our gear in back for gigs."

"It's...lived in," I observed, looking at the door-less glove box, stuffed full of CDs and the rear-view mirror that was held on with duct tape. "I like it, it looks like it could tell some stories."

"No doubt. But never let Blake hear you say that or he'll actually _tell_ you the stories."

"That would be bad?"

"You have no idea."

"He sounds interesting."

"He's definitely that," Connor said as he started the Chevy up and drove it out of the parking lot. "He's probably gonna try and fuck you."

" _What_?!" I practically shrieked in shock.

He glanced over at me and smiled grimly. "Just to fuck with _me_ , he'll try it on with _you_." He shrugged. "He's a dick."

I stared at him. "Why would he do that?"

"He might not."

"But he has before?"

"Yeah."

"He's actually _slept with_ girls you've...dated?"

Connor smirked, and I knew it was because of my choice of words. "Is that what we're doing?" he asked. " _Dating_?"

My cheeks heated furiously. "I - I wasn't talking about _us_..."

"You mean you don't want to date me...?"

Completely embarrassed, I looked away. There was no way I was going to answer that question.

"Are you holding out for Blake, is that it?" I heard the amusement in his voice. Making me uncomfortable seemed to be his single greatest joy in life.

"No!" I said, a little too aggressively.

I heard him chuckle. "No, he hasn't actually slept with any of the girls I've been with - as far as I know. It's just a game to him. He gets off on making people feel awkward."

"I know someone else like that," I said dryly. "Must run in the family."

Connor just laughed.

#

We drove downtown and before long we were passing through a neighborhood where everything seemed a little run down or in varying states of disarray. The houses had that neglected look about them that suggested that the owners had little money or inclination to fix them up; there were children's toys abandoned in front yards and cars on the side of the road that had seen better days - some looked like they would never start again.

"This is it," Connor said, gesturing to a small house on a corner, set apart from its neighbors and surrounded by a low chain link fence. It was a wooden structure, with peeling paint and steps leading up to the front door that looked like they may collapse at any minute. As Connor pulled the Chevy onto the driveway I could already hear the thudding of music and the loud babble of voices coming from inside.

Connor led me through the open front door, straight in to a fairly small, open plan living area, comprised of a living room and kitchen-diner. There were three doors leading off of the living area to the right. Two of the doors were shut, but the middle door stood open, revealing a small, dingy looking bathroom.

There were people _everywhere_. I'd never seen so many people packed into such a small space.

"Hey, man!" A guy approached us through the crowd, smiling amiably as he fist bumped Connor. He was quite short for a guy, only a couple of inches taller than me, but what he lacked in height he made up for in muscle, his biceps looked bigger than my waist. His light brown hair was cropped close to his skull in a buzz cut. Basically, he looked like he could beat a heavyweight boxer to death without breaking a sweat. But his hazel eyes were warm and when they lit on me, his smile widened. "You must be Amy. Nice to meet you. Make yourself at home."

"Thanks - nice to meet you too. You must be Blake, right?" I asked, assuming he was Connor's cousin.

He chuckled good-naturedly. "Hell, no! I'm Kane, his roommate - Blake's out back." He turned his attention back to Connor. "We're all set up, man. Ready when you are."

"Let's do it," Connor said. He held my hand tightly as he led me through the throng with Kane following behind. Every few feet someone clapped Connor on the back, or fist bumped him, or bro hugged him, or, in the case of some of the women, kissed him on the cheek.

"Do you know everyone here?" I asked as we wound our way through the crowd towards the back of the house, where a door opened onto a narrow deck.

"Pretty much. I've lived here all my life, so have the rest of the guys. And we all went to the same high school - Blake and Kane are three years older - so yeah, no one really leaves this neighborhood. Everyone knows everyone."

We emerged onto the deck and Connor paused, glancing around the small yard. Then he grinned at me. "The _stage_ ," he said, pointing across the yard.

A drum kit had been set up near to the chain link fence at the back of the yard and a guitar and bass had been hooked up to two squat, battered amps. There was another rough looking amp a little way in front of the rest of the instruments, this one was hooked up to a microphone, which lay on top of it. There were extension cords running from the back door of the house to the equipment set up in the yard.

"You're playing _there_?"

He nodded and opened his mouth to speak, but he was cut off by a deep voice yelling his name from the other end of the deck. "CONNOR! Finally! What the fuck took you so long?"

Then I saw _him_ for the first time.

He was striding along the deck towards us, beer in hand, a huge grin on his face. If I hadn't already been so completely besotted with Connor, I'm pretty sure I would have swooned. He looked like a movie star. Almost like a creature of mythology. Just like... _wow._ One of those guys who could probably have almost any woman he wanted just by clicking his fingers and pointing to his crotch.

His hair was dark and perfectly straight, but messy in a careless _Hey! I just woke up like this!_ kind of way. His eyes were so incredibly blue - they looked like sapphires glinting from under dark, sculpted brows. They danced with amusement, like he was the only one in on a huge joke. His strong, incredibly masculine jaw was dusted with dark stubble.

He wore an old, grey Guns n' Roses t-shirt with the sleeves cut off. His arms were covered in tattoos - two full sleeves of intricate and artistic designs: images, symbols, lettering, all flowing and curling into one another seamlessly.

He was board and muscular, his pecks stretching his shirt out slightly. His right bicep flexed, his tattoos rippling, as he brought his beer to his mouth and took a long, leisurely swig. His jeans were slung low, faded and worn out, and held up by a wide, leather belt. His black work boots were scuffed and battered - the laces were undone and hung down almost to the floor.

He was an education in rough, unkempt cool.

He exuded sin and sex.

And he ruined it all immediately.

As he reached us his eyes snapped down to mine and he blinked, before looking me up and down slowly, like a predator about to devour his prey. His gaze lingered on my lips and his smile faltered slightly, before transforming into an evil smirk.

"Ah, _now_ I get it," he said, looking back at Connor. "Did you fuck her in my truck on the way over here?" He reached down with one hand and, very slowly and very obviously, gripped his belt buckle and adjusted it slightly - the innuendo was pretty clear. "'Cause that's what I would've done...the stuck-up ones are always nice and _tight_."

#

Did you fuck her in my truck on the way over here? 'Cause that's what I would've done...the stuck-up ones are always nice and TIGHT.

My mouth dropped open in disbelief and the blood rushed to my cheeks in absolute _mortification_ at the crude words.

"Jesus, Blake!" Connor snapped.

" _This_ is your cousin?!" I asked, my voice a little shriller than I had intended.

"Sure is," Connor said, glaring at Blake but talking to me. "Told you he'd be a _dick_."

I scrutinized Blake more closely, searching for physical similarities to Connor. There weren't many that I could see - aside from the fact that they both had a strong jaw and were ridiculously hot. Blake was a good few inches taller than Connor, at least six four, and though they were both broad, Connor was more athletic-looking whereas Blake was more in Spartan Warrior league.

Seemingly unaware of my analysis, or even my existence at that point, Blake finished the last of his beer and tossed the bottle into a bucket of empties. Then he squared up to Connor with a big, shit-eating grin plastered across his face. Connor released my hand and squared his shoulders in return - they stood almost toe to toe, as if they were going to throw down any second.

Then, out of nowhere, quick as lightening, Blake grabbed Connor's shoulders and shook him violently. "Just FUCKIN' with ya man!" he shouted in his face, his expression one of manic glee.

For a split second, Connor didn't react - then he launched himself at Blake, shoving him backwards across the deck. Blake hooked an arm around Connor's neck as he stumbled back, and pulled him into a headlock. Connor thrashed and writhed in his grasp but Blake held on, scrubbing his other hand through Connor's hair, even as Connor kicked out at him.

At first I was horrified - then I realized that they were both _laughing_.

"They're real mature," a male voice said.

I turned in surprise to see Kane standing next to me. I had completely forgotten that he was there.

"Are they always like this?" I asked.

He frowned in mock sympathy. "I want to say _no_ , but I think you deserve the truth."

Soon, Blake and Connor broke apart, breathing heavily and giggling like kids. Blake clapped Connor on the back and said "Show time, buddy!" Then he turned abruptly and walked towards their makeshift stage. I stared after him, dumbfounded.

Connor came back over to me and tugged his hoodie off over his head, revealing a tight, white wife beater which only served to accentuate his toned arms and shoulders.

My God, those Maxwell cousins had good genes. Even if their manners left a lot to be desired.

"See how I defended your honor?" he asked, still grinning as he handed me his hoodie.

"Yeah...thanks for that."

"No problem." He dropped a quick kiss to my cheek before heading after Blake.

#

I watched as Connor settled behind the drum kit and Blake picked up the microphone and started flicking power switches. Kane approached them and picked up his bass, picking at the strings and turning a couple of tuning pegs. Last to join them was Derren, who slung the strap of his guitar over his slim shoulder before sweeping his shoulder length hair back and tying it in a rough man-bun. He caught my eye and nodded a greeting.

"Hey, groupie," a familiar voice said from just behind me. I turned to see Hayley grinning at me excitedly.

"Hey, you came!"

"Told you I'd be here, I came with Derren."

"So, the friends-with-benefits situation is working out?"

She linked her arm through mine and her face took on a blissed out look. "It's _maybe_ more than friends-with-benefits now."

"Oh, really? I did _not_ see that one coming," I teased.

She chuckled. "I know, we've known each other since we were kids and we've tried this before, but this time it just feels _different_."

"Different how?"

"Well, he does this thing with his tongue -"

"Forget I asked!" I cut her off laughing. "You're obsessed!"

"There are worse things to be obsessed with than sex," she chirruped.

Just then I heard Blake's voice holler through the speaker at his feet. "Alright, fuckers! Get the fuck out of my goddamn house and come listen to us play!"

A cheer went up from the people in the backyard; it travelled quickly through the house, like a Mexican wave of sound, and people started streaming from the back door and into the yard. Pretty soon the yard was full.

"FUCK, YEAH!" Blake bellowed, grinning manically from ear to ear.

As I watched, he caught my eye and winked. I wrinkled my nose in distaste and I saw him smirk with dark amusement before I turned my attentions to the rest of the band.

Connor beat out a mini drum solo, quieting the crowd. Blake turned to him and nodded and Connor held his sticks above his head and cracked them together four times before he brought them down hard on the drums and the band launched into their first song.

I had to admit, they were incredible. Even in a backyard, on a patch of dusty ground with beat up gear, they blew me away. Their raw energy buzzed through the air, capturing their audience, cocooning us in their music.

Throughout their set, I barely looked at the other guys, all my attention was on Connor. On the way the muscles in his arms bunched as he hammered on the drums. The way his eyes scrunched closed as he threw his head back, almost like he was in pain or...well, you know.

They played a long set, but to me it felt like it was over in a matter of minutes. I could have listened to them all night. As the final notes of their last song faded, I screamed and clapped along with everyone else.

"Let's _party_ , motherfuckers!" Blake shouted down the mic, before dropping it back on top of the amp and swaggering into the center of a huddle of half-dressed girls.

Hayley bounded over to Derren and launched herself into his arms as he pulled the guitar strap over his head and leant it against the amp, wrapping her legs around his waist and practically kissing his face off.

Connor set his drumsticks on top of his snare drum and came over to me. He had sweat running down his face and his hair was damp from perspiration. A few days earlier, if you'd asked me if I would have got all hot and bothered over a guy _that_ covered in sweat, my answer would have been a resounding NO. But that was _before_ Connor.

"We're good, right?" he asked, still panting from exertion.

"You're a little better than 'good'."

He stepped closer to me, curling his arm around my waist and pulling me close, stoking the fire of desire that had already pooled in my core from watching him play. His eyes caught mine and pulled me in to their green depths, immersing me in them. He seemed so happy, so complete, so perfect. And he was looking at _me_.

That was it.

That moment sealed my fate.

#

The party raged into the night. There was a sound system in the living room that was cranked to full volume, the kitchen counter was littered with every type of spirit I could imagine, and the bath was full to the brim with ice and beer bottles. There were drinking games, silly dance offs, more jamming on the equipment out back - Sons of Sinners partied like rock stars even if they hadn't hit the big time yet.

Together, they were like a tornado - and Hayley and I were swept along in their wake.

But Blake and Connor?

They were the eye of the storm.

They were everywhere, involved in everything, instigating the crazy antics, dominating the drinking games and making up new rules as they went along. They were like a tag-team of trouble and fun and everyone wanted a piece of them.

Hayley and I tried our best to keep up - I even managed to hold my own at Beer Pong for a while - but eventually we slipped away from the guys and went out on the back deck, perching side by side on a plastic sun lounger that had seen better days.

"So am I an awesome friend for setting you and Connor up or what?" Hayley asked after a while.

"You _do_ realize he's crazy, don't you?" I hedged.

She waved a hand dismissively. "They're all crazy - now answer the question."

"Yes, you're awesome," I admitted.

"And..?"

"And?"

"Give me details!"

I laughed. "Such as?"

"Oh, come on!" She threw her hands in the air in exasperation. "You're as bad as he is! He wouldn't tell me anything either."

"He wouldn't?"

"No. He just said you guys had 'hung out', which I already _knew._ So, come _on_ , I set you guys up, I deserve to know!" she whined. "Did he toast your pop tart?"

"Oh my GOD! You get worse!" I cringed but couldn't help laughing at her.

Just then, Derren appeared out of the back door. "There you are!" He said, walking over and holding out his hands to Hayley. She complied and let him pull her up. He pulled her close and whispered in her ear.

She giggled and nodded, but then glanced apologetically over her shoulder at me.

"Go!" I said, waving them away. "Have fun."

"She will," Derren promised, before he pulled her across the yard and through the back gate.

When they'd gone, I went back inside the house. It was about four-thirty in the morning, and by that time pretty much everyone had left. Kane was talking to a couple of guys in the kitchen but when he saw me he came right over. "Hey, Amy. Connor was looking for you a minute ago."

I glanced around the room but the only other people in there were Blake and two girls, both of whom were wearing skirts so short that you could see what they had eaten for lunch. They were all lounging together on one of the couches - I felt a weird little jolt of something akin to revulsion at the sight of _both_ girls running their hands all over him.

Blake suddenly looked over and caught my eye. "Hey, Princess, want to join us? There's room for a little one."

I gave him my sweetest smile but my words dripped venom. "Not even if you were the last asshole on the planet."

He just chuckled and turned back to his girls.

I looked back at Kane, who was trying valiantly to keep a straight face. "Do you know where Connor went?" I asked.

"Bathroom, I think - hey, you want another drink?"

"No thanks, I'm pretty sure another drink would be the end of me."

"I can make you a coffee?"

"Oh my God I think I love you," I said on a sigh. Coffee was my greatest weakness, I was obsessed with the stuff. Hot, cold, frap, lat, you name it, I drank it. That sentence sounds a lot dirtier than I intended.

Kane broke into an easy laugh. "Don't let Con hear you say that."

We chatted amiably as he fixed my coffee. Just as he handed the steaming cup to me, the bathroom door banged open and out spilled Connor and two other guys - Matt and Luke, two of Connor's friends that I had been introduced to earlier - laughing uproariously.

Connor spotted me and broke away from them, weaving his way towards me, rubbing his nose and shaking his head quickly from side to side, as if he was trying to clear it.

_That_ was my second clue.

#

When Connor reached me, he slipped his arms around me, pulled me tight against him and kissed me. Just laid one on me. Right there in front of everyone. My coffee spilled a little, but I didn't care, I just adjusted my arm and kept kissing him.

The kiss was sloppy and raw. Not gentle - just full of lust.

We were both at least a little wasted - okay, probably a _lot_ wasted - and our teeth clacked together as he thrust his tongue into my mouth. We were both chuckling as he pulled back and cocked his head to one side, frowning in confusion. "Wait, did you pee on me?"

" _What_?! NO!" I glanced down and saw a wet patch on his jeans. "You made me spill my coffee!"

"I think _you_ need a coffee, man," Kane said, clapping Connor on the shoulder as he doled out another steaming mug to the drunken people. Connor took it with a slightly slurred word of thanks, and then pulled me towards the couches - Blake and his girls had disappeared somewhere - and we flopped down together. He pulled me in to his side, draping an arm around my shoulder as we sipped our drinks.

By the time I'd almost finished my coffee, the last of the stragglers had gone - well, to be more accurate, Kane had gently but firmly kicked them out, before disappearing to his room, leaving Connor and I alone.

My body started to relax and I suddenly felt sleepy. Connor must have sensed it, because he took my coffee out of my hand and set it on the coffee table with his own. Then he laid back on the couch, resting his head on the arm, and tapped the top of his chest. "Lay down here for a while?"

"Shouldn't we go?"

"Nah, I crash here all the time."

I nodded, to tired and drunk to even really consider calling a cab, and lowered myself down beside him, resting my head on his chest. His arms slipped around me and pressed me flush against his body. I could feel every taught muscle. He tipped my head up with the pad of his index finger and kissed me again - this time it was gentle for a moment before he deepened the kiss.

I splayed my hand over his stomach, reveling in the feel of his speed bump abs under my hand. Tentatively, I let my hand explore his torso, stopping only when I got to the belt of his jeans.

"Lower...lower..." he murmured against my mouth.

My eyes flew open as I pulled back, shocked at his request.

I realized he was joking when I saw him chuckling, his eyes dancing with amusement at my reaction.

"Embarrassed again?" he asked.

I am now!

"...no."

"Liar." His eyes narrowed mischievously. "You're a tease and you don't even know it."

I bit my lip. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry for making me hard."

My face started to flush. His words turned me on, but my inexperience made me shy. I knew Connor could clearly see my embarrassment, but this time he didn't mention it. Instead, he wrapped his arms around me, hugging me to him while he chuckled silently.

#

I awoke, fully clothed, on one of the couches in the living room. My head thumped in time with my heart, sending pulses of pain across my temples.

"Oh God, I hate alcohol," I muttered, clutching my head.

"Don't blame the booze, blame poor judgment!" Hayley's perky voice sounded from across the room. I couldn't see her yet - my eyes weren't playing ball - but I figured she was in the kitchen.

"I thought you went home," I croaked.

"Nope, we just went to look at the stars."

"Yeah, I made you see stars alright!" Derren quipped from somewhere close by - maybe the other couch.

"Ugh...coffee?" I felt like my mouth was full of cotton wool.

"Already on it," Hayley said cheerfully. Exactly how she could be so chirpy after a night like last night I had no idea.

I heard some incoherent grumbling from beside me and realized that I was still pressed up against Connor. I sat up and rubbed my hands over my face, trying to wake myself up. I blinked and looked around the room. I imagined I looked kind of like an owl emerging from its nest in the middle of the day - bewildered and bleary eyed.

Derren and Kane were sitting on the other couch, playing some really violent looking video game on the TV with the sound down low.

"Morning, sunshine," Kane grinned.

"Ugh," I moaned.

Hayley placed a coffee on the coffee table in front of me and patted my head, like you would a puppy, before returning to the kitchen.

"Morning, fuckers!" Blake's deep voice sounded out, making me wince as the pain in my head doubled. I looked up to see him emerging from his bedroom, looking like he'd had a solid eight hours sleep and not a single drop of alcohol.

What an asshole.

Then something clicked in my brain - something that had been staring me in the face since I met him the night before but had only now solidified in my hung-over mind. "Oh my God, I just figured it out!" I blurted, sitting up straighter and pointing at him before I could stop myself - maybe I was still a little bit drunk. Actually, that was a very strong possibility. "Oh God! I _knew_ there was something familiar about you!"

My outburst seemed to catch him by surprise because he paused on his way to the kitchen and looked at me with wide eyes. He rallied pretty quickly though, his mouth curving into a smirk as he spoke. "What? Did you just remember we already fucked? 'Cause I'm sorry Princess, but I can't remember _every_ girl I screw."

"Ew! No!" I wrinkled my nose in disgust. "And please don't call me that."

He jerked his head back, frowning in mock confusion. "But that's what you're _supposed_ to call spoiled little rich girls."

For the record, I was _not_ rich. Or particularly spoiled for that matter.

"Ignore him, Amy. What were you going to say?" Kane prompted.

"Okay, it's just that he's - he's _Stifler_! You know, the guy that gets peed on in _American Pie_?!"

If you haven't seen the American Pie movies, Stifler is this obnoxious man-whore who insults his friends constantly and thinks he's God's gift to women. He essentially ends up the butt of every joke. Don't get me wrong, Blake didn't _look_ much like him. But the way he _acted_? Pretty damn similar.

There was a beat of silence, and then the room descended into laughter - all apart from Blake, that is.

"Oh, man! She's right!" Kane howled.

"Yes! Amy, you're a fuckin' genius!" Derren leant across and high fived me.

"Good one, Amy Scott." Connor muttered before burying his head in the couch cushions and seeming to going back to sleep.

Blake shot me a disgruntled look as he went to the kitchen, where Hayley offered him a coffee whilst trying, and failing, to hide her snickering.

Feeling a little vindicated after the way that he had spoken to me the night before, I picked up my own coffee and took a sip, letting my tired eyes drift shut for a few moments as I tasted it. When I opened them again, Kane and Derren were both re-immersed in their video game; I glanced back to the kitchen, where Hayley had her back to me, making more coffee -

But Blake was looking right at me.

His expression was unreadable, but when my eyes met his, he winked at me over the top of his coffee cup. It wasn't a sleazy wink either, and there was no accompanying smirk or innuendo. It was the kind of wink that said, _No hard feelings._

It was...unexpected.

#

Almost a week after the party, I was starting to think that I would never hear from Connor again.

We'd left Blake and Kane's house together, late Saturday morning, and we had gone to a nearby diner for waffles. We'd talked and laughed and kissed while we ate.

Afterwards, just like the morning at the bowling alley, he'd called me a cab and waited with me in the parking lot for it to arrive. He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me in, giving me a lingering kiss before burrowing his face into my hair. "So, this is the part where you tell me you had a great night and you want to see me again," he said into my ear.

"Aren't _you_ supposed to say that to _me_?"

"You can't say it first? Are you that insecure?" I didn't need to see his face to know that he was grinning, trying to goad me.

"Ha ha," I said, _not_ laughing. "Okay, fine. Connor, I had a really great night and I want to see you again," I deadpanned.

He pulled back and looked down at me, an expression of sympathetic uncertainty on his face. "Jesus, Amy, I'm really flattered but I'm just so busy right now..."

"You ass!" I squealed, smacking him on the arm.

He chuckled and kissed me again just as the cab pulled up. "I'll call you later, okay?"

"Okay," I agreed as he opened the door for me to climb in. He had stood in the parking lot and waved me off as I sighed and thought sweet thoughts about his sweet lips...

But then he hadn't called, or texted, or _anything_.

And, because I'm a little proud, I hadn't tried to contact him either.

By the following Thursday, I had pretty much written him off, and I surprised myself with how hurt I felt at the prospect of not seeing him again - or worse, seeing him again with his arms wrapped around someone else.

In fact, I had lain awake for hours every night that week, unable to think of anything _but_ him.

So when he called me, my heart just about leapt out of my mouth.

It was around nine-thirty at night and I was studying in my room when my phone started ringing. As soon as I saw his name glowing on the screen, I grabbed up my phone, but I forced myself to let it ring just a _little_ before I finally answered. Pride and all that.

" _Hey, Beer Pong Champ, I think someone's trying to steal your car."_

"Hey - _what_?" I jumped up off of my seat and ran to my bedroom window. "How do you - _oh_!"

There he was. My Honda was parked on the side of the road outside my apartment block and Connor was standing on the roof, grinning up at me, with his cell phone still at his ear. Passersby were looking at him like he was a crazy person.

"What are you _doing_? How did you know that was my car - or even where I _live_ for that matter?"

" _I have my sources."_

Then something obvious occurred to me. "Hayley told you."

" _Of course - so, what are you doing RIGHT NOW?"_

"Looking out of my bedroom window at some crazy guy putting dents in the roof of my car," I said sardonically.

He chuckled down the line and leapt down onto the sidewalk. _"Are you busy? You don't LOOK busy."_

I thought about telling him that I had plans, just to play hard to get, but my desire to see him again won out. "I'm just studying."

" _Then you need a break. Come on an adventure with me?"_ Even from a distance, I could see the almost sweet, hopeful expression on his face.

I was kidding myself if I thought that I could resist that. "Okay. Can you give me ten minutes?"

"I'll even give you fifteen." I saw him pull the phone away from his ear and lean against my car, crossing his arms over his chest. When I didn't move away from the window right away, he raised his eyebrows and tapped his wrist where a watch would be if he was wearing one - which he wasn't.

Biting my lip to stop from smiling like an idiot, I backed away from the window and quickly changed. I fluffed up my hair and sprayed a little perfume on my wrists, before grabbing my purse and leaving my apartment. I had to stop myself from rushing down the stairs, forcing myself to walk normally so I didn't seem too keen to see him.

When I emerged onto the sidewalk, Connor jogged over to me and, without preamble, pulled me to him and kissed me long and slow. My desire for him bubbled up quickly, stoked by my continuous battle to think of _anything_ else but him for the past week. I snaked my arms around his toned back and pressed myself against him.

He smelled of soap and Connor...with a hint of smoke thrown in.

After a little while, he pulled back and smiled down at me. "So, where are you taking us?" he asked mischievously, nodding towards my car.

"Ha! No way, mister, you turn up at my place after I don't hear from you for a week? You have to pick the place." I was teasing - mostly.

"Like that, is it?"

"Oh yeah."

He narrowed his eyes at me. "Alright - but remember, you asked for this." Before I even registered his words, he wrapped an arm around the tops of my thighs and hoisted me up, throwing me over his shoulder so my face was level with his ass. I squealed and giggled as he started to walk down the street, carrying me like a rag doll.

After a couple of hundred yards he set me down again and we walked through the city hand in hand until we came to a pool hall.

"Can you play?" Connor asked, cocking his thumb at the flashing sign.

I pursed my lips in consideration. "Badly," I said finally.

He grinned and pulled me inside. We got a table in a dark corner and ordered a couple of sodas.

"No bourbon tonight?" I teased.

"I don't drink _every_ night."

"Just most nights?"

"Not even - take the shot." He pointed at me with his cue.

I broke and, by complete chance, managed to pot three balls straight off the bat.

"You're playing me!" Connor pointed an accusing finger at me, though he was grinning.

"Yes, we're _playing_ pool, Connor," I said, deliberately misunderstanding him.

He shook his head. " _Knew_ you were a shark," he grabbed me around the waist and tickled me until I could barely breathe. The people at the tables nearest us were staring at us by the time he finally released me. "Alright, your turn again," he gestured to the table.

I potted my next ball too.

"Aah! You're goin' _down_!" He grabbed me again.

"No! No!" I half-screamed, half-laughed, dropping my cue and trying to fight back; he was too quick, and before I managed to tickle him, he had his hands around my wrists, holding me at bay. We stared at each other for a couple of seconds, both smiling like idiots - then he was mashing his lips to mine, releasing my wrists and wrapping his arms tight around my waist, pulling me to him, lifting me onto my tiptoes. I felt my breasts squash against his body and gasped as my nipples tightened to sensitive peaks. My hands bunched in the back of his shirt as I tried to pull him harder against me, my desire for him flooding my senses. One of his hands travelled down my body, settling on my ass, squeezing firmly and pressing us together. He groaned into my mouth as his stiffening cock pressed against my crotch. I felt a contraction of lust deep inside, a rush of moisture, in response to his arousal.

Then a movement from the corner of my eye caught my attention, and I saw the waitress bring our drinks over. I was suddenly aware that we were still in the middle of the pool hall. A quick glance around told me that people were _definitely_ looking our way now. A couple practically dry humping in the middle of a pool hall does tend to attract attention.

Mortification started to trickle in, only offset by the fact that I was practically mad with desire for the guy currently pressed up against me. "Um, Connor," I breathed, easing myself back a little. "Maybe we should, um, stop."

"Yeah," he agreed, although his voice was thick and he made no move to release me. "We probably should."

"Um, then you kind of need to let me go..?"

"Yeah...don't really want to." His face still held an expression of pure lust, which was making me a little crazy. In a good way. I couldn't help but melt back into him. His lips found mine again a moment later but this time his desire was tempered, softer, more caring. Soon, he pulled his head back and bobbed me on the nose with the tip of his own perfect nose. "You just tell me when you're ready, Amy Scott who's pretty hot." His arms slowly released their hold on me and he moved away, back towards the pool table.

I bit my lip as I watched him move away, feeling the loss of his arms around me. And that nose bop? Sweetest thing ever. If we hadn't been in the middle of a pool hall, I wasn't sure that I would have put the brakes on. If we had been alone and he'd tried to take it further, I'm pretty sure I would have let him.

_Too soon!_ Rational Amy yelled inside my head.

_But he's SO DAMN HOT!_ My Inner Slut screamed back.

I didn't sleep with him. Not that night, anyway. We played pool, we talked, we kissed, we walked hand in hand through the city and he left me at the door of my apartment. He _may_ have kissed me long and hard outside my front door and I _may_ have almost invited him in, but I didn't. Rational Amy prevailed.

But not for long - he was _so_ damn hot!

#

It turned out that it was always like that with Connor. Not 'hot and cold' exactly...but I could never predict him. I wouldn't see him for days - I would just get the occasional call or text - and then he would show up again like a whirlwind.

Everything with him was fun and the sheer unpredictability of him actually only served to make me want him more. I think that part of the attraction I felt for him was the way that I felt about _myself_ when I was with him, like _I_ was fun because for some unknown reason, he wanted me as his partner in crime. To be clear, I don't mean _actual_ crime \- okay, there was maybe a little trespassing and some entering (without the breaking) but that would _barely_ class as breaking the law...I think.

Connor was somewhat of an Abandoned Building Expert. Whether it was down to a miss-spent youth or an exposed brick fetish I don't know - although I'd have put money on the former - but he always managed to take me somewhere unique and interesting. And sometimes a _little_ creepy. We ended up in an abandoned theatre one time and all I could think about was that we were going to be murdered by the Phantom of the Opera. But mostly, he took me places with great rooftop views. He loved to be up high. He visibly relaxed with the sky soaring above him and a hellish drop below him.

Our dates weren't always crazy exciting though; sometimes they were thoughtful and sweet.

And that's what sealed the deal.

About a month after we started dating, Connor appeared outside of my apartment, out of the blue, at around 10PM one night. I was just about to get into my pajamas and go to bed when I heard his distinctive rapping on the door. I swung it open to see him standing there with a cigarette in his mouth and a grin on his face.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" I asked. "I thought you were going out with the guys."

"I did. But then we walked past that theatre that always shows the old movies, guess what they're showing tonight?"

"What?"

"A Tarantino double feature. Guess which movies."

" _True Romance_ and _Reservoir Dogs_?! Or, wait, no, _Pulp Fiction_? No! _Jackie Brown_?!" I was almost shouting with excitement. I had them all on DVD but I had always wanted to see them in a proper movie theatre.

He laughed at my reaction. "You were right with the first two. Wanna go?"

"Hell _yes_ I wanna go!" I squealed.

Half an hour later we were cuddled up in the dark sharing a bucket of popcorn watching Mr. Brown explain what Madonna's _Like a Virgin_ is really about. When _True Romance_ came on right after and Hans Zimmer's _You're So Cool_ played over the images of the Detroit skyline, I squeaked with excitement. Maybe I was easily pleased, but to me it was the best night at the movies ever.

"That was amazing!" I exclaimed to Connor when we emerged from the theatre back into the night.

"Yeah it was pretty cool," he agreed.

"Pretty cool?! Oh, come on! It was awesome!"

He laughed and slipped a hand around my waist, spinning me to face him. His lips met mine a moment later in a deep kiss. "You're cute when you're excited," he breathed against my lips.

I linked my hands around his neck and moved onto my tiptoes to kiss him back. "I think _you're_ the cute one. Thank you for skipping guys night to bring me here."

"What can I say? Love me some Tarantino."

I giggled as he brought his lips to mine again and pulled me against him so that I could feel every taut muscle in his chest and arms. When we came up for air a few minutes later, I was gasping with more than lack of oxygen. "Connor," I breathed. "I think - I think I'm ready."

I didn't need to explain what I meant. He knew. His nostrils flared as he looked intently down at me. "You're sure?"

"Yes."

"There's a motel near here, it's not fancy, but -"

"As long as I'm with you, I don't care."

#

We checked in at the Paradise Motel. It was all flickering neon signs and peeling wallpaper, but the room was clean and the bed linen was fresh.

At the sight of the bed, I suddenly felt apprehensive. It wasn't that I didn't want to sleep with him - I _really_ wanted to sleep with him - it was that I knew he was experienced and I wasn't sure how I was going to measure up.

But then Connor's arms were around me and his lips were on mine. His kiss was dizzying - sensuous and slow one second and then passionate and hungry the next. His tongue tangled with mine like he wanted to taste every inch of my mouth, like he couldn't get enough. He alternated between passionately kissing me and then nibbling on my lips, sucking and biting them before running his tongue over them.

The world shrank to that one room.

That one kiss.

Time seemed to stop.

I felt his hands slide down my back until they were cupping my behind, pulling me against him. I put my arms around his waist, gripping his belt tightly, wanting to explore, to pull his clothes away, but unsure how to start.

Connor broke the kiss and brushed his nose against mine, smiling down at me.

"Why did you stop?" I gasped.

"I'm not stopping," he kissed my cheek. "Just checking you're sure." He searched my eyes earnestly. "Are you?"

"Yes, really sure."

"Thank God," he sighed, his relief evident. I giggled as he leant back in, pressing his mouth to my neck and then skimming soft butterfly kisses down over my collarbone until his mouth reached the neckline of my shirt, and the fabric forced him to stop his descent. He straightened up, his eyes meeting mine as he pulled it up and over my head, exposing my white lace bra.

"Jesus," he murmured, his eyes skimming over me. "You're beautiful."

Then his hands were on my breasts, long fingers pulling aside the cups of my bra, exposing my nipples. He bent his head and licked them both, one after the other - then blew on them, forcing them into tight peaks. I let out a little gasp, anticipation making me arch my back so that my breasts were jutting towards him.

There was a look of hunger in his eyes as he lowered his head and brought his mouth to my left breast, circling my nipple with his tongue before he closed his mouth over it completely and sucked.

I moaned and lifted my hands, running them through his thick hair, pulling his head towards me.

He kissed across my sternum to my right breast where his mouth repeated the same sweet torture while he caressed my left nipple between his forefinger and thumb. His other hand went around my back and, with a practiced movement, unclasped my bra with a tweak of his fingers before pulling it away and tossing it to the floor. He palmed both my breasts, pushing them up and together, creating some killer cleavage I didn't know I had.

"Jesus, they're amazing." I couldn't help giggling at his compliment. "Seriously, can I take a picture?"

"Connor! No!" I squeaked.

"Kidding, kidding! Sort of..." He grinned at me and took my hand, tugging me towards the bed. He climbed on and pulled me down after him. We lay on our sides, facing each other, and he stared at me for a long moment before pushing my hair back, exposing my neck and shoulder. He ran his hands over me, caressing my cheek and neck. As his hand brushed over me, I felt the callous on his palm, at the base of his fingers, where his drumsticks had rubbed his skin hard. He leant in to kiss me again as his hand ran over my chest, squeezing and stroking my breasts. Soon, he trailed his hot mouth downwards again, teasing my nipples with his tongue and lightly pinching them between his teeth.

He pushed me gently onto my back to allow him better access, and then lavished me with attention. He moved his mouth constantly, first to one breast, then the other. Every suck, every tweak, sent sparks sizzling to my core. A hungry ache was building inside of me.

"Connor," I sighed.

"Does this feel good?" he murmured against my flesh.

"Yes, so good."

"You want me to keep going?" He started kissing down my stomach, stopping only to circle my belly button with his tongue.

"Yes," I gasped as anticipation thrilled through me.

He unbuttoned my jeans and peeled them away, throwing them across the room, his gaze immediately finding my white lace panties. He licked his lips and the hunger on his face made me quiver.

Then he moved over me, putting his lips back to my belly, just under my belly button. Slowly, _so slowly_ , he trailed gentle kisses downwards until he reached the top of my panties. I gasped as he hooked his fingers in the top and started to pull them down.

His eyes met mine. "Just relax," he said softly.

I nodded, keeping my eyes locked with his as he pulled my panties all the way down and over my feet, then they too were tossed across the room. He gently pushed my legs apart and lowered himself between them, staring into my eyes the whole time.

"Relax," he said again, before he dipped his head, his lips returning to their spot just above my pubic bone. It was like he didn't want to skip ahead; after every item of clothing he removed, he went back to kissing me just where he had left off.

He kissed along my lower belly, from hip to hip, making me squirm under him as his soft lips skimmed my sensitive flesh.

Then he stopped his descent, grinning as he moved his head back up my body to my breasts. I felt a moment of disappointment - and then his mouth closed over my left nipple, sucking and pulling. I moaned and clutched at the sheets, bunching them in my hands.

I felt his hand on my inner thigh, stroking up my leg towards my sex. His fingers reached my groin and stopped short. His mouth released my nipple and he raised his head to look at me, a silent question in his eyes.

"Don't stop," I said breathlessly.

His mouth met mine in a fiery kiss. As our lips met, he finally skimmed his fingers over my lower lips, enticing a moan from my mouth - a moan that he swallowed with his eager lips before moving quickly down my body to settle between my spread thighs. As he did so, I became suddenly conscious of the fact that he was still fully dressed while I was completely naked.

Then his tongue swept over my swollen lips and all rational thought left my head.

He licked me from bottom to top, then back down again, burrowing his tongue into my folds as he went. When he reached my opening, he swirled his tongue around, _just_ inside, then licked upwards again to repeat the swirling motion over my clit.

My breathing was ragged as he explored me, running his tongue over every part of my sex. The delicious ache in my core was thrumming and a feeling of desperation was building. I needed more.

"Connor," I moaned, squeezing the sheets in a death grip.

He tempered his explorations and brought his hot mouth to my clit, focusing his attentions there; swirling his tongue, then sucking gently. I bucked my hips and moaned. His hands tightened on my hips, holding me in place as he licked and sucked me into bliss.

My body went rigid as the orgasm crashed through me, sending tingles to my toes and fingers and ripping a high whimper from my throat. He kept sucking as I came; only releasing me when I went limp under him.

As I floated back to earth, I felt warm kisses on my thighs and opened my eyes, looking down to see Connor grinning up at me. When he dragged the back of his hand across his mouth, wiping away my juices, I put my hands over my face and groaned with embarrassment.

I heard him chuckle. "Don't worry, it's hot." I felt him drop a kiss just above my pubic bone. Then the bed bounced slightly and I dropped my hands in surprise, only to see Connor standing up, removing his clothes like they were burning him and flinging them away like they were on fire.

I propped myself up on my elbows, letting my eyes slide over his body. He was all clean lines and athletic muscle; completely defined without being bulky. There was a scattering of hair over his chest and a dark golden happy trail leading from his belly button to the top of his boxers. He saw me checking him out and watching me intently while he lowered his black boxers.

His cock sprang forward, long and pink and hard. It hypnotized me, intimidating and enticing all at once.

He fished a condom from his wallet and climbed back on the bed, moving back between my thighs, leaning over to give my sex a final long, wet lick before tearing open the condom packet and sheathing himself.

He settled over me, looking into my eyes as I felt the tip of his cock touch my entrance. My breathing quickened and I put my arms around his back, my hands finally touching his hot flesh. His muscles rippled under my fingers as he pushed his cock into me slowly, just a couple of inches, before withdrawing. He kissed me, hot and hard and I felt his need through his kiss, the hunger that he was keeping in check. He thrust forwards again slowly, entering me further this time, and a groan escaped his lips.

I was so ready for him, already swollen and sensitive from my orgasm, and I wanted him inside me completely.

"Connor," I whispered. "Don't hold back, I'm ready."

He groaned into my mouth again and thrust forward more quickly. I felt pain, but pleasure too, both sensations simultaneously pulsed inside me, but the pain faded, leaving only a thrumming pleasure. I clutched his back, arching myself against him, moaning into his mouth as his pace quickened.

He dropped his head in to the crook of my neck as he thrust his hips forwards, groaning into my ear. The sound of his pleasure increased my own and I felt my inner muscles flutter around his cock.

I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him into me, wanting him inside as far as he could go. I felt tingles spreading out from my core and knew I was close.

"Oh God, Connor!"

He hissed through his teeth. His shoulders bunched as he redoubled his pace. His eyes met mine and I saw them glaze over. The pleasure on his face pushed me into the abyss and I cried out as I came. I milked him as his own release crested and his groans escaped through gritted teeth.

We lay there, with him still inside me, and stared at each other through our post-sex haze. His eyes were locked on mine and it seemed as though he was really seeing me for the first time.

I wanted it to last forever.

"Are you okay?" he asked, breaking the spell.

A lazy smile spread across my face. "More than okay, that was...amazing."

He nuzzled my nose with his. "Yeah, it was." He kissed me slowly, and then gently pulled out of me and went into the bathroom to dispose of the condom. I followed him in a few minutes later and cleaned up. He waited for me and, when we were done, he dropped a kiss to my shoulder and took my hand, pulling me back towards the bed. We climbed under the covers together and he lay on his back and pulled me to him, so that I was curled against his side. I breathed him in, basking in the scent of him, luxuriating in the feel of his skin against mine as he held me close.

#

I was just starting to drift off to sleep when the ringing of a cell phone split the silence. Connor groaned but eased his shoulder out from under me and leant down off of the bed, pulling his jeans from the floor and snagging his phone from the pocket. He looked at the screen and frowned.

His voice was sharp when he answered, "Yeah?"

I couldn't hear specific words, but I could hear a raised voice, shrill and overwrought, on the other end of the line. It sounded like a woman's voice. Connor sighed and sat up fully in the bed, looking down at me with regret in his eyes. I looked up at him questioningly, with a sinking feeling growing in my stomach.

Connor shook his head and turned away from me, swinging his legs round and lowering his feet to the floor. I was left staring at his back. I swallowed the lump that was forming in my throat.

"What do you mean _gone_?" Connor snapped into the phone. "When did he leave?... How can you _not know_?... Fine, _fine_ , whatever, did you call Joey's house?... Did you... _Okay_! Jesus!... Alright... I'm coming... I _said_ I'm coming... NO! Stay there - stay _there_ or I fucking swear to God I'll -" I heard the drone of the disconnect tone. Connor pulled the phone from his ear and grasped it tightly in his hand, his knuckles turning white with the pressure.

Then he swiped and tapped the screen of his phone a few times, his movements sharp and tense, before putting the phone back to his ear.

"Blake, I need you to come get me... No, no, listen... _Shut up_ , man, listen, it's Jace, he took off again... Yeah, I'm at the Paradise Motel... Shut up, just come _get_ me... Okay, yeah... I'll be out front."

He hung up and took a deep breath before he turned back to me. His eyes were troubled and angry. _Really_ angry. His face was all hard angles; his mouth was a tight line.

I had never seen him look that way before.

When he reached out and stroked my face tenderly with the back of his fingers, his gentle action was in such stark contrast to the expression on his face that I almost pulled away.

He frowned and dropped his hand. "I'm sorry, Amy, but I have to go."

I nodded dumbly, not trusting myself to speak, fighting back the sting in my eyes. He was going to leave me in this motel alone after we just slept together for the _first time_..?

"Where are you going?" I asked quietly.

"It's family stuff," he said darkly.

"Can I do any- "

"No," he cut me off. "Blake's coming to get me, but this place is paid up 'til the morning, I'll come back, okay?"

I nodded again, biting my lip. He sighed heavily and his mouth worked, as if he was going to say more, then he abruptly stood and grabbed his clothes, tugging them on roughly.

When he was dressed, he leant over and pecked a quick kiss to my forehead. "Sorry," he said again. "Get some sleep. I'll be back before you wake up." He turned and hurried to the door.

Then he was gone.

I closed my eyes and told myself to go to sleep. But really, I was fighting the tears that were trying to break free.

It had been so perfect - everything that I had hoped it would be.

But then he left me.

I kept telling myself that I was overreacting, that he _had_ to go. He wouldn't have just taken off if it wasn't urgent. I could tell by his reaction to the phone call that something was very wrong.

I lay there, fighting tears, telling myself to sleep - but of course sleep eluded me.

And he didn't come back.

#

As the first light of dawn crept through the thin drapes, I finally admitted defeat and walked home from the motel. I'd thought about calling Mel to pick me up, but I hadn't wanted to endure her questions. So, I walked home, showered, went to class and tried not to think about Connor.

I failed spectacularly in that regard of course - he was _all_ I thought about.

I was sitting on the couch in my apartment, staring at a text book with unseeing eyes, listening to the _tap, tap, tap_ of Mel typing on her laptop in her bedroom. When I caught myself reading the same paragraph for the seventh time, I gave up trying to study, shutting my book and stuffing it back into my bag with unwarranted violence.

"Easy there, grumpy, what did those books ever do to you?" Mel called.

"Nothing, I'm just...sick of studying."

"So are you going to tell me what happened to you last night? I got your 'I'm safe' text - thanks for that by the way."

"I didn't want you freaking out and giving me the 'raped and killed and dumpstered' speech again."

" _That_ was a good speech. So, are you going to tell me or are you going to make me guess?" She stopped typing and I imagined her looking towards her bedroom door.

"Do you want hot chocolate? I feel like hot chocolate." I got up and walked into the kitchen, flicking the kettle on.

"Amy!" Mel appeared at the kitchen door behind me.

"What?"

"Stop avoiding!"

"I'm not-"

"Yes you are! You-"

She was cut off by the sound of rapping on the door, followed by Connor's voice. "Amy, it's me. Are you here?"

I froze.

Mel looked at me, her eyebrows rising practically into her hair, her eyes taking on a knowing look. She was intuitive, I'd give her that. Maybe even psychic.

"Do you want me to answer it?" she asked quietly.

I just stared at her, unsure what I wanted. I mean, I _did_ want to see him, but he'd _left_ me there \- he'd said he would come back and he hadn't.

He knocked again.

"I can tell him you're not here," Mel offered.

I took a deep breath and shook my head and walked to the door. Before I opened it, I fluffed up my hair - it felt limp from me dragging my tense hands through it every two minutes, all day - and plastered a neutral expression on my face.

Connor was standing outside with his hands in his pockets and a worried frown clouding his face. He was still dressed in his work clothes. Tan cargo shorts and a dust-covered wife-beater that was ripped in places, exposing small glimpses of golden skin. On his feet he wore heavy work boots which were scuffed to within an inch of their lives. He must have come straight from the construction site.

The dark circles under his eyes showed his exhaustion. "Hey, thought you were going to ignore me there for a minute."

"Thought about it."

"Shit, Amy, let me explain? Can I come in?"

Wordlessly, I stepped back and gestured for him to enter. He walked past me slowly, casting his eyes around the apartment as he did so. His gaze fell on Mel.

"This is my roommate, Mel," I said. "Mel, this is Connor."

Her eyebrows rose again as she regarded him. I got it. He looked like he'd just walked off the set of an action movie.

She offered her hand. "Nice to meet you."

He shook with her, his big, dust covered hand enveloping her tiny one.

"You too." Then he turned immediately back to me. "Can we talk?"

"I could go to the library?" Mel offered.

"No," I said, maybe a little too sharply. "We'll go in my room."

Before I shut the bedroom door behind us, Mel caught my eye. "Wow!" She mouthed at me, wiggling her eyebrows playfully.

I couldn't help grinning at her, but I put my game face back on before I shut the door.

#

When I turned back to Connor, he was wearing a half smile. "Your roommate thinks you should forgive me," he said.

I folded my arms across my chest. "Does she?"

"Yeah, I could tell."

"How exactly could you tell that?"

He shrugged. "Just a feeling."

"Well, your 'feeling' is way off. She doesn't know what you did."

He took a step towards me. "Amy, I really didn't want to leave last night. Believe me. I would rather have been with you."

"But you had to go."

"Yeah, I did."

"Are you going to tell me why?"

He looked away and tugged a hand through his hair. "It's not worth talking about. I just - I had to deal with something. It's done now. It's not important."

"It seemed pretty important last night."

"I told you, I dealt with it." There was slightly stern edge to his voice.

I looked away, biting my lip.

He closed the final distance between us and took my face in his hands. "Last night was amazing," he said, quietly. "I hated leaving you there."

"Then tell my why you did." I pressed softly. He let go of my face and turned away, walking towards my bed and night stand. He stopped with his back to me and I could see the tension across his shoulders.

He picked up the picture on my nightstand. It was a goofy one of me and my sister, Joanne. She was six years older than me and at Law School in New York, but despite the age gap we had always been close. In the picture we were standing on the front porch of my mom and dad's house, pulling silly faces. It was in a frame with a glittery, pink eighteen emblazoned in one corner - a present from her on my eighteenth birthday.

After a moment, Connor put it back down and turned to look at the photos I had pinned to the notice board above my bed. There were dozens of them: family snaps from Christmases, birthdays and vacations; pictures of high school - me and my friends, dancing competitions, track meets, and pictures from prom.

Connor studied them intently.

Eventually, he spoke. "Were you the Prom queen?"

"No."

"Homecoming?"

"No, why?"

He shrugged. "You just seem like you would've been."

"Were _you_ the prom king?"

He snorted. "I didn't go to Prom."

"I figured."

He turned to look at me, his eyes glinting with a hint of humor. "Judgmental."

"But not wrong?"

"No." He looked back at the mural of my life. "My family isn't perfect like this." He gestured to the multitude of pictures.

"I never said my family was perfect. Why would you assume that?"

"Because...you're perfect, I guess." He sighed heavily and turned to face me. The look in his eyes told me he was sincere.

"I'm definitely _not_ perfect, Connor."

"You are to me," he said simply.

Wow.

I tried not to melt as he closed the distance between us in a couple of strides; then raised his hand to stroke my face and kiss me tentatively, his soft lips pressing against mine briefly before he pulled back slightly and bobbed his nose against mine.

"I still want answers," I whispered.

He ginned wryly. "I know."

He lowered his head to my neck, pressing soft kisses against my skin. The contrast of his gentle touch with the rough grime of his work clothes did something to me. His scent entered my nostrils; I could smell the dust and grit that coated him, the tang of his sweat and a hint of smoke.

I wanted him so badly. But I couldn't let it go, not yet.

"Connor?" I put my hands in his hair, tugging him away from me.

He shook me off and moved his mouth back to my neck.

"Connor," I said again, more firmly.

"Mmmm?"

"Answers."

"Mmm, later."

I forced myself to lean backwards, just out of reach of his lips. "No, now."

He sighed. "You're killing me."

I smirked at him. "Good..."

"Shit."

I giggled at the look of frustration on his face, thrilled that I could cause such a reaction in him - but I didn't relent, I held his gaze.

He stared at me for a moment and then sighed resignedly, releasing me and straightening to his full height. Almost like he was squaring up for a fight. He sucked in a deep breath. "Alright. It was my mom on the phone. My kid brother ran away and she didn't know where he was."

His mother. The way he'd spoken to her, it was almost like he was the parent - albeit a really pissed off parent.

"How old is he - your brother? Jace?" I asked.

"Yeah. He's Fifteen."

"Did you find him?"

"Yeah."

"Is he okay?"

He snorted and shook his head. "For now."

"What do you mean?"

"He's _'troubled'._ That's what the school councilor calls it, anyway. My mom can't control him, my dad's not around much -" He caught himself, as if he thought that he'd said too much. "Anyway, by the time we found him and took him back home, it was too late to come back, we had to head straight to work."

I offered him a small smile. "You couldn't have just called me and told me all that before?"

He ran his hand through his hair ruefully. "I guess I could have."

I held out my hand. "Come here."

"I'm forgiven now?"

"There's nothing to forgive," I whispered as I leant up to kiss him.

That night, after we slept together, Connor didn't leave. He stayed all night - even woke me up _through_ the night - and when he left, early the next morning, my body still thrummed with the feel of him. As I lay there in the dim light of dawn, I could still feel the grit of the construction site, which had fallen from his clothing the night before, against my bare legs. When I buried my face in my pillow, I inhaled the scent of him.

#

After the first couple of times Connor and I slept together, when we'd stayed in a motel and then at my place, things got crazier.

It all started with him driving me out to a gas station just outside of the city one night in Blake's truck. He pulled into the parking lot and shut off the engine, then looked at me with a crafty grin on his face. "What do you see?" He asked.

"Um, a gas station?"

"Yeah, but what else?"

I looked around confused. "Highway? Desert?"

"Yeah, but what about over there?" He nodded to the side of the store in front of us.

I squinted into the dark shadows that cloaked that side of the building. "What? Oh! No way! You can't - Connor - no! Really?" I stammered as I realized why we were there.

He chuckled at my reaction. "I thought that was why you came to Vegas, dirty phone booth sex."

I stared out of the windshield at the glass box hidden by shadows. "That's _not_ why I came to Vegas."

"It's a _little bit_ why you came to Vegas," he teased as his hand settled on my thigh and slowly trailed upwards, making my skin rise into goose bumps. He leant in and skimmed a soft kiss just under my ear. I bit my lip as his hand trailed higher, under my skirt, skimming my panties and sending tingles through my center.

"Well, if it's good enough for Alabama..." I sighed mischievously.

A few minutes later we were wrapped around each other in the phone booth, his hard thrusts and strong arms pinning me to the glass.

After that it became kind of a game; we'd do something normal, like go to a movie, and then Connor would say something like, "Have you ever had sex in the desert?" _knowing_ that I hadn't. So, we'd drive out into the desert and get naughty in the back seat of my car.

If we were doing something he didn't want to be doing, like clothes shopping for example, he'd come up behind me and bury his head in my hair and whisper "Have you ever..."

He never seemed to run short of places to take me - an aspect that I didn't really want to examine too closely, the thought of him doing that with anyone else made my skin crawl.

Although most of the time it was exciting, sometimes it was romantic too. A couple of times we ended up back on the roof of the bowling alley, lying together on a blanket under the glow of the strip as the neon lights radiated into the sky, blotting out the stars above.

But times like that were rare.

Mostly, we played Have You Ever. And although I loved that game at first, it eventually caught up with us.

#

Around three months after Connor and I started dating, I met him and the rest of the Sons of Sinners guys in a diner across the street from Filthy Joe's, the venue they were playing at that night. They had finished their sound check and were just killing time before the show.

As soon as I walked in to the diner I heard them, even before I saw them. Well, to be precise, I heard Derren. "No, no way! There is no fucking way that deal is for us - it's a piece of shit!"

The guys were sitting in a booth near the back of the diner. "Hey, Princess Prissy is here!" Blake's deep voice boomed across the room.

I shot him a death glare as I approached, which only made him chuckle.

"They're arguing over a record contract," Connor explained, sounding bored, as I sat down next to him.

"Really? You guys got _signed_?!" I couldn't hide my excitement. At first, I hadn't realized how successful Sons of Sinners actually were. That was understandable really; the first time I saw them play was in Kane and Blake's back yard, so I'd assumed they were little more than a garage band - an incredibly _talented_ garage band - but if I'm honest, I hadn't really taken them seriously. Not that they were famous - not by a long shot - but it soon became clear to me that they were making a name for themselves, at least locally. Connor and the guys played a show or two every weekend, at various venues, some in the city and some further afield. Just before I'd met Connor, they had recorded a short EP and one of their songs, _Tails, You Lose,_ was played a lot on college radio.

"No. There's no way we're signing it," Derren said.

"Why not? Isn't that what every musician wants?" I asked in confusion.

"Sure, if a major label offered you an amazing deal, but that's not what this is." Derren leant forward, resting his arms on the table. "It's like this -"

He was cut off by a chorus of groans from the rest of the guys.

"What?" I asked.

"You'll see," Connor said darkly, reaching down and pinching my thigh under the table.

"It's like this," Derren started again, looking at me intensely. "Unless you're actually out there, already doing it, packing out venues, selling albums, _making money_ , any record deal you get offered will be total shit. It'd be like selling your soul to the devil - they could control everything, all the music you make, your schedule, where you play. All of it. And if you sign with the wrong label, like a label with no decent contacts, or pull, or money behind them, then you're limiting yourself . _This_ contract is with a local label. They're small fry and the contract _is shit_."

"It a start," Kane said, although he didn't sound convinced.

I frowned. "So you're holding out for Sony?"

Blake barked a laugh. "Yeah, didn't you know? They've been beating my door down trying to get us to sign with them."

"Really?!"

"Nooo," he said slowly, like he was talking to a two year old. "Of course not, that's the point Kane's making, a record contract like this _could_ be the first step."

"Yeah, the first step to fucking everything up," Derren snapped.

"But I thought big record companies picked up unknown bands all the time and made them huge," I said.

"Sometimes," Derren conceded. "But mainly, they're not interested in taking risks - and any risks they _do_ take come with contracts that bind the band so tight they may as well be puppets. Unless you're already big in your own right, and you've got enough of a following already that the record company wants _in on it_ enough to offer you a sweet deal, then you're basically signing over your _product_ , your name, your faces, your sound, and letting someone else make money off of you. If we want to make _our_ music, _our_ way, and make _money_ off of it without having to hand over most of the profits to some label, then we need to stay independent."

"So you should be like Mark Zuckerberg?" I asked.

"How do you mean?"

"Well, it's not exactly the same, but he got a lot of offers to buy Facebook before it was huge, but he said no every time. If he'd taken one of those offers, Facebook would still exist, but it would probably be different now - because it would be controlled by a big corporation. _And_ he would have lost out on millions of dollars by selling out. He kept his company and he made millions by doing it all himself."

"Exactly!" Derren shouted. "Fuckin' _exactly_!" He slammed his hands on the table, like _Point proven_.

Connor was staring at me.

I shrugged. "Business major," I said by way of explanation, reaching out and taking a sip of his coke. "Ugh! What the hell?" I scrunched up my face.

Connor chuckled and opened his jacket to flash me a glimpse of the hip flask stored in his inner pocket.

I rolled my eyes and turned back to Derren. "So you guys aren't going to sign?"

"No, were not," Blake said. " _We_ control our music, no one else. Besides, we have a couple managers who are interested."

I frowned. "And they're separate from a label?"

"Yeah."

"How? I mean, what do they do that's different - _hey_!" Connor had wrapped his arms around me and was manhandling me out of the booth. "What are you doing?"

"This is boring," he flung his arm around my shoulders and herded me towards the door, burying his face in my hair as we went. "Have you ever had sex backstage?"

#

Connor pulled me inside the bands' dressing room and slammed the door shut behind us. "You're sexy when you go all nerdy," he grinned, sliding his hands around my waist and pulling me in and kissing me passionately.

I stepped back a little, pushing against his chest gently. "The guys could walk in here any minute!"

He shook his head, leaning forwards, trying to kiss me again. "They won't."

I kept moving my head back, just out of his reach. "You don't know that!"

"Sure I do, now kiss me."

"No, not here." I grinned at the frustration on his face; I loved inspiring this desperation in him. "I don't want them seeing me naked, do you?!"

He sighed and pulled back. "Alright." He glanced around thoughtfully. Then his eyes lit on the bathroom door.

"Oh, no," I said, shaking my head. "Not a bathroom, it's too gross."

"We're not gonna do it _on_ the toilet," he said, pulling me inside and locking the door behind us.

It was a tiny room, just a toilet and a sink. Connor grabbed me around the waist and hoisted me onto the edge of the sink; I shrieked and laughed as he nudged his way between my legs and started to kiss me again. I gave in and put my arms around his neck, pressing my mouth to his, kissing him hard. His hands were everywhere; up my dress, clutching at my ass, kneading my boobs. I attacked his fly, popping the buttons in one swift motion. "Tell me you have a condom," I murmured into this mouth.

"You have a condom," he repeated back.

I giggled - and then froze at the sound of a door opening and loud voices announcing the arrival of the rest of the band in the dressing room. "Stop, stop," I whispered.

He grinned and started moving his hand up my leg, under the hem of my skirt. "Keep quiet and they won't know we're here."

I batted his hand away and slid down off the sink. "No, I'm not doing it with them on the other side of the door!" I whisper-yelled.

He grinned. "Hayley and Derren do it all the time, I've lost count of how many times I've walked in on them." If his goal was to make me relax, it failed.

"What? So is this a competition?"

He looked confused. "No - what are you talking about?"

"They have sex anywhere and everywhere, so we should too?"

"We already beat them at that."

"Are you _serious_?!"

"No! Jesus, I'm just kidding."

"And how are we even going to leave here without them _thinking_ that we just had sex in here?"

"Who cares what they think?"

"Well, obviously _you_ don't because you're a guy and they'll probably just high-five you or something!"

"Do you want them to high-five you, too? 'Cause they probably would."

Before I could answer, Blake's deep voice sounded from the other side of the door. "Quit talking and _bang_ already! We got hands on dicks out here."

Mortified, I put my hands over my face. "Oh, _God_."

Connor laughed, actually _laughed_. "Fuck off, man."

Dropping my hands, I glared at him. I whole heartedly agreed with the "Fuck off" part, but the _laughing_? That just made me feel cheap.

Connor just frowned at me like, _What did I do?_

"Or are you finished already?" Blake shouted through the door again. "Shit, that was quick, buddy. You should let me show her -"

Before he could finish, Connor had jerked the door open and launched himself at his cousin. They both went down in a flailing mass of limbs.

#

I stormed out of the dressing room, stepping around Connor and Blake - who by that point, were landing punches - and sped through the venue, towards the back exit. I was so embarrassed that the guys had found us in the restroom; then Blake's comments, followed by Connor's laughter and topped off by one of their increasingly familiar _throw downs_ , had pushed me to my limit. I yanked the door open and stalked through the parking lot, towards my car.

"Amy! Wait! What the hell? Why are you leaving?" Connor jogged up behind me just as I was fumbling my keys from my bag.

I whirled towards him. "Why do you _think_ I'm leaving? Because you think sex is just a _game_ and it's _not_ to me!"

He stopped short, a look of disdain clouding his features. "It's not like that! And you didn't seem to mind so much until about five minutes ago!"

"That's because I wasn't being laughed at by your stupid cousin until about five minutes ago!"

Connor looked away and dragged a hand through his hair; when he did, I noticed a red mark on his cheek, like a punch had connected there. His shirt was rumpled and looked a little stretched out around the neck, but I guess rolling around on the floor, fighting like a couple of idiots, would do that to you. "Why do you care what he thinks?" he asked darkly.

"I don't! He's just... _obnoxious_ and _rude_...and seems to live just to humiliate me."

Connor looked back at me, his face softening a little. "He's actually trying to humiliate _me_ , not you. It's always been that way, since we were kids, it's just how we are with each other. But, look... I'll talk to him if you want."

I thought about it for about a second before I decided that it was a bad plan. Connor and Blake were obviously close - in a slightly weird, kind of violent way - and getting Connor to confront him over some stupid comments just didn't seem worth it. "No, no, don't do that."

"No?"

I shook my head. "Let's face it, we gave him plenty of ammunition and he's just too much of an asshole not to throw it."

Connor grinned a little at that.

"It's just that sometimes I wish we didn't have to sneak around all the time."

He stepped a little closer, looking down at me with a slight smile playing across his lips. "We don't, it's just that when I'm with you...I just _want_ you." _That_ little comment made me go all gooey inside. "So how about tomorrow night I come over and we have make-up sex in your _bed_?"

"Make-up sex, huh?"

"Yeah, this was our first proper fight, so we have to have make-up sex. It's a rule."

I grinned despite myself. "Well, if it's a _rule_...okay, as long as you bring dinner."

"Food in exchange for sex?" he teased, before leaning down and nipping my lower lip. "I can do that, Amy Scott."

Somehow, I wasn't mad anymore.

#

The following evening, after college, I opened the door to my apartment to find Mel sitting on the couch, typing furiously on her laptop. She barely glanced up as I entered, muttering an intelligible greeting as her attention slid back to the screen.

"Hello, bestest roommate of all time," I said brightly, setting a take-out cup of hot chocolate on the coffee table in front of her. "I brought you something to help you study."

Mel's fingers slowed on the keyboard as she glanced at me out of the corner of her eye. "What do you want?" she asked suspiciously.

"Who says I want anything? Can't a girl bring her hardworking roommate a hot beverage without wanting something?" I asked innocently.

Mel stopped typing all together and turned to look at me. " _Beverage_? Okay, you want something."

"Weeeell, I know you have a big assignment due tomorrow and I know you always leave it until the last minute -"

"Pointing out my flaws may not help your case," she said dryly, picking up her hot chocolate and taking a sip.

"The thing is, Connor's coming over for dinner tonight, and I figured you would probably be up all night anyway working on your assignment, so... _maybe_ you could go to the library...like, _soon_..." I trailed off, raising my eyebrows hopefully.

She considered. "Hmm, I'm not sure that I need to. Actually, I'm pretty much done, so I was thinking I would just have an early night..." She looked at me with a sly smile on her face. "Oh God, Amy, you look like a kicked puppy! I'm kidding! I still have loads to do. I'll go, and you guys can enjoy having _dinner_ together. Just don't do it on the coffee table, or the couch, or anywhere else I touch."

"Deal. Sorry for kicking you out," I said a little sheepishly.

She sighed theatrically. "You'll have to owe me."

"Absolutely."

"Okay." She started to gather her things. "At least one of us will be having fun."

"Thank you, you're awesome."

"Tell me something I don't know."

After Mel had gone, I quickly changed into some new underwear that I'd bought - a red satin thong and matching bra - and put a cotton t-shirt dress over the top. On the surface I looked innocent and relaxed but underneath was a different story. That kind of thing got Connor worked up, and that was exactly the effect that I wanted.

I sat on the couch and idly flicked through a magazine, waiting for him to arrive.

I waited...and waited...and waited.

When he didn't show up after a couple of hours, I called him - and got no answer. After our first time together, he'd never disappeared on me again in the middle of the night (although, to be honest, it was rare that we ever spent the _whole_ night together) but there had been times when he'd had to cancel on me or take off early. I knew there was stuff going on with his mom and brother, but he'd never really opened up to me about it. I figured that he would eventually, when he was ready, so I hadn't pushed it. I told myself this was just one of those times where he had to put his family first.

But I'm ashamed to say I never called Mel and told her that she could come home that night after all; I held onto hope that he would eventually show up with an incredible reason as to why he stood me up.

But he never did.

#

When I didn't hear from Connor after two days I did the unthinkable and called Blake. Something I never normally did. Because he was an ass. But Connor and I had _never_ gone this long without at least a text or a call since we started dating seriously and my mind was starting to come up with crazy scenarios as to why I hadn't heard from him.

Maybe he wants to break up with me but he's too scared to tell me to my face.

_Maybe he met another girl who_ will _have sex in a restroom and he's too busy banging her senseless._

Maybe there was a carbon monoxide leak in his house and he's died and I'm sitting here accusing him of cheating on me.

My thoughts got a little dark.

What can I say? I'm a worrier.

So, I called Blake.

" _Princess! To what do you owe the pleasure?"_ Blake's deep voice rumbled down the line.

"Don't you mean 'to what do _I_ owe the pleasure'?"

" _Exactly."_

I rolled my eyes, even though he couldn't see me. "Whatever. Look, Blake, this is a little awkward, but -"

" _I knew it! Amy, we CAN'T fuck, it'd be wrong. I know you want to and I don't blame you at all - but you're my cousin's GIRLFRIEND -"_

"Shut up, asshole!" I snapped.

" _Oh shit! Back to that are we? Here was me thinking we were friends now."_ I heard the glee in his voice. He could be _such_ a dick.

"Blake, I'm calling for a serious reason."

" _Okay, okay."_ His voice sobered. _"I think I know what this is about."_

"You do?"

" _Yeah. He'll be fine, though, don't worry. I'm looking after him, making sure he eats his greens, tucking him in at night, reading him a bedtime story."_

What the hell?

I had no idea what he was talking about. I mean, clearly he was making fun of Connor, but the context was lost on me.

" _You still there?"_ Blake asked.

"Uh, yeah. It's just..." I trailed off, unsure whether to admit I was confused.

" _Hey, you okay?"_ His voice had softened a little.

I took a deep breath and decided to lay in all on the line. "No...no, not really. I haven't seen or heard from Connor in days. That's not like him. And I don't know what's wrong. I was worried - that's why I called you. But I guess there's stuff going on that I don't know about? I just want to know if he's okay?"

" _You mean he hasn't told you? Shit, I thought you knew."_

"Blake, what the hell are you talking about?" I was starting to panic and I'm pretty sure he knew it.

" _Okay...fuck..."_

"Blake! Will you -"

" _Come over,"_ he interrupted. _"We'll talk."_

Then he hung up.

#

Twenty minutes later, I pulled up outside of Blake and Kane's house, just as it was starting to get dark. Blake was sitting on the stoop, devouring a piece of pizza, with the box next to him on the step. As soon as I got out of the car, he stood up and put his finger to his lips, indicating for me to be quiet.

I frowned in confusion as I walked over to him.

"Want some?" he whispered, gesturing to the pizza box.

"No, thanks." I whispered back.

He raised one eyebrow. "You _never_ turn down food."

"First time for everything. And why are we whispering?"

He ignored my question. "It's good," he said quietly, waving the slice of pizza under my nose. "You know you want it..."

I swatted him away. "What I _want_ is to know what's going on with Connor."

He nodded and tossed his slice of pizza back into the box. Then he leveled his cobalt eyes on me. "How much do you know about Jace and his mom?"

"I know that Jace runs away sometimes, that his mom struggles with him and doesn't get much help from his dad."

"Yeah, there's a little more to it than that."

"I figured that much. I don't want to pry, Blake. I just want to know that Connor's okay, but I'm guessing he's not?"

Blake sighed and ran his hand over his jaw. "Roni kicked him out, she won't let him see Jace, says if he tries to go over there she'll call the cops."

"Roni? That's his mom?"

"Yeah."

"But...why?"

"She blames him for all the trouble with Jace, says he's a bad influence."

"That's - that's not fair."

He just looked at me curiously.

"What?" I asked, bristling.

He shook his head slightly. "Nothing. Look, he's inside, but he's in bad shape -"

"What do you mean? What _happened_?"

Blake held his hands out, like he was trying to calm a skittish horse. "Nothing happened, he's okay, he's just wasted is all."

"He's drunk?"

"He passed drunk a couple hours ago, now he's fucked. That's why I asked you over. I can't get through to him. Shit like this, with his mom, it fucks with his head..."

I stared at Blake. "I - I had no idea..."

A look of concern crossed Blake's face. Truth to tell, I didn't know he had it in him to feel that kind of compassion. "If you don't want to see him, I get it."

"Of course I want to see him," I said, a little snappily.

But had no idea what I was getting myself into.

"Are you coming in, too?" I asked, as I walked up the steps to the front door.

"Yeah, let me go first," he said, slipping past me.

When he swung the door open, the first thing I saw was Connor, leaning on the kitchen counter, with his back to us. As we walked in, he straightened up and threw his head back, sniffing loudly.

I stopped dead.

"Is he..." I trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

"Con!" Blake's voice was sharp. "You got a visitor. And pack that shit up. I already told you, NOT in my goddamn house."

I stared in dismay as Connor turned to face us. He was a hot mess, with his hair spiking up all over the place and dark circles under his eyes. When his eyes met mine, the first emotion to cross his face was happiness...but it quickly gave way to a fury that made me flinch. His eyes burned with a white hot rage as he closed the space between us in a few long strides.

"Connor -" I started, but he completely ignored me, going for Blake instead, pushing him violently backwards. Blake staggered back a step before he righted himself, squaring his shoulders and glowering down at his cousin.

"You _fucking_ prick!" Connor hissed, getting right up in Blake's face. "Why the fuck would you bring her here?"

"She cares about you, she wants to be here," Blake growled back.

They were practically nose to nose, in a familiar stance that I had seen many times before, only this time there was no humor in it.

"Connor, it's not his fault," I said, touching his arm. "I called him. I was worried about you!"

He shrugged me off and threw a sloppy right hook at Blake's jaw. It never connected. Blake caught Connor's fist in his hand and, planting his other hand on Connor's shoulder, he shoved him backwards onto one of the couches. Unable to stop himself, Connor flopped down.

"I don't want to fight you, buddy," Blake snarled. "But that doesn't mean I won't. Now, calm the fuck down."

Connor ignored the warning, pushing himself up and starting towards Blake again. Without thinking, I threw myself forward, getting between them putting my palms against Connor's chest. As my hands touched him, his muscles bunched and for a split second I thought he was going to turn on me, a chill shot through my chest and my breath caught - but then he went still.

Or as close to still as he could while he was still breathing heavily and glaring at Blake like he wanted to murder him.

"Connor, look at me." I put my hand up, cupping his cheek. After a few seconds, he looked down at me. "I know - I know that your mom kicked you out and I know you're upset -"

"Upset? Fucking _upset_?" He looked at me with disgust. "You have no fucking idea what you're talking about." He was shaking under my hands, whether with rage or something else - something that would by now be pulsing through his bloodstream - I didn't know. What I _did_ know was that it felt like I had a ticking time bomb in my hands.

"Why don't we sit down and talk about it then?" I asked quietly.

He snorted. "Talk about my fucked up family? That what you want? For me to cry on your shoulder? Not happening. Get the hell out and leave me alone."

The venom in his face shocked me; I dropped my hand away from his cheek and took a step back. This was a side of Connor that I had _never_ seen before; a side that I wouldn't have believed existed before I walked through the door. "No - no, that's not what I meant. I just meant...you don't need to do this, we can -"

"You want to _fix_ me, Amy?" he spat. "Is that why he let you in here? To fix me? 'Cause I can't look after myself?"

"Connor." Blake murmured a low warning from behind me.

"Fuck you." Connor shot at him, before looking back at me. "Well?" he demanded.

I couldn't stop my lower lip from wobbling, so I bit down on it to try and stop the tears that were threatening to fall.

"WELL?!" Connor shouted in my face, his face contorted into a violent scowl. "You come in here judging me -"

"I wasn't judging, I just -"

"GET OUT!" he roared.

Frightened, I took a step back - and hit something solid. It took a second for me to realize that it was Blake. His hands landed firmly but gently on my upper arms and he turned me around, keeping my back to him, and pointed me towards the front door. "Go wait outside," he ordered, his voice low but hard as granite.

I didn't even think about arguing, I was too upset, too astounded by Connor's behavior.

I just walked out without looking back.

The door shut behind me with a bang and I just stood on the stoop, waiting.

For what, I didn't know.

#

I heard raised voices inside the house. I couldn't make out everything, but I got the gist. Connor was pissed as all hell at Blake for letting me come over - and for some other things I couldn't quite get a grasp on - and Blake was...well, he seemed to be trying to calm the situation with a fairly equal mix of aggression and diplomacy. I didn't _hear_ a scuffle, but I assumed there was one because it went quiet for a few moments and then I heard Blake yelling "SIT THE _FUCK_ DOWN YOU LITTLE SHIT OR I'LL KNOCK YOU INTO THE GODDAMN GROUND!"

That seemed to do the trick. After that there was just silence.

A few moments later, Blake emerged and herded me down the steps and away from the house. When we got to the gate at the end of the yard, he stopped. "So, that went about as well as an orgy in a convent," he said wryly.

"Really? You're making jokes right now?" I snapped, swiping angrily at the tears that had escaped down my cheeks.

"Not a joke, Princess. Just an observation," he said quietly.

"Is he - was he..." I bit my lip and looked away, determined to stop my stupid tears. I hated that I was crying in front of Blake - _Blake_ , of all people. But I couldn't help the fresh tears that fell to my cheeks when I remembered the way that Connor had looked at me, like he couldn't stand to be in the same room as me.

"Oh, fuck. Don't cry." He stepped towards me and raised a hand, as if he were going to touch my face, or pat my shoulder, or do _something_ in an attempt to be comforting. But then he clearly thought better of it, and lowered his arm, ramming his hand into the pocket of his jeans.

I sniffled. "I'm _not_ crying."

"Okay. You're not." His voice was soft. "Look, you should go home, get some sleep, he'll come around."

"What _was_ that in there?!" I asked, needing to understand what had just happened.

Blake sighed and tipped his head back. "That was Connor being Connor."

"No." I shook my head. "That wasn't him, I don't know who _that_ was, but it _wasn't him_."

Blake leveled me with his gaze. "Yes, it was," he said simply. "Maybe that wasn't the Connor _you_ know, but that was him alright. When he's stressed, when shit doesn't go his way, that's what he does."

"What? Snorts coke and intimidates his girlfriend?"

Blake winced, but he held my gaze. "Yes."

I just stared at him for a second, speechless. Then I turned on my heel and flew towards my car.

"Wait!" Blake called. "Amy, hang on."

"Why? So you can tell me how much of a _dick_ my boyfriend is?" I shot over my shoulder.

I heard him jog up behind me. "Wait, that's not what I'm doing."

I whirled towards him. "Really? Because it sounds like that's _exactly_ what you're doing."

"I know. But I'm not, I swear. I'm just being honest. And I'm gonna tell you something else, too: he _is_ different with you. He hasn't gotten like this _once_ since you guys started dating, not until this thing with his mom. He's gonna wake up tomorrow and realize what a fuck-up he is and he'll come apologize, okay?"

I looked at him closely, searching his eyes for a hint of mockery - but there was none. Surprisingly, he seemed genuine. And worried. I suddenly felt a small rush of compassion towards him. He may be an ass, but he clearly cared about his cousin.

"I didn't mean to put you in an awkward position by calling you," I said. "I'm sorry if I made it worse."

He shrugged wryly. "Not your fault. I'm sorry for inviting you over here to get yelled at, I just thought it might help. Epic fail, obviously."

"You were just doing what you thought was right."

"Yeah, for all the good it did." His brow furrowed as he glanced back at the house.

"Are - um - are _you_ okay?" I asked hesitantly.

He shot me a sardonic look that told me my question was ridiculous. "Don't worry about me, Princess. I got this."

I nodded and offered him a small smile as I turned and walked towards my car. As I drove away, just before I turned the corner at the end of the block, I glanced into my rearview mirror. Blake was still standing there, a solitary shadow in the glow of the nearby streetlight.

#

I went to college. I went to work. I studied.

But Connor was on my mind the _whole time_.

The more I thought about it, the angrier I got about the way that he had treated me...but Blake's words kept going around and around in my mind.

He IS different with you.

He's gonna wake up tomorrow and realize what a fuck-up he is and he'll come apologize, okay?

Only tomorrow didn't come.

I felt like I was going crazy. All I wanted was for Connor to show up and wrap me in his arms - and for none of the past week to have happened.

Mel and Hayley knew I was upset, and they tried to pull me out of it.

"Hey there, Care Bear, do you want to go get tapas tonight?"

I blinked and looked to my side. Hayley was standing there; we were both working the cash registers at Realm Records and there was a lull, all the customers were browsing the shelves. Hayley's head was cocked to one side, and she was looking at me with big, concerned eyes.

"Why...the _hell_...did you just call me Care Bear?" I asked.

"It's a pet name. You call people by pet names when they're upset," she said like _duh!_

"I'm not upset."

I could tell Hayley didn't believe me. I had told her and Mel all about what happened the night I went to see Connor. Mel had been angry on my behalf; Hayley had been sympathetic - and was continuing to be sympathetic with sickening nicknames, apparently.

"Wrong, you totally are."

"Nope. Not upset. At this point I'm furious with a sprinkling of rage." I grumbled.

She pointed a finger at me and drew a circle in the air. "Well, whatever this is, it needs fun with _girlfriends_ tonight _,_ not moping about idiot boyfriends."

"Or ex-idiot-boyfriends." I sighed.

Her mouth fell open in surprise. "You're breaking up with him?!"

"No - maybe - I don't know...but either way, I'm starting to think that he's broken up with me and I just haven't gotten the memo yet."

"I know and I don't blame you, but for what it's worth, Derren said that Connor feels really bad."

My stomach lurched a little at the thought. "He does?"

"Yeah. They had a gig last night out in Boulder City. Derren said Con was miserable the whole time and he ended up getting wasted afterwards."

"That doesn't mean he feels bad, that just means he's still on a bender." I pointed out.

"Maybe, but I've known him a long time, and God knows he does some stupid things, but he does seem different around you. Tamer, I guess. Don't give up on him just yet."

"Blake said something similar," I admitted.

"Well, there you go. Blake knows him better than anyone."

"That's what worries me," I muttered, fiddling with the fliers displayed on the counter in front of me.

Hayley snorted. "Okay, you _do_ have a point there."

I sighed. "Right, no more talking about Connor. Let's talk food instead. So, tapas when we're done here?"

"Yes! Absolutely. I'll text Mel."

A few hours later, Hayley and I met Mel at the tapas place, Casa del Mar. It was a rustic little place with whitewashed walls and little stained glass lamps dotted all over the place. We sat in a booth next to the window, where we could watch the world go by, and ordered an array of spicy dishes. We talked about anything and everything _but_ Connor and they worked really hard to keep my mind off of him. It failed, but I loved them for it all the same.

"Derren's letting me paint him naked," Hayley announced as she dunked a spicy chicken wing in a bowl of garlic butter.

I choked on a chick pea. "Completely naked? No strategically placed sheet?"

"Nope, balls n' all," she chirruped, grinning.

Mel cackled. "Is this for college or just for fun?"

"Little of both," Hayley admitted. "But I'm gonna submit it for my Still Life Study." Hayley was in her junior year at UNLV, working towards her bachelor's in Art.

"I bet you guys don't get much painting done," Mel muttered, popping a garlic mushroom into her mouth.

Ugh. I didn't want to hear about happy-couple-painting-sex.

"Did you see that thing on T.V. last week about serial killers?" I changed the subject, jamming my fork into an unwitting piece of chorizo.

"Um, nooo," Hayley said cautiously. "Care Bear, are you -"

"Hayley," I warned, pointing my incapacitated chorizo at her. "No more pet names."

"I saw it," Mel cut in. "Sooo interesting, I love the crazies! That's gonna be my field, I've already decided."

"You wanna work with murderers?!" Hayley squeaked.

"Not just murderers, _crazy_ murderers," Mel clarified. "I've already spoken to my professor and he's recommended some really interesting internships for the summer."

"Aren't _all_ murderers crazy?" I asked.

"Nope, some just suffer from momentary insanity, then they're 'normal' again and full of remorse," Mel tore off a fluffy piece of pita and dipped it in some hummus. "They're the boring ones. The ones who get off on it repeatedly, _they're_ the interesting ones."

"I'm a little scared of her," Hayley whispered to me across the table.

"Hey, at least you don't have to live with her," I whispered back.

Mel snorted. "What can I say? I'm a Psych major, you knew that when you moved in with me. And anyway, just because I like studying murderers doesn't mean I _am_ one. Well, I mean, there was that _one time_ in Reno, but I don't talk about that..." She picked up her knife and stroked it lovingly.

We all dissolved into giggles.

#

After dinner, when Hayley went to paint Derren (or have sex with Derren, or paint Derren _while_ having sex with him, I wasn't completely sure), Mel and I went home and watched a movie together. We ended up eating a bucket load of ice cream while Norman Bates laid out his crazy for all to see. _Psycho_ was Mel's choice - obviously. I'd let her pick without argument because all of the movies I would have chosen reminded me of Connor.

He had rendered my Tarantino collection useless.

I was Quentin-less and pissed.

But, for the first time in over a week, it wasn't a struggle for me to fall asleep. Dinner with my girls had cheered me up a little, and that, coupled with a full stomach and sheer exhaustion, finally pushed me into a deep sleep.

But it didn't last for long.

I woke up to a loud knocking penetrating my sleep-fog. Shoving myself out of bed, I checked my phone, seeing that it was twelve thirty. I figured I knew who it was. The only person I could think of who would show up at this time of night was Connor. Suddenly I was wide awake.

Fitting the chain, just in case it wasn't Connor, I opened the door a crack.

"Heeeey, Amy Scott." Connor's lazy drawl filtered through the small opening as I peeped out at him. He still had dark circles under his eyes and his stubble was thicker than he'd ever worn it before but, _damn_ , he was still gorgeous. And, I strongly suspected, still not exactly sober. As I looked at him, his face split into a wide grin. "Let me in, I need to see you."

"Are you drunk?" I hissed, conscious of the fact that it was late and Mel was in bed.

"No, I swear, I'm not drunk." As he spoke he lifted his hand to his mouth and took a deep pull on a cigarette, leaning his head back and blowing the smoke up into the night. "Can I come in?"

"Not really, Mel's asleep, she has early classes tomorrow."

He fixed me in place with his earnest green eyes. "Come on, I don't want it to be like this."

"It didn't have to be, Connor," I snapped.

He let out a half-sigh, half-groan. "I know, you're right...but I miss you. Just come out and talk to me if you won't let me in. Please?" His low voice was full of dejection and misery. Despite my hurt and anger towards him, I couldn't ignore it when he begged me to talk to him. After all, that was what I'd wanted all along wasn't it?

"Okay," I sighed. "Give me a minute." I retreated back to my room and pulled on an oversized hoodie over my pajamas and shoved my feet into some slipper boots. When I went back and opened the apartment door fully, I saw him still puffing on his cigarette. I stepped outside and closed the door quietly behind me, folding my arms across my chest. He closed the gap between us quickly, popping his smoke between his lips and throwing both his arms around my waist, hoisting me into the air and spinning me around. I squealed in shock, laughing a little even though I _really_ didn't want to.

He plopped me back to the ground and looked down at me, his eyes drinking me in like he hadn't seen me in years.

"Did you miss me too?" he asked.

"No comment," I said tersely as I waved away his smoke and scrunched up my nose at the acrid smell. Then I took a closer look at _what_ he was smoking. "Are you seriously smoking a _doobie_ right now?!"

He shrugged.

"Connor! I can't believe you!" I shouted, my fury at him overflowing.

"What? It's just a little green!"

I pulled out of his grasp and stepped back, glaring at him.

"Okay, okay," he mumbled, throwing it to the ground and scrunching it up with his foot. "Gone. Happy now?"

"Not really," I snapped. "Why are you here, Connor?"

"I told you, I don't want it to be like this."

"You're going to have to do better than that."

"That's not enough?"

"No."

He sighed and scrubbed his hands through his hair. "I really want to make this right. How can I make this right?"

I was ready for _that_ question. "For starters, you can come back when you're sober."

"I smoked _one_ joint, that's it! And half of it's on the ground -"

"I don't _care_ , Connor. I'm not comfortable with it, especially after the way you were the other night - actually, can you even _remember_ that?!"

He hesitated, dropping his eyes to the floor. That was enough of an answer.

"Like I said," my voice was cold. "Come back when you can think straight." With that I went back inside my apartment and slammed the door in his face, locking it roughly and then storming back into my room before I could change my mind and run the other way - into his arms.

By the time I made it back into bed, I was shaking. Half of me felt invigorated, proud that I'd stood my ground; the other half felt terrified that I would never see him again, that he would call my bluff and just disappear.

I didn't sleep a wink for the rest of the night.

#

As it turned out, I didn't have to wait long to find out which side Connor would come down on. When I got back to my apartment after work the following evening, he was waiting for me. He was sitting on the steps out front of my apartment block, looking down, slapping his hands on his thighs in a fast beat, tapping his right foot as if he were playing a kick drum.

I stopped a few feet away and watched him.

After a few moments, he looked up and spotted me, stopping his drumming instantly. For about five seconds we just stared at each other. His eyes were clear and he had shaved; he was wearing a simple white t-shirt that made his eyes seem even greener than normal.

He stood and took a couple of steps towards me. "Can I make it up to you?" He asked.

I didn't want to say 'yes' right away, but I also didn't want to turn him away, so I settled for somewhere in the middle. "What did you have in mind?"

"A surprise." The ghost of a smile lit upon his lips. "An adventure."

"I don't know..."

"I can't make it up to you if you don't at least let me try," he said quietly.

That was a good point; it also had the added benefit - for him - of making me seem entirely unreasonable if I said 'no'. And, to be fair, he did seem completely sober. But I had to be sure. "Where's your trusty hip flask?"

"I don't know, at home somewhere...why?"

"Just checking. And...everything else?"

A look of remorse crossed his face. "Gone. I promise."

"Then okay," I conceded.

The sun was setting as he drove me across the city in Blake's Chevy, heading downtown. I figured out where we were heading just moments before he pulled into the weed infested parking lot of the boarded up bowling alley that we had gone to that first night.

"If you climb that damn sign again, I'm walking out on you," I warned as he shut off the engine.

He held up his hands in an _I surrender_ gesture but he looked amused. "I won't...but you didn't hate it _that_ much last time, you ended up kissing me right after."

"Actually, _you_ kissed me."

He rolled his eyes, got out of the truck, and retrieved a duffel bag from the flat bed. "Come on," he said, gesturing to the bowling alley.

I got out of the truck and followed him around back. "What's in the bag?" I asked.

"You'll see."

We got in to the building the same way as last time, using the dumpster to get through the smashed window. Only this time, Connor didn't lead me to the roof. We walked through the gloomy interior together until I noticed a soft glow coming from a doorway just ahead. "What's that?" I whispered. I had no idea why I was whispering, it just seemed like the right thing to do in a darkened, abandoned building.

"You'll see," Connor grinned at me and pulled me gently by the hand; when we entered the room, I gasped, at first unable to comprehend what I was looking at. The room was quite small and must once have been some kind of employee lounge or locker room. There were couches, coffee tables, lockers and other random items of furniture, all shoved up against the walls of the room, creating an open space in the middle. The glow that I had noticed from outside was coming from the candles that covered every single available surface, including the floor. In the center of the room there was a picnic blanket laid out with two large cushions on it.

I covered my mouth with my hands as I looked around the room, unable to speak.

Connor led me to the picnic blanket and urged me to sit on one of the cushions whilst he unzipped the duffel bag and unpacked several cartons of food, arranging them on the blanket. Finally, he produced some paper plates, plastic cups, and a few cans of soda. The complete lack of alcohol didn't escape my notice.

"Hope you're hungry," he said as he settled on the cushion across from mine.

"Are you kidding?!" I finally exclaimed. "This is - this is - it's...wow! I can't believe you did this," I breathed. He just smiled at me, a little smug, like he had known I'd be impressed and had been waiting for my reaction.

Suddenly, there was a crash from down the hall. I jumped, apprehension flooding me. There was someone _in_ _there_ with us.

At night.

In an abandoned building.

" _SHIT_!" A male voice cursed, loudly. I edged closer to Connor, reaching out to grip his arm. To my surprise, he looked amused.

"D!" he called. "You're kinda ruining the mood in here!"

"Sorry, man!" Derren sounded farther away now. "I tripped in the dark. I'm gone. Forget I was here."

Connor chuckled and I relaxed my grip on his arm, breathing a sigh of relief. "What was Derren doing here?" I asked.

"I needed someone to light all these candles and make sure the place didn't burn down while I picked you up," Connor explained, grinning wryly. "He was supposed to hide when we came in and then sneak out."

"Oh. Well, clearly stealth is not his strong suit."

Connor shrugged. "He's a guitarist," he said, as if that explained everything.

#

Connor opened the cartons of deli food and we both piled our plates high. We made small talk about the mini sausages and olives and debated the merits of battered brie; he asked me about college and work; I asked about _his_ work and the band - I knew that they had played a couple of gigs since I'd seen him last, so I asked how they went...all in all, we skirted around the elephant in the room until I couldn't stand it any longer.

"Are we going to talk about the other night?" I asked, steeling myself for his reaction.

He just carried on eating, staring at his plate, like I hadn't said anything.

"Connor?"

Finally, he sighed and said "It wasn't as bad as it looked."

Of all the things he _could_ have said, that response was probably the furthest away from what I was expecting.

"It...what?"

He looked at me. "Blake shouldn't have asked you over, he _knew_ I was wasted, he _knew_ it was a bad idea," he shook his head scornfully.

I couldn't actually believe what I was hearing. "So it's all _his_ fault?"

"That part of it? Yeah. If he hadn't gotten you to come over, it never would've happened."

"What about the part where you scared the hell out of me?!" I snapped.

He looked slightly ashamed then, at least. "I never meant to scare you, and I would _never_ hurt you. Never." He looked me dead in the eyes. "I just needed to blow off some steam - I just needed to be _left alone_ for a while."

"I was worried about you," I said quietly.

"I know...I'm just not used to having someone worry about me."

"Blake worries about you."

He narrowed his eyes at me a tiny bit. "Yeah, he also talks too much - I know he told you everything."

I wouldn't have said that Blake had exactly spilled his guts to me; what he'd told me about Connor's situation had seemed more like the bare bones - but I didn't see the point in debating that. Instead I went with what had really been bothering me. "He wouldn't have had to tell me anything if you had just called me, Connor. You just shut me out."

He huffed out a breath. "I didn't want to talk about it. Things between me and my mom are screwed up, they have been for a long time. When I'm with you, I just want to forget about all the shitty things that are going on and focus on _you_. I don't want to drag you into my mess." He paused and smiled slightly. "You're too good for my mess."

I shook my head a little; I didn't really know what to say to that. Connor didn't seem to be waiting for a reaction from me, though. He reached out and traced my bottom lip tenderly with his thumb. "I really did miss you," he said quietly. "I'm sorry."

I really didn't want to respond to his touch, but the feel of his skin against mine set something alight inside of me. My breath hitched in my throat at the contact and I saw the green of his irises shrink slightly as his pupils flared. I held my breath as he leant forwards and brought his mouth to mine, nibbling on my bottom lip and then sucking on it lightly. He tasted of soda - no smoke, no alcohol - but with an underlying tang that was just Connor. His hand moved to the nape of my neck, pulling me to him as he deepened the kiss. His tongue slid over mine, tantalizing me, caressing me, making me moan softly as I felt a twinge between my thighs.

His other arm curled around my waist as he pressed his hard body against my softer one; I snaked my arms up around his neck and into his hair, tugging lightly as our kiss became more passionate. He moved the hand that had held the nape of my neck around and down to my collar bone, tracing the neckline of my tank top down to the top of my breasts, skimming his fingers lightly along the top of the fabric, before moving his hand downwards over my top and palming my breast, squeezing lightly.

I arched into him and heard his groan, the sound of his arousal causing an ache deep within my core. His grip tightened on my waist and he pulled me onto him, guiding me so that I was straddling him. I was wearing a skirt, so I could feel the thickening hardness in his jeans through my panties.

I was filled with a need to show him exactly what he'd been missing out on. I ground myself against him, rubbing up and down his shaft. The feel of him hard against me, and getting harder with each stroke, thrilled me. The friction of the cloth against my sensitive sex, made me ache with need.

I pulled back and hovered above him, tugging open his fly and reaching into his boxers. I grasped his solid erection and worked him free, until he was in my hands, long and thick and hot. I trailed my fingers over him slowly, teasing him, enticing a low moan from his lips. Then I leant over and swiped my tongue over the head, along the slit in his crown, tasting the salty tang of pre-cum. His sharp intake of breath encouraged me, and I took the whole head in my mouth, letting my wet lips slide over the fleshy ridge where the head meets the shaft. I used my hand as well, pumping him into my mouth as I sucked and licked him, listening to his breathing quicken. He leant back on his hands and I glanced up at him to see him watching me with hooded eyes.

Suddenly, he sat up straight again and his hands were on my shoulders, pushing me off him. "What are you -"

"Condom," he said, with a hint of desperation, as he reached into his pocket and pulled a packet free. I took it from him, sheathing him quickly but securely. Then I positioned myself over him, before trailing my hand downwards and under my skirt, moving my panties aside. "Oh, fuck," he whispered, watching me intently.

Slowly, I impaled myself on him, watching his face the whole time - watching the green of his eyes darken with pleasure as I took all of him inside of me. Then I started to move. Little movements at first as I adjusted to the feel of him inside me, but that didn't last long. The sensation of him filling me, rubbing me deep inside, was delicious; I angled him right where I wanted him and drove myself down onto him, over and over, again and again, until I was whimpering with each thrust, my head thrown back, my eyes squeezed shut, completely in the moment, completely absorbed with the feel of him inside me.

He clutched me tight against him with one arm and yanked my top and bra down, so that my breasts spilled out, then his hot mouth was on them, sucking hard, pulling as much of me into his mouth as he could, using his tongue to flick and stroke my diamond hard nipples.

The dual sensation sent me spiraling over the edge in a matter of minutes and I came hard, clamping around his cock, squeezing him, clutching him tight, as I continued to drive myself down onto him. I moaned and dug my fingers into his shoulders as I came. My release must have triggered his own, because as my own contractions started to trail of, he tensed against me, squeezing me tight in his strong arms, pressing me against him as he groaned into my neck, his cock jerking inside me.

As we floated down from our climax, he kissed me lazily. "This mean you forgive me, Amy Scott?" he whispered.

I narrowed my eyes. "What makes you think that?" I murmured.

He chuckled as he hugged me close.

#

Not long after our 'reunion' in the bowling alley, I went home to spend Christmas with my family.

We had a typical Scott Family Christmas. Lots of curling up on the couch watching old Christmas movies and overdosing on festive food; an inordinate amount of time being quizzed by my parents about my 'new boyfriend'; escaping the Parental Third Degree by running away with my sister to the mall and hitting the sales hard, at which point she admitted that she was completely in love with a defense lawyer she had met in New York. His name was Joseph. I spent far too long reminding her that her name was Joanne and she was in love with someone called Joseph, and dubbing them JoJoe. She said she hated me and would never take me to the mall again. I told her I hated her too and she couldn't play with my Barbies. We regressed about ten years. It was fun.

It was like a dose of normality after a whirlwind few months with Connor.

But we did keep in touch while I was away.

_Connor:_ _Merry Christmas, Amy Scott. Thanks for my sticks. Never had personalized drumsticks before. Very cool._

_Me:_ _Merry Christmas to you too! Glad you like them. Just about to open my gifts..._

_Me:_ _Little warning would have been nice. I'm sitting with my FAMILY opening these!_

_Connor:_ _What? They don't approve of chocolate and Kings of Leon?_

_Me:_ _Don't play dumb! My dad nearly had a coronary!_

_Connor:_ _Totally lost here._

_Me:_ _The Santa thong?! The green fishnets?! The RED FLUFFY HANDCUFFS?!_

_Connor:_ _WTF?_

_Me:_ _Yeah, right. So not cool Connor._

_Connor:_ _Honestly have no idea what you're talking about. I didn't put them in there._

_Connor:_ _FUCKER!_

_Me:_ _Let me guess - Blake?_

_Connor:_ _I'm gonna kill him._

Furious, I texted Blake next.

_Me:_ _You're an asshole._

_Blake:_ _Got your gift?_

_Me:_ _You're an asshole._

_Blake:_ _Happy Christmas, Princess._

#

As the winter progressed, Sons of Sinners were playing more and more shows. All four of them were barely holding down their day jobs, but they weren't yet making enough through the band to live on that alone. All of them were exhausted \- but they loved every second. It was infectious. There was a buzz around them that couldn't be contained. Hayley and I were a fixture at a lot of their shows by that point, but even we couldn't make them all.

When they headlined at Filthy Joe's though, we were all there. The last time that Sons of Sinners had played there, they had been opening for another band - this time the show was theirs.

Hayley, Mel and I arrived at Filthy's to see a long line snaking around the block.

"Wow, there are so many people here tonight," Mel said, surprised. She hadn't been to one of their shows for a while.

"Every show, there's more," said Hayley. "They probably couldn't have filled this place a few months ago. Derren said there's a manager here tonight, he wants to check them out."

"Really? Connor didn't mention that," I said.

"Connor probably has no idea. It's not like he ever has a clue what's going on -"

"Hey!" I said, affronted on his behalf.

"Kidding!" Hayley grinned. "Kind of...anyway, a guy - Aiden something-or-other - called Blake a few days ago and said he was really interested in representing the band," she explained as she led us towards the entrance. "Derren says that this guy's worked with a lot of successful bands before - I can't remember who -"

"You can't remember much," Mel teased as we walked to the front of the line. We were on the guest list, so we got right in, despite the disgruntled glances of the people waiting outside.

"I _do_ remember that he's based in L.A."

"So would they have to go to L.A.?" I asked, a little alarmed.

She frowned slightly. "I don't think so, I don't think it works like that. From what Derren said, they would still be based here but Aiden has a bunch of contacts that could help push them to the next level."

The cavernous bar was already crowded and we had to weave our way through the throng of people in order to get to the bar. We'd managed to escape the neon stamps that should have been on the back of our hands, proclaiming us to young to drink - probably because we were on the guest list. Their oversight was our advantage and we - well, mainly Hayley - had no intention of wasting it. "Tequila, bitches!" she crowed, ordering us a round of shots and a round of beers to wash it down.

We found somewhere to stand where we had a good view of the stage but weren't too close to the crush at the front. Even though Sons of Sinners were still relatively unknown anywhere outside of Nevada, they had a small legion of die-hard fans that would squish anyone in their path to get closer to the stage.

The opening act was a band called Damascus Rising, and they were pretty good; their songs were quite catchy and easy to remember. By the time they finished, the bar was packed almost to bursting full of people - I was sure they must be breaking some kind of fire regulations by letting this many people in, but the atmosphere was electric.

Hayley, Mel and I had sunk a few beers by then and I was feeling a pleasant buzz when Sons of Sinners took to the stage.

They pummeled their instruments - perfectly in accord with Blake's deep and resonant voice. Connor was in the Drum-Zone, as I had dubbed it, so deep into his rhythm that a bomb could go off in front of him and he wouldn't know it. The only person who had a chance of reaching him in this state was Kane, his bass and Connors drums were close companions, grounding the songs, anchoring their wild swells.

Sons of Sinners usually played one cover song in their sets, generally songs that they just _loved_ to play. It was usually well known classics - they used to do a mean cover of Nirvana's _Smells Like Teen Spirit_ that always went down well.

That night they played _Fight For Your Right_ by the Beastie Boys _._

It was the perfect choice. They were surrounded by their local fans in a packed out venue, playing for a potential manager, eyes fixed firmly on their future. The crowd sang the song back to them like it was an anthem, and I swear I even saw Blake shimmy.

As I looked around me, at all the people there, all the people _worshipping_ them, it hit me. They were really going to do this; not just play in the bars and clubs and backyards of Nevada, they were going to go all the way. That night, it felt like their dream was within sight.

I wasn't sure why the idea of that filled me with sadness, and I felt guilty as hell for it, but it was as if I could see Connor slipping away in front of my eyes.

#

Shaking off my melancholy, I downed my beer just as the set finished. The guys left the stage as the lights lowered and rock music started to blast from the speakers around the room as the DJ started up the after show party. I had to shout above the music to tell the girls that I was going to the restrooms, and then I left them by the bar - ordering more tequila.

I made my way to the narrow hallway beside the stage that led to the restrooms and, beyond that, the back exit that led to the parking lot. I remembered that if you turned left through a door just before the back exit, it led to the dressing rooms and backstage area. The line for the ladies was already out the door, so I squeezed past and headed through the door leading to the dressing rooms; I knew from - _ahem_ \- past experience, that Sons of Sinners' room had a private bathroom inside.

As I walked down the darkened hallway, a door to my right opened and two guys emerged - I recognized them from the opening band.

"Hi, sweetheart, what's your name?" One of them slurred. He was short and stocky with spiky red hair pushed into a half hearted Mohawk. The guy behind him was biting his lips, chewing on them really, looking antsy. He was rail-thin, with long, bedraggled hair hanging around his face.

"Um, I'm Amy," I said, trying to strike a balance between polite and not interested. "Excuse me," I tried to walk past them - but Mohawk had other ideas.

"Hey, sweetheart! Where you goin'?" He grabbed my arm and swung me back to face him.

"Hey!" I shouted, trying to pull his fingers off of me.

"Oh, I get it! We're not good enough for this one, Todd, she wants a piece of Sons." Mohawk squeezing my arm painfully as his alcohol laden breath invaded my nostrils. His other hand went to his crotch.

I watched in horror.

"I guarantee what's in here is just as impressive as anything they have in their pants, sweetheart!"

Fear started to slink through me and I pulled in a deep breath, ready to scream.

Before I could make a sound, I heard a voice behind me - it was like granite, cold and hard. "Get your fucking hands off of her before I break every goddamn bone in your body."

Blake.

I turned my head to see him standing a few feet behind me; his eyes were the dangerous indigo of a storm at sea.

"Blake! I'm just playin' man!" Mohawk suddenly looked nervous and his grip slackened on my arm - but he didn't release me, which was kind of a catastrophic mistake on his part.

Blake had lunged forwards and grabbed him, one handed, by the throat before my eyes had even registered that he was moving. He stood close, towering over us both, glaring down at Mohawk with deadly rage etched across his features.

I saw Mohawk blanch.

His skinny side kick - Todd - had flattened himself against the wall, as if he were trying to seep into it and disappear.

"I said get the FUCK _OFF_ HER!" Blake roared.

Mohawk's hand dropped away as if my skin had burned him.

Instantly, Blake slammed him against the wall, next to his useless friend. "If you so much as _look_ at her again I'm gonna bury you," Blake seethed as his fingers squeezed into Mohawk's neck. "Do you understand me? Am I making perfect _fucking_ sense?"

Mohawk struggled to nod, his face turning an unhealthy shade of purple.

"Good. Now disappear." Blake stepped back and released the gasping man, who collapsed into a crumpled heap. Blake stared him down until he stumbled away, pulling Todd along with him.

I wrapped my arms around my body, hugging myself, as Blake turned to me. His eyes were full of concern but I could see the fury still bubbling underneath. "Are you okay? Did he hurt you?"

"No, no, I'm okay, I just freaked out a little is all."

"You sure?"

"Yeah," I said, waving my hand flippantly, trying to make light of the situation, trying to claw back a little of my dignity. "Just guys being guys. You should know all about that, right?"

He went rigid. "What?"

I dropped my eyes.

Oh, shit, WHY did I say that? WHY?!

"Do you - do you think I would do _that_?" Blake asked. I could hear the disbelief in his voice and, if I wasn't mistaken, the hurt.

"No, I didn't mean...I don't know what I meant." I couldn't meet his eyes. My face burned.

"Con and the others are still in the dressing room," he said quietly, his voice flat. "You should go see him. I need to go make sure those guys leave." He turned and started to walk away.

"Blake, wait!" I called after him. "I didn't mean -"

"Forget it," he cut me off curtly, without turning back. I watched his retreating back until he passed through the door at the other end of the hallway.

I was kicking myself for my thoughtlessness. The guy had just stepped in and helped me, _saved_ me really, because one thing I _did_ know was that guys who were that wasted could be...well, _unpredictable_ was one way to put it.

And then I'd pretty much called him a rapist.

#

I stood in the dark hallway for a minute, feeling horrible.

Partly because of my encounter with Mohawk and Todd...but mostly because no one, and I mean _no one_ , had ever stood up for me and protected me the way that Blake just had.

The way he had looked at Mohawk, like he was struggling not to smash him into paste, was scary. I mean, it _should_ have been scary. It sure was for the unfortunate guy who had dared to touch me. But right at that moment, with Blake looming over me, staring down my would-be molester, I had never felt more protected.

And then I'd gone and made THAT comment.

So...I felt horrible.

Maybe that was why, when I eventually walked into the dressing room and saw Connor, I didn't immediately tell him about what had happened in the hallway.

Connor, Derren and Kane were lounging on the sofas when I walked in. Connor looked up from his phone briefly and shot me a distracted smile.

"Just using you for your restroom, guys," I quipped as I slipped inside and shut the door.

"Least you're in there _alone_ this time!" Derren called out.

"Ha ha," I called back, not actually laughing.

I finished up quickly and went back outside; Kane offered me a beer as I perched on the arm of the couch next to Connor.

I shook my head. "I think Hayley already has tequila lined up for me."

Kane shuddered. "I _hate_ tequila."

Derren laughed. "Still having flashbacks, man?"

"Every damn night."

"Flashbacks?" I asked.

"My twenty-first birthday, these douchebags got me wasted on tequila -"

"He ended up buck naked, riding his dirt bike around the neighborhood..." Derren dissolved into giggles.

"Still got a scar on my ass," Kane grumbled.

I was about to ask exactly how the scar got there, when Connor stood up abruptly. "I'm gonna go catch up with Todd, I'll be back in a minute."

Then two things happened in quick succession.

Number one:

Two dots connected in my head and then _I_ was standing up too, staring at him in a mixture of disbelief and outrage. Todd. That guy had stood by, chomping on his lips like he was buzzed to high heaven, while his buddy aggressively hit on me (and that was putting it nicely). Connor was going to 'catch up' with _him_? WHY?

_Because Todd is clearly HOLDING, that's why!_ Inner Amy screamed in fury.

All of this passed through my brain in a nanosecond - and then I was talking: "Todd as in TODD from Damascus Rising, the band that opened for you guys tonight? You _know_ that guy?!"

Connor looked at me, clearly confused by my reaction, and why wouldn't he be? He had no idea what had just gone down in the hallway. "Uh, yeah, why?"

" _How_ do you know him?" I demanded.

"We used to play in a band together, years ago, why are you freaking out?" Connor looked a little irritated by then.

I opened my mouth to tell him _exactly_ why I was freaking out, but before I could -

Number two:

The door to the dressing room opened and Blake walked in, followed by a handsome guy, with short, perfectly groomed blond hair, who was maybe in his late thirties. He was wearing a dark navy sports jacket over a white dress shirt and those expensive jeans that look lived-in but are actually _fake_ lived-in, because you pay $600 for the designers to make them look that way.

Aiden. The potential manager.

There was a beat of silence -

And then Blake started introducing Aiden Parkinson to the guys. When he got to me, he didn't even look at me, just gestured in my general direction and said "This is Amy Scott, she's a friend of the band."

"Pleased to meet you, Amy," Aiden shook my hand but immediately turned away. He was polite but businesslike. Then they were all sitting down on the couches.

Connor didn't glance my way again.

Just like that, I'd been dismissed.

And, if I'm honest, I totally got it. There was a lot riding on that meeting, and they needed to get down to business. They didn't need any distractions and they definitely didn't need me there. I slipped away quietly, but I couldn't help feeling a little hurt.

And I never did tell Connor what had happened in the hallway.

#

I found Hayley and Mel back in the bar; they had commandeered a tall table with high-backed stools around it and were perched up there, sipping beers.

"Here she is!" Mel crowed drunkenly. "We drank your tequila!"

"We drank one tequila, two tequila, three tequila!" Hayley sang. "You were gone too long!"

"Let's get some more!" Mel laughed.

I grinned. " _More_ tequila is probably a bad idea. I just used the restroom in the guys' dressing room. They're meeting with the manager right now."

Hayley giggled and clapped her hands excitedly. "If he doesn't offer to represent them, he's crazy!"

"I know," I agreed.

"It's gonna happen, I have a good feeling about this," Mel said.

Twenty minutes later, we found out that she was right. That girl was _always_ right.

Hayley nudged me and nodded to the door leading to the backstage area; the guys were walking out with Aiden. They went to the bar and ordered a round of whiskey - soon they were all raising glasses, making a toast. Then they were all shaking hands with Aiden before he walked out of the bar.

When he had disappeared through the door, the guys all broke into whoops and hollers, pumping their fists into the air and bro-hugging.

I turned to Hayley. "Looks like it went well."

"C'mon lets go see what the word is." Hayley grabbed Mel and I and pulled us towards them.

This time, when Connor saw me, he was grinning from ear to ear. He threw his arms around my waist, lifted me and twirled me around and around. "You can officially call me Mr. Rock Star now," he said as he brought us to a stumbling stop and lowered me to the ground again. "Or Rock God, whatever you like best."

I laughed. "Well, I _won't_ be referring to you as _God_. Your ego's big enough already."

He chuckled and kissed me, hot and heavy, in the middle of the bar.

Soon, we were all piled into a booth and ordering more drinks. The guys - well, mainly Derren and Blake - filled us in on the meeting. I won't go into all the details because, if I'm completely honest, they're probably not that interesting.

Put simply, they were going to sign a contract which meant that Aiden would manage them. He had presented them with a plan of action: they would continue to play the shows that they had already booked, but they would also go into the studio and record another EP using _his_ contacts because (a) some of the songs that they had previously recorded weren't good enough - by that he meant that the _production_ wasn't great, not the _songs_ themselves; and (b) there wasn't time to record a full album before they went on tour for the summer.

Yes, _on tour for the summer_.

He was able to book them on to a tour with a major band called Divide (I owned their album, they were HUGE), who were due to start a big tour in a few months and who Aiden had represented in the past. Furthermore, he thought that he could get them onto the line up for some big festivals.

But it didn't end there; he was also offering them the opportunity to do interviews with radio stations and magazines that they just couldn't have landed on their own at that point in their careers.

Their excitement was palpable, a living thing. It felt like they were on the edge, just on the cusp of something bigger. Like this was the tipping point. If they played this right, if it went well, they would end up in a whole other league.

All in all, if he was as good as his word, Sons of Sinners would at least have a shot at becoming Career Musicians - that was the dream. They wanted to make a living off of making their own music, rather than having to fit the band around their day jobs.

And it was starting to look like the dream was within reach.

#

Around the time that I noticed Connor slam back his sixth straight bourbon in a row, I noticed that Blake had slipped away. The last time I'd seen him, he and the rest of the band had been hanging out by the bar. They were laughing and joking with a rowdy group of guys from other local bands that had come to watch them play. The girls and I had stayed sitting in the booth, chatting. But I wanted to talk to Blake about what had happened earlier. I felt like I needed to thank him for standing up for me and apologize for offending him - yeah, the irony of _that_ is not lost on me - so I went to find him.

What came after was a fairly lengthy search, which I almost gave up on because I realized that even if I _did_ find him, I would probably also find him attached to a random girl, and that was a scene I was _not_ itching to witness.

Therefore it came as a surprise when I eventually found him, _alone_ , out back of the bar.

He was facing away from me, reclining on the hood of his truck, his back propped against the windshield and a bottle of beer in his hand. For a moment I just stood there, looking at him, feeling really unsure. There was a very good chance he was going to say something crude or else simply show me snide indifference...

_Screw it_ , Righteous Amy thought, _just because he's normally socially obnoxious doesn't mean I have to forget MY manners._

Steeling myself, I walked towards him. "Hey," I called quietly as I approached.

He turned towards the sound of my voice. When he saw me, surprise played across his face before it was quickly masked with his classic smirk. I could have sworn that smirk wasn't _quite_ as convincing as normal though, it seemed a little forced.

"Miss me already?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Nope."

"Ouch. You're taking no prisoners tonight, Princess. I'm gonna tell Connor on you."

I rolled my eyes. "You can't stick up for yourself?"

"Not against you, you're too mean."

Despite the underlying tension, I chuckled a little.

"You didn't tell him about those guys." It was a statement, not a question.

"...not yet."

"Good."

I narrowed my eyes. "Why 'good'?"

He shot me a look. "I don't know, 'cause he'd lose it, maybe?"

"Like you almost did?" I teased gently, testing the water.

He smiled wryly. "That was me being restrained."

"Well...I came out here because I wanted to talk to you about that." I climbed up and sat on the hood of the truck, my feet resting on the front bumper.

He pushed himself up off of the windshield and scooted forwards, imitating my position, looking at me curiously, waiting for me to speak.

"Thank you for stepping in, for looking out for me. Those guys were scaring me and you saved me, I won't forget it."

He shrugged. "It was nothing."

"It wasn't ' _nothing'_ and, even if it were, it still deserves a 'thank you'. I should have thanked you straight away instead of insulting you. That wasn't fair and I'm sorry. I really didn't mean what I said, Blake." I waited for him to respond with something offensive, or brush of my words with a flippant smart-ass comment, but he just stared at me, his face unreadable.

I squirmed a little under his gaze and, when he still didn't speak after a few moments, I looked away and started to stand. "Alright...well, I'm going to go back inside."

"Wait."

I looked back at him questioningly and slowly sat back down.

"I forgive you. For what you said about me, I mean. It's not like I've ever given you any reason to think otherwise."

"So you're completely aware that you're a chauvinist asshole with no redeeming qualities?" I blurted it out before I could stop myself. It was _supposed_ to be a joke, but coming so soon after my last crash-and-burn comment to him in the hallway, I was pretty sure I'd blown it.

But Blake threw back his head and roared laughter into the night. Surprised, I started to laugh too, and the tension broke a little.

"A couple shots and you're down right offensive!" he said, gleefully. "Fuck, but I like it - the offensiveness, that is."

"You would," I said dryly.

"Want the rest of my beer? Then you can _really_ tear me a new one?"

"I didn't make you cry already?"

He was still laughing. "Nah, but there's still time." He wiggled the bottle of beer in front of me. "I'm driving tonight, I shouldn't finish this anyway."

I took the bottle. "Okaaaay, then. Where to start..." I looked him up and down, feigning disgust. "Well, for one thing, you have a face only a mother could love." (Totally not true \- as I've already made _abundantly_ clear.)

His smile faltered and he looked away.

I cringed.

O _h shit, way to build bridges, Amy._

"Sorry -"

"Don't," he cut me off gruffly. "Don't apologize anymore. You didn't do anything."

The silence thickened around us.

I bit the bullet. "Are you okay, Blake?"

"I'm just...I'm not having a good day."

"But you guys just landed a manager - and a pretty good one apparently."

"Yeah, I know, and that's incredible..." he trailed off.

"But?" I prompted.

He shook his head slightly and looked down.

"Do you - do you want to talk about it?" I asked hesitantly. I was sure he wouldn't want to talk to me, but I couldn't _not_ ask.

He took a breath and I could see that he was frowning a little. "I honestly don't know. No one's ever really asked me that before." He looked back at me and my breath caught in my throat. His eyes had softened and there was pain there, a hint of vulnerability that I had never seen before, nor expected to see.

This was _Blake_ , after all.

He was normally all cocky swagger, wise cracks and inappropriate comments.

Tonight there was a wounded side to him, just under the surface. I had glimpsed it earlier, when I had called his morals into question, and now it was bubbling up again.

"Would you want to hear it?" he asked quietly, and my heart broke a little for him then. He seemed so lost, like he was in unfamiliar territory.

Hell, _I_ was in unfamiliar territory.

"Yeah," I said. "I mean, of course, if you want to tell me."

He looked at me for a long moment before he spoke. "My dad came here tonight."

"Oh." I know it sounds silly, but I'd never thought of Blake as having actual parents. I mean, of course I knew he _must_ have had parents, but he always seemed so self-sufficient, so in control, so larger than life, that it was hard to imagine him ever having relied on anyone.

He gave a tiny smile. "Yeah, 'oh'."

"Did he watch the show?"

"No. When someone working the Twelve Steps walks in to a bar, it's your civic duty to turn them out, right?" He spoke with an air of wry resignation.

"He's...an alcoholic?"

He just nodded and looked away into the night again. I could see him in profile. His face was set and his jaw was clenched. The soft moonlight highlighted the top strands of his messy hair, swept down the bridge of his nose, brushed across his forehead, just above his eyebrows.

He looked almost ethereal.

Suddenly, he looked down, sighed and nodded, almost imperceptibly, to himself - if I hadn't been watching him so closely I probably would've missed the nod. It was like he'd been having a discussion with himself and had just come to a conclusion.

"My mom died when I was thirteen," he said quietly.

My heart pounded in my chest. That was the last thing I had expected him to say. "Oh, I'm so sorry. Blake, I had no idea."

He lifted his head and looked at me, a ghost of a smile played across his lips. "No more apologies, remember? And how could you have known?"

"I - I guess I couldn't..."

"Was a hit and run," he started, his smile disappearing. "I was waiting in the car, I saw it happen. She'd been to the store. She was crossing the street on her way back to the car and...and then she was just _gone._ He hit her and...she just flew up in the air..." he trailed off and looked away again.

I waited. I didn't know what to say, so I didn't say anything.

When he continued his voice was like sandpaper. "Seemed to take forever for her to come back down...then when she did...the sound..."

I heard a click in his throat as he swallowed.

Without thinking, I reached out and took his hand in mine. It was big and rough and warm. He squeezed my hand, enveloping it in his much larger one, clutching me in an unselfconscious way that surprised me.

"By the time I got to her she was already gone...there was so much blood, more than I ever thought could be inside a person..."

I was fighting back tears at this point. I couldn't imagine going through something so horrible. I had never lost anyone really close to me. My grandma had died when I was younger, but that was natural, to be expected.

It wasn't violent like this.

And it wasn't my mother.

"They caught the guy who hit her." There was a bitter edge to his voice now. "He was a kid really. Just got his license. Driving like a dick to impress some girl."

I squeezed his hand. "That's awful, Blake."

He nodded, still not looking at me. "My dad always liked a drink, y'know? Family trait, I guess. After she died, drinking's all he ever did." He shrugged. "He just gave up. Nothing left to try for."

"He had you," I said quietly.

"Yeah, he did." His voice was heavy, weary, and so sad. "Not anymore though. Got out of there when I was sixteen and never looked back. Haven't seen him in years, then he just starts showing up, saying he's sober now, that he wants to make amends. I just - I can't even look at him."

I was filled with an overwhelming urge to comfort him. Without thinking, I got to my feet and stepped between his legs which were still braced on the bumper of the truck, and hugged him.

He stiffened for a fraction of a second - then he hugged me back. Just locked his big arms around my back and held me tight.

We stayed like that for a few seconds and then all of a sudden Blake dropped his arms and pulled back, looking me dead in the eyes. "Thank you, Princess. For listening. For letting me talk."

"I...yeah, that's ok," I stammered, stepping back. "Thank you for trusting me."

He gave me a tiny smile. "C'mon, we should go find my dumb-ass cousin before he drinks himself into a coma."

Just like that, the spell was broken.

The rest of the night at Filthy Joe's played out as usual. Everyone apart from Blake got drunk - Connor got way _too_ drunk. We hung out in the bar until they closed down the party, then we all went back to the house that Blake and Kane shared and partied into the milky dawn.

Everything played out like it always did. But, for some reason, I felt that something had shifted subtly that night.

Little did I know that that shift would soon become a landslide.

#

It was little things at first. Things that sound really silly if you say them out loud, like _He didn't text me back last night_. Things that, if you mention them, end up making you sound like a wacko.

So you don't mention them.

Because you're _not_ a wacko.

But then the little things turned into medium sized things. Things that you _can_ mention without sounding crazy, but things that can be explained away by logic and reason...and still leave you looking like a little bit like a wacko.

As winter started to give way to spring, around six months after Connor and I started dating, I found myself feeling like a wacko more and more often.

#

One 'medium sized' example occurred one Saturday night after a Sons of Sinners show at The Pit, the club that Connor and I had met in. Hayley, Mel and I had gone to watch them again.

After the show, I went to look for Connor and found him, Blake and Kane in a corner booth, together with three girls I didn't recognize. The girls were _maybe_ wearing enough clothing between them to make up my entire outfit.

Groupies, I assumed. By this point Sons had amassed a fairly large following.

They were all laughing uproariously at something Kane had said and one of the girls had her hand on his knee. Didn't take a genius to figure out where that was going. Another one of the girls was almost falling all over herself in her eagerness to get Blake's attention. She was laughing and flicking her hair back over her shoulders, throwing looks at the other girls like she was the cat that was about to devour the cream. I heard a snippet of their conversation.

"You were awesome tonight, Blake," she gushed.

"Glad you enjoyed it, Cassie." Blake smirked. "Does that mean I get to enjoy you later?"

Ew. I wanted to vomit just a little bit. But Cassie didn't seem to mind. In fact, she seemed to think it was just about the most romantic thing she'd ever heard.

The third groupie was sitting close to Connor, not close enough to actually _touch_ him, but close all the same. I felt a prickle of jealousy and tried to squash it.

_He's just being polite._ Rational Amy spoke up. _The groupies are the ones buying the tickets, after all._

He caught my eye as I approached the booth and I waited for him to extricate himself or else make it clear that he wanted me to come sit with him, like he usually did.

But he _didn't_ get up.

And then _she_ \- the groupie next to him - started talking to him, practically whispering in his ear, actually. He broke eye contact with me and turned to her.

I thought for sure he was going to excuse himself.

But he _didn't_ \- instead he got into what looked like a really deep, and kind of intimate, conversation with her.

While I just stood there.

For a moment, it felt like my world had tilted on its axis.

I looked at Connor in rising disbelief. He was engrossed in whatever Little Miss Groupie Bitch - as she would forever be known in my mind - was saying. (I'd just like to point out that I know that's not fair. _She_ wasn't actually doing anything wrong - but right then, I was just angry at them both, and it was way easier to direct my anger at _her_ than him.)

I felt like an idiot, just standing there, like I was on the outside looking in. I whirled away from them and fought my way back through the crowd, seeking out Hayley and Mel.

I soon found them, standing by the bar with Derren.

"Whoa, hey, what's up with you?" Hayley asked, as soon as she saw me.

"Connor is over there with Kane and Blake thanking those _'_ fans' for their 'support'." I bit off sarcastically.

"Uh-oh, Connor's gonna get his nuts toasted tonight, huh?" Derren chuckled.

"Shut up, idiot," Hayley said, swatting him on the arm.

"Sorry. He's just talking to her though, Amy. Doesn't hurt to be nice to the fans."

"There's being _nice_ and then there's being _too_ nice." Piped up Mel. I shot her a look of thanks - I was starting to feel like I was making a big deal out of nothing.

"Nah, he's just paying his dues," Derren said.

" _You're_ not," I pointed out.

At that, Derren actually did look a little uncomfortable.

"Do you want me to go over there?" Hayley offered.

I shook my head.

"Don't worry about it, Amy," Derren tried again. "You know what he's like, he just -"

Hayley held up her hand and cut him off before he could finish his sentence. "Is _anything_ you're about to say going to make her feel better?"

Derren frowned and his mouth worked wordlessly for a moment.

"Then _don't_ say it," Hayley ordered.

Despite my anger at Connor, I couldn't help a little snigger at Derren's downhearted expression.

"You know what _will_ make me feel better, D?" I said, throwing him a bone. "One of your funny stories \- preferably one where Connor gets his ass handed to him."

Derren grinned as he launched into an anecdote.

I kept glancing back at the booth while Derren spoke. When I saw Connor throw his head back and howl with laughter at something Little Miss Groupie Bitch had said, I wanted to claw her eyes out - and punch him in the jugular. Derren must have been aware of where my real attention was directed, because he kept making his story more and more outrageous, until I couldn't help but get drawn in. Eventually, I started laughing along with the girls as he talked.

That was the moment Connor chose to appear at my side.

He threw an arm around my shoulder and nuzzled into my neck. "Have you ever had sex in the alley out back of The Pit?" he asked, in a low, seductive voice.

I nearly went apoplectic.

I shrugged him off me violently. "Are you KIDDING me right now?!" I pretty much shouted in his face.

His face contorted into a confused frown. "What the hell?!"

"You _actually_ need to ask?!" I said in disbelief. I glanced around at the others, but they were already edging away from us, eyes firmly averted - the floor must have been _really_ interesting.

"Fucking _clearly_ I do. What is it?!" he snapped.

"That _girl_ , Connor! You were flirting with her right in front of me!"

"Jesus, Amy, I was _talking_ to her. She's a fan of the band. I can't talk to a fan? I'm just supposed to ignore them?"

"That's _not_ what I'm saying!"

"What are you saying then? Don't talk to anyone else at all, just _you_ , is that it?!" The righteous indignation in his voice riled me even more.

"What I'm _saying_ is that you don't have to ignore me and flirt with some other girl just because she's a 'fan'!" I air quoted the last word scornfully.

Connor's voice went hard. "I told you, I was just _talking_ to her. If you can't handle the fact that I have to talk to other women, then we are _fucked_."

I felt a spark of fear run through me. "What do you mean?"

Connor shook his head and looked away. "I have to talk to other women, Amy. It's part of the job. It's too early in our career for me to ignore...someone who's supporting the band." I noticed his avoidance of the word 'fan' and felt a stab of guilt. "But that's all it is - _talking_!" He looked back at me in frustration.

It was my turn to look away. I was suddenly feeling silly, like I'd been acting like a brat.

_If you can't handle the fact that I have to talk to other women, then we are FUCKED_.

What had he meant by that _exactly_?

I didn't want to find out.

I sighed and looked back at him. "I'm sorry."

"You just...you need to trust me."

"I do!"

He nodded stiffly. "Alright. Then act like it." He brushed past me and went to the bar.

I stared at his back, concentrating on blinking back the tears that were threatening to fall.

#

That was just one example.

There were others.

For one, he stopped inviting me along when he hung out with his friends - I know that makes me sound a really clingy and co-dependent, but let me explain: I didn't expect to _always_ be included, but for the first few months of our relationship, he _had_ asked me to hang out with them lots of times, so when he stopped, I noticed.

But when I called him on it, he made out like it was _all_ me.

We met up for breakfast (well, I _say_ breakfast, but by the time Connor arrived - late - it was actually more like lunch) one Sunday at a diner near my place and I asked him if he wanted to go to the movies, they were showing a re-run of _A Clockwork Orange_ , and Connor loved Kubrick.

"Well actually, I'm seeing it with the guys later," he said around a mouthful of blueberry pancakes.

"Oh, yeah? Who's going?"

"Uh, Matt, Luke, maybe Jimmy."

I waited for him to invite me, but he just kept eating his pancakes and sipping his coffee.

Eventually, he looked up at me. "What?"

"Um, nothing."

He rolled his eyes. "What now? Just _say_ it already."

Okay, I know every girl does the 'it's nothing' thing when they're mad and I know guys _hate_ it, but the 'what now?' comment really pissed me off all the same - it made it sound like I was always complaining.

"Ok, fine," I snapped. "I just thought that you would _maybe_ invite me along too?"

"You want to hang out with those guys?" he asked incredulously.

"I want to hang out with _you_."

He sat back and set down his cutlery. "You're the one who said you needed to study more! Just last week you said that. _Waa waa I got a C, waa waa I need to average at least a B_." His impersonation of me was whiny in the extreme. "I asked you out twice this week and you had to study both times - so what? I should just sit at home and wait 'til you're done?"

"That's _not_ what I'm saying, Connor!"

"Then what are you saying? 'Cause I can never fucking figure it out!"

"I just thought you would ask me to go along with you, that's all."

"Well, I'm not."

WHAM. Sucker punch. No explanation. Just like _Nope, don't really want you there_.

I know my face betrayed my hurt and I know he saw it, because his eyes softened the slightest bit. He leant forward, resting his forearms on the table. "Alright, look, it's not that I don't want to hang out with you. It's just that I know you don't really like Matt and Luke -"

I broke in. "That's not true -"

"Yeah, it is. And I know why. They're stoners -" THAT was putting it mildly, they were a hell of a lot more than that, but I didn't say anything, it wouldn't exactly help my cause. "- and you're not _comfortable_ with all that. Whatever. But we're going to see _A Clockwork Orange_ , Amy."

I frowned. "So..?"

"So, it's -" He winced a little, but I could tell he was trying not to smile. "It's _trippy_."

I squinted at him. " _A Clockwork Orange_ is 'trippy' so you don't want me to come with you? That makes _no_ sense, Connor."

And then all of a sudden, it made perfect sense.

I gritted my teeth, and I could tell from his expression that he knew I'd figured it out.

"You're going to get high and then go watch it aren't you?"

He shrugged. "It's the only way to watch it."

I won't go into what happened after that, suffice to say _shit got ugly_.

#

But one thing that didn't change was Connor's ability to win me over, and my willingness to let him.

A few days after the argument in the diner, Connor showed up at my place late one night.

When I opened the door and saw him leaning against the door jamb, I was already half way to forgiving him - he just looked too good. Slightly disheveled hair; dark, slim fitting jeans; old, bottle green Henley with the buttons open; black necklaces resting on his chiseled chest; battered, brown leather jacket topping it all off.

Damn him.

_Then_ he pulled a DVD out of his jacket pocket and held it up so that I could see the front: _Four Rooms_ , co-written and directed by Quentin Tarantino. I'd once told him that I'd never seen that movie, but that I really wanted to.

And he obviously knew I worshipped Tarantino.

He raised his eyebrows. "Want to watch a movie?"

What I _really_ wanted was an apology, and for him to tell me that he had been wrong and would _much_ rather be with me than go get high with his friends.

I also wanted him to acknowledge the fact that we'd been arguing a lot recently, and maybe also acknowledge that it wasn't all my fault.

But I knew I wasn't about to get any of that.

But I _could_ have him.

"Well?" he prompted, smiling down at me. "We watching this movie or not?"

I could stand my ground and get pissed...or I could choose him.

I crossed my arms over my chest. "Is this your apology for dropping me the other day?"

He leant down and nuzzled my nose with his. "This is me trying to do something nice."

"Well...I do love Tarantino..."

He kissed me lightly. "So, I'm forgiven?"

In response, I took his hand and led him into the apartment.

#

So, things were a little rocky between Connor and me. And, let's face it, neither of us was about to address it properly. Looking back, I think that maybe neither of us really knew _how_ to handle it...

But by then, something else had started to change too.

At first, I hadn't even noticed it - at least not on a conscious level.

And when it eventually _did_ hit me, I was already powerless to stop it.

#

Connor and I had arranged to see each other one Saturday afternoon in early spring. He'd gone to the desert with Kane to ride dirt bikes, and so he'd asked me to meet him at the house when he was done.

When I pulled up outside, I noticed that Blake's Chevy wasn't on the driveway, so I was a little surprised when he answered the door. After the night weeks ago, at Filthy Joe's, where we had our little heart to heart, we'd settled into a sarcastic almost-friendship (the technical term was probably 'frenemies').

"Hey, Princess!" He greeted me. "Don't tell me, you finally gave in and admitted to yourself that you need me _in_ your life, am I right?" He smirked and winked suggestively.

I rolled my eyes. "No thanks, _Stifler_ , last time I checked, you weren't the last guy on earth."

"I've been promoted! Last time you said _not even_ if I was the last guy on earth!" Then he pointed to me, adopting a stern expression. "And don't call me Stifler, I'm nothing like that guy."

"Suuure you're not, but stop calling me 'Princess' and I'll consider it."

"Can't do that."

"Then boo for you."

He narrowed his eyes at me and shook his head.

"You bring it on yourself," I said, in the same tone that you would use to explain to a three year old why they had to go in Time Out.

"Yeah, whatever."

"You do know your car is gone, right?" I gestured to the empty driveway.

"Con and Kane took their bikes to the desert in it. I don't think they'll be much longer. You coming in?"

"Yeah, sure," I said, following him inside.

"You want coffee?" he asked as he walked towards the kitchen.

"Stifler, did you just speak to me like a _normal_ person?!"

He grinned. "Y'know, I _can_ function like a human."

"Who knew?"

"You want coffee or not?"

"Always assume I want coffee - but not if you're busy."

"Just doing some writing, but I need a break anyway." He busied himself making the coffee.

"What are you writing?"

"Couple new songs...well, one solid idea, pretty much done. The other is just a hook and a melody really, no words yet, but this hook has been going around in my head for days."

"How does it go?" I asked, intrigued.

He kind of half-sang and half-hummed it while he stirred our coffees and then turned and handed me my cup.

"That's catchy," I said when he was done.

"Yeah, that's why it's stuck in my head," he said wryly, gesturing to the couches. We sat down, me cradling my coffee in both hands. He picked up the yellow legal pad that he had been scribbling on and hummed the hook over again while he looked at it.

"You said you don't have any words yet?"

He took a sip of his coffee. "No. Yeah. I mean, I got words, I'm just not sure if they're working." He looked across at me. "I know what I'm _trying_ to say, I just don't know if it sounds right."

"Well, what are you trying to say?"

"I don't know, really...."

"But you just said you did!"

He grinned at my confusion. "Yeah, okay, it's like this: I'm trying to get across this _feeling_ , like, this _vibe,_ but the words I keep coming up with just don't really fit, y'know? Everything I come up with sounds lame and cliché when it's supposed to sound kind of...primal and antiestablishment, I guess."

I raised my eyebrows. "'Antiestablishment?"

"Yeah. It means -"

"I _know_ what it means."

"Of course you do. You just didn't think _I_ would." He looked at me, shaking his head in mock disappointment.

"Shut up Mr. Poor Misunderstood Man-whore, that's _not_ what I meant."

"Totally what you meant, but I'm a forgiving guy."

"You're an _irritating_ guy, I'll give you that." I took a drink and pretended to consider for a second. "But you do make damn good coffee."

He shrugged and smirked. "Comes in handy the morning after."

"Ewww!" I scrunched up my eyes in over-exaggerated disgust as he chuckled, but in the pit of my stomach, I did feel the tiniest flicker of...genuine disgust, or something like it. "So are you going to sing these lyrics or not?" I asked, changing the subject.

He hesitated and the humor slipped from his face a little. "Uh, well...they're not totally finished."

"You don't have to," I said, sensing his unease. "I was just curious what this _primal vibe_ could be."

"It's _not_ about sex." He sighed in exasperation, but he was grinning a little too.

"I never said it was! You're the one who keeps bringing it up." The pun was _completely_ unintended and I immediately felt my face start to burn.

Blake barked a laugh at my unease. "Okay, fuck it, listen up." He tossed his notepad on to the coffee table and picked up his acoustic guitar, which had been leaning against the couch, and rested it on his lap. Then he started to sing and strum, looking down at his messy scrawl the whole time. His deep melodic voice rang through the house, dropping down to a smoky and rough timbre at certain points throughout the song.

I can't work through this catch

Around my neck

This snare

The more you fight

The more it pulls

And we're already there

March as one

Into the breach

Hating those

Who fall away

Don't wanna hide

There's no release

Beyond what lies ahead

We're longing like slaves

Cast your eyes down

Obligation binds us all

Expectation drown them all

Drag it all down

Drag it all down

Veiled in smoke

Always unseen

They sell us ashes

That look like dreams

Every failure

Brings us closer

Underneath it all

There's nothing there

March as one

Into the breach

Hating those

Who fall away,

Don't wanna hide

There's no release

Beyond what lies ahead

We're longing like slaves

Cast your eyes down

Obligation binds us all

Expectation drown them all

Drag it all down

Drag it all down

We're longing like slaves,

Cast your eyes down

When he was done he stared at his notepad for a few seconds before looking at me, his forehead crinkling up in an unspoken question.

"Wow," I murmured staring at him.

"That's all you got?" He laughed.

"That was...it was completely unlike anything you guys have done before."

"Yeah, I know..." He looked at me warily. "So, no good?"

"No! I mean, yes!" I shook my head. "This is coming out wrong. I love the songs you already have, but this one is a step up, I think. All the songs you have so far are more...simple I guess. That's not an insult," I quickly clarified. "It's just that they're not as passionate, it sounds like there's more of a message in this song, the lyrics are intriguing, it draws you in."

Blake was watching me intently. "So, you got the message? The concept?"

"I think so...it's about being tied to your responsibilities, how everyone is just doing what they have to in order to survive. Is that it?"

He broke into a dazzling, genuine smile; it completely transformed his face, making him look younger, less tough. "Pretty damn close." He sobered a little and glanced down at his lyrics again. "What about the 'longing like slaves' part? Is it too much?"

I considered. "No. I think it works, it makes you wonder what the 'longing' is for."

Blake looked at me with an unreadable expression on his face, before rubbing his hand over his jaw and looking away. His reaction was weird, like I'd stumbled across something I wasn't supposed to see. For some reason I couldn't define, a spike of adrenaline pulsed through me.

"Um, that's just my opinion though," I said. "You know that I don't know the first thing about making music, I just like listening to it."

He looked back at me and a slight grin pulled at his lips. "That's why you're the perfect person to ask, I can't believe I never thought of it before. You have no idea what you're talking about -"

"Hey!"

"Let me finish." His grin widened. "You have no idea what you're talking about _technically._ But you're a fan of music, you listen to a lot of music, you know what makes a normal, everyday person think _Shit! That song rocked!_ But you also don't give a fuck about offending me. You're kinda the perfect sounding board."

I didn't know whether to be flattered or a little insulted. "Um, thanks, I guess."

His grin widened. "No, thank you..." Then he launched into a barrage of questions about the song. _Which part did you like best? What does this lyric make you think of? If I slowed that part down and Derren added some harmonies, would it work better? Can you remember the chorus? If you had to, could you sing it back to me now?_

Finally, he was done.

"I honestly thought it was great," I said.

He pointed to me. " _That_ earns you some more coffee." He made us another cup and then sat back down, flipping through his pad of lyrics. "Okay, listen to one more?"

"Sure."

The next song he sang was good, but not on the same level as the previous one. I told him as much.

"That's what I think now, too," he admitted, clearly a little confused. "Before I sang the other one to you, I would have said that _this_ one was better."

"Well, who's to say it's not? It does sound a lot more like your other stuff."

He nodded, frowning.

"Maybe you're growing and developing as an artist," I teased.

"Maybe." He looked at me thoughtfully. "We got a practice booked in for tomorrow, will you come? I want to work on these songs and I want to know what you think of them when they're played by the whole band."

I hesitated. I'd accompanied Connor to band practice a few times and, to be honest, after the first couple of times it had gotten a little boring. People have this idea that sitting in on a band practice is this amazingly exciting experience \- and maybe it is if the band you're with are super famous and have plush practice rooms with champagne on tap. With a non-famous band, you end up sitting in a dump of a practice room on a crate, or on the moldy carpet, while they run the same three songs fifty times. You also usually end up being their soda and hamburger mule.

But despite all of that, I was really intrigued to hear what the songs would turn out like with the full band behind them. If I'm honest, I was also pretty flattered to be asked to give an opinion.

"Won't the other guys mind?" I asked.

Blake looked at me like I'd just hit my head _reaaal_ hard. "Why the fuck would they? It's not like they don't know you, and Connor's your _boyfriend_." He said the last part like he was talking to someone incredibly stupid.

"They might not want to hear my opinion. It's not like I really know what I'm talking about."

"They won't care. It's up to me anyway, they're my songs." The possessiveness in his voice surprised me a little. I'd always just assumed they wrote all their songs together, that they belonged to all of them. "You're coming."

I raised my eyebrows. "I am?"

"Yeah, you know you want to."

I couldn't help laughing at his forwardness. "Okay, fine. I'll come."

He broke into a smile and I couldn't help but smile back. I don't know what made me say what I said next, the words just kind of leapt out of my mouth.

"Do you realize this is the first time that we've hung out together _alone_ for longer than around ten minutes since I met you?"

He was quick as a whip. "Was it as magical as you thought it would be?"

"If by 'magical' you mean 'tedious' then yes, absolutely."

"Ha! Admit it, you love me serenading you."

I put my hands over my heart and did my best desperate groupie impression. "Oh, _absolutely_! I can't believe I got a private concert from the lead singer of Sons of Sinners!"

"Make fun of me now, in a few years, when the band takes off, people will be willing to pay thousands for that!"

"Then you really _will_ be a whore!"

He barked a laugh. "Dammit, Princess," he growled playfully. "You're offensive as shit!"

"I _wasn't_ 'til I met you!" I jabbed him in the chest with my finger.

We were both laughing when I heard the sound of footsteps on the front stoop, followed by the front door opening.

I jumped up off the couch.

I felt like I was just about to be caught with my hand in the cookie jar - although I couldn't quite put my finger on _why_ I felt like that.

Blake shot me a curious look.

Then Kane and Connor walked in.

"Hey, I've been waiting for you!" I said, bounding over to Connor and hugging him.

"Hey." He pulled back and looked down at me questioningly.

"Think she thought you'd show up a mangled mess after last time," Blake spoke up dryly from the couch.

THAT was a little weird, almost like he was covering for me - even though there was nothing to 'cover' me for.

Connor grinned down at me. Last time he and Kane had ridden dirt bikes in the desert, Connor had come back battered and bruised. "I'm fine."

Kane snorted. "Yeah, fucker never came off once. I'm out of practice though, must've come off four times."

"Ha! Badly?" Blake asked.

"Nah, just a few scrapes." He gestured down to his ripped jeans.

"Are you bleeding?" I asked, concerned.

Kane shrugged.

"Let me take a look?"

"Nope, there's no way you're getting on your knees in front of Kane." Connor joked.

"Hey!" I wacked him on the arm. "You're worse than Blake!"

"I resent that," Blake piped up.

"I'm good Amy, don't worry," Kane said amiably.

"You're sure?"

"Yeah, I've had worse."

Blake started laughing. "Con, remember his birthday? The tequila?"

Connor sniggered. "Still got that scar on your ass, man?" he asked Kane.

I bit my lip to stop from laughing too, even though I'd heard the story of Kane's twenty first birthday at least a half dozen times by then, it still made me chuckle every time.

"Alright, I'm out." Kane shook his head and headed to the kitchen.

Connor turned to me. "Ready to go?"

"Yeah, sure," I put my hand in his and we turned towards the door.

"Hey, Princess, don't forget about tomorrow." Blake called out from behind us.

"What's tomorrow?" Connor asked him.

"She's been helping me with a couple songs. She's gonna come to practice and listen to them." He looked back at me. "Tomorrow, right?" he asked.

I hesitated. "Well, yeah, if it's okay with everyone else."

"I told you, it's fine," he said without even looking at the others.

I looked back at Connor, unsure. " _Is_ it okay?" I asked.

"Why wouldn't it be?"

"Um -"

"See?" Blake broke in, still looking at me. "Not a problem."

"...okay, then," I agreed.

When we left the house, _I_ was the one who leant in to Connor's ear and whispered "Have you ever had sex on the roof of my apartment building?"

#

We scrambled up the fire escape and hopped over the wall onto the flat roof of the building. My feet had barely touched the ground before Connor grabbed me and pulled me into a deep kiss. He held my face in his palms as his lips moved over mine possessively.

I bunched my hands in his shirt and threw myself into the kiss, chasing the familiar surge of lust that started to bubble inside of me.

Connor's hands started to roam over my body. He was clutching at my breasts, shaping my waist, cupping my ass, all while he kissed me fiercely. It was dizzying, like he was trying to possess me.

All of a sudden, he roughly lifted me up to perch on the edge of an air-conditioning unit set back a little way from the wall. He pushed between my legs and I instantly wrapped them around his waist, using them to pull him in closer.

He stopped kissing me abruptly; pulling his head back to look down at me, his breath coming fast. "Did he try anything?" he asked a little shortly.

I frowned in confusion. "What? Who?"

"Blake. Who else?"

I tensed at the implication that I would _let_ Blake try anything. "No!" I scoffed. "Why would you think that?"

He shrugged, dropping his hands to my thighs. "Just seems weird him suddenly wanting you to come to practice."

"He wants me there because I don't know anything about music, he seems to think I represent clueless music fans or something," I gave him a wry look. "Kind of insulting if you think about it."

Connor's mouth twitched into the ghost of a smile. "No change there then."

"Nope," I leant up and brushed my lips lightly against his. "Same old Blake."

_Only it WASN'T_ , my inner voice whispered. _None of this afternoon was 'same old' anything._

I shoved the voice aside irritably, ignoring the weird sliver of unease that slinked through me. "Now, are you going to finish what you started?" I asked coyly, pressing my palms against his back and urging him closer to me.

He grinned. "Bet your ass I'll finish you off right here."

"Promises, promises..." I murmured before his lips met mine again in a hot kiss.

Then he was whipping off my shirt and unhooking my bra with a pinch of his skilled fingers before pulling it quickly away and landing his hot mouth on my nipples, sucking them into hardened nubs. A slight breeze played across my skin, sending goose bumps over my flesh as he started to alternate between using his mouth and rolling my nipples between his finger and thumb.

Soon I was panting and scrabbling at his belt buckle and the buttons of his jeans. I shoved my hand in his fly and felt the solid shaft in his boxers expanding, becoming harder. I started to stroke him through the fabric as he clutched me tighter, sucked me harder, tweaked my sensitive flesh more insistently.

Suddenly, he flipped up my skirt and dropped to his knees in front of me; then he was tugging my panties aside and his mouth was on me, his tongue sliding through my slick folds and curling around my clit. I gasped and slid my hands into his hair as he licked and sucked lightly, teasing me as desire coiled tighter inside of me. I rocked my hips forwards, trying to increase the pressure, but he moved with me, pulling back as I pushed forwards, keeping me on the edge, and never quite giving me enough.

"Connor," I moaned, tugging on his hair, when I couldn't stand his teasing anymore.

He pulled away from me, chuckling slyly as he stood between my legs and pulled a foil packet out of his pocket and tore it open with his teeth. I watched as he shoved his jeans and boxers down and curled a hand around the base of his cock, pumping it once, before positioning the condom at the top and rolling it down. I bit my lip and braced my hands on his shoulders as he positioned himself at my entrance.

Our eyes locked for a second before he shoved himself inside me, our flesh meeting with a slapping sound as he sheathed himself to the hilt. I felt myself contract around him and he grunted in response, his hands locking on my hips, holding me tight as he started to thrust forcefully. I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him into me, rocking into his strokes.

His mouth dropped to my neck and he kissed and nibbled along my collarbone. I let my head drop back, losing myself in the sensations, losing myself in _him_.

His pace quickened and he pulled his head back; my eyes flickered open in time to see him licking his thumb, slicking it with saliva before pressing it to my clit. He circled my sensitive nub a few times before he settled into a rhythm, rubbing me with steady strokes, sending contractions through my sex.

I gasped and moaned breathlessly, holding him tightly, wanting everything he had to give.

The touch of his thumb combined with the powerful strokes of his cock wound me tighter, pushing me quickly towards my release. Delicious waves of pleasure were crashing inside of me with every stroke.

I clung to him, pressing my mouth to his chest to stifle my cries as I came. When I started to relax against him, he grabbed my hips with both of his hands and redoubled his pace. His face was tense, his mouth set in a hard line as he thrust into me. Just a few furious strokes and he was coming too. I felt his cock spasm inside me, stroking my sensitive walls as he groaned his release into my hair.

We collapsed against each other, gasping, as the late afternoon came back into focus around us.

"What brought that on?" he asked as we pulled away from each other and started to get dressed.

I shot him a look. "Do I _need_ a reason to have sex with my boyfriend?"

He grinned as he fastened his belt. "When he looks like this? Guess not. But I mean _rooftop_ sex, not _sex_ sex."

"No reason," I said lightly.

But for some reason it felt like a lie.

#

The following day, I went with Connor to band practice, as promised. Unusually, we were the first to arrive and, as Derren and Kane tuned up, Connor sent me to the vending machine to grab everyone some coffee - I guess I was still the refreshment mule after all.

I was pumping quarters into the machine when I heard the door at the end of the hallway clang open. I turned to see Blake striding towards me. "Morning, Princess! You're early. Just couldn't wait for me to sing to you again, huh?" He called to me.

"Just here for the coffee..." I gestured to the machine.

"Yeah, whatever." He smirked.

"And you're just in time to carry these for me." I handed him two of the cups, before gathering up the other two. "Now you're a mule like me."

He cocked one eyebrow. "'Mule'?"

"Coffee, sodas, snacks...every time I watch you guys practice I'm the errand girl."

"Ah, I see, you're used to other people doing shit for _you_ , right Princess?"

"No! I'm kidding."

"Yeah. It's not like you're spoiled or anything." His smirk was still firmly in place.

I prickled. "I'm _not_ spoiled, I was joking!"

He started chuckling. "Okay. Definitely not spoiled. Which of these is for you by the way?"

"None of them."

"How come?" The gleeful expression on his face told me he knew exactly why.

"Shut up."

"No, seriously, I wanna know. You _loooove_ coffee. Why didn't you get one?"

"I just didn't want one."

"Liar!" he crowed. "Wouldn't be because that machine looks a little dirty would it? Maybe 'cause it's not up to your standards _hygienically_?"

He was right; only the machine was worse than he was making out, it looked like it had never been cleaned, with stains running down the front and scum floating in the overflow tray.

Blake grinned down at me, waiting for my reaction. I could see that he was trying to fluster me; he and Connor were so alike in that way, so instead I smiled sweetly. "We don't all have standards as low as yours, Blake," I said icily, before turning and walking back into the practice room.

He laughed loudly as he followed me inside. "Me and the mule brought your drinks, boys," he said as we distributed the coffees.

"You're late, man," Derren commented with a glint in his eye. "Not like you to be late."

"Was she worth it?" Kane asked.

That was when I figured out where the conversation was going: yet _another_ Blake Maxwell Conquest Story. For some reason though, Blake didn't look smug - he actually looked a little irritated.

"Worth what?" Connor asked, joining us.

"He drove all the way to Richfield for a hook up," Derren said.

Connor grinned. "No one left to bang here?"

"Yeah, he's exhausted all the females this side of the state line." Derren laughed.

_Gross_. I swallowed down my distaste, almost wishing I had gotten a coffee so that I could wash away the sour taste in my mouth.

"So, was she worth the four hour drive?" Kane prompted again.

Blake shrugged. "Eh, at least she paid for my gas."

Derren guffawed. "Shit, man! She pretty much paid you for sex!"

Blake smacked him over the back of the head. " _Gas_ , D. She paid for my _gas_."

"Yeah, so you could go bang her," Derren muttered as he backed away, rubbing his head.

"Let's just get started," Kane said, placing his coffee on the floor and picking out a riff on his bass.

Grateful for the abrupt subject change, I situated myself on a chair at the edge of the room, facing the band.

Then I watched, fascinated, as they put the new songs together.

Blake was like an architect or a painter, layering up the songs a piece at a time.

First, he showed Kane and Derren the melodies that he'd shown me yesterday and got them to arrange them on the guitar and bass until he was happy with them. Then they adapted and improved upon the basic tune until they had added their own personal twists and flourishes.

Then Blake kicked Connor off of the drums and showed him how he wanted certain parts of the percussion to sound, then stood back and switched between listening and instructing until they were both satisfied.

It was like watching a conductor at work. I hadn't ever seen them put the songs together before - I had only ever heard the finished product. It was interesting to watch. Blake would go at them with an initial idea about how something had to sound and he would make the others replicate it _exactly_ , but once they had it down, he allowed them to own it, improve it, and personalize it, until it was as much theirs as his. He was clearly incredibly possessive of his ideas, but once he had put them out there and shared them with the rest of the band, they became something that belonged to all of them.

"Okay, Princess, listen up!" Blake called across to me after about an hour and a half. "We'll start with your favorite."

He pointed to Kane and Derren who launched into a frantic riff. Connor steamed in with the percussion moments later. Blake looked right at me and nodded along with the beat for a few seconds before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, releasing it into the gravelly first line _"I can't work through this catch around my neck..."_

With the full band behind it, the song sounded completely different to the way that it had sounded yesterday, when Blake had sang it with just an acoustic guitar. Although it was rough and raw, only a first run through, it was still full of frenzied energy. It sounded kind of epic really, like a song for the masses.

When it ended, all that was left was the echoing vibrations of the guitars and drums, filling the practice space, finally giving way to the heavy breathing of the guys.

I realized that my face was starting to ache with the huge grin that I had stretched across it.

They were all staring at me.

"This is the part where you tell us what you think," Kane said.

"It's...it's different than I thought it was going to sound. It's weird, when you sang it yesterday it sounded kind of sad, but this time it sounded angrier -"

"That's all me," grinned Derren.

Connor snorted. "Drums bring the mood."

"That's why you're a moody fucker," Derren quipped.

"Shut up," growled Blake. Then he nodded to me. "Go on."

"I like the chorus but I kind of wanted it to be heavier, like maybe kick in a bit harder, because I felt like I was waiting for it to really _go off_ , if that makes sense?"

Blake nodded earnestly. "Yeah, we can do that."

"I honestly think it's the best song you've done. It's my favorite," I paused, considering. "For some reason, it kind of had a Pearl Jam vibe with those riffs Derren added, and the way you sang certain parts sort of reminded me of Eddie Vedder -"

"No shit?" Blake interrupted, raising a brow. "You just compared me to Eddie Vedder?"

"Um, yeah, your voice is deeper but you reminded me of him anyway... is that _bad_?"

"Bad? Are you fucking _kidding_ me? Vedder's, like, one of the best - seriously, no shit?"

I smiled at his reaction. "No shit."

"She wouldn't bullshit you, man," Kane said. "She likes insulting you too much."

"That's true," I agreed.

Blake grinned at me.

"Got a name for it?" Derren asked.

"I was just gonna call it _Longing_ ," Blake said.

"How about -" I caught myself. "Never mind," I said quickly.

"You have a better name than mine, Princess?" Blake asked sardonically.

"Um, no, probably not."

"Wouldn't take much to beat yours," Connor piped up before battering the drums in a short, quick-fire beat.

Ignoring him, Blake stalked towards me a few paces and beckoned me with both hands. "C'mon, Princess. Lay it on me." His voice was a smoky rumble as his sapphire eyes locked on mine.

#

THAT was the moment.

Right there, in the practice room, surrounded by the whole band - THAT was the moment that my body chose to clue me in on something that my sub, _sub_ , _SUB_ conscious had already figured out.

I was powerless to stop the flush that crept up my neck.

It was almost... _suggestive_ , the way he'd said that...and his body language was so _predatory_...

Time for complete honesty now, even though I feel like the biggest slut in history for saying it: I got turned on.

By my boyfriend's COUSIN, right in front of my boyfriend.

I felt like I had a huge neon sign above my head that read: _Completely TURNED ON over here! Look at my FACE, for God's sake, could I LOOK any more uncomfortable?!_

But apparently, everyone else in the room was absolutely oblivious. If they noticed my red face, they must have just assumed that it was embarrassment over not wanting to share my idea for a song title.

But my world had just been flipped on its head.

#

Because of that revelation, it took a second for me to re-engage my brain. "Um, it's - it's stupid, actually, probably not what you're going for at all." I leant around Blake. "Connor, tell them I suck at anything creative."

Connor wasn't looking at me; he was focused on his kit. "She sucks at anything creative," he parroted, before striking out a blast beat.

"See?" I looked back up at Blake. When our eyes met again, he cocked his head thoughtfully. "What?" I challenged sharply, my flush deepening - if that were possible.

"I want to know."

"It's silly."

"I still want to know."

I sighed in exasperation. "Forget it."

"No. Tell me," he commanded.

"He's not gonna quit 'til you tell him or one of us kills him," Kane said, clearly bored.

I rolled my eyes. "Fine. I was going to suggest _Bind of the Blue Collars_ , you know, because -"

"I get it," Blake cut me off. He considered for a second. "It's perfect, actually."

I blinked. "Really?!"

"Yeah..." He smiled down at me, and for a long moment, he just looked at me. I felt myself flush deeper under his gaze.

"Now that's decided, can we get on to the next one?" Connor's voice cut across the room. He sounded impatient, but I could have sworn there was a hint of anger there too.

"Sure," Blake said affably, before turning back to the band.

They ran through the other new song too, asking for my thoughts about that one as was well, before running through a few others for good measure. The whole time, I tried not to focus too much on Blake - which was kind of impossible considering he was singing _right at me_.

When they were done, Connor came over to me and took my hand. "Let's get out of here," he said, pulling me to my feet.

I almost sagged in relief as I linked my fingers with his. I felt like I needed to get away, my thoughts were a jumble.

"Hey, man, aren't you coming for food?" Derren asked as he snapped his guitar case shut.

"Nah." Connor shook his head. "Change of plans."

"What plans?" I asked, a little confused. Connor and I had made a sum total of _no_ plans for after practice.

"Hayley's meeting us," Derren said. "We were all gonna go to that Thai place on fifth."

"Oh..." I raised my eyebrows at Connor questioningly.

"You should come," Blake cut in.

I was positive that Connor's hold on my hand tightened just the _slightest_ bit as he looked at me, blatantly ignoring his cousin. " _Or_ we could do dinner and a movie, just us."

I didn't need to think about that for longer than half a second. I _needed_ to get away from Blake and the unwanted feelings that were spiraling through me. I squeezed Connor's hand and leant up to kiss his cheek. "Yeah, let's do that."

#

After that day at practice, I didn't start avoiding Blake _exactly_...oh, who am I kidding? I avoided him like the plague.

But that proved to be kind of impossible seeing as Connor was _living_ with him, so I just tried to avoid being _alone_ with him, which was pretty easy most of the time.

After all, we didn't really have any reason to be alone together.

And when it _did_ happen, it was purely by accident.

#

The glare of morning sunlight stained the inside of my eyelids red. I groaned and turned away, hiding my face from the too-bright light. I nestled my face into the warm body beside me and felt myself start to slip back towards sleep.

Then the warm body jerked - and catapulted me from the narrow couch onto the hard floor.

I shrieked in shock.

"Wha? Wha the fug?" Connor squinted at me sleepily over the edge of the couch.

"You knocked me off!" I accused.

Booming laughter filled the room. I frowned up at Connor, but it wasn't him. "Damn, I wish I had that on film!" Kane's voice sounded strangled. "That was priceless!"

I stood up and glared at him.

He was standing in the kitchen, cereal bowl in hand and a spoon half way to his mouth, his face was beet red as he doubled up laughing. At the sight of me standing there, staring him down, he started to cough. "Shit!" he gasped. "Fruit Loop went down wrong."

"Serves you right!" I said, trying desperately not to laugh.

Connor sat up and scrubbed his hands over his face, yawning. "Thought you weren't staying over," he said wryly.

I plopped back down next to him and tried to smooth my rumpled shirt. "That last movie was too boring, I couldn't help falling asleep." We were both still fully dressed. " _Anvil_ is not for me," I muttered.

Kane sat on the couch across from us, now fully recovered and eating his cereal again. "I'm gonna take the bike out to the desert again today. You wanna come?" He was looking at Connor.

Connor glanced at me. "Amy's here..." I could hear the regret in his voice and knew that he wanted to go.

"It's okay," I said. "Go, Connor, we can hang out later."

Connor looked at me, doubt in his eyes. "Are you sure?" he asked. "You're not gonna get mad again?"

I _really_ resented that comment, but I didn't want to bite in front of Kane. So I rolled my eyes and grinned instead. "It's fine. Go. Have fun. To be honest, I should probably study anyway."

"Awesome, man," Kane said, obviously taking our exchange as acceptance of his invitation. "We should all get out of here anyway," he continued quietly. "You know what day it is?" He raised his eyebrows at Connor.

Connor sighed. "Shit, yeah, I forgot. We should go."

"What?" I asked.

"It's the anniversary of my aunt's death. We should all clear out. Blake will want us gone."

Understanding hit me, Blake's mother died on this day.

Of course he would want to be alone.

I got to my feet and started to fold Connor's blankets neatly onto the couch. Connor disappeared to the bathroom for a few minutes, then re-emerged and shoved on his sneakers.

"I'll just use the bathroom and freshen up," I said, gesturing to my rumpled clothes - and no doubt puffy eyes. "Then I'll take off."

Connor nodded and crossed the room, pecking a kiss to my lips. Then he and Kane left - it seemed like they couldn't get out of there fast enough.

I grabbed my cosmetic bag out of my purse and went into the bathroom and washed up. I washed my face and brushed my teeth with the spare toothbrush that I kept in the bathroom cabinet. As I was brushing my hair, I heard music start to blare through the wall, from Blake's room. It was loud and angry - I recognized _Duality_ by Slipknot among others.

It made me wince. I could only imagine his pain.

I pulled open the door and walked back to the couch, picking up my purse and throwing in my cosmetic bag, phone and the few other things that I'd left lying around. Suddenly, the music got louder and I looked up to see Blake's door opening.

He stepped out of his room and stopped short, scowling at me. "Fuck, I thought you all left," he said, gruffly.

"The guys have gone. I'm just getting my stuff and then I'm going too."

He grunted and walked into the kitchen, opening the fridge and staring into it for a minute before shutting it again, empty handed. Then he just stood, one hand resting flat on the front of the fridge. His back was to me so I couldn't see his face, but I could see the tension in his shoulders and back.

I felt awful for him.

I shrugged in to my jacket and gathered up my purse, hooking it over my shoulder, before turning towards the front door. But I couldn't bring myself to leave. I turned back to look at him; he was still leaning on the fridge.

He looked so alone.

"Blake?" I said. He didn't reply, but I saw his fingers turn white against the fridge door. "Are you okay?"

"No."

Well, that was...honest.

"Kane told me what day it is. Is there anything I can do?"

He sighed deeply and turned to face me. I could see the tension around his eyes and his jaw was clenched. "What could you do?" The question seemed genuine, it wasn't a taunt.

I opened my mouth to answer, but found that I couldn't think of anything to say.

He snorted, shook his head slightly, and then walked back into his bedroom. The music stopped abruptly and then he emerged back into the living area. "I'm going to the cemetery," he said. "If you're ready to leave now I can lock up." He walked past me and grabbed his keys, then opened the front door and stood back, waiting for me to leave.

"I could come with you," I offered.

His eyes narrowed. "To my mom's grave? Why would you want to do that?"

"My grandma died when I was ten," I blurted out.

Blake closed his eyes briefly. "Look, I can't do this right now -"

"I know, Blake," I walked towards him. "But just listen, just for a minute, please?"

He shook his head and sighed again, but he made no move to leave.

"She was my mom's mom," I continued. "I don't remember a lot about her, but I do remember how devastated my mom was when she died. She cried for days, it was horrible. And every year, on the anniversary of my grandma's death, my dad goes with her to the cemetery to visit her grave. My mom visits her grave by herself all the time, but for some reason, on the anniversary of my grandma's death, my dad _always_ goes with her. Because its worse, isn't it? Today, it's worse?"

Blake was staring at me. When I stopped talking, he nodded almost imperceptibly.

"Okay," I said firmly. "Then I'll drive."

We stopped at a gas station on the way to the cemetery and, while I filled the tank, Blake picked out a colorful bunch of flowers. It was a vibrant bouquet of oranges, yellows, reds and blues - the colors looked artificial, like they'd been spray painted on; they were garish, not particularly tasteful, but cheerful and carefree.

He noticed me eyeing the flowers as he climbed back into the car. "Not stylish enough for you, Princess?" he asked with a slight edge in his voice.

"Actually I like them. They're fun. All the others looked a little boring."

A faint smile crossed his lips. "I picked the right ones then," he said quietly.

The cemetery was vast and sprawling, a green and fertile spread of land with tombstones jutting up like teeth from the gums of the earth. The powder blue sky stretched above and the place was alive with the chatter of birds. It was a contradiction; so much life in a place of death.

I walked a little behind Blake, following him as he wove through the graves. When we reached a tree with an iron bench at its base, he gestured to it. "Wait there."

"You don't want me to come with you?"

"She's just over there." He pointed to a modest headstone a couple of rows away. I could see the inscription engraved on the front: _Louisa Maxwell. Loving mother and wife._

"Okay. Take as long as you need. I'll be here."

Blake nodded and turned away.

I sat on the cold bench and watched him approach the grave. I saw him crouch down and lay the flowers down tenderly; then he sank to the ground and sat, elbows propped on his knees, with his head bowed.

My eyes misted, watching him there. I wanted so desperately to comfort him, to make him feel less alone. He'd told me to stay put but, after a while, I couldn't stand it any longer. I stood up and approached him; when I was a few feet away he lifted his head and looked at me.

His face was etched with grief and rising anger. "I said to _wait there_."

I knelt down next to him. "I know." I slid an arm around his shoulders, but he was so broad that I had to stop short and place my palm on the crook of his neck instead. I waited for him to pull away, but he didn't, he just stared at me, a world of emotion swirling in the depths of his eyes.

"What are you doing?" he asked softly.

"Comforting a friend," I said, without missing a beat.

He raised his eyebrows a tiny bit.

I offered him a small smile. "Didn't you know? All the best friendships are built on mutual dislike."

He grunted a brief half-laugh and then turned his head away, fixing his gaze on the headstone. After a moment I leant my head against his shoulder, offering comfort the only way I knew how.

We sat like that for a long time, surrounded by the cheerful calls of the sparrows and swifts.

#

The sound of a deep, male voice behind us made us both jump. "Son? Thought I might see you here."

Blake was on his feet almost instantly, leaving me kneeling on the grass, gazing up at the man towering over me. A man who was tall and broad, with dark hair flecked with grey. He looked to be around mid-forties. I knew who he must be, but there was very little similarity between him and Blake facially. In fact, he looked more similar to Connor in that regard, but then their fathers were brothers - so I guess Connor took on more of the Maxwell looks, and Blake must look more like his mother. The older man's blue eyes and dark hair were identical to Blake's though.

I quickly scrambled to my feet beside Blake.

"That's funny, _Dad_ , 'cause I didn't for a second think I'd see you here." Blake's voice dripped with malice.

"I come here a lot, son, you'd know that if you ever spoke to me." The older man spoke calmly.

Blake snorted derisively. "Since when do you care about that?"

"I've called you lots of times, been to the house too - and you know it."

The two men stared at one another silently and I could feel the tension rolling off of Blake in waves, cloying the air around us.

Suddenly, the older man's eyes flicked towards me and he looked a little abashed. "I'm Nate Maxwell, Blake's father." He held out a big hand to me.

I hesitated for a second before I shook it, the hostility in Blake's face making me cautious. "Amy Scott," I said. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Maxwell."

It was a lie.

Nothing about that moment was nice, but I had no idea what else to say.

"Nice to meet you too, Amy. Please, call me Nate. Mr. Maxwell's too formal."

"Okay -"

"You done?" Blake cut in, stepping closer to his father, his stance hostile.

"Just introducing myself to your girlfriend, Son, I don't mean any harm."

I immediately got flustered. "Oh, I'm not his -"

"You don't get to fucking do that," Blake interrupted, but he wasn't looking at me, he was still focused intently on Nate. His voice was hard as he continued. "You had your chance for all that."

"I'm trying to make amends, if you'd just _let_ me -"

"No."

"Son, listen..." Nate was pleading, and I couldn't help the feeling of pity welling up inside of me. Blake was an immoveable force when he'd made his mind up about something. I could see by the expression on Nate's face that he knew he was fighting a losing battle, but he ploughed on regardless. "...just give me the chance to know you again."

"No." Blake made to walk away.

"It's what _she_ would have wanted." Nate pointed at the pale tombstone. "She wouldn't have wanted us to be strangers."

Quicker than my eyes could follow, Blake rammed into his father with both hands, knocking him flailing across the grass. "DON'T YOU _EVER_ TALK TO ME ABOUT WHAT SHE WOULD'VE WANTED!" he roared, the tendons in his neck standing out like writhing snakes.

The prone figure on the ground cringed under his fury.

I should have been terrified. I knew that. I had never seen anyone that angry, not even Connor. The depth of rage that was bubbling out of Blake was tangible and fierce. It _should_ have frightened the hell out of me.

But he didn't scare me.

I reached out and curled my hand gently around his forearm. The muscles were rigid under my touch. "Blake, don't do this here," I said, forcing as much calm into my voice as I could muster.

His eyes flicked to me and then away again.

"You're better than this." I gave his arm a little squeeze. "Blake, you're so much better than this." I repeated.

Abruptly, he pulled his arm away, _wrenched_ it away, really. Then he was striding away through the cemetery.

I turned to follow him.

"Never thought I'd see the day he listened to somebody else," Nate said diffidently. He was pushing himself to his feet shakily; it was strange to see such a big man look so small.

"I don't know if I'd call that _listening_ exactly," I said dubiously. My eyes were following Blake's back as he made his way towards my car.

"You known my boy long?" Nate asked.

I turned back to him to see him looking at me with a hint of desperation in his expression. Maybe a hunger for information? I wasn't sure I should give him any. Not after the way Blake had just shut him down. It felt disloyal to talk about him with a man he clearly didn't want anything to do with.

"Um, I should probably go." I gestured across the cemetery. Blake was leaning on the car, his back to us.

Nate nodded and smiled sadly. "You seem like a good girl. It's nice to know he has someone who cares for him."

"I - um, yeah," I stammered. I thought about clarifying the situation, making it clear that Blake and I were just friends, but I honestly didn't see the point. So instead I just said "He has a lot of people who care about him."

As I started to walk away, Nate called after me, "Amy? Has he ever told you...do you know _why_ he won't speak to me?"

I turned back to face him. "Mr. Maxwell -"

"Nate."

"Right. Nate. I don't really feel - I mean, I'm not comfortable talking with you about this behind his back."

He let out a long breath. "I guess I can respect that. Would you do me a favor?"

"That depends on what it is."

He smiled a little at that. "Alright. Would you tell him I'm sorry for the way I treated him, for everything I did?"

I bit my lip, feeling conflicted. I wanted to help Nate, something about him seemed so pathetic - but there was no way I would force Blake to talk about something that clearly caused him a lot of pain.

"I can see you're not going to make any promises," he said after a moment.

"I'm sorry -"

"Don't be. You're loyal to him. Never apologize for that."

#

When I reached Blake he was a wall of strain, hands bunched into fists at his sides, jaw clenched so hard it was a wonder his teeth weren't shattering.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"Can we just go?" His deep voice rumbled darkly.

"Of course." I unlocked the car and got in quickly, glancing at Blake as he settled into the passenger seat. He was pointedly _not_ looking back at the cemetery. His eyes were fixed on the dash. I took the hint and got us out of there.

I automatically started to drive back downtown, but half way there I got a better idea. I pulled into a parking lot outside a bar and grill that I'd gone to with the band a few times. It was called Rib Eyes and I remembered they did incredible ribs.

When I shut off the engine, Blake double blinked, as though waking from a daydream. He peered around in mild confusion. "What are we doing here?"

"Lunch," I said. "I'm starving. Are you hungry?"

"Not really."

"Come in with me anyway?"

For the first time since the cemetery he looked at me. "You don't have to do this."

"Do what? Eat?"

His eyes flared with minor frustration. "You know what I mean. I'll be okay, you don't have to worry."

"Me? Worry about you?" I shot him a derisive look.

"Yeah, right, forgot who I was talking to there for a minute."

"This is _all_ about me. You know I can't function without food."

A small grin flitted over his mouth, but it didn't reach his eyes. "You _are_ high maintenance."

"Oh, really?"

"That's what I hear."

"I'll bet you do," I narrowed my eyes at him. "Come on, you can tell me what else my boyfriend says about me behind my back." I teased as I grabbed my purse and got out of the car.

"Shit, I walked straight into that one," he complained half-heartedly as we walked towards the grill.

The mouth watering aromas of barbequed meat greeted us as we entered the dim interior. It was all hardwood floors and chunky oak tables with red leather chairs. There was a bull's head mounted on the wall over the bar and each table had a low hanging rawhide-covered lamp overhead.

The waitress, a tall, curvy blonde who looked like she'd just finished up a photo shoot with Victoria's Secret, led us to a table at the back of the restaurant. Standing next to her, I suddenly felt very conscious of the fact that I had no make-up on and was still wearing yesterday's clothes. She flirted with Blake as she took our drinks order, touching his shoulder and giggling - which made her look kind of silly, because he didn't even say anything funny.

"So, Aiden's really keeping you guys busy, huh?" I asked, after she had walked away, trying to pick a topic I knew he liked to talk about.

His eyes lit up a tiny bit. "Yeah, he's got a lot lined up. Did Con tell you we start recording the EP next week?"

"Yeah, that's exciting."

"We only got a week in the studio to do it, and obviously we have work during the day, so we've got an engineer who's willing to record through the night. Once the tracks are down and mixed we can start the promotion. The tour's been confirmed too, for real."

"That's amazing - I can't believe you guys are going to have to record through the night though. Can't you get time off work?"

"Nah, our foreman won't give us any more time off. We've called in all the favors we had stored up over the last few months when we needed time off for shows and interviews and shit. Derren and Kane can maybe get their stuff recorded during the day - Aiden's still working out the details."

"It's a shame you guys can't quit work yet."

"Tell me about it, but you know how it is."

As a matter of fact, I did. I'd been privy to enough of Derren's off the cuff tirades on 'Band Business 101' - as I'd dubbed them internally - to understand that you had to wait for the right time to take the leap and put everything into the band, a point where there could be no going back. That point was already scheduled in for Sons of Sinners - the arena tour with Divide was looming on the horizon.

"Well, it's only a couple of months away now, right? Then you'll be living the dream." I smiled at him; I _was_ excited for them, but every time I thought of them going away I couldn't help feeling a little sad.

"Yeah, it's not long," Blake agreed, watching me closely.

I looked down and forced myself to focus on the menu. "You want to split the meat platter?"

He smirked wickedly. "You want the _Jumbo_ Meat or can you only handle the _Medium_ Meat?"

I rolled my eyes, trying not to smile. "Grow up."

"Can't. It's like I got stuck at fifteen."

I shook my head. "You're unbelievable."

"That's what they tell me." He winked.

"Sure they do," I laughed, shaking my head again.

The waitress appeared to drop off our drinks. I looked up to see her turn a dazzling smile on Blake, but he wasn't looking at her. He was focused on me, a slight smirk still pulling at his lips.

I felt a warm sensation pool in my stomach - swiftly followed by a now familiar feeling of guilt.

"We'll get the Jumbo Meat Platter to share," Blake said, eyes still locked on me, even when she lightly touched his arm before walking away - well, more like _sashaying_ away.

We sat in silence for a few moments, sipping our Cokes, until he spoke again. "Y'know, I never really had this before."

"You never had what before? The Jumbo Meat platter?"

He grinned. "No. I mean a _girl_ friend, as in a girl who's a friend."

"So you admit we're friends now?" I raised my eyebrows teasingly.

"Well, y'know, apparently all the best friendships are built on mutual dislike."

"Whoever told you that must be very smart."

"Well, she has her moments - maybe - _some_ times."

"Wow, that was _almost_ a compliment. And to think, when we first met, you hated me on sight."

He winced and chuckled simultaneously. "Nah, not really."

"Oh, no?"

He shook his head and took a long drink of his Coke, letting the silence stretch and making no move to fill it.

The waitress sashayed back over with our food and placed the steaming platter of assorted meat cuts in front of us, along with two plates. For several minutes we didn't talk, just wolfed our food down. I hadn't realized quite how hungry I was.

"This is amazing," I said, gnawing on a rib.

"You should try the pulled pork, it's delicious."

"This from the guy who wasn't hungry," I said, pointing my rib, now picked clean, at him.

"Yeah, but you knew better."

I grinned at him and spooned some of the pork onto my plate before piling a generous helping onto my fork and popping it into my mouth.

"Fuck me, that's a lot of meat you got in your mouth there, Princess." His eyes were dancing with amusement at his own joke.

I tried to fight the blush that was rising on my cheeks, narrowing my eyes at him as I chewed and swallowed. "How long have you been waiting to say that?"

"Too long, since the food arrived, but you just kept eating the damn ribs."

"And do you feel better now you've got it out of your system?"

He chuckled. "Yeah, I do actually."

I snorted and shook my head at him before taking another bite, daring him with my eyes to make another comment. But he didn't, and silence descended again, until he broke it a few minutes later. "So, Con said you've been really busy with college recently?"

"...yeah," I answered cautiously, it was an area where Connor and I tended to disagree. He couldn't seem to understand why I sometimes got so uptight about getting good grades. I thought it was pretty freaking _obvious_ why.

"I never asked you what area of Business you study."

I blinked in mild surprise at his interest. "Um, Entrepreneurship."

"Yeah? So you wanna run your own business someday?"

"I think so. I'm not a hundred percent sure what I want to do, to be honest. Maybe - I don't know..." I trailed off, feeling a little self conscious.

"What? Tell me," he demanded.

"Well, I was always kinda interested in owning my own venue for live music."

His eyebrows flew up. "Shit, really?"

"Yeah, why's that surprising?"

"I don't know, I guess it shouldn't be really. You're into music after all. I just figured you'd end up working for some huge dot-com company or something."

"Well, who knows, maybe I will. Like I said, I haven't really decided."

"You got time to figure it out though, right? You're only young."

I snorted. "You say that like you're _so_ much older."

He shrugged and grinned. "I guess sometimes four years seems like a lot."

"You're only three years older now, actually."

"Thought you were nineteen?"

"Well, see, I had this thing called a _birthday_."

"I missed your birthday? Shit, I had big plans for that." He shook his head ruefully.

"Uh, what?" I asked, surprised that he would have _any_ plans relating to my birthday - then I noticed that his smirk had re-surfaced.

"I was gonna try and top my last gift." He winked suggestively.

I remembered his horrible prank Christmas gift that I had unwittingly opened in front of my - very distressed \- parents. "Then thank God you missed it!"

He laughed. "C'mon, you gotta admit it was funny."

"My parents were horrified!"

He laughed harder. "Oh shit, sorry."

"No you're not!" I tried to sound annoyed but by then I was giving in to the giggles myself.

"You shoulda seen what I was gonna buy," he chuckled. "What you ended up with was tame."

I put my hands over my ears, scrunching my eyes shut. "La la la! Don't wanna know!"

He smacked his palm on the table as he doubled up laughing.

Just then the waitress reappeared and asked if we were done with our food.

"Nah," Blake answered, taking a breath to calm his laughter. "We're still eating, we just got caught up."

After she disappeared again, we returned to our food. The mood between us was light and comfortable, and I was loathe to ruin it, but I knew I couldn't ignore what Blake's father had said to me - what he'd asked me to say to Blake.

"Blake?" I said, tentatively.

He looked at me questioningly. "That's a serious look."

My stomach knotted, I knew that this could go _so_ wrong. "At the cemetery, after you walked away, your dad asked me to tell you something..." I trailed off and bit my lip, waiting for his anger and bitterness to bubble up again.

His blue gaze darkened. "Did he upset you?"

"Oh, no, nothing like that."

He frowned and leant forward, his right hand moving across the table, towards mine. My fingers tingled at the anticipation of his touch, but then his hand stopped abruptly an inch from mine.

It sounds _ridiculous,_ but I was mesmerized by the sight of our hands so close together; his long, thick fingers almost touching my slender ones.

"Princess?" Blake's deep voice brought me to my senses and I pulled my eyes away from our hands and focused on his face again.

"I just wasn't sure if you'd want to talk about him," I admitted. "Do you want to know what he said? I understand if you don't, but I wouldn't have felt right if I didn't at least mention it."

He looked away and appeared to consider my words for a few seconds. "Sure. Tell me."

"He said that he wanted me to tell you that he was sorry for how he treated you and for the things he did."

Blake grunted and nodded, like I wasn't telling him anything he didn't already know.

"He did...seem really sorry," I ventured.

He kept staring into the distance. "You know why I hate him." It was a statement, not a question.

"Yeah, I do." I reached out and touched the back of his hand softly.

Lightening quick, he lifted his hand and caught mine, linking our fingers together, so that we were holding hands, palm to palm. At the same time, he looked me dead in the eye. There was something swirling in the depths of his sapphire gaze that I couldn't identify.

But I wanted to.

I wanted to know what he was thinking.

His grip on my hand tightened. "Why do you care about me?" He demanded.

"What?" I gasped.

"I've been a dick to you more times than I can count. Why do you care about me?" he repeated.

"What do you mean?" My voice wavered.

"Is it 'cause I'm Connor's cousin? Are you nice to me for _him_? Is this all for him?" He was looking at me intently, like he was searching for answers in my eyes.

My blood was pumping in my temples; all I could focus on was the feel of his huge hand encasing mine, the way our fingers interlaced seamlessly. I was struggling to form a coherent thought. I bit my lip in consternation, knowing I should pull my hand away, but unable to actually do it.

"Fuck," Blake muttered gruffly. Abruptly, he dropped my hand and rubbed his palm on his thigh, like he was trying to erase the feel of my skin on his. He closed his eyes for a second and when he opened them again, the intensity had dulled. "Sorry, Princess. It's been a weird ass day. Just forget I said anything."

"Um...yeah, okay," I said quietly, looking down at my hands that were now clenched tightly on my lap. "I really have to study this afternoon. We should maybe get the check?"

I looked back up to see him already scanning the restaurant, looking for the waitress. She was serving a family a few tables away and Blake caught her eye easily. "Can we get the check, darlin'?" he called over. I was pretty sure his deep voice was deliberately seductive, especially the way he lingered on that last word.

Jealousy and relief crashed together inside of me - my emotions were _so_ messed up.

When the waitress deposited the check on the table, I grabbed for it, but so did Blake. Our fingers touched and we both immediately tensed, jolting our hands away.

Things were going from awkward to excruciating _reeeal_ fast.

"I'll get this," I said. "It was my idea to get something to eat in the first place."

"You're not getting it, Princess." Blake swiped the check quickly and pulled his wallet out of his pocket.

"Blake -"

"No. This is on me."

"At least let's go halves."

"Not happening. You're a broke student. I'm rich as fuck. Have you seen where I live?" he added sardonically.

I couldn't help a small smile at his joke. "The Downtown Palace?"

He returned my tentative grin. "That's the one."

"It _is_ pretty luxurious."

"Right?"

"Comes complete with a homeless person on your couch," I quipped, then instantly regretted it. The reference to Connor made my guilt flow back through me at full force.

It must have affected Blake too because all the humor dropped from his face. He stood and threw some bills on the table. "Let's go."

I followed him out of the restaurant and we headed towards my car in silence. I looked everywhere but at him. When we reached my car I finally glanced at over him; his expression was carefully blank. "Thank you for today, Princess," he said sincerely. "Study hard, okay?" He turned to walk away.

"Hey!" I called after him. "You don't want a ride?"

"Nah," he called over his shoulder. "Think I'll take a walk."

Despite how wrong I knew it was, I couldn't help feeling disappointed as I watched him walk away.

#

After that day at Rib Eyes, I stepped up my _Avoid Blake At All Costs_ agenda to new heights. I resolved to do everything I could not to spend time alone with him - not that _he_ was exactly beating down the door to spend time alone with me either.

It helped that, not long afterwards, Connor found himself a new place to live. Once I found out about that, I was able to comfort myself with the knowledge that the chance of Blake and I randomly seeing each other - apart from at shows or socially, in a group - would fall to a _tiny_ percentage.

The thing is, the universe apparently had other ideas.

#

I staggered up the few remaining steps and turned down the hallway, the cardboard box in my arms becoming heavier with every step.

"What the _hell_ does he have in here?" I muttered to myself as I shoulder-barged the partially open apartment door and half-dropped, half-placed the box on the floor. "That's the last of them," I said, straightening up and wiping the sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand.

"Thanks."

Connor's back was to me. He was leaning over the back of the TV, fiddling with the wires back there.

I put my hands on my hips and looked around the small studio apartment. There was a bed and a couch that had both seen better days, and a few more cardboard boxes dumped haphazardly around the place. The small kitchenette sported faded yellow linoleum with a myriad of old stains splattering its surface. Apart from the small window in the bathroom, there was only one other window in the tiny apartment. It led to a rickety fire escape that creaked in the light wind.

Connor straightened up and took a few steps backwards, away from the TV, before glancing at me and ceremoniously pressing a button on the remote. The small TV flared to life. "Yes! I'm done!" He flopped down on the couch and grinned up at me.

"You're not going to unpack the rest of this stuff?"

"Later. You want coffee?"

"Is this you really asking _me_ to make _you_ coffee? Wait, do you even have coffee?"

He smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand. "Shit! No."

I laughed and plopped down next to him. "The thing about having your own place is that you _also_ have to get your own groceries." I looked over at the little kitchenette. "You don't have a kettle either, by the way."

He followed my gaze. "Dammit. What else don't I have?"

"You want me to make you a list?" When he didn't answer I looked at him.

He was wincing and nodding like, _I'm SO out of my depth_.

I couldn't help giggling at his hopelessness. I leant towards him, kissing him and wrapping my arms around his neck. "You want to get takeout for dinner? That place down the street does great noodles."

He suddenly looked uncomfortable. "Uh, well, I can't really do dinner tonight. I promised the guys I'd meet them at Filthy's."

I deflated. I had barely seen Connor properly in weeks; he was busy with the band almost every second that he wasn't at work.

"Oh, okay," I said. "But I thought you had a night off tonight?"

"Well...I do." He shifted a little and I released my hold on his neck and sat up straighter, looking at him for an explanation. "I'm meeting Matt and Luke. I haven't seen them in a while, I've been so busy with the band. I promised I'd catch up with them."

"Oh, well, I could come?" I asked tentatively, even though I knew his answer before he even said it.

"Yeah...but it's just the guys tonight."

_Of course it is_ , Bitter Amy piped up. _His only night off from the band in forever and he would rather spend it with his idiot friends than me_.

I got to my feet, but before I could move away, he grabbed my hand and pulled me back down to the couch. "Hey!" I cried, unable to mask my irritation.

"Stay here tonight?" he asked, pinning me with his green eyes.

"What? But you're going out."

"But if you stay _here_ , you'll be _here_ when I get home." He cupped my cheek and leaned in, nibbling my bottom lip lightly. "I like the thought of you here waiting for me." He grinned as I huffed and rolled my eyes, then pulled back and freed his wallet from his jean pocket, handing me a ten. "Get yourself some of those noodles, watch some TV, unpack some of my crap -" he grinned wider as I smacked his arm "- and I'll see you when I get home."

For a few seconds I didn't say anything.

My choices sucked.

If I stayed, I knew that I'd feel pathetic, waiting all night for him to come home - and when he _did_ come home he would probably be wasted.

But if I _didn't_ stay, I would probably spend all night wishing I was there and wondering if I'd made the wrong choice.

I wanted to act aloof and go back to my place...but I wanted him to come home to me at the end of the night too.

Like I said, my choices sucked...

"Okay," I eventually agreed, quietly.

He grinned and kissed me on the forehead; then headed to the bathroom to take a shower and get ready.

Half an hour later he was gone and I was still sitting on his couch, watching some crappy made-for-TV-movie.

#

Connor didn't have any drapes in his apartment.

I had added them to the long list of stuff that he needed to buy while I was puttering around, alone, in his apartment the night before.

So, the sunlight woke me early the next morning; it bathed almost the whole apartment. Even though there was only one window, it was _big_ and the apartment was _small_ , so there wasn't anywhere to hide from the solar glare.

I sat up in bed and rubbed my eyes free of sleep, yawning into my palms. I had gotten tired and gone to bed before Connor came home the night before and as I stretched, I looked at the bed next to me, expecting to see him sprawled out, asleep and heading towards a monster hangover.

But he wasn't there.

"Connor?" I called, glancing around the empty space. When I didn't see him, I figured there was only one other place he could be. I padded across to the bathroom and peeked inside, half expecting him to be passed out next to the toilet.

But - no Connor.

I walked back out into the main room and looked around dumbly.

The realization that he hadn't come home the night before set my heart hammering in my chest. I grabbed for my phone, expecting a text or a missed call, something to show me that he at least tried to explain.

Nothing.

This feels familiar.

My mind wandered back to our first night together; him leaving the motel and not coming back. Then I thought about the night he stood me up; how days later I'd gone to him, only to face his drug-fuelled anger. All the times he'd just seemed to drop out of my life for a few days...

Where is he?

Then another thought snaked its way into my brain.

What if he's with someone else?

The question of his fidelity had never seriously crossed my mind before. Oh, I knew, I had _seen_ , that he flirted with groupies, but I had never actually thought that he would _do_ anything.

Standing alone in the quiet of his apartment, my guts clenched as I really considered it...was it really such a stretch that he _would_ do something? Especially if I wasn't there? And especially if we hadn't been getting along so great recently?

I stomped into the bathroom, splashed some cold water on my face and swilled my mouth out with some mouthwash I found in Connor's duffel bag; then I dressed quickly, pulling my clothes on roughly.

Whatever his reason for not coming home, I wanted to be _out_ of there by the time he eventually did show up - because not coming home was _one_ thing, but not even dropping me a single lousy text message to explain was inexcusable.

When the apartment intercom buzzed, I almost jumped out of my skin. I ran the few feet across the room and pressed the button. "Connor?!" I practically shouted. "I'm buzzing you in."

I released the button and stepped back, my mind whirring; _If he lost his keys...then why didn't he call?_

A few minutes later there was a knock at the door. I flung it open, expecting to see Connor standing there looking worse for wear, with a contrite look on his face.

But it wasn't Connor.

It was Blake.

Disappointment and exhilaration surged through me in equal measure - and I wanted to SLAP myself _so_ hard.

"What are _you_ doing here?" I asked, completely confused.

"Giving Con a ride to work, like I do _every_ morning." His deep voice held a note of amusement.

I blinked and took in his clothes. Scruffy and old, a little ragged here and there, heavy work boots that had seen _much_ better days. The V neck of his t-shirt revealed a little of the ink on his chest and, despite my anxiety over Connor, my eyes were drawn to it like a bee to honey.

Catching myself, I snapped my eyes back to his face. "Well...that's probably going to be a problem." I turned and walked back into the apartment. I heard the heavy tread of his boots on the wooden floor behind me. "He's not here," I said quietly.

"You make him run out to get you your morning latte, Princess?"

I shook my head and bit my lip. This was mortifying. I was going to have to admit to Blake that I had no idea where Connor was.

"It's okay, I can wait a few minutes. We can't have you going without your morning coffee, can we?"

_He's making fun of me now, wait 'til he hears the truth,_ I thought wryly.

I forced myself to turn and face him. Something in my expression must have shown my distress, because his look of amusement slipped and he stepped closer. "Hey, you okay?" His voice had dropped, it was softer.

I took the plunge. "I don't know where he is. He went out last night and he didn't come home." I held my breath, waiting for him to burst into laughter or make a stupid joke.

But he did neither of those things.

Instead, he took another step towards me, his frown deepening. "Where did he go?"

"Out with Matt and Luke. To Filthy's."

He let out a sigh and tilted his head back. "Dumb fuck," he murmured.

"You think he's okay?" I asked quietly.

He chuckled disdainfully. "He'll be fine. Don't worry about him. He can take care of himself." He looked back at me. "Did you call him?"

"Not yet."

He dug his phone out of his pocket and tapped at it, before putting it to his ear. He turned away from me and started pacing slowly back and forth across the apartment. "Fucking voicemail," he muttered. "Hey, Con, it's me. I'm at your place now - and guess what? _No_ fucking you. If you don't get your ass on site today, Barry's gonna blow a fucking gasket after all the time we've missed. Fair warning, buddy." He stopped pacing with his back to me and lowered his voice. "And call your damn girlfriend." Then he hung up and turned back to me, anger igniting his eyes. "You waited here all night for him?" he demanded.

I stared at him, biting my lip. "Yeah...he asked me to stay over -"

"Then he went _out_?!"

I felt my cheeks heating. Hearing him say it out loud made me feel stupid. _He_ made me feel stupid...and mixed up. And that made me mad. "I thought we covered that?" I snapped. " _Yes_ , he asked me to stay over _then_ went out drinking with his buddies and _no_ he didn't come home and he didn't call and here I am standing here like a...a... _fucking_ idiot! _Again_!" I swiped angrily at the tear that had escaped to my cheek.

Blake's eyebrows rose at my outburst - I knew why, I hardly ever dropped the F bomb - then swept down into a hard scowl when he caught sight of my tears. I started to turn away from him but before I could, he'd crossed the room in a couple of long strides and reached out, encasing my upper arm in his rough hand.

The touch of his skin on mine sent a bolt of energy through me, shocking me to my core. My sharp inhale of breath pulled his scent into my nose. Musk and spice and a hint of deodorant. My knees almost buckled as the shock in my core ignited into something else.

Something that was _so wrong_.

I scrunched my eyes shut, trying to get a hold of myself.

"Look at me." His voice was deep and calm, soothing even. I opened my eyes and found that I was staring at his chest. He was so much taller that I had to tip my head right back to see his face.

Then I almost wished I hadn't.

His incredible blue eyes were shimmering like a glacier in the sunlight. He bent his head towards mine and for a fraction of a second I thought he was going to kiss me.

Fear and longing raged inside me.

"You are _not_ a fucking idiot," he said sternly. "Con's my cousin, and I look out for him before anyone else, but in this situation, _he_ is the fucking idiot, _not_ you." He paused and took a deep breath. "You want me to go find him?"

I blinked and my mouth dropped open a little. "Do you think he's in trouble?"

He sighed. "Honestly? No."

"How can you be so sure?"

"I just am."

" _How_ though, Blake? Doesn't even a small part of you think that he could be hurt or...something?" I was grasping at straws, I knew it, and Blake sounded _so_ sure...then something dawned on me. "He's done this before...hasn't he?" I breathed.

"Just go home. Wait for him to call -"

" _Hasn't_ he?!" The blood was pounding in my temples.

"Fuck." Blake released my arm and stepped back. "You need to talk to _him_ about this, not me."

"Just answer the question, Blake!" I practically shouted at him. " _Has_ he done this before?! You should know, he's been staying at your place for months!"

"I don't know _what_ he does!" he growled angrily. "I'm not his goddamn keeper! I don't keep tabs on him all the fucking time. Sometimes he goes out and he doesn't come back, how the fuck should I know if he's with you or with his buddies or anywhere else?"

Both of my hands were over my mouth as I gaped at him in shock. He was breathing heavily, his hands balled into fists at his sides. We stared at each other for a moment before he blurred into a watery silhouette and I realized that I was crying.

"Aw shit, Princess." Blake's voice had softened again. "Don't cry. Please." His hands touched my shoulders gently and I hung my head as embarrassment and hurt swallowed me whole.

Then I felt Blake's powerful arms envelop me as he held me against his chest. Desire swelled inside me at the feel of his massive, hard body against mine and at his incredible scent surrounding me...but it was offset by my anguish over Connor.

It was weird to feel so humiliated and so turned on all at once - until that moment I wouldn't have believed it was possible. Again: Messed. Up.

When Blake spoke I felt, as well as heard, the rumble of his words in his chest. "Don't cry. You know what he's like, he probably just got wasted and crashed at one of those dumb shit's houses. He'll call you later and explain everything."

"Why are you lying to me?" I sniffled.

"Not lying, Princess. You guys'll make this up, you always do. I was serious before, if you want me to go find him, I will." His steady heartbeat was soothing against my ear.

"Why?" I breathed. "What's the point?"

"Because it fucking kills me when you cry." His soft words seemed to hang in the air for a moment, and I felt his muscles tighten around me, then he slowly slackened his hold on me and stepped back.

I saw the wet marks on the front of his shirt from my tears.

Because it fucking kills me when you cry.

Those words were reverberating inside my brain, resonating through my body. I had no idea what to do with them. I couldn't meet his eyes; I kept staring at the watermark on his chest.

"Don't be here when he gets back," Blake said gruffly. "Wait for him to call you, okay?"

I nodded dumbly.

"Good. Get your shit, I'll walk you down to your car." He turned abruptly and walked out of the apartment. "You coming, Princess?" His voice echoed from the hallway.

"Um, yeah." I grabbed my purse, shoved on my boots and followed him out, slamming the door behind me.

#

Blake and I walked downstairs in silence. I couldn't get his words out of my head.

Because it fucking kills me when you cry.

If he meant to distract me from my Connor-crisis, he had achieved his goal beautifully.

"I can hear your brain working from over here, Princess." Blake smirked as he held the door open for me. I passed him quickly, making sure not to breathe in. I couldn't deal with another dose of his masculine scent right then.

"What do you expect?" I murmured as we started down the street to where I had parked my car the day before.

"This about me or him?" Blake asked.

His bluntness caught me completely off guard. "You?!" I spluttered. "Why would it be about _you_?!"

He smiled easily as we stopped next to my car. "You know why."

"No! I really don't!" I knew I was stupid to deny it - but the alternative was to acknowledge a whole host of uncomfortable and _wrong_ feelings that I did _not_ plan to _ever_ acknowledge, so...denial it was.

"Sure you do. You're just uncomfortable as shit." His smile faded a little. "We're friends, right?"

I smiled tightly. "Apparently so. Against both our better judgments."

"Okay, then I'm going to be straight with you. I don't know what the fuck I'm doing. I told you I never had a girl friend before - that's a friend who's a girl by the way..." He pointed a finger at me and narrowed his eyes.

"Got it," I grinned despite myself.

"Good. Don't want you getting ideas." He smirked.

I held my hands up, palms facing him. "No ideas, promise."

It was a lie - but I _desperately_ wanted it to be the truth.

He nodded, his smirk fading. "Yeah...so what I'm saying is that I have no fucking idea how to be friends with a girl, but I _want_ us to be friends, so you gotta tell me if I do something... _fucked up_ , okay?"

His words were reassuring. Maybe I had just read him all wrong before, maybe I was just reading into his actions and words because _I_ was attracted to him. It made me cringe to admit that, even just to myself, but it was the truth.

I nodded. "Okay."

"So we have a deal? I fuck up - you call me on it?" Blake asked.

"Deal." I forced a smile.

"Perfect." He looked at the ground for a second before his eyes met mine again. "Are you gonna be okay?"

"Well, I'm pissed off, but I'll be fine." A lie because there was still hurt there too - and 'pissed off' was an understatement of epic proportions.

"Good. Make him work for it." Blake winked and started to walk backwards slowly. "See you later, Princess."

#

The brightly lit mall buzzed around me as I walked with Mel through the chaos. "Why are we here again?" I grumbled, sidestepping a gaggle of excitable pre-teens who were all munching on pretzels and slurping on slushies. _I_ wanted a pretzel and a slushie - and for my biggest problem to be finding the perfect nail color to match my ball cap.

"Retail therapy," Mel said, nudging me towards one of the stores. "Cute dresses, look." She pointed at the window display where the mannequins were draped in brightly colored mini dresses in every color. "That blue one would look good on you."

We browsed the store, loading our arms up with clothes to try on. I didn't really feel like shopping but Mel had insisted and I knew better than to fight against her when it came to a mall visit. She loved fashion the way that a dog loves a bone - shamelessly and completely.

"See, I told you this would be fun." She smiled as we walked into the fitting rooms. I hung my clothes on the hooks inside the cubicle and pulled my purse from my shoulder, as I did so I heard the chime of my cell phone inside it.

"I heard that," Mel called from the cubicle next to me. "I hope you're still ignoring him."

"Who says that's even him?" I called back as I pulled the phone out.

"Oh _please_ , I'm not an idiot."

I looked at the phone and saw that I had a missed call and two texts from Connor. He'd been calling and texting since not long after I left his apartment the day before - but I hadn't replied or answered his calls, although it had taken all my willpower to ignore him.

I opened the message. The first one had been sent about an hour before: _The least you can do is let me explain._ The next one had come through just after a call that I hadn't answered: _Seriously? Call me back. This is stupid._

I snorted and shoved the phone back into my purse.

"What did he say now?" Mel called.

"Nothing. Forget it."

"I hope you're trying stuff on in there and not just moping about Dickwad."

"Yeah, I am." I started to change hurriedly into the blue dress that Mel had picked out for me. "And don't call him Dickwad."

"If the shoe fits..." Mel muttered.

"I heard that!"

"You were meant to!" I heard the curtain of Mel's cubicle being drawn back. "Are you dressed yet? Come out and let me see."

I swept my curtain back and stepped out. Mel was wearing a bottle green, knee length bodycon dress. "That dress is amazing, you look great!" I enthused.

"You like it?"

"Absolutely, you should get it."

"I'll get _this_ if you get _that_." She grinned, pointing to the deep royal blue dress that I had tried on. It was tight on the top, cinched at the waist and then flared over the hips. It was also incredibly short.

"It's a little revealing."

"Shut up, Amy, you have amazing legs. I would kill for legs that long. That is totally the dress that you should dump Connor in."

"Mel! What the hell?!"

"Dump him while you're wearing that and you'll _ruin_ him!" She clapped her hands and chuckled sadistically.

"Oh my God, I can't believe you just said that!" I put my hands on my hips. I didn't know whether to laugh at her or yell at her. "I'm _not_ going to break up with Connor."

"You do know that you _should_ break up with him though, right?"

"Are you kidding me right now?" I stared at her in disbelief. Mel had made underhand comments about Connor in the past but this was the first time that she had outright told me that she didn't think we should be together. "How can you tell me to break up with him?!"

"I'm not telling you to break up with him."

"Um, _yes_ , you are!"

"Okay." She blew out a breath. "I just don't see how you can keep brushing all his bullshit under the carpet and pretend like everything is fine when it's so obviously not."

"I'm _not_ pretending! I don't _need_ to pretend -"

"Look," she cut me off. "Just forget that I said anything, okay? You're obviously not ready to hear it." She walked back into her fitting room and took hold of the curtain, ready to close it.

"No! Wait!" I grabbed the curtain, stopping her from moving it. "You've said it now, I can't just forget it. Me and Connor are in a fight, that doesn't mean that I should just cut my losses and break up with him!"

Mel was feisty enough that a throw down in the middle of a store wouldn't deter her from what she had to say. I should really have borne that in mind before I pushed the issue - but I was too upset and mixed up to know better by that point.

Mel's nostrils flared as she straightened to her full height (she still had to look up at me). "The guy disappeared _all night_ to who knows _where_ with who knows _who_ and you're _not_ going to break up with him? To me, that's enough to kick his ass to the curb even without all the messed up shit he's pulled in the past!"

"You don't know anything about him. There are reasons he is the way he is!"

"Lots of people have rough childhoods, Amy. They don't all go around punishing the people they're supposed to _love_ because they got dealt a shitty hand!"

#

I need to press pause here because there's something I need to explain, namely that Connor and I had _never_ said that we were in love with each other.

I mean, I thought I loved him and I hoped that he loved me too... but we had never actually said the words. If I'm totally honest, I had been waiting for him to say it first - and he never did, so I never did.

But I was still pretty sure that I _did_ love him, even if the words had never crossed my lips.

What I didn't realize at the time was that if you really are in love with someone there's no 'thought' or 'pretty sure' about it. You just _know_ that you love them, deep in your soul.

But I didn't know that at the time, so I didn't correct Mel when she mentioned 'love'.

Annnnd back to the fight -

#

"He's _not_ punishing me!" I yelled. "I just expect too much of him sometimes -"

"Are you _listening_ to yourself?!" Mel shouted back. "Can you _hear_ how dumb you sound?!"

"You don't know what you're talking about!" I was clutching the curtain so tight that my hand was going numb. "You don't know what he's like when it's just us!"

"I don't _need_ to know! I see enough of the crap that he puts you through when you're _not_ alone to make everything else irrelevant. Anyone who makes you constantly miserable isn't worth the time! You need to wake up and see him for what he really is."

"And what is he? Some kind of monster? I'm _not_ constantly miserable! Relationships aren't always easy, sometimes they're hard but you don't just walk away when it's tough, you stick around and make it work."

Mel glanced over my shoulder, towards the entrance to the fitting room. I followed her gaze and saw that we had an audience. Two of the shop assistants were staring at us - all they were missing was popcorn.

She lowered her voice and stepped towards me. "Some things, some _people_ , aren't worth fighting for. Just because he looks like a Calvin Klein model, doesn't mean that you should be together."

"That's _not_ why I'm with him," I said, my voice shaking with anger and hurt.

"Maybe not the whole reason, no, but you convinced yourself that he was this amazing guy before you even got to know him properly and you're _still_ kidding yourself. I'm not saying he's a bad person, just that he's bad for _you_."

I couldn't even answer her. I turned away and fled back into my fitting room, dragging the dress off and changing back into my clothes as quickly as I could. I heard ruffling noises from Mel's cubicle and knew that she was doing the same. As soon as I was dressed, I burst from the fitting room, abandoning the clothes that I had taken in there, and high tailed it out of the store. I kept my head down as I walked swiftly away, shrinking under the stares of the shop assistants and other customers.

#

I don't know how long I walked for but the sun was high in the sky when I stormed out of the mall and, when I finally found some clarity, the sun was starting to dip below the horizon.

Every time I thought about Mel's words my teeth clenched and my breathing quickened. I felt the urge to run, to punch, to vent my anger in some physical way; there was so much anxiety rushing through me that I needed an outlet. So I just kept walking.

I was so furious at her for what she had said about Connor - about _us_. My mind worked in an endless loop, a cycle of anxiety and guilt that I couldn't bring to a halt.

It went something like this:

How DARE she say that Connor makes me miserable! She has no idea what she's talking about - he's made me so happy.

But...not recently. Recently he HAS made me miserable.

But it's not his fault, he's so busy with the band, with work...and then there is always drama with his family...so okay, LATELY it's been different, but every couple goes through a rough patch every now and then.

No, those are just excuses. If he really cared about me, he would make time for me - he wouldn't keep blowing me off to hang with his friends...and he wouldn't leave me alone all night to wonder where he was.

God, just the thought of that makes me so angry I could scream!

Am I just a complete idiot?

According to Mel, yes, I probably am...but Blake doesn't think so. He didn't want me to feel stupid. I can barely believe that of him, there was a time when he seemed to LIVE to make me feel stupid.

Not now though.

Something changed...

Because it fucking kills me when you cry.

God, why do those words make my stomach clench? I can't believe he said them. And the way he held me, the way he locked me against his chest, the way he smelt! What would it have felt like to kiss him? To have him crush my body against his?

No! Dammit, I CAN'T think of him that way!

That's NOT who I am. I won't be that girl.

I WON'T do that to Connor...

... _and Blake would never do that to Connor either. Blake's always taken care of him, since they were kids, he would never betray him like that. And even if he would, he would never go there with ME anyway - I've seen the girls he goes for and I am NOTHING like them, I'm at least three cup sizes smaller for one thing..._

But that's not how he makes me feel, he makes me feel like I'm all he sees...

How does he do that?

WHY does he do that?

He probably can't help it. He's a womanizer, a man-whore, he's so used to turning on the charm with women that it's become his default setting.

But it doesn't feel like that, it never USED to be like that...

Because it fucking kills me when you cry.

Dammit!

Does Connor care whether I cry? If he did, he wouldn't do half the things he does...but he's made me so happy too...

And then the whole cycle would begin again; an exhausting, confusing jumble of thoughts that I couldn't seem to sort through.

I finally came to a stop outside a shabby apartment block: Connor's place.

My feet had led me there while my mind was occupied.

I stood for a moment and looked up at his window. I knew I had to talk to him; I needed answers. I took a deep breath and stepped forward, pressing the buzzer for his apartment.

#

He buzzed me in and, when I got to the top of the stairs, the door to his apartment was already open and he was leaning against the doorframe, waiting for me, tapping the tops of his thighs in a rapid and intricate beat.

When I reached him, he offered me a glum smile. "Forgive me?" He asked.

"For what?" I asked, feigning innocent confusion.

"You know what."

"But do you?"

He sighed. "Jesus, I'm apologizing here. I didn't mean to upset you. I never do."

But you always manage to anyway...and that was NOT an apology.

"You said in your text that you would explain. So, are you going to?"

He nodded towards the inside of the apartment. "Come in? I don't want to do this here."

"Okay."

As I walked past him into the apartment, I noticed that he had unpacked his stuff and the empty boxes were stacked by the front door. He even had drapes over the large window. Refusing to be impressed, I folded my arms across my chest and turned back to him.

He closed the door and walked towards me. "I should've called you. I went to a house party with the guys after Filthy's." He shrugged. "I drank a lot and crashed there, we all did."

"That's it?"

"That's all there is to it, like I said, I should have let you know."

"You asked me to stay here, Connor. Why ask me to stay if you weren't going to come back?"

A look of irritation crossed his face. "I didn't _know_ that I wasn't coming back, it's not like I did it on purpose."

"Whose party was it?"

"Why does that matter?"

"You don't want to tell me?"

"Fuck's sake, Amy, it's not important who's party it was!"

"Then tell me!"

He let out a sigh and ran his hand through his hair. "Fine - but you'll freak out over _nothing_ , as usual."

"Connor! _Whose party was it_?!"

"Alright, _Jesus_." He looked away. "It was Carley's party."

I was so shocked that it took me a second to answer. "Carley as in your ex- _girlfriend_ Carley who you couldn't wait to get away from the night we met? _That_ Carley?!"

He looked back at me, meeting my gaze unflinchingly. "Yeah - you happy now? Now you have something you can _really_ yell at me about. It wasn't my idea, alright? Matt's dating her friend, Jess, and _she's_ the one who invited us."

"And you just _had_ to go with them, right?" I said snidely.

"Here it comes, this is why I didn't want to tell you."

"But you _could_ have told me! One little text -"

"And what? You'd have just been _fine_ with it?!"

"At least I wouldn't have wound up feeling like you just abandoned me!"

Connor snorted scornfully. "Jesus, really? _Abandoned_ you?"

"Where did you sleep?" I demanded.

He blinked and hesitated, only for a fraction of a second, but enough for me to notice. "On the couch."

I felt like I had a golf ball lodged in my throat. "Alone?"

"Yes alone! Jesus _fucking_ Christ!"

I swallowed and just _looked_ at him. I searched his eyes for the truth. I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe him so badly.

He glared back at me.

I broke eye contact and looked at the floor. I realized that I was standing in the same exact spot that I'd been standing when Blake took me in his arms. I was standing right where I'd inhaled his scent and lusted after his kiss.

Guilt flooded me, turning my limbs to lead.

I hadn't cheated on Connor. I hadn't acted on my desires for Blake and I told myself that I NEVER would...but they were still _there_.

How could I punish him when I was lying to him?

Well, I wasn't _technically_ lying, but omission of the truth is just as bad as lying, right?

I planned to fight the way that I felt for Blake tooth and nail, but that didn't change the fact that when he'd held me I had _wanted_ him.

The guilt was eating me alive...and I just wanted my and Connor's fight to be over. I needed us to be okay again, because the alternative scared me too much.

I looked back at him, at his hard yet beautiful face and his eyes, still soulful, even under his glower. I remembered how those eyes had looked at me that first night on the roof of the bowling alley when we'd stayed up all night talking. I remembered the way he'd looked at me after the backyard gig, when I'd seen him drum for the first time. And I remembered the first time we slept together - how special he'd made me feel.

He sighed. "If you don't believe me, then I don't know what to tell you."

"I believe you," I said quietly.

#

I once read an interview in a music magazine with a famous British producer who'd worked with dozens of really successful bands. He talked about something that he dubbed 'the suspension of disbelief'.

The interviewer had asked him something like, _"How much do you rely on Auto Tune in your work?"_ or something to that effect.

For those who don't know, Auto Tune is the software that music producers use to make sure that the raw vocals that have been recorded are actually in tune. Basically, they make the singer _sound_ like they're singing in tune, even if they were way off in the original recording.

The producer guy said that he used Auto Tune a lot, but that he wouldn't disclose any details or mention any singers personally.

" _But there must be some singers out there who won't allow that, who want their music to sound real and would resent the use of Auto Tune?"_ The interviewer asked.

The producer had laughed. "There are definitely a lot of musicians out there who would _say_ that, yes. But, really, how are they going to know if I've tweaked a few things here and there? That's what they come to me for, so that I can make them sound _that_ good.

"In reality, no one sings perfectly all the time, no one plays guitar perfectly all the time - but a lot of people _think_ they do. When they listen back to the finished track, they _think_ they sounded that good. They _think_ that I've just put everything together for them like a jigsaw... but they _don't_ think about what _else_ I've done. It doesn't even cross their mind that I've brought in a session guitarist to re-record some of the guitar parts because their original recording just wasn't good enough. And the Auto Tune that I've used is so subtle and artfully administered that they don't realize that they couldn't hit the high note in the chorus even once."

" _But, how can they NOT recognize that their original recordings have been altered?"_ I imagined that the interviewer was horrified when he asked that question.

"It's something I call the 'suspension of disbelief' - they _want_ to sound that good, they desperately want to _believe_ that they are _that_ good, and so they _suspend their disbelief_ \- maybe not even consciously, most probably, the whole thing is entirely _sub_ conscious, but either way the result is the same, if you really, _really_ want something to be true, the human brain can suspend your disbelief."

I thought that British producer sounded like a genius.

What I _didn't_ think about at the time was that the 'suspension of disbelief' could apply to other areas of life, too.

And it definitely doesn't only apply to musicians - _anyone_ can do it.

I definitely did.

#

It was late when I got back home, so I entered the apartment as quietly as I could. I didn't want to disturb Mel, partly because I didn't want to wake her but mostly because I didn't want to talk to her after our fight in the mall.

But she was sitting on the couch watching re-runs of _How I Met Your Mother._ It was the episode about the origin of the Bro Code. If you haven't seen that episode, it's the one where Barney is studying the Bro Code in an attempt to uncover an instance where his friend, Ted, broke the code - so that Barney can justify wanting to date Ted's ex-girlfriend.

It immediately made me think of Blake.

I _hated_ the way that kept happening.

When Mel saw me she held up a box of chocolate doughnuts that had been sitting on the table. "Peace offering," she said, offering me a small smile.

I sat on the couch next to her. "You really hate him, don't you?" I asked.

She looked horrified. "No! I don't, Amy, I promise. We've all hung out a million times and I get along fine with him...it's just that sometimes you two seem to make each other unhappy."

I bristled at her comment and had to look away.

"But it's none of my business," she continued quickly. "I shouldn't have said anything. _You_ know how you feel, if you're happy with him then that's good enough for me. I don't want to fight over this."

"Connor and I made up," I said flatly.

"Oh, good!" she said enthusiastically, and I couldn't help feeling like a four year old who was being told that her picture of a green and brown blob really _did_ look like a tree.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you," I said, before pointing at the doughnuts. "You didn't even open them yet?"

"See how sorry I am? I left them all for you."

"Wow, you really are sorry!" I opened the box and took one, settling back on the couch before handing her the box. "Seriously though Mel, I shouldn't have yelled at you like that. Can we forget about it?"

"It's already forgotten," she said, biting into a chocolate topped doughnut.

I followed suit and took a huge bite of my own. "My God, I love you," I said as the chocolate sweetness dissolved on my tongue. "Hey...did you buy that green dress after all?"

"No! I practically ran out of that store after the scene we caused!"

I snorted, nearly spitting doughnut everywhere. "Well I think we should go back and claim our abandoned dresses. Sons are playing Galvanize this Friday - perfect opportunity for a new outfit - will you come?"

Galvanize was a new venue that had opened up near to the strip. It had a huge capacity. A few months before, Sons of Sinners probably couldn't have filled it, but since they had Aiden working with them, they seemed to be unstoppable.

"Are you sure you want me to?" Mel asked.

"Oh, come on! I can shelve the fact that you hate my boyfriend for one night!" I teased.

"I don't hate him! Shit, I wish I'd never said anything!"

"Kidding, Mel! It's forgotten. Just come, okay? I just want things to go back to how they used to be."

She studied me quietly for a second. "Okay, of course I will."

"Great. Meet you after class tomorrow and we can go back to the mall?"

"Sounds good."

#

I walked into the store a little sheepishly, avoiding eye contact with the staff. I didn't know if any of them would remember me and my screaming fit, but I definitely didn't want to witness the moment of recognition on their faces if they did. I was embarrassed enough already - and I didn't even have back up. Mel had called me and said that she'd gotten a call from our super because there was a leak in our apartment, so she'd had to go home to wait for a plumber to arrive.

I grabbed the dresses that Mel and I had tried on and took them to the cash register. The cashier smiled politely at me - no sign of recognition at all - but I still exited the store with my head practically in my bag, pretending to study the receipt as if it held vital information on the location of the Holy Grail.

That was when I slammed headlong into a huge pair of breasts any Playboy Bunny would be proud of - and the poor woman attached to them got knocked on her ass.

"Oh my God! I am so sorry!" I yelped, dropping my bag and reaching out, offering her my hand. "Are you okay?!"

The woman glared at my hand like it was covered in puss-filled boils and pushed herself to her feet, her beautiful face screwed up in distaste. She flicked her long, chocolate brown hair over her shoulder and smoothed down her, already immaculate, top.

As I looked at her, a large hand settled on the nape of my neck. "Shit, Princess, you trying to kill my date?"

I turned to see Blake smirking down at me.

I pressed my lips together and looked back at his _date_. She was looking at me with intense dislike and I immediately realized why - aside from the fact that I had just knocked her flying - Blake practically had his arm around me. I leant down to pick up my discarded shopping bag and his hand fell away. "Are you okay?" I asked her again.

"Yeah, I guess, but maybe you should look where you're going next time." She turned her attentions to Blake. "You know her?" she asked, accusingly.

"Yeah, this is Amy. Amy, this is Heather."

"Nice to meet you," I offered.

She sniffed. "Sure, if I wasn't _on the_ _floor_ at the time."

"Heather, she already apologized. Don't be a bitch." Blake's tone was mild but firm.

Heather stared at him like he'd just slapped her.

"Here." He dug his wallet out of his worn jeans and gestured to the coffee shop across the way. "Go grab me some water and get whatever you want as well. I need to talk to my friend for a minute." He handed her a bill and looked at her expectantly.

After a second, she shot me a stink eye and walked away.

I felt Blake's eyes on me. "So what's in there that's so interesting?" He leant over my shoulder, peering into the bag.

I tensed at his nearness. "Nothing much, just a couple of dresses for me and Mel, for the show on Friday."

"Show me."

I snorted. "Like you care about what dress I'm going to wear."

"Just showing an interest. Friends do that." He winked.

I rolled my eyes. "Whatever."

"So you made up with Con," Blake stated.

I nodded. "Just like you said."

"Yeah, it's like I've got a crystal ball or some shit." He glanced across at Heather, who seemed to be giving some fairly complex instructions to a confused looking teen behind the counter. "I need you to do me a favor here, Princess, I'm bailing on this date -"

"What? Why would you do that?"

"I went out with her once before, a few months back, and I forgot how much of a fucking nightmare she is. When she comes back over here, I'm gonna make up some bullshit, just back me up, okay?"

"Um, how about I just leave you to it instead?"

"How about you just help out a friend instead?" he countered.

"This friend thing is really starting to bite me on the ass," I muttered as Heather stalked back over to us, bottle of water in one hand, weird green shake thingy in the other.

"Thanks, darlin'," Blake said amiably, taking the water from her. "Look, I'm sorry but I'm gonna have to take off, something came up."

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Like what?"

"Amy needs help with something. We'll do this another time."

She glanced at me. "She just _suddenly_ needs help with something?" she challenged.

I started to feel sorry for her. God knows I'd felt like a fool enough times thanks to a Maxwell. I shot Blake a look that I _hoped_ conveyed how much I wanted to kick him in the balls for forcing me to be a part of this. "I'm really sorry, Heather, I got a call from my roommate just before I ran in to you guys, there's a leak in my apartment, it's kinda serious. You know Blake's good with that kind of thing, working construction and all."

The look on her face told me that _no_ , she did _not_ know that.

"Anyway, he's saving our lives by helping us out. I'm sorry for ruining your date. I'm sure he'll make it up to you another time - hey, I know! Maybe you could double date with me and Connor?" I leant a little closer to Heather and _away_ from Blake. "Have you met Connor? He's Blake's cousin, we've been dating _forever_." I knew I was laying it on pretty thick but I wanted her to know she hadn't been brushed aside for me; as unpleasant as she seemed, I didn't think she deserved to be embarrassed.

The relief that washed over her was almost palpable as she looked back at Blake. "Okay, I guess you can make it up to me." She leant up and kissed him lingeringly with plump lips. "You've got my number," she purred against his mouth, giving his ass a firm squeeze before stalking away, hips swaying.

I tried to ignore the raging jealousy that flared inside me.

"Damn, Princess, that was fucking fantastic," Blake said, grinning wide.

"You're an ass," I shot at him before I turned and walked away.

"Hey, hey! Wait!" He grabbed my arm and stopped me, tugging me back to face him. "What the fuck?! What did I do?"

I shook his hand off. "What did you _do_?! You were about to make that girl feel like crap and you used me to help you do it! You can't just _bail_ half way through a date!"

"Why not?" He seemed genuinely confused.

"Because it's hurtful! How would you like it if a girl just turned around to you and said _Gee, something just came up! Bye!_ "

He barked a laugh. "Honestly? If she's not into it, I'd rather she just tag out. That's no fun for anyone."

"So you wouldn't care if she just blew you off?!"

"Well, sure, I'd like her to do that first -"

"Oh my _God_!" I snapped, flushing as I realized my mistake. "That's _not_ what I meant and you know it!"

By then he was howling.

"You can't just treat people like that!"

He sobered, his smile shrinking. "Not everyone's like you, Princess. Some girls just want a one night thing or, even better, a couple hour thing. Heather's one of them. I told you we hooked up before but I haven't heard from her since then - 'til _today_ when _she_ called _me_ out of nowhere and asked me out. We both knew where it was leading. So I changed my mind and cut her lose, surely that's better than taking her home and fucking her when I'm not really into it? Would _you_ like to be fucked by someone who doesn't really wanna do it? Wouldn't you rather they made their excuses and leave than just go through with it 'cause it would be 'hurtful' to call it off?"

Okay, when he put it like _that_ he _did_ have a point - but there was no way I was going to admit that to him. "That's all well and good, but if the roles were reversed, you can't tell me that you'd be okay with a girl just _brushing_ you off and walking away."

He grinned a little at my obvious rephrasing. "Better than the alternative, Princess. Fucking should be mutually beneficial."

"Whatever," I muttered. "Forget I said anything, you don't need to explain yourself to me."

"You're damn right I don't." He didn't say it angrily - it was more like a statement of fact. "But I wanted to. It matters what you think of me."

I almost asked him _why_ it mattered to him what I thought, but I stopped myself - I wasn't sure that I wanted to know the answer. "Okay, well now you're free to go and find your next victim. I should get home - that leak I mentioned? True story."

"Wait, your apartment's really flooding?"

I started walking again. "At this point, who knows? Mel's waiting for a plumber, the super can't fix it."

Blake fell in step next to me. "Well, shit, I'll come with you and take a look."

"You don't need to do that. Like I said, we have a plumber coming."

"Yeah, and they're expensive. I'll take a look. What was it you said? 'Blake's good at that shit' or something?"

I snorted. "I'm pretty sure I didn't say _that_ exactly."

"Well however you put it, you were right, I _am_ good at that shit and I'm coming with you. I bet you fifty bucks I can fix it before the damn plumber gets there."

"Exactly _how_ useless is it to argue with you about this?"

"Pretty fucking useless."

"That's what I thought."

#

When I pushed open the door to my apartment, I was greeted by a flustered Mel on her hands and knees in the kitchen, trying to soak up a huge puddle of water with a towel.

"Oh, hell, that looks bad," I groaned.

"You should have seen it before." She gestured to the open cupboard under the sink where one of the pipes was spewing water into a bucket. "At least I got it contained now, but it's filling up pretty fast."

Blake brushed past me, carrying a battered tool box that he'd pulled from the bed of his Chevy when we pulled up outside. "Hey, Mel, you little drowned rat, let me take a look."

Mel's eyebrows flew up almost to her hairline as she caught sight of him. "You'd look like a drowned rat too if you'd been here half an hour ago. Since when are you a plumber?"

"I took a class once."

"You're a _qualified_ plumber?" I asked, incredulously.

"Not qualified exactly, but I think I learned enough to fix this." He crouched down and ducked his head under the sink for a moment before ducking back out and pulling a wrench - or something, I really didn't know - out of his tool box and ducking back in.

"Did you call him?" Mel whispered to me, clearly bemused.

"No, we bumped into each other at the mall," I whispered back.

"You know it's rude to whisper, right?" Blake called from under the sink.

"You know it's rude to eavesdrop, right?" I snarked.

"Easy there, Princess. I can't help what I hear." He pulled his upper body out of the cupboard and cocked his head to the side, studying his handiwork. "Man, your super's a crock of shit if he couldn't fix that."

"He didn't take a proper look, just said he had a crisis in another apartment," Mel explained.

"Well, Princess, looks like you owe me that fifty."

"You fixed it _already_?!" I walked gingerly over the wet floor and leant down next to him, looking at the pipes.

"What you looking for? You inspecting my work?" Blake's tone was amused. "You even know what you're looking at?"

Of course, I had no idea what I was looking for; it was just the universal let's-inspect-the-work routine that you go through after you have someone fix something in your home. I pursed my lips, trying not to smile. "Pipes?"

He grinned at me and I suddenly realized how close I was to him, I straightened up, flushing.

"I'll get my phone and cancel the plumber," Mel called, walking out of the kitchen, completely oblivious to my sudden unease.

I stepped away from Blake quickly, intending to head back across the kitchen, but I forgot how wet the floor still was. My feet slipped from under me and I let out a little screech of alarm as I started to go down - but strong arms caught me before my ass could touch the ground. Blake was still crouching, but he had twisted and put his arms out under my back as I fell, winding up cradling me against his chest. The breath whooshed out of me as I looked up into his face. His eyes danced with amusement as he gazed down at me. I stared back, my face so close to his that I could see every grain of dark stubble, every fleck of turquoise in his arctic eyes.

He was literally breathtaking.

For a second, his face was the only thing in the universe. I watched, mesmerized as the amusement in his eyes darkened to something else, something more primal. His pupils flared and I realized that his gaze was lingering on my lips. I felt almost positive that he was going to kiss me.

God help me, I almost _leaned in_...

Then I remembered Connor.

I went rigid in Blake's arms, slapping a hand against his chest as I pushed away and scrambled to my feet, horrified at my reaction to him.

"Careful," he warned, straightening up next to me and steadying me with a hand on my shoulder.

"Don't," I whispered shakily.

Slowly, he let go, then looked away and gritted out a low curse.

"Well, that's all taken care of," Mel announced, breezing back into the kitchen.

She stopped short when she saw us.

I didn't blame her, we practically dripped with tension. She narrowed her eyes. "Is everything okay?"

"Of course!" I grinned, and I knew I must have looked a little manic, but I couldn't help it. "But we owe Blake fifty bucks."

"You know that was a joke, Princess." He picked up his toolbox and strode out of the kitchen and towards the front door. "You're all set here. I should take off."

"He's got a hot date," I stage whispered to Mel as we followed him to the door.

It was a stupid thing to say. I mean, come on, 'a hot date'? It was something my mom would have said - but I was freaking out. I had caught the way she looked at us when she'd come back into the kitchen and my mind was spinning with what she might be thinking. I wanted to say something to throw her off.

Blake stopped abruptly and turned back to us. "No, I don't," he said bluntly.

"Well, there's a first time for everything," Mel smiled wryly. "Thanks for this, Maxwell, we owe you."

"Yeah, thank you," I echoed.

Blake's eyes held mine. "Any time, you know that."

My mouth went dry. "Okay, well...see you Friday."

"Yeah, Friday." He nodded, before turning and opening the door.

When he was gone, Mel turned to me with her hands on her hips. "What was _that_ about?"

For a fraction of a second, I almost considered telling her everything. I was desperate for someone to talk to but I felt like if I acknowledged the way that I felt _out loud_ it would become real...and if I continued to deny it, it would all just go away.

I waved my hand dismissively. "You know Blake, he's always looking for a reaction."

She eyed me suspiciously for a second and I somehow managed to hold her gaze without faltering.

She pursed her lips, like she was considering something. "Come on, we need to clean up this disaster zone of a kitchen."

I followed her back in, breathing a sigh of relief that she had decided to leave it alone.

#

The following Friday, Hayley drove us to Galvanize, where Sons of Sinners were headlining. We were on the guest list, so we managed to jump the huge line outside. Before the opening act had even finished, the venue was packed to capacity and we were crowded in on all sides.

"I've never seen so many Sons of Sinners t-shirts all in one place," Hayley grinned as yet another fan walked past wearing their name and logo.

"They have actual, real fans," Mel said. "I just overheard a guy say that he came from Phoenix to watch this show."

"It is a little surreal," I agreed. "And I feel a little bad for not owning a Sons t-shirt."

Mel shook her head. "Bad groupie."

"Derren gave me one," said Hayley. "He likes me to wear it in bed."

"I'll bet he does!" laughed Mel. "His ego probably _loves_ that!"

"Not just his ego." Hayley winked and giggled. "Come on." She gestured to the stage. "The guys will be on soon, let's get to the front."

The stage lights winked out as we snaked through the crowd, eventually finding ourselves right against the railing at the front.

"We're close enough to distract them," Hayley smirked evilly.

"The crowd is so big tonight they won't even realize where we are," I said.

"If you flash them, they'll soon realize," Mel quipped, grinning.

I laughed. "We won't be able to distract Connor, even with boobs. He'll be in the Drum-Zone."

She shrugged. "So flash someone else." A mischievous grin lit her face.

"Whichever one of us makes them screw up the most wins!" Hayley announced.

"We can't really do that!" I looked at her incredulously.

"Oh, we _so_ can!"

"I don't want them to mess up, this is a big show."

"Come on Amy, they won't really mess up. No one will pick up on it apart from us -we'll only be able to tell 'cause we're _making_ them screw up _and_ because we've seen them perform these songs so many times. Remember when that drunk dude threw a beer bottle at Kane's head and he barely even missed a note?" Hayley was bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet like she was warming up for a boxing match.

I pursed my lips to stop from smiling. "What do we win?"

"A Sons t-shirt from the merch stand."

"You already have one," I pointed out.

"Then you can buy me a CD."

"You already own them all."

"That's not really the point of the game!" She threw her arms up, exasperated.

"Okay, okay, I'll play," I laughed.

"I'm in too," Mel agreed.

On cue, the lights dimmed again and I saw Connor's shadow jog to the drum kit and settle behind it. The spotlight sparked and illuminated him against the backdrop of the band's banner. He hammered out a brief, booming solo before stopping dead as darkness descended again.

Then three spotlights flared to life, this time pinning Kane, Derren and Connor to the stage. They played a snippet of _Tails, You Lose_ , one of the band's most well known tracks. Timed to perfection, they cut off exactly as the lights blinked out. Their stage craft was whipping the crowd into a tumult of infectious anticipation.

The stage was suddenly bathed in light at the same instant that the band powered into the intro of _Tails, You Lose_. Blake was in the center of the stage, head down, arms flung wide as the music pulsed around him.

My heart leapt into my throat at the sight of him.

He raised his head, cocky smirk in place, and started to sing. I dragged my eyes away from him and focused on Connor, wondering bitterly when I'd stopped reacting to him the way that I had just reacted to Blake.

#

"You do know you're losing the shit out of this game, right?" Hayley shouted in my ear as the crowd around us bellowed for an encore. "You have two or three songs max before I'm the reigning champion."

Hayley had managed to distract Derren enough to fumble a note by miming giving a blow job right when he glanced at her. Mel had caught Kane's attention long enough to pull a goofy face but, although he'd chuckled, he hadn't messed up.

"I told you, Connor's untouchable!" I protested.

"So do Blake," Mel piped up.

I narrowed my eyes at her, but she just grinned at me. "I for one am not going down without a fight!" she said. "Although the same _cannot_ be said for Hayley."

I couldn't help bursting in to a fit of giggles.

"You suck!" Hayley shouted but she was laughing along with me.

"No, that would be you," Mel quipped.

Just then, Sons re-emerged for their encore.

"Hey, bitches and bro's," Blake spoke to the crowd. "You wanna hear a new song we've been working on?" The crowd cheered. He smirked and nodded. "Damn fucking right you do. This is called _Bind of the Blue Collars_ and it's for Amy, 'cause it's her favorite."

Kane launched into the opening chords and the rest of the band followed. Blake stepped up to the front of the stage as he started to sing, resting one foot on top of one of the monitors. He leant out towards the crowd and caught my eye as he sang.

To this day, I don't really know what made me do what I did next. I think it was mainly the fact that I'd been having so much fun with Hayley and Mel, trying to distract the guys as they played...but it could also have had a little to do with the fact that Blake had just dedicated a song to me. To be honest, it was probably a mixture of both, combined with me being caught up in the heat of the moment.

Either way, as he sang to me, I pouted my lips and looked up at him coyly, through my eyelashes, before blowing him a kiss.

I didn't really think it would work at distracting him, if anything, I expected a smirk and a wink in return.

But what I got was nothing like that.

His eyes widened briefly before a flash of animalistic lust swept over his face and he stopped singing - actually _stopped_ _singing_ \- and stared at me with his lips parted.

He missed a few words before he blinked and picked up the chorus again, shoving himself backwards off of the monitor and away from the edge of the stage.

"Did he just mess up?" Hayley shouted to be heard over the music. "He did, didn't he? What did you _do_?"

I felt my face flaming. "Uh, I just pulled a stupid face."

"From the expression on _his_ face, it looked like you flashed him," Mel interjected.

"You didn't?!" Hayley's eyes widened.

"No! Of course not! Are you crazy?!" I forced my focus back to the stage, to Connor - who was thankfully still immersed in his drums.

And I ignored the serious side-eye that Mel was sending my way.

#

"Here you go fan girl," Hayley handed me the black and white Sons of Sinners; my prize for winning the game.

"You have to wear it now though," Mel said.

"Aw, but -" I gestured at my outfit "- new dress."

"Get over yourself and wear it," Hayley teased.

I pretended to sulk, but pulled the shirt on over my dress anyway.

Hayley pulled out her phone. "Derren just texted me, he said if we want to go backstage the guy on security knows our names and he'll let us through."

We made our way to the door to the right of the stage where a large bouncer was standing. He let is through and pulled the door shut behind us, leaving us in a dimly lit hallway. We followed it until we saw the guys carrying their instruments through the open back doors and loading it into the bed of Blake's Chevy.

"Hey babe," Derren called out, before splitting away from the group to envelop Hayley in a sweaty hug.

She squealed and swatted him away. "Ugh, gross!"

He laughed and stole a kiss all the same.

I caught sight of Connor leaning against the side of the truck, talking to the drummer from the opening band. I tried to catch his eye as we approached but he didn't look my way.

"Hey, Amy! Awesome shirt!" Kane called out.

"Thanks," I smiled.

"She won a game," Mel piped up.

"What kinda game?" Blake asked as he slammed the tailgate shut and turned to look at me.

I felt my face heating as I answered. "Um...it was just something Hayley made up."

"I'll bet," he said quietly, his eyes taking on a knowing look, which only made me blush more deeply. Thank God it was pretty dark back there.

Connor finished up talking to the other drummer, clapping him on the shoulder before walking over to us and slinging an arm casually around my shoulders. If he noticed the Sons t-shirt, or the new dress that was peeking out from under it, he didn't mention it.

"You guys coming back in, we still got pizza in the dressing room?" Kane asked.

His question was met with a chorus of agreement from the others and they all started to head back inside.

"I need a smoke," Connor said. "Amy, you staying out with me?"

I wrinkled my nose a little at the thought of my new dress - and shirt - smelling of smoke.

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, don't bother. I'll find you after."

As I watched him turn his back and walk out into the night, disappearing past the cars and trucks that were parked in back of the venue, I felt like the gulf that had grown between us was widening with every step that he took.

But he _had_ just asked me to stay outside with him. Maybe he was trying to bridge the gap - and I was the one who was screwing it up.

I decided to go with him after all.

I walked in the direction that I had seen him go, past the bands' trucks and cars. A quick glance around revealed him pacing back and forth, simultaneously rolling something between his fingers.

"Connor?" I called quietly as I approached.

He smoothly slid the 'something' behind his ear, pulled a pack of regular cigarettes from his jean pocket and tapped one out. "Thought you were staying inside."

"I changed my mind," I stopped in front of him. "Do you seriously think that I'm not going to notice _that_ behind your ear?"

He huffed. "No, I figured I was busted."

"I'm not here to _bust_ you -"

"Then what?" he interrupted. "'Cause lately it seems like all you ever do is look for something to bitch about."

I stared at him in frustration. " _Maybe_ if you didn't give me reasons to -"

"I'm so tired of this shit!" he barked. "I can't do a damn thing without you preaching at me!"

"You just _assume_ that's what I'm going to do! I didn't come out here to _fight_ or _bust_ you or _preach_ at you, Connor!"

He opened his arms, palms up. "What _do_ you want then?"

"I just wanted to spend _time_ with you! But - silly me - I forgot that I have to share you with your... _illegal substances_."

His snorted. "' _Illegal substances_ '? Who the hell talks like that?"

Something in me snapped.

"Okay, how about this instead?" I stepped back and threw my arms wide, yelling into the night. "MY BOYFRIEND'S GETTING _HIGH_ OVER HERE! EVERYONE! COME _LOOK_!"

He glared at me. "You think you're funny?"

"No, Connor, nothing about this is _funny_." I practically spat.

"Since when are you so fucking boring?"

I felt like he'd just slapped me. "Since when are you so _mean_? Can't you just -"

"No," he cut me off. "I can't 'just' anything. You keep waiting for me to change, don't you? Well, I'm NOT GOING TO."

"Are drugs that important to you?" I implored. "Are they more important than me?"

He sneered. "You know, you sound just like my mom."

"Well, you've never introduced me to her -"

He rolled his eyes at that comment.

"- but she sounds pretty smart."

He looked at me for a long moment. "Fuck. You."

"No thanks." I shot back.

His face darkened. "I don't need this shit." He slowly and deliberately took the roll up from behind his ear and lit it, before blowing the smoke in my direction. "We're done."

A pulse of shock thudded through my body, leaving my skin tingling as I stared at him, at the look of disdain on his handsome face. I suddenly wanted to hurt him, make him feel as worthless as he'd managed to make me feel. "We've been _done_ for a long time, Connor. It just took me a while to realize it."

His face contorted in a grimace and then he abruptly turned on his heel and walked away from me. He didn't head back inside; he walked out of the parking lot and onto the sidewalk. In a few moments he had disappeared from sight.

I stood there, staring after him, and waited for the tears to come.

But they didn't.

#

The chill of the night air forced me back inside. I walked through the darkened backstage area until I found a black door with a Sons of Sinners sign taped to it. For a little while I just looked at the door. I guess I was in a kind of daze. I could hear the chatter and easy laughter of the others inside the dressing room, but they seemed like they were a million miles away. I knew that as soon as I walked in, one of them would ask me where Connor was.

And then I would have to explain...and I just didn't know quite how to say it.

So I stared at the door.

And magically, it opened.

Well, it wasn't _actually_ magic. Derren opened the door, pulling Hayley along behind him - but when he saw me standing there he jerked to a stop. "Holeeey _shit_!" He practically shouted. "Amy you scared the fuck outta me! You're standing there like that little ghost girl in that _Ring_ movie!"

I burst out laughing - I actually laughed _out loud_. I couldn't believe I was laughing - but I was...and then suddenly I was crying.

Derren looked horrified. "Oh, hey, I didn't mean it in a _bad_ way -"

"Amy, what's wrong?" Hayley's arms were around me a second later.

Then I heard Mel's voice. "What happened? What did he do?" she demanded as she appeared around the door.

_Then_ I saw the curious faces of Kane and Blake come in to view as well - and I wanted the ground to swallow me up.

"Dammit," I muttered, swiping at my tears.

"What happened?" Mel asked again.

I swallowed past the lump in my throat. "Me and Connor broke up."

Mel's mouth dropped open and Hayley murmured "Oh, shit," as she tightened her arms around me - I couldn't even bring myself to look at the guys.

"We had a fight and he took off," I explained quietly.

"Then maybe it's just a fight?" Hayley asked.

"No, not this time," I shook my head. "I think it's really over," I finished on a whisper, sniffing as my tears started to dry on my cheeks and my face started to heat with the embarrassment of blubbering in front of everybody. "I think I just need to go home."

"Okay," Hayley agreed immediately. "We'll take you, right Mel?"

"Of course."

"No, it's okay." I disentangled myself from Hayley. "You guys stay out, I'll just get a cab, honestly, I could do with a little time alone."

"I can call you a cab, Amy," Derren offered.

"Derren!" Hayley admonished. "I'll just drive her!"

He looked disappointed, like a kid who just dropped his last gummy bear. "But we were gonna go -"

"She's upset, we'll do it another time," Hayley hissed.

"Honestly, I'll be fine." I offered Hayley and Mel a small smile. "I really would rather be alone anyway. _Please_ go and have a good night and I'll talk to you tomorrow."

I could see that they were about to protest when Blake spoke up. "I'll drive her."

I looked over at him, his face was blank but he was watching me closely.

I shook my head. "It's fine -"

"I know it is. But I have to drive out of here either way 'cause I've got a truck load of kit out back that I need to take home. I can drop you off, then drop off everything at my place and _still_ come back out if I want to - so you're not inconveniencing me at all."

I thought about arguing. But really, what was the point? I knew he would have an answer for everything - and his proposal was so logical it seemed silly to even bother.

Five minutes later, Blake and I walked out to his truck. It had taken me a little while to convince the girls that I really would be okay alone, but they finally agreed to let me go when I promised at least seven times to call them if I needed them.

As I walked next to Blake, the silence was thick around us and I was excruciatingly conscious of him just inches away from me. If my emotions had been functioning properly, I think I would have been nervous, but I was still in shock over what had happened with Connor. It was almost as if I was disconnected from my body, watching myself from a distance; the break up had caught me completely by surprise and I was still processing.

One thing that does stick in my mind about that moment though, was how _okay_ I was. I mean, don't get me wrong, I wasn't exactly doing cartwheels, but I wasn't in a hysterical heap on the floor either - and I'd always figured I _would_ have been a complete mess if Connor and I ended things. Instead, it was almost as if I had been carrying a huge weight around my shoulders for a long time without even realizing it, and all of a sudden someone had just come along and taken it away.

There were a lot of other emotions that came along with THAT little truth though - but at that point, like I said, I was still pretty numb.

The bone crushing guilt would come later.

#

When Blake and I reached his truck, he opened the passenger side door for me before walking around and climbing in himself. "You wanna go straight home?" He asked as he started up the engine and pulled out of the lot.

"Why? Did you have somewhere else in mind?" I looked at him suspiciously out of the corner of my eye.

He smirked. "Thought you might wanna stop at a liquor store and get a fifth of vodka, maybe?"

I shook my head and looked away, out of the window, where the lights of the city were speeding by.

"It was a joke, Princess."

"Hilarious," I said dryly. "I'm glad you find this so funny."

"Shit," he muttered. "Sorry. I'm being a dick."

"Yeah, isn't that your default setting?" I snarked, still looking out of the window.

I heard him chuckle. "Yeah, maybe."

We drove through the city in silence for a while, until I eventually turned back to him. "I'm sorry," I sighed. "I shouldn't have said that. I'm just..."

He glanced at me. "...just?"

I shrugged. "I don't know...do you think I'm boring?"

He turned his blue eyes on me. "What? Why would you -" he frowned as realization dawned "- Connor said that."

"Connor said a lot of things but, yeah, that was one of them."

He snorted and looked back at the road. "No, you're not fucking boring. Never think that."

I bit my lip and looked down at my hands clasped in my lap.

"You okay over there?" he asked after a moment.

That's the million dollar question...am I awful if I say 'yes'?

I raked my teeth over my lip and wrung my hands together harder.

"C'mon, Princess, he'll come back around. Always does. This time next week, you guys'll be back together again." He reached over and put one big hand over both of mine, squeezing gently as the heat of his fingers encased my cold skin. The sight of his single hand, so big and rough, on my smaller, softer ones, sent a wave of heat through me.

I looked up at his face in profile as he looked out of the windshield, the neon city lights flashing over him revealed the slight tension around his eyes.

"Not this time," I murmured.

"Yeah, we'll see." He sounded resigned. "Not exactly the first fight you've had." He gave my hands a final squeeze and then pulled away to grasp the stick shift. I missed his touch immediately, which I knew was all kinds of wrong, coming less than half an hour after breaking up with my boyfriend.

"This is different," I said.

I wasn't exactly sure why I felt the need to convince him. Another example of the 'all kinds of wrong' thing, I guess - but then, _everything_ to do with Blake had been like that for weeks now. The fact that I was so fixated on him at a time like this just proved that beyond a doubt.

"Different how?" he asked.

"Because this time I don't want him to come back around." As soon as the words were out of my mouth my heart started to pound in my chest. It was the truth, but admitting it out loud felt weird, like I was betraying Connor.

Blake turned to look at me; his eyes were wide and his lips were parted in surprise. I met his gaze, swallowing thickly in response to the blooming intensity in his eyes. A second later, he blinked and turned back to the road. "We'll see," he said gruffly. "You say that now. When you've cooled off you'll feel different."

I couldn't be sure, but it seemed like he was trying to convince himself of that, not just me.

A moment later we pulled up outside my apartment. Blake shut off the engine and climbed out of the Chevy.

"What are you doing?" I asked as he opened the passenger side door to let me out.

"Walking you up." He raised an eyebrow. "That a problem?"

"...no, but I _can_ walk up to my apartment alone, you know."

He shrugged and stuffed his hands in his pockets as we started across the sidewalk to the steps leading to the first floor. "Yeah, but it's late and dark and I'd feel better walking you to your door."

"Well, aren't you a gentleman?" I said, shooting him a wry look.

"You're just now figuring that out?"

I snorted and shook my head. "I guess so. What _ever_ could have taken me so long?"

He chuckled. "Y'know, I'm not a total dick _all_ the time."

"Just some of the time?"

"Exactly." He winked, still grinning.

We reached my door and I pulled my keys out of my purse, but I didn't open the door right away. Honestly, I didn't want him to go. I _know_ how bad that sounds, but I couldn't help it. If someone had told me a few months before that I would be craving the company of _Blake Maxwell_ , I would have laughed in their face. But right then, there was no one else on the planet that I would rather have been with.

Just admitting that to myself scared me half to death.

"Thank you for the ride, Blake," I said quickly, turning away from him and opening the door.

"You sure you're gonna be okay?" His voice rumbled from behind me, sending goose bumps down my spine.

"Yeah, I'll be fine, honestly," I stepped inside the apartment before turning back to him, half closing the door so there was only a small gap left, putting a partial barrier between us. I knew I was being rude, but I felt like if I stood there with him for much longer I might do something really stupid, like ask him to come inside with me.

He was looking at me with a hint of amusement on his face. "Okay, well, if you're sure. Night, Princess."

"Night," I said quickly, before closing the door in his face. I turned, leaning my back against the wood as I listened to his footsteps receding back down the stairs, trying in vain to sort through the roaring confusion in my mind.

#

My thoughts soon returned to Connor.

I spent the whole weekend shut up inside my apartment; I had trouble sleeping, I ate a lot of ice cream, I spent a lot of time lounging on my bed staring at the minute cracks in the ceiling, and I became pretty familiar with the tiny flowers on the outdated wallpaper next to my pillow. My mind worked constantly, second guessing what I'd said, wondering whether I was right to let him walk away.

But it kept coming back to the same answer: Yes.

"You were right," I said to Mel as I plopped down next to her on the couch Monday night after college.

She immediately muted the TV and turned to face me, sitting Indian style. "What?"

"I said you were right."

"Oh, I know, I just wanted to hear it again."

I snorted and propped my feet up on the coffee table.

"So, what was I right about?" she asked.

"Connor," I stated, unable to meet her eyes, staring at my toes, noticing my nail polish was chipped. "What you said about me convincing myself he was great without getting to know him properly first. I really _did_ do that, didn't I?" I glanced over at her to see her staring at me, wide eyed. "What?"

"You're really serious about this break up, aren't you?"

This time I met her eyes unflinchingly. "Yeah. I really am."

Because the Connor that broke up with me wasn't the same Connor that I'd met last fall. The Connor that I'd met last fall was crazy, funny and sometimes sweet. The Connor that broke up with me was reckless without the fun; he was sarcastic without the humor...

And I just could NOT get past the drugs thing.

To be completely truthful, I don't think I ever _really_ got over what happened the night that I went over to see him after his mom had kicked him out - when he was out of his mind on bourbon and coke and who-knew-what else.

And after that, the fact that he disregarded how uncomfortable I was with him using, just threw salt on the wounds.

The whole thing reminded me of that movie _He's Just Not That into You_ \- because, you know, if he was _that_ into me, he'd have picked me wouldn't he? And screw the crack.

But he didn't.

I knew I had been right to let him walk away.

But that doesn't mean it didn't hurt.

The thing was, our relationship had been going downhill for a long time, and each new hurt had been painful and often humiliating. I had already cried over him, over the loss of _us_ , so many times before that it was as if I had already mourned our break up, before it even happened.

The realization that he had already been long gone, even before we broke up - _long_ before that, in fact - was the thing that really kicked me in the guts.

Mel must have recognized the look of hurt on my face, because she immediately offered me wine.

"How do you even _have_ wine?" I asked as she disappeared into the kitchen, emerging a minute later with two glasses and a bottle of Merlot.

"Blake," she said, grinning as she placed the glasses on the coffee table and poured out the wine.

"Blake bought you wine?"

"Yeah, well no, _technically_ he bought _you_ wine."

I just looked at her in confusion as she handed me a glass.

"The other night, after he brought you back here, he met back up with us at The Pit. Before we all went home, he went to the bar and bought this. He told me to drink it with you if you were sad."

Out of nowhere, I had a lump in my throat at his thoughtfulness.

Mel grinned mischievously. "He totally wants in your pants."

"Mel!" I exclaimed as my face started to heat. "It's not like that!"

"Oh really?"

"We're friends," I said firmly. I may have been talking to Mel, but I was also addressing Internal Slutty Amy who was currently changing into satin underwear.

"Yeah," Mel allowed. "You're _friends_. Sure." She leant back on the couch and un-muted the TV, a smug smile on her face.

I almost opened my mouth to protest further, but what was the point? She'd made up her mind. So I just sipped my wine instead...and thought about Blake...which in turn led to texting Blake...

_Me:_ _Thank you for the wine. That was really nice of you._

_Blake:_ _You're welcome...does that mean I do have SOME redeeming qualities?_

_Me:_ _Do you remember EVERY insult I ever threw at you?_

_Blake:_ _Yep. Now answer the question._

_Me:_ _*Eye roll* Okay, yes Blake, you do have SOME redeeming qualities._

_Blake:_ _Ha! Eye roll? Ever heard of an emoticon?_

_Me:_ _*sticks tongue out*_

_Blake:_ _You're cracking me up._

_Me:_ _Ha! Cracking you up? Ever heard of LOL?_

_Blake:_ _Nice._

The thing was, once the texting started, we couldn't seem to stop. Over the next couple of weeks, barely a few hours went by without me hearing from him.

_Blake:_ _Knock knock._

_Me:_ _What?_

_Blake:_ _KNOCK KNOCK!_

_Me:_ _Fine - who's there?_

_Blake:_ _Ben._

_Me:_ _Ben who?_

_Blake:_ _Ben Dover._

_Me:_ _That's terrible._

_Blake:_ _That's not what Ben said..._

_Me:_ _Eww._

***

_Me:_ _Who's your favorite band in the world right now?_

_Blake:_ _Can't just name ONE!_

_Me:_ _Don't think about it too much. If you could listen to anyone right now, who would it be?_

_Blake:_ _I'm listening to Pearl Jam so I guess that's your answer._

_Me:_ _Thought you were at work?_

_Blake:_ _Taking a break, sitting in my truck eating a sub...why you asking about bands anyway?_

_Me:_ _Studying and I need some background music - can't decide what to listen to. Which album?_

_Blake:_ _Vitalogy._

_Me:_ _Perfect. I'm listening to it too now._

_Blake:_ _You're killing me._

***

_Blake:_ _What you doing?_

_Me:_ _It's 11.30 PM, what do you think I'm doing?_

_Blake:_ _Lying in bed thinking about me?_

Actually, I _was_ , but there was no way I was going to admit that to him.

_Me:_ _In your dreams!_

_Blake:_ _So...?_

_Me:_ _*Eye roll* Lying in bed reading._

_Blake:_ _Haha. What you reading?_

_Me:_ _'The Stand' by Stephen King._

_Blake:_ _Which part you up to?_

_Me:_ _You've read it?_

_Blake:_ _Yep. Now answer the question._

_Me:_ _Bossy much?_

_Blake:_ _Yep. Now answer the question._

_Me:_ _Larry and Rita are in the tunnel..._

_Blake:_ _Shit, that part is creepy!_

_Me:_ _I know! I just had to switch my light on!_

_Blake:_ _Dammit, now I wanna hug you..._

_Me:_ _Distract me instead. What're you doing?_

_Blake:_ _You wouldn't believe me now._

_Me:_ _Try me._

_Blake:_ _Lying in bed reading._

_Me:_ _Liar!_

_Blake:_ _See?_

_Me:_ _Okay, reading what? Playboy?_

_Blake:_ _Ha fucking ha, you don't think I'd be reading an actual book?_

_Me:_ _Kidding Mr. Sensitive. Now YOU answer the question._

_Blake:_ _Reading 'It'._

_Me:_ _Now I know you're lying! Too much of a coincidence!_

_Blake:_ _Truth. Swear to God. You read it?_

_Me:_ _Some of it, I didn't get to the end._

_Blake:_ _Why not?_

_Me:_ _Too scary!_

_Blake:_ _Fuck. Now I really wanna hug you..._

_Me:_ _Night, Blake._

_Blake:_ _Night, Princess. Sweet dreams._

#

Mel and I pulled up outside the large house that Hayley lived in with her mom. It was surrounded by lush gardens to the front and rear, full of a host of colorful plants I couldn't name. Hayley's mom, Dawn, was _very_ into gardening, and it showed. Everywhere you looked there was a water feature or a sculpture half hidden by greenery, or a bejeweled piece of wall art perfectly offset by the vibrant flowers surrounding it. I'd once told Dawn that her garden was my 'happy place', and I wasn't lying, it was beautiful.

We got out of the car carrying our gifts with us up the winding garden path to the front porch. It was Hayley's twenty first birthday and she was having a huge house party to celebrate.

"Are you sure you're going to be okay?" Mel asked. I think she was actually more anxious about me coming face to face with Connor than I was.

"Well, if I'm not, the getaway car is right there." I cocked a thumb over my shoulder.

"If you want me to throw a drink on him, just say the word."

I laughed. "Thanks, I will."

"Don't think I won't either."

"Oh, don't worry, I know you're serious."

"As a heart attack," she said grimly.

I was still chuckling when we opened the door. Inside the house was mainly open plan with the stairs dead ahead, the living room off to the right, the dining room off to the left and the kitchen partitioned off from the dining room, running along the back of the house - in short, nowhere to hide. But there _was_ one hell of a huge crowd to get lost in.

The things is, when you _want_ to get lost in those types of situations, it never really works like that.

As soon as we set foot through the door, there they were - all of the Sons of Sinners guys. They were standing together, just inside the dining room and, as Mel and I walked in, they pretty much turned as one and looked at me. Even though it was loud inside the house, the silence in my brain was deafening - I just kind of froze up.

It was silly really. I mean, I _knew_ they would all be there. But knowing that is one thing; walking straight into it is another.

When my brain kicked in again, it was immediately pulled in two different directions: Connor on the one side, Blake on the other. And I didn't know who to look at first - so I went with habit.

Connor looked hot, he _always_ looked hot, but he also looked tired and a little spaced out. To tell the truth, he looked pretty much how I thought he would. When our eyes met, he nodded a curt greeting and then just walked away, muttering something about getting another beer.

When my eyes found Blake though, my breath caught in my throat and my heart pounded in my chest. His perfectly tousled hair looked as rich as cocoa against his tan skin; his broad chest heaved as he took a deep breath, and his ink teased me as it peeked above the neckline of his shirt. His sapphire eyes were locked on me from under dark brows, which were drawn together in a look of mild concern.

I heard Mel exchange greetings with Derren and Kane, and I opened my mouth to speak - but words failed me. I couldn't drag my eyes away from Blake long enough to form a coherent thought. Although I'd been in contact with him every day over the past couple of weeks, I hadn't actually _seen_ him and it was like I was just then looking at him for the first time.

Luckily, Hayley's mom came to my rescue.

"Girls! You're here!" Dawn shrieked from across the living room. Hayley was standing next to her; they looked so similar it was almost eerie. But whereas Hayley was definitely a rock chick, Dawn was more of a free spirited hippy. Her long red hair was piled up on her head in a messy yet intricate series of braids, intertwined with green feathers. Dawn was of the attitude that any friend of her daughter's was a part of the family. As such, she pretty much ran an open house. Also, drinking laws didn't mean squat to Dawn. "Come on over here and have a _Cosmo_ , girls!"

That was pretty much the theme of the night: 'have a Cosmo'.

Although I didn't have one - I had my getaway car at the ready - Hayley definitely made the most of being twenty-one, and Mel went along for the ride.

Before long, the karaoke was in full swing and Hayley and her mom were standing on the coffee table, belting out that eighties song by Tiffany - _I Think We're Alone Now_.

As soon as Derren saw Hayley singing, he pushed through the crowd and started acting like her biggest fan - clapping along, wolf-whistling and shouting ' _Yeeeah_ babe!" at the top of his lungs.

Hayley and her mom couldn't stop laughing at him and, when the song finished, Hayley leapt off the table into his arms.

_THAT'S what it should be like_ , a voice whispered inside my mind as I watched them.

I turned away and walked through into the kitchen, planning on getting myself a soda from the fridge. When I entered the kitchen, the first thing I saw was Connor, setting up a game of Beer Pong on the kitchen island. He was joking around with a couple of girls - Hayley's friends from college - but he glanced up as I walked in. Blake and Kane were leaning against the counter behind him, each holding a bottle of beer. When my eyes met Blake's, he winked at me and my stomach dipped.

"Wanna play?" Connor asked, pulling my attention back to him as he gestured to the cups.

"Oh, I can't," I said, surprised that he had spoken to me. We hadn't so much as exchanged a text message since he walked away from me out back of Filthy Joe's. "I'm not drinking tonight, I brought my car instead."

"Of course you did." He rolled his eyes and glanced at one of the girls as if to say _Can you believe her?_

The girl giggled and stepped closer to him.

So much for the sisterhood.

I almost bit back at him, and then thought better of it. I didn't want to be the cause of an argument at Hayley's party and, to be honest, I was feeling kind of _over_ his bullshit. I turned away, grabbed a soda from the fridge and got out of there in search of my 'happy place'.

#

I walked out of the back door and into the large garden. If the front garden was beautiful, the back garden was heavenly. It was a sea of stunning shrubbery and decadently scented flowers, interlaced with picturesque walkways. I strolled along one of the whimsical pathways towards my favorite part of the garden - a hidden pond behind a screen of tall bushes at the very back of the garden, near to the eight foot tall fence that surrounded it. The water rippled with the impact of a small waterfall that trickled down a mini rock formation, making the reflected moonlight shudder and dance on the cool water.

I walked around the pond and leant against the fence, sipping on my soda and listening to the tinkling of the waterfall.

After a few minutes, I heard the door of the house open. From where I was standing, I couldn't see who had come outside - I just hoped it wasn't Connor.

"You out here, Princess?" Blake's voice called out.

I almost didn't say anything - but, my desire to see him got the better if me. "Over here, Blake," I called back.

"Uh, where?"

"By the pond."

"There's a pond? Can't see a pond...are you fucking with me?"

I couldn't help smiling into the darkness. "Can't you hear the waterfall?" I asked, a teasing note in my voice.

He was quiet for a beat, then he spoke again. "Oh, yeah...hang on." The sound of his footsteps got louder as he made his way through the garden. The next time he spoke, his voice was closer - just on the other side of the tall shrubs. "Okay, you're gonna have to help me out here Princess."

"There's a secret archway."

"...where?"

"You need to take two steps to your right," I said. After a moment, I heard him do as I asked. "Okay, good, now take four steps to your left." There was a longer hesitation that time, but he still did it. "Right, now hop back to your right three times." I heard him chuckle, but from the sound of it he _still_ did it. I started laughing as I gave my next command. "Great, now do two pirouettes."

"Hell no. I'm done!" He laughed. "How do I get back there?"

"Follow the path along to your right all the way to the fence and there's an archway that'll lead you through."

A few moments later I saw him appear at the other side of the pond. "There you are," he said as he walked over to me and leant one shoulder against the fence just next to me, so that he was facing me.

"Here I am, and despite appearances, I'm not actually hiding. I just like it here."

He glanced at the pond and the colorful flowers around it. "Yeah, I can see why. It's peaceful." He looked back at me. "You okay?"

"Did Connor send you out here?" I asked.

"Fuck no. Are you kidding?"

I thought for a second. No, Connor would never send Blake to see if I was okay. "I guess that was a stupid question."

"Did he upset you?" Blake said quietly.

"No, actually."

"Are you sure?" He leant closer and whispered conspiratorially, "You want me to kick his ass?"

I snorted a laugh. "No. I think I'm good."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Damn, I was looking forward to going all Axl Rose on his ass."

"Does that make him Slash?"

"Ha! Okay, forget that. I was looking forward to going all Noel Gallagher on his ass."

"You wouldn't want to be Liam in this hypothetical fight?"

He snorted contemptuously. "Nah, Noel's the one with all the talent, Liam was only in the band 'cause their mom _made_ Noel let him join to keep him out of trouble."

I laughed. "That actually fits."

"I know, right?"

"Thanks for the offer though," I said with mock solemnity. "No one's ever offered to kick someone's ass for me before and you've done it _twice_."

He frowned but he was smiling too. "I have?"

"Yeah, don't you remember that night at Filthy Joe's?"

"Oh, yeah...that's just not what really sticks in my head about that night."

I winced as I remembered what he had told me that night - about his dad showing up, about what happened to his mom. "Sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up."

He frowned. "What? Why?"

"That was the night your dad showed up wasn't it?"

"Yeah, I guess, but that's not what I meant either."

I was confused. "Then what did you mean?"

He looked me dead in the eye. "You. That's what I remember about that night. Just you - how much I wanted to kill those guys who were bothering you, and then when we were out back together...I told you things I've never told anyone. That's when I knew I was fucked."

"What do you mean?" I whispered.

"You really have no idea?"

"I...I don't know." I looked down, allowing my hair to fall in a curtain around my face.

"Don't do that," he said softly. "Don't hide from me." He brushed my hair over my shoulder, grazing my neck lightly with his knuckle as he did so. Just that tiny touch sent a tingle through me. "Look at me." He commanded.

I bit my lip uncertainly as I did as he asked.

"Okay Princess, I'm gonna be completely honest with you now," his blue eyes were deep, dark pools of intensity. The moonlight highlighted his brow and skimmed along his chiseled jaw. "I've wanted you since the first second I saw you. You were at my house, remember? At that party where we played in the backyard?"

I nodded wordlessly; I felt like my heart was going to explode.

"You looked like you'd walked into the wrong party. You were wearing this white blouse thingy, looking all preppy and shit." He paused, smirking at me. "All I wanted to do was rip that fucking shirt off of you."

My eyes bugged out. "But - but you were so rude to me!"

"Self preservation, Princess. You were with my cousin." He shook his head slightly. "But that night out back of Filthy's? That was when I _knew_."

I stared at him. The way he was looking at me, like I was all there was worth seeing in the world, made me ache to reach out and touch him, to feel the brush of his lips on mine. My _God_ , I wanted him so much, more than I could ever remember wanting anything.

But at the same time, the way that I felt about him was all tangled up with feelings of guilt.

"Knew what?" My voice was barely more than a breath.

"That I couldn't fight it forever," he whispered, right before he kissed me.

#

He lowered his head slowly, maybe giving me time to stop him if I wanted. But I didn't. I let him kiss me.

He held my eyes right until the last second.

When his lips finally met mine, his eyes drifted shut as he kissed me so softly and gently that it was like the barest whisper; his lips only just brushing across mine. It was the most innocent kiss of my life...and yet somehow the most exciting. It was the complete opposite of what I would have expected from him.

He pulled back maybe an inch and opened his eyes, brushing his knuckles against my cheek and then bringing his palm and rough fingers to rest lightly on the side of my neck, the tip of his thumb skimming along my jaw, tilting my head up so that my mouth met his fully when he kissed me again.

This time he kissed me just a tiny bit harder, pressing his full, warm lips against mine completely. He lightly teased his tongue against the seam of my mouth, seeking entry. I opened to him and his tongue caressed mine unhurriedly, like he was savoring the taste of me.

His taste - mint, sin, a hint of beer - and his spicy, musky scent overwhelmed my senses, combining with his kiss, making my heart pound in my chest and sending tingles through my body. Moaning breathily, I reached for him. He moved so that he was in front of me, pressing me against the fence as I put my hands to his waist and slid them around to his back, bunching them in his shirt.

A rumbling groan escaped him and he deepened the kiss further this time, increasing the intensity. I pulled him tight against me as I melted against his huge, hard body and basked in the feel of him against my softer curves.

Then I felt something else, firm but not yet rock solid, growing in his jeans. I could tell, even from that limited contact, that it was big. Really big. The feel of him lengthening and hardening against my stomach nearly drove me wild.

Abruptly, our tryst was shattered with the sound of the back door opening followed by Hayley's voice. "Amy? Amy, are you out here?"

I jerked my head back, breaking our kiss and banging my head against the fence simultaneously. I released my hold on Blake's shirt, pushed one hand against his chest and covered his mouth with the other. "Shit!" I whispered frantically.

His eyes flared briefly with something I couldn't quite identify - maybe frustration - and his large hand curled around my wrist, pulling my hand away from his mouth firmly but gently. He moved his head to my neck and whispered into my ear. "Relax, Princess, I'm not gonna blow your cover." The feel of his breath against my neck and ear made me shiver. In a good way. A _really_ good way.

"She's not here," Hayley said.

"Maybe she went home then, honey."

I recognized that as Dawn's voice.

"Yeah, maybe. I just hope Connor didn't upset her."

The sound of the door closing echoed across the yard.

My hand was still against Blake's chest. "I need to go home," I said, shakily as I pushed against him, trying to gently free myself from his embrace.

At first he didn't budge, but then slowly, reluctantly, he backed up a step. "Okay," he said calmly, like _No big deal_ , like we hadn't just been locked in the most incredible kiss of my life.

"...okay?"

He smiled grimly. "You go first, I'll give it five and then I'll go back inside. If anyone asks, I haven't seen you."

I hated the thought of cheapening what had just happened between us with lies and secrets, but at the same time, the thought of Connor finding out about our kiss filled me with shame. I mean, we'd only been broken up a couple of weeks and here I was, making out with his _cousin_ just a few dozen yards away from where he stood.

I stared at Blake for a moment before I spoke. "...yeah, I think that's for the best."

He nodded wordlessly; I could see that his jaw was clenched tight and his shoulders were tense. I wanted so desperately to reach for him again - but I stopped myself.

I slipped out from between him and the fence and walked towards the archway that led back to the main part of the garden. Seeing that there was no one else in the garden, I quickly jogged along the pathway to the side gate and let myself out, so that I didn't have to go back through the party.

#

When I got to my car I texted Mel and Hayley to tell them that I was going home but told them not to worry, I stressed the point that Connor wasn't the reason I'd left - I blamed it on the fact that finals were less than two weeks away and said that I needed to study tomorrow. It was true, I _did_ need to study...but obviously it wasn't the whole truth.

As I drove home from the party, I nearly hit an SUV at a stop light because _all_ I could think about was kissing Blake. I could still taste him. His scent was still lingering around me.

And _down there_?

Well, let's just say I had never been more sexually frustrated in my entire life.

Even after I got home and washed, brushed my teeth, changed into my pajamas and got into bed, my heart was still beating double time. It was like how I imagined being hooked up to an IV full of adrenaline would feel. I couldn't sleep; every time I closed my eyes I saw his face, felt his warm breath against my lips. I laid awake for hours, reliving the kiss, running his words through my head, berating myself for kissing him...and then reliving the kiss again.

I heard Mel get in from the party, and creep to her room, and still I laid awake. The light of dawn was starting to filter through the drapes before I finally managed to doze off. Even then I only managed to sleep for a few hours before my busy mind woke me up to start the obsessing all over again.

I finally gave up on sleep around 8AM and headed into the kitchen to make myself a coffee. I heard Mel's alarm clock blearing as I poured the hot water into my cup, and took another cup out of the cupboard so that I could fix her a drink too. I heard movement behind me and turned to see Mel, looking a little like an extra on _The Walking Dead_.

I held her coffee out to her. "Did you have fun last night?" I grinned.

"A little too much," she admitted, taking the cup from me. She took a sip and then looked at me closely. "I know why I look like crap, but why do _you_ look like crap?"

"Gee, thanks," I said sarcastically, but I was smiling. "You really have no filter when you're hung over."

"I'm just saying, you look tired - wait, you weren't up all night pining over _him_ were you?"

I almost asked who she meant, but I managed to stop myself just in time, and just shook my head.

"Because, and believe me when I say this, he does NOT deserve it, okay?"

"...okay."

She nodded angrily. "Good."

"Mel, did something happen after I left?"

She looked intensely troubled. "I don't know, I was pretty drunk, but..."

"But?" I prompted.

"I don't want to upset you."

"You won't," I said firmly.

She looked into her coffee and took another sip. "Connor left with some girls," she muttered.

"Oh..."

It wasn't actually painful to hear; this is probably going to sound incredibly unfair and egotistical given what _I_ had ended up doing at the party - but it was more like my _pride_ was a little wounded at the thought of him moving on so quickly, not my actual _feelings_.

"But I'm not saying anything happened between them," she quickly continued. "I mean, he wasn't all over them or anything, I don't think I even saw him touch them, like, there wasn't even any hand holding or anything - they just left together is all. It was probably completely innocent."

"Was it just Connor?"

"Was what just Connor?"

"Was it just Connor and the girls, or were the other guys with them too?"

"Oh, just Connor. Derren stayed with Hayley. Blake and Kane got a cab with me."

I breathed an audible sigh of relief.

"Amy? Are you sure you're okay?"

I smiled reassuringly at her. "Yes, Mel, I really am."

She studied me for a few seconds. "I believe you," she said eventually. "Which is why I'm going to get dressed and drag my ass to the library - finals suck."

I resolved to spend the day studying at home, so I ate breakfast while Mel got ready to go, then after she left I took a long, hot shower, hoping it would clear my preoccupied mind.

It didn't work.

I was standing in my bedroom, wearing just my underwear, towel drying my hair when the sound of someone knocking at the front door pulled me out of my reverie.

I stuck my head out of my bedroom door and shouted across the living room, "Who is it?" Just betting my ass it was the postman with a package for next door, I didn't know what they were doing in there, but they were constantly getting weird shaped deliveries.

"Just me, Princess." Blake's rumbling voice sounded through the door.

I froze. "Uh, what are you doing here?" I squeaked.

"Were you expecting someone else?" There was a hint of amusement in his voice.

"No - but...why are you here?"

"Why don't you let me in and find out?"

"Um, just give me a minute."

"Wait...are you _naked_?!"

"NO! _Shut up_! I have neighbors you know!"

That was like a red rag to a bull; his voice got instantly louder. "You ARE naked aren't you? I _knew_ you were expecting me -"

"YOU _ASSHOLE_!" I shouted as I grabbed my robe from the back of my bedroom door and put it on quickly, tying the belt tightly around me as I ran through the living room.

"Are you going to let me in now? Or do I need to start shouting about how we made -"

I flung the apartment door open. "You are _unbelievable_!" I fumed.

Blake just threw his head back and laughed.

I jabbed a finger at him. "Shut _up_!" I hissed. "Get in here."

He only laughed harder and pretty much shouted "Finally!" before he strolled past me.

Flustered, I practically slammed the door behind him and then turned and glared at him for a few seconds, but his laughter was infectious and before long I couldn't help giggling.

"What are you doing this weekend?" he asked.

The question took me by surprise. "Um, studying...why?"

"For finals, right?"

"Yeah."

"When are they? Next week?"

"No, the week after."

"So you don't have any next week?"

I frowned and smiled simultaneously. "No...why?"

"I want you to come away with me for the weekend."

I stared at him in shock. "You - I - _what_?"

He grinned. "Come away with me this weekend. We can leave now, well, when you've packed your shit, and we'll be back tomorrow night."

If I said that wasn't the most tempting offer I ever had I would be lying, but immediately alarm bells started ringing. Going away for the _weekend_ with Blake obviously meant an _overnight_ stay somewhere. Me and Blake. Overnight. Together. Holy _shit_. I _may_ have panicked a little. "Blake, I - we - we can't - I can't just go away with you!" I stammered.

"Why not?"

"Because I should be studying!"

"You have all next week to study, and if you _really_ need to, bring some flashcards or whatever with you, and I'll help."

I shook my head. "I can't go away with you."

"Why not? And don't say 'studying' again."

"Because...where would we even _go_ anyway?"

"My family owns this little cabin in the mountains near Charleston Peak that I've been going to since I was a kid. I go up there whenever I need to get out of the city for a couple days. I think you'd love it."

"That does sound nice," I admitted.

He nodded. "It is. So what do you say?"

I hesitated. "I just don't think you and I going away together is a good idea."

"In case I pounce on you and try to get you to have freaky sex?" he said, grinning.

_YES_!

"No! That's not what I meant!"

He raised his eyebrows, like _Please, I can see straight through you_. "Really?"

"No."

"Then why not?"

He had me there. I bit my lip and looked at the floor.

Blake stepped forward and for a second I thought that he was going to reach out and touch me, take my hands or something - but he didn't.

"Look at me, Princess," he commanded quietly.

Unable to resist, my eyes found his, and I was instantly mesmerized by their _blueness_ and the tenderness that I could see in their depths. Yeah, Blake Maxwell and _tenderness_ \- welcome to An Alternate Reality.

"I'm going either way, but I want you to come with me. There's something between us, even if you don't want to admit it. I understand why that makes you uncomfortable. I really do. I get it, believe me. I know it's not an ideal situation. But it is what it is. I feel what I feel. And I know you feel something too. You wouldn't have let me kiss you otherwise -"

"Blake -"

"Just let me finish. I'm going on tour in a week and I'll be away for months, and more than anything I just want to spend some time with you before I go. And if we just spend time together as friends, then I'll take that, because what's really important to me is being _with_ _you_. So I swear, hand on heart, that I won't pressure you for anything else, I won't expect anything else from you. Just come with me as a friend, because if friendship is all I can have from you, then okay, I'll live with that - but I need _at_ _least_ that."

I felt like I was about to cry, his words were so sincere. But I had to be clear. "No pressure? No expectations?"

He raised one hand, palm facing outwards. "None, Scout's honor."

" _You_ were in Scouts?" I asked dubiously.

He shrugged and grinned. "I went once," he said; then he stepped back and dropped his hand. "Nothing has to happen unless you want it to, I swear."

I bit my lip again and his eyes instantly snapped down to my mouth. I realized that it probably looked a little suggestive, especially since I was almost naked under my robe. I forced myself to stop. "And if I don't want anything to happen, you'll just be _okay_ with that?"

"Yes," he said firmly.

I knew I should probably say 'no', going away with Blake so soon after breaking up with Connor didn't seem right, but I just couldn't bring myself to refuse him. "...okay."

He broke into a huge smile. "Is that a 'yes'?"

"Yes."

" _Hell, yes_!" His face split into a wide grin.

I smiled at his reaction. "Just let me get dressed."

"Okay," he said as he started to follow me into my room.

"Blake! You _said_ -"

He burst out laughing and started backing away, palms raised as if I'd pulled a gun on him. "Okay, it was a _joke_! I'll turn around."

"You'll wait _outside_!"

He pouted comically. "Aw, c'mon..."

"Out!"

He tried puppy dog eyes. "You're really mean, y'know?"

I rolled my eyes and folded my arms across my chest, tapping one foot impatiently. He relented and went to wait in the living room, still chuckling.

Less than an hour later we were climbing into his Chevy and heading out of the city.

#

Not long after we passed the city limits, we stopped for lunch at a family run diner simply called Ally's. It looked like a cross between a coffee shop and a bar inside - quaint and rustic with a kind of dive bar edge.

"They do Open Mic nights here sometimes," Blake said. "I used to play them all the time before I got really busy with the band. Also - best Sloppy Joe EVER."

We got situated in a booth next to the window with a view of the highway and the mountains climbing up into the distance. It was instantly relaxing.

"Hey, if it isn't the love of my life!" A husky, female voice drew my attention away from the view. I turned to see an older woman, maybe in her late forties or early fifties, dark skinned and covered almost from head to toe in colorful tattoos. She was smiling down at Blake. "Where've you been? It's been lonely around here without you."

Blake stood up and enveloped her in a bear hug. "Ally, darlin', you know I missed you too."

"Yeah, yeah, keep feeding me those lines, honey." She kissed him on the cheek, but despite her earlier words the kiss seemed more maternal than anything else. As she stepped back, she cocked her head at me. "Who's this beauty?"

Blake lowered himself back down into the booth and grinned at me. "Ally, this is my friend Amy."

Ally raised her eyebrows curiously at me and held out her hand, which I shook. "Nice to meet a friend of Blake's, I was startin' to think he didn't have any."

I shot Blake a curious look. He just smiled at me and shrugged.

Ally turned back to Blake again. "You headin' up to the cabin?"

"Yeah, just for the night."

"Well, I never thought I'd see the day," she murmured. I wondered what she meant by that, but before I could say anything she grinned conspiratorially at me. "I've known this one since he was a little boy, the _stories_ I could tell you..."

"Really?" I asked, going along with her teasing. "Like what?"

"Well, there's one that really sticks at the forefront of my mind. He was around six years old at the time, and he came runnin' in here like a bat out of hell, all over excited to show me his new costume - he was really into superheroes for a while there - and he was wearin' this red, homemade costume with a little round cosmetic mirror stuck -"

"Ally -" Blake's deep voice rumbled in warning.

"Do you mind?" I said. "Ally's telling me a story."

"Yeah, zip it sweetie," Ally said to him sharply.

Blake tried to look annoyed, but I could tell he was trying to hide a smile.

Ally looked back at me. "Anyway, like I was sayin', he had on this red costume with a little round mirror stuck to the front and he's shoutin' _'Ally! Look! Look! Got an Ironing Man costume, he's a super hero! He does all the ironing!'_ " She let out a loud cackle and socked Blake on the shoulder. "You were the cutest damn thing!"

I burst out laughing. "You - you thought _Iron_ Man was _Ironing_ Man?!"

Blake shot Ally a deadly look out of the corner of his eye. "Yeah, for like, a _week_ \- then I figured it out."

I was still chuckling, even after Ally took our order and walked away. "So who did you think Superman was?" I asked.

He shook his head, trying to hide his grin. "I _knew_ he was Superman -"

"What about Spiderman or Batman or - wait - The Flash must have _really_ thrown you." I looked at him with mock concern.

He snorted a laugh. " _No_. It was just Iron Man -"

I nodded sympathetically. "Easy mistake to make."

"No one _explained_ it to me -" he paused as I dissolved into another fit of giggles. "Know what - never mind. Whatever."

"Aww, come on, don't _sulk_ ," I teased. "I promise I won't laugh at you anymore." It was a lie. I couldn't help asking him about The Green Lantern, at which point he refused to talk to me until Ally brought over our food. We had both ordered Sloppy Joes and Blake was right, it was the best I'd ever eaten.

"Ally, that was incredible," I said when she came back to clear our plates.

"Thanks, honey." She smiled at me.

Blake insisted on getting the check, despite my objections that we should at least split it, and then we said our goodbyes. When we stood up from the booth Ally pulled Blake into a tight hug. "Have fun up there honey," she said as she smiled at him and kissed him on the cheek again.

"We plan to," he replied, winking at me over the top of her head.

"I'll _bet_ you do."

I felt my cheeks heat at the implication and shot Blake a death glare; he just looked back at me all innocent like, _Hey, I can't control what she thinks_.

Then Ally pulled me into an unexpected hug. When she pulled back she looked at me, suddenly serious. "Don't you break his heart honey, he's not as tough as he looks."

That was the last thing I expected her - or anyone else, for that matter - to say about _Blake_ , of all people. My eyes widened in surprise as I looked between her and him.

Blake closed his eyes briefly and let out a groan like he couldn't believe she'd actually just said that.

Ally just let out a low cackle at his reaction, her good humor returning instantly.

#

We walked most of the way across the parking lot to the truck in silence, though I kept stealing furtive glances out of the corner of my eye at Blake as we went.

"Just say it," Blake eventually said on a sigh, like he was incredibly put upon.

"Say what?" I asked, feigning complete innocence.

He opened the passenger side door for me. "I know you're dying to say something, so just go ahead and say it."

I frowned like I was completely confused. "What do you think I'm going say exactly?"

He rolled his eyes and walked around the truck and climbed into the driver's seat. He glanced at me as he started up the engine.

I kept my mask of innocent confusion in place.

He pursed his lips like he was pissed, but trying not to smile at the same time. " _Well_?"

"Well what? You haven't told me what I'm supposed to be saying yet."

He shook his head. "You make me crazy."

"Aww, and here was me thinking you were _tough_."

He turned to glare at me, pointing a finger at my face. "There! Right there! I knew you couldn't resist it!"

I burst into laughter at his outrage.

He wheel spun us out of the parking lot like he was oh-so-angry but that just made me laugh even harder. After a second he was chuckling despite himself.

I decided to cut him some slack and change the subject. "So, what's it like to be unemployed?" I asked with only a slightly teasingly tone to my voice. He and the other guys had all finished up at their day jobs the week before, ready for the tour.

Blake's face split into a wide grin. "Fucking amazing!"

"You deserve to finally be able to just focus on the band. I don't think I've ever known anyone work as many hours as you guys have been. Working two jobs like that would kill me - but I guess that's the side that people don't see when they're buying albums and concert tickets."

"By the time enough people are actually buying your albums and tickets, that shit is usually already done with."

"Your EP is already selling well though," I pointed out. I'd heard the exact figures from Derren only a few days before - they had released it through iTunes and Amazon as well as selling CD copies at shows.

"It's selling well for an EP by a mostly unknown band from the ass end of Vegas - but when we record a full album, and that bitch goes platinum, then I'll fucking celebrate." He grinned at me. " _Then_ we'll go large in the fucking Bellagio."

"When are you recording the album?" I asked, smiling at his enthusiasm.

"As soon as we get back off tour, so I'll probably be writing the whole time we're away."

"You don't have enough songs already?"

"Yeah we do, but I want them to be better. Some of our older songs aren't good enough - and besides, I want a choice. I don't want to have to put a song on the album that I'm not one hundred percent happy with 'cause that's all we got, I want to be able to just pick the best."

" _You_ want to be able to pick or _the band_ wants to be able to pick?" I asked, smirking.

"The band..." he shot me a look. "Okay, _I_ want to pick."

"And they'll just let you?"

"Kane will. Derren'll have his own ideas already, and Connor'll put up a fight just for the sake of it -" he broke off, as if he just realized what he said, _who's_ name he'd just dropped, and I saw him wince just the slightest bit.

The mention of Connor's name sent a stab of guilt to my gut. I had to look away from Blake, out of the passenger side window. For the past couple of hours, everything had felt almost normal; like we were just regular friends on a quasi-date which may or may not go further. All of that came crashing down with one single word: Connor.

I tried to focus on the scenery. We were in the mountains by then and there were tall aspen and maple trees on either side of us, their shadows dappling the road as we sped by.

After a while, Blake spoke. "Freaking out yet, Princess?"

"No," I said quietly and not at all convincingly.

"You don't need to freak out."

"I told you I'm not."

"Okay. But if you were...don't."

I bit my lip and frowned. I _was_ freaking out, clearly.

Eventually I turned to him. "Are _you_ freaking out?" I asked.

He cocked an eyebrow at me like, _Really?_

"Of course not," I said dryly. "You don't have the capacity."

Blake looked back at the road. "Do you want to get back together with him?" he asked, his voice a tight.

"No," I said honestly.

He visibly relaxed when he heard that.

"But...don't you feel even a tiny bit guilty?" I asked. It came out sounding a little accusatory when I'd only meant to sound curious.

He sighed and I saw his hands tighten their hold on the steering wheel. "I'm not an idiot, Princess. I know I'm breaking all kinds of 'guy codes' here, but you just said yourself that you don't want to be with him." He glanced at me. "You remember what I said earlier?"

I nodded silently.

"I meant it. I won't ask you for anything you're not willing to give. Just...cut yourself some slack, okay?"

#

The road started to climb into the foothills and before long we had turned off the main highway and were winding our way through the mountains, passing a series of cabins of various sizes, all nestled within the trees.

Eventually, Blake guided the pickup onto a smaller road, more like a dirt track really, that swung us round a dramatic cliff face. After another few minutes on that road we came upon a small log cabin, surrounded by large trees, which had been built close to a face of rock.

Blake parked outside the cabin and I stared out of the window at the tiny structure. It was incredibly picturesque in a run down, rustic kind of way; it looked like the kind of house that you'd see in a Western. Dark, weathered wood; a deck out front surrounded by a handrail - the kind that you would imagine cowboys tethering horses to - and a couple of low, wide steps which led up to the front door. The front door was in the middle of the cabin as you looked at it from the front, with a small perfectly square window on either side of it.

"What do you think?" Blake asked.

I turned to look at him. "I love it," I breathed. "It's so cute."

He broke into a wide smile. "Knew you'd like it. C'mon, I'll give you the tour."

Inside, the cabin was completely open plan, apart from the bathroom which was literally a wooden box set into one of the back corners. There was a little kitchenette to the right of the front door, just big enough to house a wooden table and four chairs. To the left were a couple of recliners, a small couch and a coffee table. There was a double bed in the back corner opposite to the bathroom.

Only one bed.

Only. One. Bed.

Blake must have seen what I was looking at because he moved between me and the bed. "Do you trust me, Princess? 'Cause if you _don't_ trust me, I'll take you back home." He looked me dead in the eye, and I could see the exasperation that he was trying to hide. "But if you _do_ trust me - then stop worrying, 'cause I meant what I said. Call bullshit if I'm lying. You know me and if you don't trust me by now, you never will."

He wasn't lying.

I could tell just by looking at him.

At that moment I gave up the fight.

I was alone with him in a beautiful place where no one would disturb us; no one would walk in and look at us like we were doing something wrong; no one would judge us.

Finally, we were free to just _be_ together, to see if what we felt for each other actually had substance or if it was just a case of lusting after a forbidden fruit.

I had wanted him for so long, both subconsciously and consciously...

Would it really be so wrong to just see what _could_ be?

I met his gaze unflinchingly. "I trust you, Blake," I said, and I meant it.

He grinned. "Well it's about fuckin' time."

#

I freshened up in the bathroom while Blake unloaded the truck. He brought in two bags of groceries, his black duffel bag, my purple overnight bag and his acoustic guitar.

"You brought a lot of food for one night," I said as I watched him stock the fridge.

"Yeah, well, I know how much you eat."

"Hey!" I socked him on the arm.

He laughed. "Hey, I never said it was a _bad_ thing, it's actually one of the things I like best about you."

"What? The fact that I can eat my own bodyweight in ribs - THAT'S attractive!" I joked.

"It _is_ actually. You don't get all pissy about calories and shit like most women -"

I felt a warm glow inside at his words.

"- you eat like a dude," he finished.

"HEY!" I shouted again, launching into another attack on his arm.

He roared with laughter and pretended to cower away from me. "Ow! Ow! Easy Princess - I give in! You win! I'm sorry!"

"You suck!" I half-laughed, half-shouted.

He was still chuckling.

I shot him a stink eye. "So, what now?"

"Now it's time to go."

" _Go_?! Go where?"

"Hiking."

"You _hike_?"

"Sure, why not?"

As it turned out, Blake's version of hiking was walking about a half a mile, until we reached a spot with a 'killer view', then he sat on his 'special rock' and offered me one of the iced lattes that he had grabbed out of the fridge before we set off.

I planted myself next to him. "This _is_ pretty comfy - for a rock."

"Right? Told you it was special." He nodded to the latte. "Nice?"

"Gorgeous...but, just so you know, this does _not_ count as hiking."

"If you walk on a mountain, it's called hiking," he said slowly, like he was explaining the concept of 'sit, stay' to an incredibly stupid dog.

I burst out laughing. "Um, no, that's not how it works."

"Sure it is."

"No. Wrong. Hiking is...walking a long way on..."

He leant closer to me and raised one eyebrow. "A mountain?"

"...uneven ground..."

"Like a fucking mountain." He leant back again and did a kind of gangsta-wrist-flick. "BOOM."

I blinked. "I'm sorry, did you just ' _boom'_ me?!"

"I just beat you with _logic_ , college girl, so yeah. BOOM."

I'd taken a sip of my drink, but I couldn't stop my laughter from escaping and I ended up snorting latte out of my nose.

Blake started to choke on his own drink because he was laughing so hard at my complete mortification.

It took us a loooong time to calm down from that one. It was one of those situations where, when you finally think that you have your laughter under control and can look the other person in the eye without losing it, one glance at them sets you off again. We must have been hysterical for at least ten minutes all told.

When we eventually got over it, we just sat and took in the view for a while in silence, sipping our lattes.

The scenery was dramatic, yet peaceful. Cavernous blue skies stretching above jagged, soaring mountains that were busting up through a blanket of ancient, majestic trees.

It made me feel small and insignificant, like a grain of sand on the beach. It brought with it an awareness that nothing I ever do, no decision I ever make and no action I ever take will have the slightest effect on the vista of practically everlasting beauty in front of me.

I knew that some people would find thoughts like that depressing.

But I didn't, I found it oddly comforting.

"It's so beautiful out here." I murmured.

"Sure is," Blake agreed.

"Do you come here a lot?" I asked.

"Yeah, I guess. I used to come out here all the time as a kid, then after my mom died my dad would never come. When I left home I took the keys." He smiled very faintly. "I actually lived up here for a little while after that, didn't have any place else to go. Now I just come up here when I feel like I wanna disappear for a while."

"Your dad has never been back?"

"Nah, I doubt he even knows I took the keys."

"What was she like, your mom?" I asked tentatively.

It took a moment for him to answer. "Fun. Silly really, I guess. She could never stay serious for long. Really creative. She was a musician, she could play anything, but she mainly played the piano."

"Did she teach you to play?"

"Yeah, the piano was the first thing I learned. I was really little, five maybe."

I tried to picture a five year old Blake sitting on a piano stool next to his mother - I couldn't quite get there. "It sounds like you take after her, then."

He nodded and his eyes clouded over. I knew that his mind had gone elsewhere and I turned my attention back to the view, allowing him time with his memories.

"What are your parents like?" he asked after a while.

I thought for a couple of seconds. "Um, really _normal_ , I guess. So normal that there's not a lot to tell. They got married after graduation and had my sister and me. They're both teachers." I shrugged. "And that's pretty much it."

"You get along with them okay?"

"Yeah. I have a lot in common with my dad. He's really into music but he's like me, if you handed him a guitar he wouldn't know what to do with it."

"Did he take you to shows growing up?"

I couldn't help but smile. "Yeah, he used to take me and Jo -"

"Your sister, right?"

"Yeah. As she got older she was always busy with her friends, and then she went away to college, so he just used to take me. I remember going to see Counting Crows when I was about twelve, I can't remember where we saw them but it was huge, so it must have been a stadium. We were standing right at the front through both of the opening bands and then, right when Counting Crows were about to come on I was like _'Dad, I really need to pee!'_ " I chuckled at the memory. "I thought he was going to cry with disappointment but he took me anyway, and then when we got back inside we couldn't get anywhere _near_ the front, so he put me on his shoulders so that I could see. I guess he couldn't see much though..." I shook my head. "I haven't thought about that in ages."

"He sounds like a good dad," Blake said quietly.

I looked at him, expecting to see some kind of bitterness on his face, but there was none, he just looked interested.

"He is. I really should call him more," I said a little guiltily.

Blake laughed. "Yeah, you probably should."

We walked a little further before we headed back to the cabin; when we got there we sat on the deck and drank sodas and talked and talked and _talked_. Since the first time we had really had a proper conversation - just the two of us, outside Filthy Joe's - we had gotten along on some level, underneath all of the sarcasm and word play. Our conversation was usually easy, and this was no exception. In fact, it was better, because there was no longer an elephant in the room.

He liked me.

I liked him.

And we didn't have to hide it anymore.

By the time we retreated into the cabin to fix dinner, I felt like I knew him a million times better and any pretense I had managed to maintain about the way I felt about him was quickly starting to crumble.

But Blake stayed true to his word and he never once tried to get closer to me physically. Even when - during our 'hike' back to the cabin - I stumbled on a rock and he had to shoot out an arm to catch me, he released me as soon as I was steady on my feet.

And I was starting to wish that I'd never made him make that damn promise.

#

That evening, Blake cooked a great dinner - yes, I was _not_ expecting that either.

I perched on the kitchen table, glass of wine in hand, and watched as he whipped up a stir fry. My eyes were drawn to his arms as he chopped the vegetables. He was wearing an ancient Metallica tee and I had a perfect view of his inked arms - I got lost in the ripple and movement of his muscles and sinews as he worked.

The noodles were bubbling steadily on the stove when he turned to me. He must have seen the lust on my face, because his eyes flared a little and he took a predatory step towards me before stopping short. It was as if he'd caught his body doing something his mind hadn't approved.

"More wine?" He asked, a little gruffly.

I held out my glass. "Sure."

His fingers brushed mine as he took the glass and sensation zinged up my arm, like a tiny electric shock. I bit my lip as he turned away to refill the glass and my eyes rested on his ass. It was rounded but not too big, just the perfect amount of male muscle, solid and -

He turned back around. "Here, Princess." He handed the full glass back to me. "Could you pass the oil?" He pointed to the shopping bag, still half unpacked, behind me on the table. I grabbed the bottle of oil and passed it to him and watched as he drizzled some into the wok before throwing in all the vegetables and strips of finely cut pork.

"So, I didn't know you could cook."

He held the wok handle and tossed the contents of it into the air before catching them again perfectly in the sizzling pan. "I eat, stands to reason I can cook. No one else is gonna feed me."

"I figured you ate a lot of takeout...and Cheetos."

"Well, that too." He grinned over his shoulder at me.

The food was delicious. We talked and laughed. Blake sunk two beers and I sipped at my wine. But the whole time I was so conscious of him, of his body less than two feet away. If he saw any signs of the desire welling up inside of me, he didn't show it again. He was either completely unaffected or keeping a damn secure check on his control.

After we finished our main course, he presented me with a huge bowl of ice cream. "Strawberry, your favorite."

"You have a pretty solid seduction routine going here." I grinned mischievously. "Cute log cabin, amazing scenery, gorgeous food...does it always work?" I was trying to come off as playfully teasing. I epically failed.

He frowned. "Don't do that."

"What? I'm just curious how many women this little routine has worked on."

He narrowed his eyes at me and when he spoke his voice was mocking. "You really wanna know? Sure you can handle it?"

I flushed. No, I was not at _all_ sure but I said "Yes" anyway.

"Well, let's see...at last count it was..." he trailed off and slowly waggled his head from side to side, as if he was counting. I started to feel a little bit like I was going to throw up - then his cold eyes snapped back to mine. "None."

" _None_?!"

"I never brought anyone else here. The last time I wasn't _alone_ up here was ten years ago." He shoved away from the table, grabbed our bowls and took them to the sink.

My face burned with shame.

I stared at his back as he washed our dishes. I felt awful. I had been trying to protect myself by goading him into admitting that I was one in a long line of log-cabin-conquests. I'd figured that then I would have another good reason to squash the burning desire I felt to touch him.

_He's still a man-whore. You've watched him work his way through too many women to mention,_ a voice whispered inside my head.

But the thing was, I knew there was more to him than that one, single facet of his life - and so I chose to ignore Cynical Amy, that bitch.

"I'm sorry," I said to his back.

"Forget it," he said gruffly.

I got up and went to his side. "No, Blake. That was petty and bitchy, I'm really sorry."

He turned his head to look at me but kept his hands in the water. His face was unreadable as he studied me for a long moment. My stomach dropped. Then, before I could react, he flicked a handful of suds in my face.

I squealed.

Then he did it again with the other hand.

" _Blake_!" I shrieked, grabbing for the towel. He was laughing as I wiped my face. I swatted him with the towel, giggling in shock and relief. "I'm soaked!"

He raised one eyebrow. "Reeeally?"

Realization hit me. " _No_! Oh my God, NO!"

It was too late, he was already roaring with laughter. I blushed furiously and swatted him with the towel again, repeatedly, which only made him laugh harder. "Okay, okay, I won't get you any wetter, I'm sorry!"

"Shut _up_!" I laughed.

After that, I helped him to wash and clear away the dinner things. Then we sat on the recliners and Blake turned on a radio that he'd pulled out of one of the kitchen cupboards. He tuned it to a Classic Rock station.

"Ten bucks says _November Rain_ comes on in the next half hour," he grinned at me.

"I'll take that bet and bet _you_ ten bucks _Bed of Roses_ comes on in the next hour."

"Done."

He won.

Asshole.

We listened to the radio and talked some more but when it got to around ten thirty I couldn't stifle a huge yawn.

"Sleepy, Princess?"

"Yeah," I admitted. "I didn't sleep very well last night."

He nodded to my overnight bag, which he had set at the foot of the bed earlier. "Hope you brought some cute PJs."

"Why? You a sucker for punishment?" I teased.

He snorted a laugh, nearly choking on his beer. " _Damn_ , Princess, you can be a real bitch, y'know that?"

I smiled impishly and hopped off of the recliner. "Yep. You shouldn't have given me wine." I grabbed my bag and disappeared into the bathroom. I changed into a tank top and a pair of shorts, before washing my face free of make-up.

When I emerged from the bathroom, Blake had slung his clothes on to his recliner and was wearing only a pair of dark grey sweats slung low on his hips.

My God, he was gorgeous.

The tattoos that I already mentioned on his arms? Well, they didn't stop there. His muscular chest and shoulders were a canvass of intricate images and symbols. I was aching to touch them, to trace my fingers over them. He had just the right amount of dark hair on his chest and lower stomach, leading down into the top of his sweats. His washboard abs were free from ink and I could see the grooves between his muscles. Each muscle looked like it had been shaded around the edges, like the tattooist had just carried on and traced the delves between each muscle.

He was _cut_.

"My face is up here, Princess," Blake said. His tone was amused and his mouth was curved in a smug smirk, but when I looked into his eyes I saw a desire to match my own.

My breath hitched.

I half expected him to move closer. Hell, I _wanted_ him to come closer. I wanted to feel his massive, hard body against mine. I wanted his hands on me...but he didn't budge.

"You take the bed, I'll sleep here." He gestured to the couch, there were a couple of blankets piled on top of it.

"You can't sleep there all night," I said.

"I'll be fine -"

"Just share the bed with me," I said, trying to keep my voice even. "It's silly you sleeping on that tiny couch when the bed is big enough for both of us."

He looked at me as though he were trying to solve a puzzle. "You sure?"

"Yeah," I grinned at him. "As long as you don't steal all the covers."

He grinned back. "Okay."

He flicked off the lights and the cabin descended into darkness but, as my eyes adjusted, I could make out more. The moon was full and bright and it's light sliced through the half drawn drapes.

We climbed into bed. I lay on my side facing him. I couldn't help it, I wanted to look at him. He lay on his back and he seemed to be about as far away from me as he could get without falling out of the bed.

I studied his profile in the moonlight, as I had done in the parking lot out back of Filthy Joe's all those months ago, and as I had done in Hayley's backyard the night before, right before he kissed me. I remember thinking that the moonlight would always remind me of Blake.

I drank in his strong jaw, peppered with stubble; I remembered how it had felt to have it scrub lightly against my face as he kissed me. I wanted him to kiss me again _sooo_ badly.

Damn it, is he REALLY not going make a move?

A sigh of frustration escaped my lips before I could stop it. I saw his jaw clench and his eyes squeeze shut.

I waited.

I held my breath.

But he didn't move.

I willed myself to make the first move, to reach out and touch him, to slide my body alongside his...but I just couldn't do it.

Abruptly, he rose from the bed and walked quickly to the cabin door; he stepped outside and shut the door behind him with a soft click, leaving me alone in the bed.

#

I lay there for a few moments, staring at the closed door. I knew - I _thought_ \- he wanted me like I wanted him. I was burning up with desire. I was wet just from the thought of him touching me...but he had promised he wouldn't unless I wanted him to. And if there was one thing I was beginning to learn about Blake it was that he was a man of his word. It was a quality that I never would have attributed to him when I had first met him; I wouldn't have thought him capable of honesty or respect or _anything_ honorable. But now I knew differently.

I also knew that I _would_ have to make the first move. If I wanted him - and I _did_ , more than anything - then I would have to be the one to make it happen. He had given me that power.

I threw back the comforter and followed him out of the cabin. I found him standing on the deck, leaning forward with both hands braced on the wooden railing.

I padded towards him on bare feet. "Blake?"

"Go back inside." His voice was gravelly.

"Are you going to come back inside, too?" I asked softly.

"Later."

"It's cold out here."

"Yeah. Go inside, I won't be long."

I folded my arms across my chest as the chill air sent goose bumps spreading across my skin. "I wish you would come back inside with me," I said, my voice little more than a whisper.

He turned slowly to face me. The moonlight was behind him and I couldn't see the expression on his face. "What else do you wish?"

I bit my lip, unsure if I could actually say it. I shifted nervously from foot to foot. "I - I wish you would..." I trailed off.

"You're gonna have to say it, Princess."

I licked my lips slowly and I _swear_ I heard him growl. "I want - I want _you_ , Blake..."

Before my mind had even registered that he had moved, his lips crashed into mine as his arms locked around me like iron, hard and strong, crushing me to him.

This time, he didn't kiss me slow.

He didn't kiss me gentle.

He didn't give me chance to pull away.

He _took_.

His kiss was fierce and desperate, laced with a need and longing so strong it was like he was starving, like he needed to devour me to survive. When his tongue flicked across the seam of my lips, seeking entry, I opened my mouth for him immediately, surrendering myself to him completely. I felt a rush of moisture between my legs as his lips moved over mine and his tongue thrust into my mouth, entwining with mine. Dominating me. Possessing me.

I put my arms around his neck and buried my hands in his hair. It was so soft and silky it caught me by surprise.

His massive arms flexed and moved, one large hand roamed down my back and clutched my ass while the other fisted in my hair, forcing my face closer to him, pressing my mouth against his more fiercely.

Desire flooded my veins as we kissed, I ached for him so intensely that I moaned against his mouth.

Suddenly, he broke the kiss, pulling his lips away and resting his forehead against mine. My eyes flickered open and I saw his beautiful eyes fixed on me as he panted heavily. "Fuck," he murmured thickly. "You have no idea..." he faltered and swallowed.

I trailed my fingernails over his scalp, running them down towards the back of his neck. "Keep kissing me," I urged.

His eyes closed for a brief moment but he didn't lean in again. Gradually, he released his hold on my hair and brought his hand round to cup my cheek gently. His voice was a low rumble when he said "You need to be clear about what you want, Princess."

Really?! I think it's pretty clear what I want!

I bit my lip, fighting my nerves as I held his gaze; I lowered my right hand to his crotch and cupped the considerable hardness I found there. I stoked him lightly, applying just a small amount of pressure. I felt him jerk and swell under my palm, getting even harder under my gentle touch, my breath caught as I whispered " _This_ is what I want. This - _you_ \- inside me."

His lips crashed into mine again and he was lifting me, his hands under my ass, urging me to wrap my legs around his hips as he slammed me into the wall of the cabin. I felt his now _rock_ hard cock grind against my wet center, stroking me fiercely through the fabric of our clothes. I gasped into his mouth, overwhelmed by his need, his sheer animal masculinity.

I clung to him, gripping the back of his neck and simultaneously tightening my legs around his waist, pulling him harder against me.

He shifted his hold on me so that he had one hand cupped under my ass and the other hand free. He moved it franticly up my side to the bottom of my tank top and roughly pushed it up, exposing my breasts; then he was clutching them, squeezing them, tugging on my nipples. All the while he kissed me like a man possessed and ground his cock against my clit relentlessly. I was so drenched that I was sure I was probably coating his cock with my juices even through two layers of sweats.

I was so turned on to begin with, and then to have him kissing me like _that_ , and playing with my boobs like THAT and rubbing me with his shaft like _THAT_...well, within seconds I was close to orgasm, mewling and whimpering against his lips.

He let out a low growl and spread his huge hand across both of my breasts, dragging the callused tips of his fingers and thumb over my hard nipples. That, combined with the sound of his desire and the feel of his hard shaft rubbing over my clit, sent me over the edge. I let out a high pitched moan and clutched him to me tighter as waves of pleasure took me over, burned through me and left me trembling.

I was still completely clothed and he'd just made me come.

#

Sweet mother of _God_ , if he could do that without even getting me _undressed_ , what the hell would he do to me when I was _naked_?

He kissed me slow and sweet as I came down from my high. He held me against him, firm but tender as he stroked the hair away from my face with his free hand. "You okay?" he murmured against my lips.

I didn't open my eyes; I just reveled in the sensation of his soft, full lips on mine and the flutter of his breath against my skin. "I'm good," I whispered.

"Only good?" I heard the smile in his voice. "Fuck that." He tightened his hold on me and my eyes opened in surprise as he pushed us away from the wall and carried me into the cabin, kicking the door closed behind us. He strode to the bed, knelt on it and lowered me down gently onto my back. He planted one hand on either side of my shoulders and hovered over me, gazing at me almost reverently, like he was memorizing every detail of my face.

Now that I didn't have to hang on to him, I ran my hands over his shoulders and back, finally able to explore his body. I trailed my hands over the tattoos on his powerful chest and arms, pausing to admire the intricacy of the baby grand piano etched over his heart. I knew without having to ask that it was a tribute to his mother, a fact that pulled at my heart as I traced my thumb over the shaded keys. Then I moved my hands downwards, luxuriating in the feel of his rippling abs, until I reached his defined hip bones which gave way to a perfect 'V' of solid muscle leading downwards.

I bit my lip as my fingers brushed over the thatch of dark hair that lead down to the waistband of his sweats. I felt his muscles tense and paused in my explorations, looking back into his feverish eyes - when our eyes locked, it was like the bursting of a dam, the breaking of a spell. Our lips mashed together in a frenzied, messy kiss. Our hands were roaming everywhere, fast and desperate, unable to get enough.

He grabbed the low neckline of my tank top in both hand and pulled _hard_. It ripped down the center, releasing my breasts into his eager hands. He squeezed them, almost to the brink of pain before lowering his head and sucking greedily at my nipples, pulling them into his mouth and flicking the hard nubs with his tongue, one after another, back and forth, back and forth, over and over and over. I dug my hands into his hair, moaning and arching my back, offering myself up to him.

"Fuck, you're perfect," he growled as he pulled back, lowered his hands to my hips and whipping off my shorts in one fluid motion. Then he pushed my knees up and spread his hands over the underside of each of my thighs, opening them wide.

He basically spread me like he owned me, like I was there purely for his pleasure.

I was dimly aware that I should probably feel vulnerable, being so totally under his control...

But I didn't.

I _liked_ it.

Actually, I _loved_ it.

I laid there panting and completely exposed, as his eyes devoured every inch of me.

His jaw was clenched and he was frowning like he was in exquisite pain. I felt my sex dripping with need under his heavy gaze. "Blake," I moaned. "Don't make me wait any more."

"No more waiting, Princess." Still holding tight to my thighs, he dipped his head and _speared_ me with his tongue, sliding it through my wetness, pushing inside me hard and fast.

I shrieked and bucked my hips against him, seconds away from another orgasm.

But then he withdrew his incredible tongue and I whimpered in disappointment. "I need to watch you," his voice was raspy as he moved upwards, leaning his upper body forwards and hovered over me, bracing himself with one hand next to my shoulder and dipping his head to kiss me. I could taste myself on him; I had _never_ done that before, had never _wanted_ to do that - but, with him, I wanted everything he had to give me. I felt his fingers trail over my drenched lower lips, stoking me softly for a second or two before he dipped a thick finger inside me and stroked the center of my arousal, once, twice, before withdrawing it and gliding up to my clit and rubbing it steadily. He must have done that for about thirty seconds, alternating between dipping his finger inside me and then caressing my clit; kissing me all the while.

When I broke the kiss and started moaning and clutching at his shoulders, he readjusted, taking over the massage of my clit with his thumb. I felt him pushing inside me again, but this time he was stretching me wider and I realized that he was using two fingers instead of one.

"Oh Blake, oh _God_ ," I whimpered as a delicious ache started to build inside me, his fingers curled in a kind of 'come-hither' motion, right on my sensitive upper wall as he rocked his hand back and forth. My inner muscles contracted around his fingers so hard I almost lost my goddamn _mind_.

I bucked and moaned and dug my fingernails into his shoulders as I came, the powerful sensations completely overtaking my body, obliterating all rational thought.

All I knew was Blake.

"Wow," I breathed as my orgasm subsided, leaving me a tingling mess.

He kissed me softly. "Better than good?"

"Mmhmm," I sighed as my eyes flickered open.

He _definitely_ looked smug now. "Good, 'cause I could watch you do that all night."

"There's only one problem," I said teasingly.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah." I slid a hand down his ripped stomach until the tip of my index finger caught in the waistband of his sweats. "You said no more waiting, and you're _still_ making me wait." I pouted and looked up at him through my eyelashes.

His gaze darkened and he groaned.

I slid my hand under his waistband, expecting to find boxer shorts. Instead, my fingers encountered lush curls of hair and a hard shaft bumping against my forearm. But before I could even start to explore, he pulled away and pushed himself off the bed.

"Blake? What -"

He bent down and pulled a string of about twelve condoms from his duffel bag.

"Did you bring enough?" I joked as he tore one off and put it on the night stand.

"Probably not." I saw his smirk in the moonlight before he _finally_ removed his sweats.

Oh. Sweet. JESUS.

His cock was a work of art. Like, an actual real life masterpiece. I'd figured, from my brief encounters up to that point, that he was big - but I hadn't realized just _how_ big. It wasn't just long, it was thick too _. So thick._ And blunt. It jutted proudly upwards in a slight curve and he was so turned on that the veins were standing out angrily, the tip shiny and slick with pre-cum.

I have to admit that I felt a trickle of apprehension at his size, wondering if I could take it, but mainly I just felt an animalistic need to have him inside me.

He was watching me curiously, maybe waiting to see how I would react, whether I would be intimidated.

Maybe I should have been - but I trusted him. Completely and totally.

I licked my lips and picked up the condom, tearing the wrapper and kneeling on the bed in front of him. "Come here," I said, reaching for him.

He complied, stepping forwards into my waiting hand. He teased his fingers through my hair as I ran the palm of my hand down the underside of his shaft, slicking him down with his own juices as I went. At my touch, his cock jerked before settling back onto my palm. I watched mesmerized as it swelled even more, then curled my fingers loosely around him; the tips of my fingers and thumb didn't even meet on the other side. He swelled and jerked again as I stroked my hand upwards to the rounded head, and a tear drop of pre-cum welled up from the slit. I swirled the pad of my thumb over the crown and caught it, using it to slick him down.

"Baby, if I don't get inside you soon I'm gonna die." His voice was strained with need.

My lower stomach clenched at the new endearment as I positioned the condom over him and rolled it down his massive shaft. The second I got him covered, he grabbed my shoulders and threw me backwards on to the bed. I giggled as I bounced on my ass, looking up into his hungry face.

"Done waiting," he growled as he crawled up over me. He nudged my thighs apart and positioning himself at my opening, fisting his cock in his hand and rubbing the tip of it up and down my slick folds. I felt the burning heat of him, even through the condom; then he slowly eased into me, just a few inches. His thick head spread me so wide I gasped with the delicious sensation of being stretched and stroked so thoroughly. He didn't go any deeper right away, just rocked back and forth with just his head and an extra inch or two inside of me. The ridge of his cock was in the perfect position, it stroked against my g-spot as he worked himself in and out.

I moaned and held him tight, squeezing his perfect ass, coaxing him to go deeper.

But he wouldn't be rushed. He would push inside of me a _little_ bit deeper, then he would rock back and forth, staying at roughly the same depth for maybe ten seconds, before pushing deeper. Again and again he would push a little deeper, then rock back and forth, slicking himself down with my plentiful juices before he eventually bottomed out inside of me with a rumbling groan.

God, the feel of him so _deep_ inside me made me almost delirious.

I clutched at him, bowing my back, as he started to thrust into me faster and harder, filling me to the brim, stretching me to my limit as he pounded into me. With every stroke I cried out, lost in the sensation of him filling me so completely, touching me so deeply, stretching me so deliciously.

My swollen and sensitive walls started to flutter around him.

"Blake! Oh God...I'm going to..."

He curled his hands around my shoulders, stopping me from moving up the bed as he thrust into me. " _Fuck_ \- baby, look at me," he commanded.

I forced my eyelids open and caught sight of his eyes, tortured with need, fixed intensely on mine. Those eyes sent me over the edge, into oblivion. I screamed and arched into him as my legs jerked and my heels dug into the back of his legs. I fought against it, but I couldn't stop my eyes from rolling back as waves of ecstasy took me over.

Then Blake was right there with me, roaring his release, clutching me to him so tight I could barely breathe, scrunching up his eyes like he was in agony as his shaft swelled and jerked inside of me.

He lowered his forehead to mine as he slowed his thrusts and then, gradually, stopped moving all together. He was sweaty and panting, still holding me tightly, but slowly relaxing his fingers on my shoulders as he came back to himself.

I watched him from under heavy eyelids, running my hands through his hair then down over his shoulders. When his eyes flickered open and met mine again, it was like an electric current passed between us, binding us together.

He had never looked more gorgeous than at that moment.

"I...I love you," I murmured, not realizing the words were even true until they passed my lips. But once I had said them, it was like everything clicked into place inside of me.

Of _course_ I loved him.

I had been falling in love with him for _months_ without even realizing that's what was happening.

He went very still for a second, then his lips parted as he frowned down at me; not mad... but emotional. He swallowed thickly and when he spoke his voice wavered. "I love you too, Princess. I feel like I've loved you my whole life."

My breath tumbled out in a whoosh of happiness and relief. I tugged lightly on his hair, pulling his mouth down on mine, and we kissed long and slow, pausing every now and then to whisper "I love you" against one another's lips.

#

Eventually, he pulled himself away from me and got rid of the condom, then he laid back down beside me and pulled me to him, so that my head was resting on his bicep and we were both lying on our sides, facing each other. I don't remember a whole lot after that; there was touching, kissing, sleepy whispers...

And then my next conscious thought was _I need to pee_. I figured that several hours must have gone by because the dim light of pre-dawn was starting to filter through the drapes. The inside of the cabin was cast in an enchanting kind of half-light that made everything look otherworldly.

Blake was laid flat on his back, his face angled slightly towards me, one arm up next to his head, the other flung out to one side, chest rising and falling steadily as he slept. He looked relaxed, unguarded, _younger_.

I grinned like an idiot as I watched him for a while, until my bladder got the best of me and I slipped away to the bathroom.

While I was in there, I washed up a little, and when I emerged back into the main cabin, Blake was on his side in the bed, blinking blearily at me.

"Hey, you," I said softly, climbing back into the bed and curling myself against him, stroking my hand over his stubbly cheek as I rested my head on his sculpted bicep. "I didn't mean to wake you."

He nuzzled into my neck, kissing the sensitive spot just behind my ear as he coiled his right arm around my waist and pulled me against him. "Wake me any time," he mumbled sleepily.

I turned my head slightly and kissed along his jaw, feeling the prickle of his stubble on my lips. "I like waking up with you," I whispered into his ear.

I felt his breath on my ear. "I like waking up with you too." He kissed my neck and then took my earlobe into his mouth, sucking gently.

I let out a low moan and raked my nails lightly down his back as he moved his lips to mine and started to kiss me, slowly and lazily at first but gradually increasing the pressure, the passion.

Something else had woken up now too, and it was nudging against my thigh.

I reached under the sheets and started to tease his length with the tips of my fingers, eliciting a groan from his lips.

Abruptly, he moved away from my fingers, pulling me down onto my back as he shifted himself above me, kissing me deeply the whole time. He propped himself on his forearm and uncurled the other arm from around my waist, pausing when his hand reached my side, running the pad of his thumb lightly along my hip bone.

I shivered and moaned into his mouth again, feeling my nipples tighten in response to even that mild teasing. Blake flattened his hand over my stomach and ran it up towards my breasts in a long, leisurely stroke. Then he started to stroke my chest, around my breasts, with the pads of his fingers, gradually working towards my nipples, which now felt harder than glass. The closer he got, the more they ached to be touched but, just as he was almost there, his hand began to retreat again, circling outwards once more, teasing me.

I broke the kiss, sighing in frustration, and felt him chuckle against my cheek as he moved his mouth to the side and lightly pressed his lips, warm and sensuous, to my neck. He kissed and licked towards my ear, then behind it again, to the most sensitive part of my neck, simultaneously working the tips of his fingers back towards my right nipple.

This time, when he reached my desperate nub, instead of moving away again, he thumbed it; the friction of his calloused thumb against my tortured and sensitive flesh sent a spark of pleasure shooting downwards to the center of my desire.

Unable to stop myself, I moaned and hooked my legs around his hips.

I heard him growl against my neck, felt his quick exhale of breath, before he started to move his head downwards towards my left breast. As he trailed his lips slowly down my chest, he started alternating between lightly pinching my right nipple and palming my whole breast in his hand, squeezing it firmly. By the time his lips closed over my left nipple and sucked greedily, I was almost wild with need.

I shuddered. "I need you..."

He groaned into my chest as he released my nipple from his mouth and licked across my sternum to my right breast. Simultaneously, he moved his right hand down, over my stomach, over my mound, to my soaking lips.

I whimpered as he glided the tip of one finger over me, slicking it down with my juices before skimming upwards and rubbing my clit gently, teasingly.

"Shit, you're so wet for me," he murmured huskily.

I whimpered again and bucked against his hand, but he didn't increase the pressure, just kept torturing me, running his finger over me, keeping it lubricated with my moisture, then playing with my throbbing clit.

I couldn't take it anymore.

"Blake, stop - I can't - I need you..." I gasped into his mouth.

He pulled away, smirking down at me as his big hand circled his thick member. He grabbed a condom from the night stand and rolled it down his length. "Tell me what you need, Princess," he demanded as he positioned his cock between my swollen lips.

For a moment I was silent. I had never _asked for it_ before, not like this anyway, and I had no idea how to do it. But the way he was looking at me, cocky and arrogant but like I was driving him insane with need, made me want to give him whatever he demanded.

I held his gaze and slowly liked my lips. "I _need_ your cock inside me -" Before I could finish, he surged forwards, slamming into me all the way to the hilt in one fluid stroke. If I wasn't so turned on, so _drenched_ , it probably would have been agony.

As it was, I was more than ready for him. I stretched around him with only a tiny amount of pain, adding depth to my pleasure.

We groaned together as he filled me completely.

My eyelids fluttered shut.

"Look at me," he ordered, his voice rough.

When my eyes met his, he slowly withdrew his long shaft, until just the tip was still inside, then slammed roughly back into me. Then again and again, looking me in the eye the whole time.

I was on the edge; my muscles were already fluttering every time he thrust into me, I felt him glide across the core of my need, bringing me higher and higher, close but never quite reaching my peak. I needed more. I started to whimper and buck, trying to entice him to speed up.

"Tell me what you need," he said again.

"Harder!" I moaned. "Faster!"

He stopped thrusting. "Ask _nicely_ , baby." His voice was strained but he was still holding on to his control - more than anything, I wanted to break it. I needed to see him lose it.

I licked my lips and pouted, knowing how to drive him wild. "Please, Blake, _pretty_ please, fuck me hard and fast."

With an animalistic growl, he pushed himself up and away from me and I almost wept in frustration - but he didn't go far, he just settled back on his haunches, kneeling up with his legs slightly apart. As he moved, he grasped my lower back and pulled me with him, keeping his cock buried inside of me so that my ass wound up resting on his iron hard thighs, but my shoulders and head remained on the bed.

He looked down at me and slid his hands up and around my body a little way, shaping my waist almost tenderly, before sinking his fingers into the flesh above my hips and pulling me towards him while simultaneously thrusting into me.

Hard.

Fast.

Pounding me mercilessly.

His face was all angles and fury, his jaw was clenched and he almost looked frenzied. His eyes were wild. His fingers were digging into my hips almost painfully. I fisted my hands in the sheets and stared into his eyes, powerless to do anything else.

He was pushing me to my limit, bottoming out inside of me again and again, never relenting, fucking me senseless, until all I could feel was his huge cock slamming into me, stretching me in all directions. The extreme feeling of fullness bordered on pain but at the same time my pleasure spiraled higher, so that both sensations were interchangeable, linked, fused and I couldn't tell one from the other - I just knew that I had never felt such intensity before.

I screamed as he dominated me completely. "Oh! Oh! OH! - _oh God oh God oh God_!"

"Fuuuuck, baby! Oh - _SHIT_!"

My orgasm crashed over me mercilessly as I clenched around him like a vice. As I reached my peak, I felt his body tense and his hands squeeze me even harder. His cock started to pulse violently inside me, contracting repeatedly, prolonging my own orgasm.

He threw his head back and roared; his muscles going solid, like they were carved from marble; his entire upper body was frozen while he ground his pelvis into mine, not moving in and out now, just pushing, forcing himself as far inside me as he could go and _grinding._

As his orgasm faded, his body gradually started to relax and he freed my hips, hung his head and flopped forwards, his hands coming to rest on the bed either side of my head. He kissed me sloppily, still breathing heavily, then rested his forehead on mine. I felt him recede slightly inside of me but he didn't withdraw.

"You okay?" he panted.

I smiled lazily. "Oh yeah, I'm more than okay."

"I didn't hurt you?"

"Only in a good way." A look of slight alarm darkened his eyes, so I continued playfully, "Pretty please, Blake, hurt me again...and again...and again..."

He chuckled. "Are you trying to get me hard again?"

"Is it working?"

He looked slightly uncomfortable. "Yeah...but I'm still packin', if you know what I mean." He eased out of me and stumbled into the bathroom.

But when he came back, he _did_ do it again...and again...

#

The next time I awoke was to the faint sound of acoustic guitar strings being plucked and tuned. I sighed and reached out, searching for the feel of Blake's hard body in the bed next to me. He wasn't there but the sheets still felt warm. I sighed contentedly and stretched, finally registering the pick of strings properly and realizing that he was outside, playing his guitar. I smiled lazily and snuggled back into the bed, listening.

I heard him start to strum an unfamiliar tune. It was slow and kind of melancholy.

Wanting to hear him better, I got out of bed and walked towards to the door, grabbing his huge Metallica t-shirt from the recliner as I passed. I pulled the shirt over my head as I reached the door, which he'd left slightly ajar. I pushed it open fully and leant on the doorframe to listen. He was sitting on the steps wearing only his sweats, with his bare back to me. His dark tattoos stood out in stark relief, shifting when his muscles rippled as he played. He was humming along quietly to the tune, clearly conscious of disturbing me.

"Is this the part where you serenade me?" I asked.

The tune stumbled to a halt as he jumped at the sound of my voice. He turned to me smiling. "Knew you only loved me for my voice."

"I love you for more than your voice."

He stood up, carrying the guitar by the neck, and crossed the porch to me. "Here was me wondering if it was just the wine talking."

I pushed up on my tiptoes to kiss him. "Nope."

"Well thank fuck for that." He touched his forehead to mine and cupped my cheek with his free hand.

I smiled. "So I was serious about that serenade."

"You were, huh?"

"What's the point of sleeping with a singer if you don't at least get a private show?" I teased.

His eyes twinkled mischievously. "You already _got_ a private show."

I rolled my eyes. "Shut up and sing to me."

"You know that's an oxymoron, right?"

I raised my eyebrows, grinning. "An 'oxymoron'? Really?"

"Yeah, it means -"

"I _know_ what it means."

" _Do_ you?"

"Not even a little bit," I admitted and he laughed. "So tell me."

"It's when you put contradictory words together," he said smugly.

"You're a show off."

He shrugged and grinned. "I like words."

I narrowed my eyes mischievously. "Yeah, for someone who says _fuck_ so much you have a ridiculously huge -"

"Cock?"

I snorted a laugh and smacked his chest. "I was _going_ to say a huge _vocabulary_!"

He chuckled and leant in to kiss me again.

"What song were you just playing?" I asked when he pulled back.

"It doesn't really have a title. I never really planned to do anything with it."

"Why not?"

"I wrote it a few months back," he said, like that explained everything.

"And you don't like it now?" I probed.

"Yeah..." He considered for a second and then shook his head. "I don't know..."

"Will you sing it for me?"

He searched my eyes for a moment. "Yeah, okay." He took my hand and led me back into the cabin and over to the bed. He sat on the edge, guitar in his lap as I reclined against the pillows.

He dragged his thumb slowly over the strings and took a deep breath before he started to sing. Before he even finished the first verse, I knew the song was about me.

You spill my past onto the floor

Bust bolts on doors you never knew

Were locked to everyone but you

Wander twisted paths inside my head

Like you don't see my shroud of sins

Your touch is like the lash

Purest pain I ever felt

Got me crawling out my own skin

Know that's all you'll ever be

The end and the death of me

Got a chokehold on reality

Kicking at a fantasy of you

Anyone but him I'd have my way

Be up and on you 'til daylight bleeds

Through the cracks scored in my soul

Your touch is like the lash

Purest pain I ever felt

Got me crawling out my own skin

Know that's all you'll ever be

The end and the death of me

My scars weep to see your tears

Takes all I have not to carve a path

Through him to you

But our blood's the same

He's in my veins

Bonds of brotherhood

Galvanized in the pit

Surviving the poison

Dealt by our fathers' hands

That's all you'll ever be

The end and the death of me

He didn't look at me while he sang but as the last chord faded to nothing his eyes met mine. My mouth was hanging open, I must have looked pretty ridiculous because his trademark smirk surfaced as he propped his guitar at the foot of the bed and crawled up to sit alongside me.

It took me completely by surprise, but my breath hitched and my eyes misted a little.

Blake's face was suddenly full of concern. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"It's just - it was really sad and beautiful. I never thought...I mean I knew you felt - but not -" I stopped, unsure how to put my thoughts into words.

"Hey, hey." He put his arm around me and pulled me to him, hugging me; I rested my head on his chest and he kissed the top of my head. "Talk to me, Princess."

I bit my lip a moment, thinking. "I didn't realize how bad you felt about...wanting me while I was with Connor."

"Well it wasn't gonna make me feel good was it?" His tone was soft; the words weren't delivered with the sarcasm the bare bones would suggest.

"I guess not...and now? Do you still feel bad?"

He inhaled deeply before he answered. "Yes and no. Yes 'cause it's never cool to hook up with one of your boys' exes, _ever_ , under any circumstances...and no 'cause I just want you too damn much to give a fuck about what's right and wrong."

I tipped my head up and kissed the underside of his jaw, rubbing the flat of my hand over his chiseled abdomen and letting out a little sigh. "It doesn't _feel_ wrong at all," I murmured.

"No, it doesn't."

"I love your lyrics by the way..."

"Mmm." He pressed his nose to the top of my head, breathing me in.

"So...you wanted to be 'up and on' me, huh?" I teased softly.

He chuckled. "You know it."

I lightly trailed my nails over his stomach in a figure eight, making his muscles jump. "And now?" I breathed.

He let out a low groan and flipped me onto my back, his left arm still around the back of my neck, his right hand flat against the bed next to my shoulder as he smoldered down at me.

God, those _eyes_.

I wondered if he had any idea how gorgeous they were.

He trailed the tip of his nose down my neck from my ear to my collar bone, then back up again. "Thought you'd need a little break," he whispered into the shell of my ear. "I've been _up and on_ _you_ all night."

My hands threaded their way through his hair, luxuriating in the silky softness of the dark strands. "I've had all the break I need," I whispered back, breaking into a lazy smile at the sight of the desire playing over his face as his eyes trailed down to my lips - and then lower...

"Goddamn you look good in my shirt," he muttered, skimming his calloused finger tips over my throat and down my chest, between my breasts.

"Glad you think so 'cause I didn't really have a lot of choice. Some guy ripped my top." I added mischievously.

"Huh, he sounds like a dick." He trailed his hand upwards again to lightly circle my throat, watching his big hand on my body like he was hypnotized.

"Oh, he is." I watched his mouth quirk into a little smile at my words. "But he's _my_ dick."

His eyes met mine again. "Really? That mean your pussy only purrs for him, Princess?"

I laughed at his phrasing but I knew what he was really asking. I tugged at his hair, bringing his mouth down to mine. "Yes. Only him," I whispered against his lips.

I spent the next couple of hours proving it to him.

#

It was late morning when our rumbling stomachs forced us to emerge from the bed. I retrieved Blake's tee from the floor where he'd thrown it and put it back on again. He stepped back into his sweats. Then he cooked bacon and eggs while I made coffee. We touched and kissed the whole time, like we couldn't bear any physical distance between us.

We had barely started to eat our meal when he pulled me onto his lap. I giggled as his arms locked around my waist. "You're not going to be able to eat with me in the way."

"You're not in the way," he nuzzled my neck. "You're where you should always be."

"Attached to your crotch?" I wiggled on his lap for emphasis.

He snorted. "I was gonna be romantic and say 'in my arms', but I like your idea better."

"Who knew you could be romantic?" I teased.

He pulled his head back and raised one eyebrow, his mouth taking on a cocky tilt. "Hey, log cabin, incredible views, acoustic serenades, cooking you dinner _and_ breakfast - I'm the motherfucking King of Romance over here."

"And you're _so_ modest."

"Damn straight. If I weren't being modest, I would've mentioned the multiple orgasms."

I laughed. "Yours or mine?"

He grinned. "Yours Princess." His eyes took on a heated glint. "Most amazing thing I've ever seen. Always knew you'd look incredible when you came, just never realized _how_ incredible. Making you come is my new favorite thing."

I bit my lip shyly, my cheeks flushing.

He smirked at my reaction. "You can _beg_ me to fuck you, but the second we get out of bed, you go back to being all innocent." He clutched me tighter and rolled his hips under me. I felt the bulge in his pants grind against my thigh. "Drives me _fucking_ insane," he murmured.

I loved the effect that I had on him. It made me feel sexy, powerful, confident. I grinned at him and teased, "You shouldn't talk about sex at the dinner table, it's rude."

"Know what's more rude?" His smirk widened. " _Bending you over_ the dinner table."

I slapped his chest in mock outrage. "Hey! Where's my King of Romance gone?!"

"He's gone hard."

I burst out laughing and smacked his chest again.

"Hey! I can't help it. Wanted in you for too long."

"Okay," I giggled. "Now I think we've been hanging out together for too long, 'cause even that's starting to sound romantic to me."

He laughed with me as I scooped some of his eggs onto his fork and offered them to him. He leant forwards, taking the food off of the fork with perfect lips.

I watched him chew dreamily.

God, I was in trouble.

As he swallowed the eggs down, some of the playfulness fell from his face. "Want to ask you something," he said seriously.

"What's that?" I suddenly felt a trickle of anxiety.

He took a deep breath in and held it for a second. "What if you'd met me first?"

"What do you mean?"

"If you hadn't already met my cousin -" I noticed he didn't mention Connor by name "- and you came to that party at my place, and met me first, would things have been different?"

I didn't answer right away, considering his question thoughtfully. "I...don't think so," I said honestly. He cleared his throat and nodded, dropping his eyes to the table. I knew I hadn't given him the answer that he wanted, but I didn't want to lie to him. "Are you going to let me explain?" I asked.

"What's there to explain?"

I put my hand on his cheek and urged him to look at me again. "Blake Maxwell, you're sulking like a little boy," I teased. I knew he was fighting it, but I saw the ghost of a smile on his lips. "Would you still have been obnoxious? Would you have used a dirty pick up line on me, like all the ones I've heard you use on random girls since then?"

He winced but held my gaze. "Probably," he admitted quietly. I had to respect his honesty, even if it did sting a little.

"Then no, things probably wouldn't have been different back then." He nodded again, but this time it was more accepting. "Things are different now because I _know_ you. I know who you are _underneath_ all the cocky swagger. I _love_ who you are underneath it all, but there's no way you would've let me see that back then." I planted a soft kiss on his mouth. He tightened his arms around me and kissed me back. "I _did_ think you were really hot though," I murmured against his lips.

He grinned. "Yeah you did."

"It's my turn to ask you something now," I said, pulling back and looking into his eyes.

He groaned. "No..."

"Oh yeah, you don't get to ask all the questions. I want a turn."

He sighed. "Okay."

"Okay. It's a variation on your question. If we _had_ met first and you had used a cheesy line on me and it had worked, and I'd slept with you that night, would you still be with me now?"

He stared at me in silence. I raised my eyebrows, challenging him to give me the truth. "Shit," he muttered.

"Is that a 'no'?"

"No."

"Then what?"

"I don't know. Maybe not...probably not."

"Wow," I couldn't help the hurt that welled inside.

"Are you gonna let _me_ explain now?"

I nodded.

"If we'd fucked that night, I probably wouldn't have bothered getting to know you afterwards...or maybe I would. I honestly don't know." He looked at me earnestly. "Sex never meant shit to me before you. It means something to me now 'cause I love you. Maybe it would still have meant something if I'd fucked you straight away. I don't know."

I cupped his face in my hands and kissed him again. "Thank you for being honest."

He exhaled heavily and I got the impression it was out of relief. "I'll always be honest with you. I never want us to lie to each other, Princess."

"Me neither."

"It's important to me," he pressed. "Even if the truth doesn't sound good, promise me you'll never lie to me."

"I promise," I said, and I meant it, I wanted to share everything with him.

#

When we had finished breakfast, I cleared our plates and cups and filled the sink with water, ready to wash them. As I put the first plate into the suds, I felt something brush the back of my knee. I looked back to see Blake kneeling on the floor behind me, kissing the backs of my legs.

As I watched, he ran his huge hands up the backs of my thighs and lightly cupped my ass under the t-shirt. "Eyes front, Princess," he smirked up at me.

I bit my lip as a thrill shot through me, but I looked back at the bowl of bubbles in front of me. Then nothing happened for maybe ten seconds; I was just about to turn back around when I felt his hands clutch my ass tighter and then spread me wide.

"Blake!" I gasped, shocked and a little self conscious, thinking about the view that he would have.

"Holy _fuck_ , you're incredible," he said, right before I felt his hot tongue on my sex.

Any protests that I had been about to voice died before they even made it out of my brain. His skilled tongue teased my opening before sliding forward, hot and wet, and flicking against my clit before sliding back through my wetness.

He repeated that routine until I was moaning and bucking backwards a little, completely involuntarily.

Suddenly, he withdrew his tongue and released his hold on my ass. I started to turn around but he stopped me with a light spank to my right ass cheek. I had _never_ been spanked before - even as gently as that - and I was a little horrified to find that I liked it.

"Eyes front," he commanded. "Hold on to the counter."

I took my hands out of the water and held on to the front of counter, mindless of the water dripping down the cupboards, too curious and turned on to care.

Then he moved a hand around to my front and skimmed over my neat mound, over my clit, to dip one finger inside me briefly. Then he used my own juices as a lubricant as he started to massage my clit.

Seconds later, his other hand started to tease my lips. He would use two fingers to part them while a third would dip inside me, only a little way, enough to drive me crazy without actually hitting the spot.

Every time I neared orgasm, he would ease up on the clit-massage until I calmed down, then he would start all over again.

I wiggled against him, trying to get his finger deeper inside me, but he didn't comply, he just carried on teasing me.

Soon, I was beside myself, completely at the mercy of my desperate need to come. "Blake, please! I need to - oh _God_ \- make me come," I begged.

I heard him chuckle darkly behind me. "Thought you'd never ask," he said. A delicious stretching sensation told me that he was pushing more than one finger into me \- more like two or three. And he wasn't pushing them in with his palm facing upwards; I knew his palm must be facing downwards, because I felt that incredible pressure on my g-spot that told me he was curling his fingers into my front wall, stroking me right on the centre of my need, right on my molten core.

My GOD, he knew what he was doing.

I whimpered and bucked, clutching the counter tightly to hold myself up. I ground harder onto his hand, soaking it with my juices, mindless with desire.

"That's right, baby, fuck my fingers." He increased the pressure on my clit, rubbing it faster. "Come for me. Come all over my hand," he ordered.

His words sent a buzz of excitement through me and then I was contracting greedily around his fingers, squeezing them tightly as I screamed his name. I came so hard my knees buckled and Blake moved his hand away from my clit and hooked an arm around my waist to steady me - but he kept his fingers buried inside me as my contractions slowed.

Eventually he removed them and stood up fully, but kept his other arm around my waist. I got myself under control and locked my knees to stop myself from sagging to the floor.

I leant my head back on to his chest and felt him kiss the shell of my ear. "Want to fuck you bareback," he whispered.

I tensed immediately, turning my head so that I could see his face.

"Got tested this week," he said. "I'm clean. Are you on birth control?"

I nodded dumbly as my heart hammered in my chest. I had been on the pill since just after I lost my virginity but even so, I had never had sex without a condom. I had always _insisted_ Connor wear one because I wanted to be extra safe...and, maybe, if I'm honest, I hadn't trusted him one hundred percent.

"I'm clean too," I said. "I got tested last week, right after..." I trailed off; I didn't want to finish the sentence. I didn't want to mention Connor's name or the break up right then.

Understanding - or rather _mis_ understanding - flared in Blake's eyes and his jaw clenched.

"But I've never had sex without a condom before," I told him. I wanted him to know; I wanted him to realize that this was a big deal.

His eyes softened and he clutched me to him and lowered his head to my neck again. "Me neither," he breathed into my ear.

My heart nearly stopped.

I'd figured there wasn't _anything_ sexual he hadn't already done.

"What?!" I gasped.

I heard the smirk in his voice as he nibbled on my earlobe. "You'll be my first."

Oh. My. God.

My desire for him doubled.

I pressed myself back into him, curling my right hand around behind me to squeeze his perfect ass through his sweats. His arms released their strong hold on me and started to roam over my body, kneading my breasts through the tee that I still wore. Then one hand started to travel lower, lifting the shirt at the front and cupping me, sliding wetly over my swollen lips.

I moaned and released my hold on his ass, leaning forwards and bracing my hands on the counter again, offering myself to him.

"Does this mean 'yes'?" he asked thickly.

"Yes," I whispered.

"Sure, baby?"

"Yes, I'm sure." I looked back at him over my shoulder, biting my lip to stop from giggling at the look of pure glee on his face.

As soon as our eyes met, his expression changed to one of dark lust as he pulled the t-shirt tight against my breasts, gathering it around my back and fisting a hand in it, using it to hold me still. Then I felt the kiss of his scorching hot cock against my sensitive lips before he _slooowly_ forced the crown inside me.

The feel of his velvet soft skin sliding over me, through me, into me, was like heaven. I whimpered and tried to buck back into him, but he just held the shirt tighter, forcing me to stay still.

He grunted as my walls contracted around him \- an aftershock from my last orgasm or the beginning of another, I couldn't tell which. " _Fuck_ , you feel amazing," he groaned.

He gradually fed me all of his cock, until he was in as far as he could go, with his stomach flush against my back and the soft feel of his sweats - which he had just shoved down a little - on my upper thighs. He curled his arm around my hips and pulled me upwards onto my tiptoes, then further as he straightened up completely. My feet were off the floor by several inches by the time he was done. All that was supporting me were my hands on the counter and his strength. I was completely at his mercy.

I felt his breath against the back of my neck as he kissed behind my ear and then took my earlobe in his teeth and tugged gently. "I fucking love you," he said gruffly.

Oh God, just hearing him say those words sent a spark to my clit.

"I love you, too," I gasped.

He started to rock back and forth inside of me, slowly at first, but he soon sped up, thrusting into me, faster and faster. Within a few minutes his pace was furious and ruthless as his shaft filled every part of me, stretching me to the cusp of pain before retreating, only to surge forwards again, creating a delicious blend of pleasure and pain.

Every time he speared me to the root I screamed. Words were beyond me; all I could do was hold on to the counter for dear life as drove into me double time, triple time, taking me higher and higher, until I was a quivering mass of delicious tension.

Blake seemed almost delirious with pleasure. "You're fucking amazing, _fuck_ , FUCK, you feel incredible - come for me - come all over my cock -"

On his command, another orgasm rocked through me, even more powerful than the last.

I screamed like I was dying.

I must have pushed him over the edge because he went rock solid against me, crushing my hips mercilessly with his huge arm as he bellowed into my hair. I felt him swell and pulse inside of me - and a kind of hot, popping sensation. Then he was dropping onto his knees on the floor with his cock still inside me, so that I was essentially sitting on his lap. Our bodies were slick with sweat and I could feel his chest heaving against my back as he panted, each breath he took rocked me forwards a little bit, so that I was still moving on his cock as we rode out the tail end of our orgasms. My head flopped back onto his shoulder as I melted into him, cocooned by his powerful frame.

"Uuuhhhh fuck..." he groaned.

I chuckled like I was drunk. "You like that?"

"...fuck..."

"Do I take that as a 'yes'?" I teased.

"Just...stay here in this cabin with me and fuck me like that forever..."

I chuckled again. "Yes, please."

He kissed my cheek and I turned my head towards him so that our mouths could meet in a slow, dreamy kiss.

"You've really never done that before? The no condom thing I mean," I said after a minute.

He looked into my eyes. "No, never. Only with you, Princess."

"I thought you would have," I whispered.

"Why?" he asked, frowning a little.

"You're...experienced," I said, not really sure how else to phrase it and wishing I hadn't started the conversation in the first place. The thought of him with other women sent a hot surge of jealousy through me, even though he was there with me, _inside_ me.

He nodded slightly, not disputing my statement - how could he? - but not exactly confirming it either. "Not with this. Not with how I feel about you. This is new, I never really trusted anyone before." He kissed me again softly.

"I trust you too," I murmured against his lips.

I felt him smile against my mouth. "Yeah you do."

I grinned at his cockiness.

" _And_ you love me," he said, between soft kisses.

"And I love you," I agreed.

"Yeah you do."

#

"When do we have to go back to the real world?" I asked when we broke apart and climbed to our feet.

His eyes darkened a little. "Not yet." Then he smirked. "First we gotta shower."

And shower we did.

He showered me senseless.

By the time we eventually got clean and dressed, the afternoon was waning.

Our time was running out.

Soon we would have to return to our lives. Our lives in which I was his cousin's ex-girlfriend. In which he was leaving to go on tour in less than a week. In which everything was complicated and nothing was simple.

As we packed our bags and tidied the cabin, the mood got flatter. Eventually, he just walked over to me and pulled me to him, hugging me against his chest. "You okay?"

I curled my arms around his solid back. "Yeah...it's just - I feel like we've been in our own little bubble up here, and I don't want it to burst."

He kissed the top of my head. "Me neither, but it doesn't have to."

"I don't want to come between you and Connor. I don't want to cause problems for the band, especially now, when everything is finally happening for you guys. And I don't...I don't want anyone to get hurt."

"I know, but it doesn't have to go down like that."

I bit my lip and looked up at him. "So what do we do?"

He cupped my face in his hands, looking into my eyes. "Okay, listen, _you_ don't worry about it. We keep this, _us_ , quiet for a little while. When we're on tour, I'll pick my moment and tell Con what the deal is -"

"He'll freak -"

"Maybe. But that's _my_ problem, not yours."

"What if he quits?"

"He won't, the band is too important to him."

"But what if he _does_?"

He sighed. "If he does, then we'll get another drummer."

"Just like that? No big deal?"

A look of frustration flashed across his face. "Of _course_ it'd be a big deal, but the band can still exist with another drummer, it wouldn't _end_ us. He _won't_ quit though. Trust me. Let _me_ worry about Connor." He lowered his forehead to mine, his eyes softening. "And in three months I'll be back here. With you."

"That's a long time."

"Yeah, but I've waited this long, I can wait a little longer."

A wave of warmth passed through me at his words, but I pouted playfully. "Maybe you can, what about me?"

He grinned. "I'll come visit you when we have a night or two off between shows, or you can fly out to me -"

"You can't afford that, and neither can I - at least not more than maybe once -"

"Princess, stop worrying. I'll _make_ it happen. Even if I have to strip _naked_ at our shows to sell a fuck load of merchandise, I'll make enough money to make sure I see you."

"You _are_ _not_ stripping naked!"

He laughed. "Layin' down the law already, huh?"

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Yeah, actually."

"Shit, that's pretty hot." He kissed me again, but I couldn't seem to stop my worrying.

"But if I come see you, won't it be weird if Con -"

" _When_ you come see me, we'll sneak around like we're fourteen if we have to." He looked at me earnestly. "We'll _make_ it work."

"You were sneaking around with girls when you were _fourteen_?!"

The humor returned to his face at my reaction. "It's not as bad as it sounds. They were older, like sixteen or seventeen -"

"Please stop talking!" I cut in, half-laughing, half-horrified.

He just chuckled roguishly.

#

Blake and I drove back to Las Vegas, stopping at a diner just outside of the city limits for dinner. We wasted as much time as possible; despite my protests he ordered me _two_ deserts, and we must have had our coffee cups refilled a half a dozen times.

Eventually, though, we knew we had to get back. I had early classes the next day and Blake had a radio interview first thing the next morning with the rest of the band, not to mention a ton of stuff to organize before he went away.

It was late when we pulled up outside my apartment. He walked me upstairs, carrying my bag for me. When we got to my door we just looked at each other, like neither of us quite knew how to leave.

After a few seconds he put my bag down just by the door, and then put his arms around me, leaning in close and kissing me, softly and sweetly. When he pulled back, there wasn't any hiding the love in his eyes.

"I had an amazing time," I said. "Thank you for taking me away."

"It was the best weekend of my life," he said softly.

I smiled. "You say that _now_ , wait until next weekend when you're playing in front of a stadium full of people."

" _You_ naked in my bed will still beat the hell out of that."

I blushed a little. "Liar."

"No lie, Princess," he said as he leant down to kiss me again.

I pressed myself against him, wanting to feel as much of him as I could, wanting to absorb the feel of him against me.

"I'll call you tomorrow," he said. "We got that radio thing early in the morning but I'll call you after that."

"Okay."

"Love you, Princess."

"I love you too."

"Good." He smirked. "Now get your ass in there before I change my mind, drag you back to that cabin and never let you leave." He swatted my butt with the flat of his hand to punctuate his words. I rolled my eyes at his little macho display...but, honestly, it turned me on a little bit. The heat must have shown in my face because his smirk widened. "I'm not kidding, go inside or I'm not gonna be able to stop myself."

I wanted to leave him as needy as he was making me, so I pressed myself against him harder, then I leant up, like I was going to kiss him, only I didn't. "You're talking a good game," I whispered against his lips. "Shame you can't deliver." With that I wiggled out of his arms and started to open the door -

\- but he caught me with an arm around my waist and pulled me back to him. "Baby, it's _on_ ," he growled, right before he kissed me again, fierce and hot. He cupped his hands around my ass and squeezed hard, pressing me against his crotch, grinding his semi-hardness against me.

I felt myself get wetter.

I clutched his back, feeling the heat of his skin through his shirt and the hard muscles undulating under my palms.

Then he abruptly pulled his lips away from mine and put his mouth to my ear. "Are you wet?" he whispered.

I bit my lip. "...yes."

"Do you wanna come?"

"...yes," I admitted, my cheeks flushing.

"Good." He pulled back and looked me in the eyes. "I'll see you tomorrow."

My mouth dropped open in shock and outrage.

He smirked and I knew he had gotten the reaction he was after. "Now get in there," he commanded, indicating the partially open apartment door. He dropped a kiss to my forehead, released his hold on me completely and started walking backward away from me. "Go." He mouthed.

I shot him a dirty look - which only made him chuckle - but picked up my bag and did as he said. I held his eyes the whole time, slipping backwards through the door and then finally closing it quietly.

Then I stood, with my hand flat against the wood, listening to his footsteps receding down the steps.

When I eventually turned around, it was to see Mel sitting cross legged on the couch, staring at me with her mouth wide open.

#

"Oh. My. GOD!" Mel squealed as soon as our eyes met.

"Mel, it's not what you think -" I started as panic surged through me at the knowledge that I wasn't going to be able to keep our secret like Blake and I had planned.

"Oh, no!" She pointed an accusing finger at me. "Don't give me that bull crap! I'm not an _idiot_! When you sent me that cryptic text yesterday I figured you had - stupidly, I might add - gone somewhere with _Connor_!" She was grinning so widely I thought her head was going to split in half. "Looks like I put my bet on the wrong Maxwell!"

"Oh, God." I put my head in my hands.

"I _knew_ it! I _knew_ there was something going on with you and Blake!"

"There _wasn't_ anything going on -"

"Oh, PLEASE! All the weirdness and sexual tension whenever you guys were in the same room? I was wondering when he was going to make his move!"

I walked over and plopped down next to her on the couch. "Do you think I'm awful?"

"What?! NO! You _know_ I think you and Connor were a train wreck."

"I know...but me and Blake, so soon after -"

"Did you guys kiss or... _anything_ , while you were still with Connor?"

"No, of course not."

"Then _technically_ you didn't cheat."

I snorted. "Not cheating on a _technicality_ is still pretty crappy."

"You can't help who you're attracted to, Amy. That's the _one thing_ you can't control. The point is, you didn't act on it until _after_ you and Connor broke up, right?"

I nodded.

"Then _stop_ beating yourself up. Lord knows, Blake's hot. Why shouldn't you have a little fun? Just...be careful, okay?"

"What do you mean?" I asked. I knew _exactly_ what she meant but I wasn't willing to admit it.

"Well, he's not exactly a 'relationship' kind of guy and _you_ are definitely a 'relationship' kind of girl. Just, I don't know, enjoy it for what it is. I just don't want you to be disappointed when, you know..."

I felt sick. "When what?"

"Oh, you know what I mean."

I just looked at her, willing her _not_ to say what I _thought_ she was going to say, wishing that she wouldn't bust my bubble just yet.

She sighed, a little exasperated. "Okay, I was going to say, 'when he goes on tour', because I can only imagine what _that_ guy would get up to on tour. Like, _yikes_!" She paused and looked at me warily. "You guys _are_ just 'friends with benefits' or whatever, right?"

Up until that point, me and Blake in a relationship hadn't seemed like a stupid concept, but right then I started to feel like a little bit of a dumbass. So I lied. "Yeah...look, please don't say anything about this -"

"God Amy, I'm not an idiot."

"I know, I just don't think it would be a good idea to even tell Hayley yet."

"Okay, he's only around for one more week anyway, right?"

I tried to ignore the wrench I felt at the thought of him leaving. "...yeah."

" _Soooo_ , is he really as good as they say?" She grinned.

I narrowed my eyes as my stomach dipped sickeningly. "What? Who says?"

She rolled her eyes. "Come _on_ , throw a stone at any Sons of Sinners show and you hit about a dozen Blake Maxwell conquests, I hear things." She raised an eyebrow. "So, _is_ he that good?"

I felt like I was going to throw up. Mel wasn't saying anything I didn't already know...she was just saying the things that I didn't want to acknowledge. "Look, I'm just really tired. I think I'm just going to go to bed." I got up off the couch and picked up my weekend bag.

"Amy, wait. Are you okay?" she called after me.

I turned to face her and saw that her face was full of worry. "Yeah," I forced a smile. "Just tired." I turned and walked into my bedroom, suddenly feeling about fifty pounds heavier.

#

I got into bed and lay awake, staring at the ceiling.

Half an hour before, I was walking on air, now my stomach was knotted with anxiety.

Mel had reminded me with sickening clarity of one major thing that I had allowed myself to ignore about Blake. Namely, that he was a man-whore of _ridiculous_ proportions. I'd lost count of the amount of women that I'd actually _seen_ him take home, add in the ones I'd only _heard_ about, and multiply it by the ones I had _no knowledge of at all_...and you were looking at a disgusting number.

That was the stark truth.

Could I really, truly, expect him to be faithful to me while he was on tour?

While we were at the cabin, during one of our long talks, he'd admitted to me that he'd _never_ had a proper girlfriend. He had told me that he'd never even gone home with the same woman more than three times.

Was he even capable of being with just _one_ person?

He'd said he loved me, and I believed him. I really did. I knew that he would never intentionally hurt me. I knew that with my whole being, with everything I was...

_But three months is a long time_ , a voice whispered inside my head. _And he'll be surrounded by women throwing themselves at him...is his willpower really that strong?_

I didn't have an answer for that.

Because in the dark of my lonely room, I just didn't know.

#

My phone buzzing on my nightstand pulled me from my thoughts.

Blake's name was glowing on the screen.

Despite my worries, my heart soared at the thought of talking to him and I couldn't help the wide smile that spread across my face. "Hey you," I answered.

" _Amy, thank fuck,"_ Blake's voice was gruff and tight.

I knew immediately that something was very wrong. "Blake, what happened?"

" _It's Con, he's in the hospital. His mom just called, they think he OD'd, I'm on my way there now -"_

I sat bold upright in bed, my hand over my mouth. "Is he - is he going to be alright?"

" _I don't know - fuck, I don't know -"_ I heard the rising panic in his voice.

I leapt out of bed and grabbed my jeans. "I'm coming now, okay? I'm on my way."

"... _okay, good."_

I hung up the phone and dressed frantically, before running out into the night.

I had never been so scared in all my life.

#

It felt like I hit every red light on the way to the hospital. By the time I got there I had resorted to screaming at the traffic around me for every minor delay.

Logically, I knew I wouldn't be able to do _anything_ for Connor, even when I got there, but I just felt a desperate need to _be_ there, to find out what was happening, and every second seemed like a millennium.

When I finally ran into the waiting room, I was frantic.

I saw Blake pacing back and forth like a caged animal, with his hands locked together behind his head.

"Blake!" I cried out as I ran to him and threw myself at him. He instantly closed his arms around me and hugged me tight for a few seconds before I pulled back and looked up at his anxious face. "Is he okay?"

"I don't know yet. They just called his mom through to see him."

I put my hand to his cheek. "Are _you_ okay?"

He shook his head and crushed me to him, burying his head in my neck; his arms and chest were tense, hard as iron around me as I hugged him tight.

"Hey guys, what's the word?" Derren's worried voice echoed across the waiting room.

"Is he going to be okay?" Hayley's voice sounded at the same instant.

Blake and I let go of each other like we'd been burned, and I turned to see them hurrying towards us.

"His mom just went through," Blake told them. "We'll find out soon."

Hayley and I hugged tight, and Blake and Derren bro-hugged briefly; seconds later, Kane arrived asking the same questions.

Then we just waited.

Kane, Derren, Hayley and I were all sitting on the uncomfortable, plastic waiting room chairs; Blake was pacing back and forth - but suddenly he stopped dead. I looked up to see him staring at a thin, blond woman who was emerging from the doors at the other side of the emergency room. I could tell that she had probably been beautiful once - her bone structure was delicate and feminine - but life had taken its toll. She looked tired and kind of beaten down.

All at once I knew who she must be: Roni. Connor's mom.

"Is he okay?" Blake asked tightly.

"Yeah, they say he'll be fine," she practically spat. "Lucky him, huh?"

I released a huge breath that I hadn't realized I'd been holding.

Roni flicked a quick glance at the rest of us. "He's all yours, more fool you." She started to walk away.

"You're _leaving_?" Blake snarled.

She whirled back around to face him. "I got another son at home who's _not_ trying to dig himself an early grave. If you want to waste your time with _Connor_ , be my guest, but I've got to go." With that she stormed away, and out of the sliding doors at the other end of the room.

Blake glowered at her retreating back.

There was a beat of silence, then Hayley spoke up. "Do you think they'll let us see him?"

"Let me go see what the fuck is going on," Blake growled, before turning and striding into the ER.

Then there was more waiting.

About half an hour later, Blake returned and sat down next to me, looking weary. I wanted to reach out and take his hand, but of course I didn't.

"He's okay," he sighed. "They're not admitting him. They're gonna release him soon, if you can believe it. He drank too much, snorted too much blow..." he trailed off and shook his head. "Matt and Luke were with him, they called an ambulance when they realized something was up. They got him here in time. The Doc says there shouldn't be any lasting damage."

"Lucky fucker," Kane breathed.

"Where are they? These _good buddies_ of his?" Hayley asked scornfully.

I was grateful she said that, because it was pretty much what I was thinking.

Derren snorted. "Where do you think? Hiding out somewhere in case he croaks."

"Derren, what the _hell_?!" Hayley snapped.

"Hey! Just sayin' it like it is! They're a pair of fuckin' pussies."

"It's the _way_ you say it," she grumbled.

"Whatever," Kane broke in. "Can we go see him?" he asked Blake.

Blake looked at me but spoke to Kane. "Actually, he just wants to see Amy."

"Just me?" I squeaked in surprise, I hadn't figured on Connor wanting to see me at all.

Blake's face was like stone. "Yeah. _Alone_ , he said. But I'll come with you."

I almost agreed, but Connor was the one in a hospital bed, if he wanted to see me _alone_ , then I felt like I should at least give him that. "It's okay, I'll go alone if that's what he wants."

Blake nodded but I saw something flicker in his eyes that I couldn't define. Not anger...not hurt...but something akin to them both. Then he turned to Kane and Derren. "You guys need to go to that interview -"

"Nah, man -" Kane started to protest.

"Connor agrees with me," Blake cut him off. "He told me to go too - I told him to shut the fuck up, but you guys _do_ need to go. Call Aiden, tell him what happened. You gotta be there in a few hours so you need to take off soon."

Kane still didn't look convinced. "You're sure he's gonna be okay?"

"Yeah, he's not great, but he's out of danger."

"Alright," Derren said, resigned. "I'll drop you home first, babe," he said to Hayley.

"Wait," she said, looking at me. "Do you want me to come see Connor with you?"

I shook my head. "I'll be fine, I'll call you after I've seen him."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah, go get some rest."

We hugged our goodbyes and the three of them left, then I went to see Connor, while Blake stayed in the waiting room.

#

When I pulled back the curtain to find Connor sitting up in a hospital bed, looking pale and exhausted but _alive_ , I nearly burst into tears.

I had been so worried about him, so beyond anxious, that actually seeing him sitting there sent a wave of relief through me that was so powerful I almost crumpled.

He looked up as I walked in and smiled weakly. "I didn't know if you'd come."

I approached the bed slowly and perched on the edge. Without even thinking about it, I wrapped my arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. "You scared me to death," I breathed shakily.

He hugged me back. "I scared myself too." I felt his arms tighten around me as he buried his head in my hair. "Amy, I'm so sorry...I'm _so_ fucking sorry..." I felt his chest heave against me, and when he spoke again his voice was strangled. "I messed everything up...and I didn't realize it 'til tonight, when I thought it was too late...I'm so sorry..."

The despair in his voice broke my heart.

"Shhh, it's okay," I whispered, trying to soothe him as my own tears ran tracks down my cheeks.

I held him for a long time.

When he eventually broke away, he scrubbed his hands over his face, wiping away evidence of his anguish.

I sniffled and wiped my eyes too.

His mouth quirked into a hint of a wry smile. "Can you forgive me...again?"

I looked into his green eyes; even circled with dark rings, they were still beautiful. "Of course. But you don't need _me_ to forgive you -"

He snorted disdainfully. "Well, my mom's _never_ going to forgive me -"

I reached out and took his hand. "That's not what I meant." I took a deep breath; what I was going to say next would probably spiral the whole conversation into an argument, but I felt I _had_ to say it. " _You're_ the one in the hospital bed, Connor. _You're_ the one who almost died. Whether I forgive you, or your mom forgives you, _none_ of that matters if you're not _here_." I couldn't help the fresh tears that started to fall as I spoke. "And Blake - if anything happened to you it'd _destroy_ him." I knew that as surely as I knew the sun would rise in the morning; Connor was _all_ Blake had, the _only_ family he could count on.

When I finished talking, I expected a fight.

But I didn't get one.

Instead, Connor hung his head. "I know."

"Then maybe it's time to make a change," I said quietly.

He squeezed my hand and nodded almost imperceptibly. I stared at him in silence, waiting to see what he would do. Would he brush off my comments as he had done so many times before? Or would he finally see things differently?

Eventually, he looked up and his eyes met mine. They were overflowing with emotion. Fear. Shame. Regret?

When he spoke, I could hear the desperation in his voice. "I need you, Amy...this is what I'm like without you, this is what I was like _before_ you. When I met you, you made me better...and I fucked it all up." He scrunched his eyes shut briefly and dragged his hand through his hair before continuing. "You remember the first night we met? When I climbed that sign?"

I nodded and couldn't help smiling a little through my tears at the memory of him pretending to fall - even though I had been _terrified_ at the time.

He smiled faintly back at me. "Everything changed that night. For a while everything was good, and I _know_ I fucked it up, and I'm _sorry_." His eyes were imploring. "It was really good back then, wasn't it? What we had?"

I nodded dumbly as I started to grasp where this was going.

"I want that back. I want _you_ back. You kept me sane. Back then, when I had you, nothing else mattered...and now..." he stumbled to a halt and shook his head. "I'm ready to give it all up. I'll never touch anything ever again, not even green. Hell, I won't even _drink_." He raised his right hand to cup my face tenderly. "I'm gonna do what I should have done two weeks ago - no, what I should have done _months_ ago. I'm gonna give it all up. Just come back to me. Please, Amy."

My heart was hammering in my chest.

My palms were sweating.

My breathing was shallow.

I swallowed thickly. "You - you want us to get back together?" My voice was barely more than a whisper.

He looked deep into my eyes. "I can't do this without you."

#

I left Connor sitting on his bed in the ER, filling out paperwork. They were going to release him soon, after he had seen the Doctor again.

I knew that what I was about to do was going to hurt me more than anything ever had before...

...but I had no choice.

Actually, that's not _strictly_ true, there's always a choice, isn't there?

But when your choices suck the big one? Well, in that kind of situation, having no choice at all would be probably be better. At least then you wouldn't forever have to ask yourself if you had made a mistake.

At least THAT part of it would be easier.

When I walked back into the waiting room, I saw Blake sitting with his elbows propped on his knees and his head bowed. He didn't know that I was there yet.

I stood and watched him; I drank in the shape of his broad shoulders, his thick, muscular forearms, his sculpted nose and messy hair. He was still wearing the same clothes that he had on yesterday, when we came back from the cabin.

The cabin...already, our time there seemed like it had happened a thousand years ago.

I let myself look at him unguardedly for the last time, while he was completely unaware of my presence.

Because after that I was going to have to give the performance of a lifetime - and I knew that I couldn't show him any weakness.

#

I walked towards Blake on leaden limbs.

He looked up when I was a few yards away, his blue eyes were guarded as they locked on me. "You were a while."

"Yeah," I said quietly. "We had a lot to talk about."

He stood up slowly. "Thought you might," he said gravely.

Then something occurred to me. "You knew what he was going to ask me, didn't you?"

He didn't answer the question, but I could feel the tension simmering under his skin. "Tell me you told him 'no', Princess."

My mouth suddenly felt like it was full of cotton wool, and I had to force the words out. "I...I promised I wouldn't lie to you."

For a moment he just looked stunned, like he couldn't believe what he'd just heard. "What the fuck are you saying?"

I clenched my shaking hands. "I told him 'yes', Blake."

The look of hurt on his face, the look of utter _betrayal_ , cut me to the bone.

But I made myself recite the words that I had rehearsed. "Connor and I have history, I care about him, I need to be with him."

"No, that's bullshit," he said flatly.

"It's not." I looked at him defiantly. "He needs me and _I_ need to be with him."

"What about what you _want_?" Blake closed in on me, his eyes narrowing.

"Fine. Then I _want_ to be with him," I shot back.

"Going back to him won't change shit, you _do_ know that, right?" he growled. "If he was gonna get clean for you, if he was gonna _change_ for you, he would've done it already."

"Do you want me to stand here and tell you all the reasons why I'm going back to him?" I countered, trying to throw him off even though I knew it was useless. "Do you _really_ want to hear that?"

He clenched his teeth and his brows knit. "Yeah, I fucking do. 'Cause from where I'm standing it looks like you're going back to him 'cause you're scared -"

"Of _course_ I'm scared," I said, my voice rising.

"- and that's a fucking piss poor reason to be with someone." He lunged forward and grabbed my hands in his. " _Especially_ when you love somebody else."

I tried to yank my hands away but he wouldn't let me, he just held on tighter. "Get off me!" I practically shouted, panic entering my voice - not that I thought he would hurt me, it was the fact that his touch was _undoing_ me. And if I didn't get him off of me soon I knew I wouldn't be able to finish what I had started.

But I _had_ to finish it, the stakes were too high not to.

I tried to pull away from him again and this time he let me, but the look on his face was wounded. "Don't do this. Whatever he said to you in there, _don't_ do this."

I bit down hard on my tongue to stop myself from crying. "I have to."

He took a steadying breath and when he spoke again his voice was soft. "No, baby, you don't."

I closed my eyes because I couldn't bear it, I couldn't stand looking at the love and pain in his eyes any longer. I had to make it stop. I had to end it, before it tore me to shreds.

When I opened my eyes I didn't look at him. I looked out of the sliding doors behind him. The dawn sky was a dusky pink and the sun was just starting to peep over the horizon. It looked calm and beautiful. I could see birds high up in the sky; they were so far above that they looked like tiny black specks circling and diving in the early morning air. They were so far away, so far out of reach.

I would have given anything to trade places with one of them.

And then I knew what I had to say.

I had to make Blake think that _I_ was out of _his_ reach.

My voice was wooden when I spoke. "I started having doubts the moment you dropped me off last night. You're going on tour in less than a week, and I know you, you won't be able to resist all the women who'll be throwing themselves at you."

I didn't _know_ he wouldn't be able to resist them, not at all, but I said it anyway.

"That's _not_ true," he snarled. "Princess, look at me -"

I ignored him and plowed on. "The second I saw Connor I realized how much I still felt for him and I can't hurt him, I _won't_ hurt him for you."

"Fuck, I'm not _asking_ you to, I told you we'd figure it out -"

"But that's not the main reason," I cut him off again. "The main reason is that I should never have told you that I loved you." By some miracle, my voice didn't waver.

Blake's silence probably only lasted for a moment, but it seemed to stretch forever, like a gaping void of muted torture.

" _Look_ at me and say that," he demanded roughly. "Look me in the _fucking_ eye and say that."

I made myself obey his command. "I should never have said that I loved you." My voice was flat and emotionless as I lied to his face; as I broke the promise that I had made less than twenty four hours before, to _always_ be honest with him. "It was a mistake."

He looked at me like I'd just stabbed him in the chest.

Then he was striding away, through the sliding doors and out into the dawn.

I managed to hold out until the doors whooshed shut behind him, and then I broke down in wracking sobs.

#

People say that hindsight is a wonderful thing.

They're wrong.

I don't think it's wonderful at all. In fact, I think it can be pretty awful.

There is nothing more maddening that looking into your past and seeing the deeper truths, the ones that you couldn't see at the time, but are so painfully obvious in hindsight.

Even now, when I think about the way Blake looked at me that day, my heart breaks all over again, and it's all I can do not to cry.

And if I could just go back and do it all over again, I know I would do it differently. But the past is done, and it can't be changed.

And the reasons that I did what I did back then are still valid, even if I can now see their flaws.

The truth is that Connor had almost _died_ that night. I wasn't completely naive, I knew that if he hadn't got to the hospital in time, there was a good chance that he wouldn't have made it. But that night he actually seemed to _finally_ realize the danger that he was putting himself in. He was _finally_ ready to make the right choice, the choice that I had wanted him to make for so long.

I desperately wanted him to be okay, and I knew that I could never live with myself if I turned away from him right when he needed me the most. My biggest fear was that he would overdose again and that next time he wouldn't be so lucky.

The ironic thing is, Connor apologizing and promising to stay clean was _all_ I had wanted to hear a few weeks earlier, but right then it felt like shackles on my soul.

Don't get me wrong, I still cared about Connor, maybe even loved him in a way...but I wasn't _in_ love with him, I never had been.

That didn't matter though, because I had made my choice. I couldn't allow myself to have the man I truly loved if it meant that Connor could wind up dead because of it. Not least because I knew that losing Connor would break Blake; he had lost so many people in his life already, I wouldn't let him lose Connor.

At the time, I thought that I was doing the right thing.

But like I said, hindsight's a real bitch.

#

It's hard to describe my emotions over the next few days. There were just so _many_ of them warring inside of me. Aside from a bone crushing sadness, one of the main ones was anxiety - I felt that almost the _whole time_ , but others came and went too.

I took Connor to my place after he got out of the hospital on Monday morning, and he stayed with me for the rest of the week, until he went on tour the following Friday.

For the first couple of days, he pretty much slept the entire time. It was clear he had the hangover from hell; add to that the fact that he was coming down and...well, he was wiped out. I kept him topped up with fluids and made him eat; the rest of the time I studied like my life depended on it - because whatever drama was happening in my life, finals didn't care.

By Wednesday, Connor was ready to face the world again. The band had a lot of promotion and rehearsals scheduled for that week and, while Connor was recovering at my place, the rest of the guys had apparently continued without him. But soon he was ready to join them.

My first clue that he was feeling better was that I awoke to an empty bed...and yelling.

"What the hell Connor?! You can't _smoke_ in my apartment, I don't give a crap how _antsy_ you feel!" Mel's angry words travelled through my partially open bedroom door.

I pushed myself out of bed and followed the sound of Connor's protests into the kitchen. "Alright, calm down, I opened a window -"

Mel was standing with her hands on her hips, glaring at him. "I don't care! The whole place stinks now!"

Connor stubbed out his cigarette on a dirty plate by the sink. "There. Gone, okay?"

She cast him a final withering glance and stalked out of the kitchen, past me and back into her room, slamming the door behind her.

I had known that Mel wasn't happy about Connor staying with us, she told me that in no uncertain terms the day I brought him home - when she got me alone, after he had crashed in my room. She was even more pissed that I'd gotten back together with him, especially after I'd 'finally seen the light' (her words, not mine). By that point though, I was so emotionally exhausted that I hadn't even really tried to explain my reasons to her. Since then I had barely spoken to her. Not because I was mad at her or anything, but because I didn't want to talk about what was going on, what had happened, _any_ of it.

"You can't smoke in here Connor," I said quietly. "This is Mel's place too and she hates it." I didn't bother mentioning the fact that _I_ hated it as well, he already knew that.

He sighed and leant against the counter. "I know, I won't do it again. I just - I'm..."

"Getting antsy?" I asked wryly.

"Yeah," he admitted.

"Well, Mel is _always_ right."

"I know. It annoys the fuck out of me."

I laughed despite myself. "Me too."

"Yeah. So, I just called Blake -"

A jolt shot through me, but I tried to act normal. "You did? Is he - is everything okay?"

"Yeah, fine. We've got a band practice scheduled for today, starts in an hour. I'm gonna go, I'm ready to get back to it."

"That's - that's great, you want me to give you a ride?"

"Yeah, thanks." He walked over to me and slipped his arms around my waist. "You want to stay and watch?"

My heart thudded so hard I felt sure he must have heard it. "Um, no, I can't. I have to study. Finals next week, remember?"

He looked a little disappointed.

"But I can come get you after. Maybe we can grab some lunch?" I said, trying to placate him.

He leant down and nuzzled my nose with his before giving me a soft kiss. "Okay, sounds good."

After that, Connor was busy most of the time. Aiden had packed their schedule to bursting in preparation for the tour, so Connor was out a lot during the days, but he came home to me every night. He had only been back to his own apartment long enough to pack a bag. It was like he was afraid of being alone. In the evenings we ate a meal together and then I studied at my desk while he lounged on my bed and watched movies on the small TV in my room.

Studying became my refuge, my avoidance tactic, my excuse.

I studied late into the night, every night, so that by the time I finally crawled into bed alongside Connor, he was already fast asleep.

We didn't have sex.

He only broached the subject once. It was late and I was still studying by the light of the small lamp on my desk. He shut off the TV and came over to me, stood behind me and put his hands on my shoulders, then started massaging the knots in my upper back and neck.

_That_ lasted all of about two seconds.

Then his hands were sliding down my chest and cupping my boobs through my shirt, while he started to trail light butterfly kissed down my neck.

I went rigid. "Connor, wait."

He paused his kisses but didn't remove his hands. "What's up?" he whispered in my ear.

"I just - I need more time."

He let go of me and straightened up. "What do you mean?"

I turned around in my chair and looked up at him. "We _just_ got back together and so much has happened with you, with _us_ , that I just need a little time..." I licked my dry lips. "Even before we broke up, things were... _off_ with us."

"I apologized for all of that, I told you I want to make it right."

"I know," I stood and curled my arms around his waist. "It's just that I need a little more time. Everything has just been so stressful, you know?"

He frowned down at me pensively. "Alright," he said eventually. "I guess that's fair."

I put my head against his chest and hugged him tight. "Thank you for understanding."

"...yeah."

I felt a twist of guilt in my gut; I knew he didn't understand, not really.

How could he understand that when he'd touched me from behind, it hadn't been him that I'd thought of, but his cousin?

#

I gripped the hot Styrofoam cup in both hands and inhaled the coffee steam spiraling up from the slit in the lid, letting my eyes close briefly as the comforting aroma drifted into my nose.

"You look like you're enjoying sniffing that coffee a little _too_ much, like it's turning you on or something," Connor said mischievously in my ear. "Makes me think you're _sexually frustrated_."

I picked up on the _extremely_ obvious goading in that comment. I opened my eyes a crack and pursed my lips. "Ha ha," I said, _not_ laughing. "Coffee and I have a special relationship."

He grinned and took a drag on his cigarette. "Don't I know it, I had to walk two blocks for that."

"Says the guy who once carried me over his shoulder for two blocks _without_ whining."

"Oh, yeah! I forgot about that...that was the night we..." he trailed off and waggled his eyebrows up and down playfully like _Nudge, nudge, wink, wink,_ "...for the first time."

"Um, _no_ , it wasn't."

His brow furrowed. "No?"

I shook my head. "Nope."

He chuckled. "Damn, I definitely remember something... _pool_? Yeah, that's it! I beat your ass at pool that night!"

I laughed despite being a little pissed that he couldn't remember that the first time we slept together had come _weeks_ afterwards. "You ass! And _no_ , actually you didn't beat me, _I_ beat you!"

He laughed along with me and slung his arm around my shoulders, pulling me to him. The familiar feel of his arm around me, and the scent of old leather and cigarette smoke wafting up from his jacket, worked together to transport me back in time to last fall, when I was with the old Connor, the guy that had swept me off my feet.

That lasted about a second, and then, like a pendulum, my mind swung back to Blake, and my anxious-sadness reared its head again. It was made worse by the fact that I was about to come face to face with him for the first time since that morning in the hospital.

Connor and I were standing on the street outside my apartment block waiting for the rest of the band, along with Aiden, to show up in their tour van. They were supposed to pick Connor up and then get straight on the road for Los Angeles, where they would meet the rest of the tour and play their first show that night at the Staples Centre.

"I can't believe that tonight you're going to play in front of thousands and _thousands_ of people. You know, U2 played there? You're going to play on the same stage that _U2_ played on!" I said, genuinely excited for them despite my inner turmoil.

" _And_ Paul McCartney, _and_ Prince, _and_ Roger Waters," I heard the smile in Connor's voice as he spoke.

"You better make sure you send me pictures," I warned.

"I thought we could go one better than that."

I pulled back and looked up at him. "What do you mean?"

He threw the butt of his cigarette on the sidewalk and ground it out with the toe of his sneaker, suddenly looking bashful with his head lowered, eyes on the ground. "I want you to come on tour with me."

The rising panic stopped me from speaking.

He looked up at me, his brow furrowed. "After finals, I mean. Next weekend, when you're done, I thought you could fly out and meet up with us. I know it's gonna be cramped in the van, but if the merchandise sales are good we might have cash for a motel some nights." He cracked a small smile. "What do you say? Come on an adventure with me?"

Come on an adventure with me?

That old line that I could never say no to...only this time the thought of THAT particular adventure, being stuck in a tiny van for weeks at a time, that close to Blake, made my vision swim. "Um...I don't know if that's a good idea -"

Connor dragged a hand through his hair, his brows knitting in frustration. "I don't mean stay the _whole tour_. I'm not expecting you to camp out with me for three months, but just come for a little bit, a few weeks, whatever. I need you to come. I'll pay for your plane ticket, I'll book your flight." He swallowed and looked down. "I just - I need you to come," he finished quietly.

I thought about refusing, but I knew that I couldn't. There wasn't a good enough reason in the world to ignore his plea, not after his overdose, not when he needed me.

Apart from the real reason.

That would probably do it.

But that wasn't an option.

"Okay, I'll come," I said, forcing a smile.

Half a second later he had swept me up in his arms and was swinging me around and around on the sidewalk; when we stumbled to a stop, he kissed me hard.

"Hey! Guys! We ain't got all day!" Derren's voice split through the moment.

I turned to see a white Mercedes-Benz Sprinter van idling by the curb. Derren was leaning out of the passenger side window, grinning at us.

Behind him, I could see Blake sitting in the driver's seat, his hands wrapped tightly around the steering wheel. His blue eyes were like chips of ice, boring into me.

I felt my stomach drop through the floor.

I knew seeing Blake would be hard, but I hadn't banked on it being soul crushing.

All that week, I had managed to completely avoid him - even when I had dropped Connor off at band practice - and I had managed to construct a wall around my emotions.

Seeing him again brought it crashing down.

Thankfully, he was immediately blocked from my view as Derren shifted and flung open the van door, then jumped down to the sidewalk. At the same instant, the sliding door in the side of the van opened and Kane appeared, grinning amiably. He and Aiden were sitting on the front of three rows of seats. Kane jumped out and Aiden followed behind him, with a polite yet slightly indifferent smile on his face.

"Hey, Amy, want the tour?" Kane asked impishly.

The sound of a door opening and closing from the other side of the van told me that Blake had gotten out too. I latched on to Kane's offer like it was a life preserver. "Absolutely! Show me where you guys are going to be living."

"You'll be blown away, this is the five star shit right here!" Derren joked as they led me to the back of the van.

As one, Kane and Derren opened the double doors at the back. Inside there was a storage area that went back about half the length of the van, then there was a partition wall. The storage space had been modified and split in two horizontally, creating two spaces. Underneath the divide was all the band's equipment and boxes of merchandise, on top of the divide were two double mattresses - the band's sleeping quarters.

"Oh my God!" I exclaimed. "You're all going to sleep in there?! No way you'll fit!"

"Cozy, right?" Derren grinned.

"One or two of us'll have to sleep on the seats in front," Kane said, as he and Derren slammed the doors shut again. "We'll have to flip a coin."

"All part of the adventure, right?" I smiled at them; they looked like little kids about to go on their first camping trip.

I heard Connor calling to me from the sidewalk.

When I stepped back around to the side of the van, I saw Connor standing with Aiden; Blake was standing there too, his big arms crossed over his chest. He wasn't looking my way, he had his head slightly bowed and he was looking at the floor.

Connor waved me over and asked, "When's your last exam?"

"Friday morning, why?"

"Just talking flights," he said, turning back to Aiden. "Where will we be Friday?"

"Seattle. You're playing the Key Arena that night." Aiden looked at me, all business. "What time can you leave?"

"Um, my exam finishes at eleven."

Aiden nodded. "Fine. I'll get on it. Connor can let you know details later."

"What's going on? You comin' on tour with us Amy?" Derren asked.

I felt my face heating. I really wasn't sure how the guys were going to react to me crashing their tour.

"Yeah, looks like she's flying out after finals," Blake said without looking up, his voice was dangerously low.

"Hayley'll be jealous," Derren said. "She's not flying out for another three weeks after that," he shot me a mischievous look. "Just don't screw in the van, okay? We all gotta live in there."

I saw Blake's biceps bunch against his chest and cringed, wishing Hayley were there to smack Derren and tell him to shut up like she usually did.

Connor laughed. "Yeah, 'cause you and Hayls have so much restraint when it comes to shit like that."

"Nah, man, gotta respect Nancy."

"Nancy?" I asked.

"The van," Kane explained in a tone of voice a benevolent father would use to discuss a foolish son. "He named the van Nancy."

"Oh." I shot a look at Derren who looked particularly pleased with himself. "Why Nancy?"

"Hayley's middle name."

I couldn't help the involuntary "Aww" that popped out of my mouth. Kane rolled his eyes at me.

Aiden spoke up. "We've got to get on the road. Time to say your goodbyes." With that he climbed back into the van.

"Alright, man," Kane said to him, before stepping towards me and drawing me into a bear hug. "See you soon, Amy."

"Yeah, have fun out there," I said, hugging him back.

"I will," he said pulling back and hopping into the van.

Derren followed suit and hugged me next. When he moved away and opened the passenger side door, I was astounded when Blake moved in for a hug too. It was a quick, one armed squeeze. Really, it barely classed as bodily contact, let alone a hug, but I swear my heart nearly stopped.

I couldn't breathe.

I didn't _dare_ breathe - because I knew the scent of him would make me buckle.

I knew he was only doing it to keep up appearances; it would look weird if he _didn't_ hug me when the others were, but still I looked up at his face, seeking _some sign_ that he didn't completely hate me.

I didn't get it.

He wasn't even looking at me.

His eyes were focused on something over the top of my head, then his arm dropped and he turned away quickly and strode out of sight, around the other side of the van.

Then there was just me and Connor left on the sidewalk. As he kissed me, all I could think was that I hoped to God Blake couldn't see us. I broke the kiss after a couple of seconds and hugged him tight instead, hating myself for my duplicity. "I hope you have an amazing time," I murmured into his ear, and it was the truth, maybe the _only_ truth I could give him right then.

"I'll miss you," he whispered back, before he pulled away and picked up his duffel bag. Then he climbed through the sliding door in the side of the van, to sit with Kane and Aiden.

As I waved them off I cried - for all the wrong reasons.

#

My mom has always been really into self-help books. Growing up, they were all over the house, dog eared pages in every one of them, highlighting her favorite sections.

I used to skim through them sometimes when I was bored, or just when I wanted something to make me laugh.

One time, though, I came across a self-help book that I didn't think was dumb. I can't remember the name of the book, but it focused on the Buddhist idea of having complete control of your own mind, which doesn't actually sound like it should be a problem in the first place. But anyone who has tried really hard _not_ to think about something, only for that something to be the only thing that you _can_ think of...well, anyone who's tried that will know that it can be almost impossible to control your own mind.

Not according to this book.

It worked on the theory that our thought processes are habits, we use the same ones all the time. Our brains have a pattern, a way of functioning on an unconscious level that is unique to us. The book claimed that if we want to change the way we think, we need to forge new pathways through our brain, and to do that, we have to _consciously_ control our thoughts. Every time our thoughts stray from where we want them to be, we have to drag them back and force our brains to think only about what we _want_ them to think about.

Basically, it's a mental 'fake it 'til you make it' strategy based on something Buddha said: 'Rule your mind or it will rule you.'

That week, during finals, I went Buddhist. I tried to reprogram my mind...

I would NOT think about Blake.

I WOULD think about Connor.

I would NOT think about Blake.

I WOULD think about finals.

When I walked out of my last exam, I felt pretty confident that I had done well. It had taken mammoth effort, but I _had_ managed to focus. I was exhausted from the effort, but I had _done_ _it_.

My satisfaction didn't last long though, because then I flew to Seattle.

#

After I touched down in Seattle, I took a cab from the airport to the Key Arena. I called Connor from the cab to let him know that I was on my way so that he could make sure I could get through security.

When he answered the phone he sounded sleepy, like I'd just woken him up. "Hey, whassup?"

"Hey, I'm on my way, I should be there in ten minutes. Can you come meet me?"

"Shit, yeah, what time is it?"

"It's just after three." I paused for a second, suddenly feeling even more apprehensive. The way Connor was talking, his _tone_ , troubled me. "Big night last night?" I asked, a little stiffly.

I heard him huff down the line. "It's just _dark_ in here, feels like the middle of the night still."

"Where are you, the back of the van?"

"Yeah, think so..."

"You _think_ so?!"

"Relax, kidding. See you in ten." With that he hung up.

I chewed on my lip as I travelled through the city, trying desperately hard not to think about seeing Blake again. And failing. Miserably.

When my taxi pulled up outside the venue, Connor wasn't waiting for me, but Kane was.

He grinned at my confused look before pulling me in for a bear hug. "Con went to find a shower," he said by way of explanation. "He asked me to come get you."

"Oh, okay, thanks," I said, my apprehension doubling as Kane took my duffel bag off me and started to lead me towards the parking lot, to where I could see some huge busses parked among a kind of caravan of smaller vehicles. "How's the rock star life treating you?" I asked.

He grinned. "It's weird. It's like, incredibly intense and busy twenty percent of the time, and the rest of the time you're just waiting around for something to happen."

"The parts on stage are good though?"

"The parts on stage are fucking _awesome_. Hey, damn, I should have asked, how'd finals go?"

I smiled at his thoughtfulness. "I think I did okay."

"Well, I'm sure you did great."

" _Oh my God!_ " A shrill voice squealed.

I looked up to see that we were approaching a gate in a chain link fence that had been erected around the caravan of vehicles. On our side of the fence, there were a crowd of people, mainly girls, milling around, and a couple of them were staring right at us - well, to be precise, they were staring at Kane.

"Are you Kane from Sons of Sinners?! Oh my God! You guys are awesome!" One of the girls approached us, a look of complete rapture on her face.

I couldn't hide my grin as I looked at Kane. The guy actually looked a little flushed. "Uh, yeah, that's me."

"Oh my GOD!" she shrieked again. "Can I have your autograph?"

"Sure." He took the sharpie she offered. "Who shall I make it out to?"

The fan girl handed him a copy of the Sons of Sinners EP to sign. "Amanda. I'm _sooo_ excited to see you guys tonight! When Divide announced who would be opening for them I searched you guys on Twitter. I _love_ your stuff, especially _Bind of the Blue Collars_ , that's awesome! My friends are going to go CRAZY when I tell them I met you," she gushed.

"Well, I really hope you enjoy the show Amanda -"

"Is this your girlfriend?" she asked, looking at me. She wasn't hostile, more like hungry for information.

"Oh, no," I said. "We're just friends. My boyfriend is in the band with him."

Amanda gasped. "Which one is he?"

I couldn't help smiling at her excitement; this was the strangest thing that had _ever_ happened to me. How desperately she wanted to know about the band - it was just surreal. "Connor," I said. "He plays -"

"Drums! I know! He is _soooo_ hot!"

Kane chuckled next to me.

I couldn't help laughing a little too. "Yeah, he is, but he has a big head, so don't let him hear you say that," I joked.

"We'll never hear the end of it," Kane agreed. "It was nice to meet you Amanda, but we gotta go." He gestured to the gate in front of us.

"Oh, yeah, nice to meet you too, thank you _so much_ for the autograph!" She still looked elated as we moved past her and through the gate, the security guards waved us through as Kane showed his Access All Areas pass.

"Does that happen a lot?" I whispered to him, jerking my head back towards Amanda.

"It's happened a few times, it's really weird."

I nudged him with my elbow as we walked. "Better get used to it. You guys are gonna be _faaaamous_ ," I said the last word in a sing-song voice, grinning at him playfully. I knew the idea of fame made Kane uncomfortable, he wasn't like the other guys in the band in that he didn't really like to be the center of attention.

He shot me a withering look and nudged me back.

We wove our way through the mass of vehicles and people that were scurrying around inside the temporary compound. We passed three enormous, silver tour busses with blacked out windows. They were hulking behemoths, their chrome exteriors glinting fiercely in the sunlight. Along the sides of them, in huge red letters was the word DIVIDE.

With everything that had happened in the last few weeks, I'd kind of forgotten about the huge band that Sons of Sinners were touring with. When Connor had asked me to go with him, the thought of being in close proximity with a band that _I_ kind of worshipped hadn't even registered.

Walking past their massive tour buses, it suddenly hit me. "Holy crap!" I breathed.

"Crazy, huh?" Kane said from beside me.

"Have you met them?" I asked.

"Yeah, a couple times. Aiden knows them, that's how come we're even here. They seem like good guys. Those busses are something else though aren't they?"

"Why do they need _three_?"

Kane shrugged. "Roadies, management, private chefs, who knows."

I turned to look at him. "Private _chefs_? Seriously?"

He grinned. "So I heard, but it could just be a rumor."

"Wow...just... _wow_..."

"Yeah. Don't sound too impressed around Nancy though, she's sensitive."

"Derren wouldn't let that go, would he?"

"Nah, it's easier just to go with it. C'mon." He nudged me again. "Let's go find your guy."

#

When I caught sight of Nancy, nestled among a host of other vans, the knot of anxiety in my stomach that I had been telling myself wasn't really there, tripled in size.

As we got closer to the van, I saw Derren walking towards it too, with an arm full of hamburgers.

"Hey, D!" Kane called out. "Tell me there's two of them for us!"

Derren turned and smiled slyly before launching two hamburgers, which were thankfully wrapped tightly, at us in quick succession. Unbelievably, Kane caught them both, then handed one to me, simultaneously shaking his head at Derren in disgust. "Idiot," he muttered, before unwrapping his burger and taking a big bite.

I made no move to open mine, I wasn't sure I could stomach it.

"Hey, Amy," Derren greeted me. "Good trip? How were finals?"

"Good thanks, I think I did well."

He nodded then opened the sliding door on the side of the van. "Here, Broody, got you somethin' to eat," he threw another hamburger inside the van.

At first I thought he must have been talking to Connor, then I heard the rumble of Blake's voice. "Fuck off, D."

"A 'thank you' works just as well," Derren said sarcastically, then shot a look at me. "Just so you know, Blake's being a giant pain in the ass. It's fun for everyone."

"I heard that, _dick_ ," Blake's voice sounded again, right before he emerged from the van and jumped to the ground next to Derren, burger in hand, and sent a backhanded tap into Derren's stomach. "And I'm not brooding, I'm just -"

"- resting your voice. Yeah, got it," Derren finished for him, rolling his kohl rimmed eyes.

"Amy's here," Kane said, stating the obvious.

"Hey," I said to Blake, trying to sound relaxed. I'm pretty sure I failed.

"Hey, yourself," Blake said, completely nonchalantly. He didn't look at me though, he was looking just over my head like he had done when he hugged me goodbye before the guys set off on tour.

"Um..." I groped for something to say. "So, it seems like everything's going really well?"

"Yeah, it is." He glanced at Derren and shoved his burger back into his hands. "Here, I'm tired of eating this shit, I'm gonna go find something else." He turned and started to walk away.

"Hey, Blake! Don't disappear!" The shout came from behind me. I turned to see Aiden approaching us quickly, clad in his customary sports jacket and designer jeans. As Blake turned to him questioningly, Aiden called, "The interview I told you about? We've got ten minutes until they call. We'll take it in your dressing room, it'll be quieter in there."

Blake begrudgingly nodded his assent and came back over.

"Guess you want this _'shit'_ now?" Derren said sardonically, handing Blake's burger back to him.

Blake took it with a glare.

"What about Con?" Kane asked Aiden.

"I already found him; he's inside waiting for us. Come on, we don't want to miss this call." He snapped his eyes to me. "Hi, Amy, nice to see you again. Come with us, I'll sort you out with a backstage pass. We don't want security throwing you out."

"Okay, thanks," I said, but he had already turned his back on me and was hurrying towards the arena. I turned back to Kane. "Who's the interview with?" I asked as we followed Aiden across the parking lot.

"The local rock station, they're doing it by phone, that's why we need to be somewhere quiet. Gives us a chance to promote our spot tonight, means that people who were gonna skip the opening bands, and just watch the headliners, will maybe come earlier and give us a chance. That's Aiden's theory anyway. We did the same thing in San Francisco and it seemed to work, right man?" Kane looked at Blake who was walking on the other side of him - pretty much as far away from me as he could get and still be counted as walking 'with' us.

"Yeah," Blake practically grunted, eyes fixed dead ahead.

"Hope you're gonna be more talkative than this when were on air, man," Derren mumbled.

If Blake registered the comment at all, he ignored it.

"Leave it alone, D," Kane muttered.

Aiden led us into the arena and through a series of cold, almost clinical corridors until we came to a door with a 'Sons of Sinners' sign taped to it. When he opened the door, the first thing I saw was Connor lounging on one of the two couches in the room, his feet up on the white coffee table that had been placed in between. When he caught sight of me he broke into a grin and stood up. "Here you are! Miss me?"

"Almost as much as you missed me," I quipped as he came over and hugged me, dabbing a quick kiss to my lips. I couldn't help tensing as his lips brushed against mine, knowing that Blake would see, and knowing that if the roles were reversed, I would _hate_ watching him kiss someone else.

When Connor pulled back and I had chance to look at him properly, my first thought was: _he looks tired_. My second thought was: _he looks hung over_. My third thought was: _he looks a little on edge_.

I'm not sure if that was the _exact_ moment that I knew that I'd thrown everything away for nothing, but it was definitely the first step on the road to clarity.

After that, it was just a matter of time before everything fell apart.

#

The radio interview started pretty much immediately after we walked into the dressing room. Aiden answered the call, then put the phone on speaker and set it in the middle of the coffee table as a male voice said, "You'll be introduced in a minute, the next voice you hear will be Penny and you'll be live on air so try not to curse."

The guys sat down on the couches and I kind of hovered around, not really sure where to put myself. "Should I, um, go wait outside?" I asked.

"As long as you're quiet, do what you want," Aiden said.

Okay, sometimes 'businesslike' just came across as rude.

I ended up perching on the arm of the couch, just next to where Connor was sitting. Of course, that wound up being directly across from Blake, who was still acting like I wasn't there. It was like, to Blake, there was a black hole where I should be. Every time his eyes came anywhere near me, they slid away again like water on oil.

Suddenly, a perky voice sounded through the phone. _"And now, as promised, we have an interview with an awesome band, new on the scene, currently touring with the incredible Divide, we have Sons of Sinners on air with us right now! Hellooo guys, are you there?! Can you introduce yourselves to our listeners?"_

Blake spoke up first, "Hey Penny, this is Blake, I'm the singer."

" _Oh, wow, well I have to be honest here, Blake, I checked out your Facebook and your Twitter and, let me just say to all the ladies listening, you NEED to go take a look at this guy! Daymmmn!"_

Blake just laughed as the rest of the guys introduced themselves.

" _Great!"_ Penny's overly excited voice sounded again. _"So glad you could join us on air! So, let's start with the most important thing, you're currently here in Seattle, playing the Key Arena tonight, for anyone out there who's going to the show, what can they expect from you guys?"_

"A lot of energy." Blake leant forwards as he spoke and his voice dropped, taking on a seductive edge. "We'll be dirty and sweaty by the end of it but it'll be worth it." He may as well have winked down the phone.

Derren guffawed. "Yeah, and the music's pretty good too!"

" _Well, I'm glad I have a ticket!"_ Penny laughed.

Blake smirked at her reaction, like it was exactly what he'd expected.

I knew I had absolutely _no_ right to be pissed, but I kind of wanted to slap him.

After that, the rest of the interview focused more on the music and the origins of the band, with a lot of references to the fact that the guys were currently on tour. I saw Aiden point to the guys here and there and raise his eyebrows, like he was prompting them, then they would work in a comment about their YouTube channel, their website, their social media, their EP, or their plans to record an album right after the tour. It was actually an interesting process to watch.

As soon as the radio interview finished, Aiden sorted me out with a backstage pass, and Connor took me into the main arena itself to show me around. It was pretty cool seeing the whole place deserted apart from the roadies setting up the stage. It brought home to me how _huge_ the place was, how many people would be watching them later that night, what an incredible opportunity this was for them.

"So, how are you doing?" I asked after a while, as we strolled aimlessly around the upper seats.

He shrugged. "Good."

"That's it? Just 'good'?"

He shot me a wry look. "Alright, playing these types of shows is amazing. But that's not what you're talking about."

"No," I agreed. "It's not..." I trailed off, not exactly sure how to ask what I wanted to ask, I wasn't sure how he would react.

"I haven't been getting high if that's what you want to know."

"It was," I admitted.

"Well there's your answer. No, I haven't."

"Have you been drinking?"

He frowned. "Yeah...why wouldn't I drink?"

"I just thought - well, in the hospital you said you weren't even going to drink anymore."

"I did?"

"You don't remember that?" I asked incredulously.

"No," he snorted and shook his head. "I don't remember that at all. But what the hell difference does _drinking_ make anyway? Everyone drinks." He leant in closer to me as we walked, like he was sharing a secret. "Even _you_ drink, so it can't be _that_ bad."

I was pretty sure he was trying to keep the mood light, but the fact that he'd just admitted to not remembering a chunk of our conversation in the hospital made me wonder what else he's forgotten. "I'm not saying it's bad Connor, I'm just telling you what _you_ said to me."

He sighed. "Alright, well it was a stupid thing to say in the first place, so just forget I said it." He raised his eyebrows imploringly. "Can I still smoke?"

"And what would you do if I said 'no'?"

He chuckled. "I'd do it anyway."

"Then why bother asking?" I snapped.

"Jesus, I won't then, I was _kidding_."

"You're _kidding_ about this now?" I stopped short and glared at him.

He turned to face me. "About _smoking_? Yeah, I guess I am -"

"I don't mean about _smoking_ , I mean about this whole thing! You're really going to make jokes about this just _two weeks_ after you ended up in the _hospital_?!"

His eyes hardened. "I told you, I haven't touched anything -"

"You also _told_ me that you weren't going to drink!"

"Yeah! When I was _wasted_. It was a dumb fucking thing to say but I was _wasted_! Jesus Christ! Is this what you came out here for? To bust my balls?"

Cold anger shot through me. "No! I came out here because _you_ asked me to, because _you_ said you needed me to! Was that bullshit too, Connor?"

He grimaced and turned away from me, dragging a hand through his hair as he paced away. Then he stopped abruptly and I saw his shoulders move up and down as he took a deep breath. Eventually, he turned back to me. "Can we just _not_ do this?" he asked. "Can you just trust me, for _once_?"

"I never said I didn't trust you -"

"Then what the fuck is this even about?"

I clamped my lips shut and tried to swallow down my anger, because he was right. I didn't trust him, not fully, and I wasn't sure if I ever had. Guilt started to claw at me. I mean, really, who was I to call _his_ honesty into question, bearing in mind the secrets that _I_ was keeping?

I took in a deep breath and said, "I'm sorry, it's just...too soon to joke about it, is all." I considered for a second. "In fact, I don't think it will ever be okay to joke about it."

He looked past me, down at the stage. "Time for sound check," he said, gesturing to where the other guys were walking onto the stage. "You coming?" He offered me his hand, and I took it, but we left our conversation unfinished.

#

The rest of the afternoon was been pretty uneventful. Kane had been right about there being a lot of waiting around. After the sound check, we all hung out in the guys' dressing room for a while. They recapped their set list with Aiden, making a few changes here and there.

When we were heading out of the dressing room, Connor grabbed my hand and held me back as the other guys made their way to the stage. He slipped his arm around my waist and kissed me briefly, before pulling back, grinning. His soft green eyes were blazing with anticipation.

He looked so happy and full of life.

It reminded me of the first time that I had seen him play drums in a dusty backyard in downtown Las Vegas. Back when we had first met and I was completely infatuated with him. But a glimpse was all it was, then he turned away from me and jogged to catch up with the other guys.

I followed along behind and found a place to stand at the side of the stage. I was hidden from the crowd but I could see everything.

The guys were amazing. As promised, their energy was incredible; like they had been born to perform, they _owned_ the stage. In short, they were everything that I knew that they would be.

Blake was everywhere. Jumping off the monitors, climbing the speaker rigs, stalking along the front of the stage like a wild animal. And through it all, his voice never faltered. Deep and smoky, rough and gritty, soft and soulful, he held the audience in the palm of his hand.

And me.

I was right there too.

" _Damn_ , Seattle!" he shouted into the microphone after one of their really energetic songs, _Conscience Collapse_. "You guys know how to _do_ this shit!" He briefly applauded the audience. The rest of the guys joined in, raising their hands above their heads and clapping. The crowd lapped it up. Blake flashed his sexy-as-hell smirk and I swear I heard about ten thousand pairs of panties drop. "We only got a couple songs left," he paused as the crowd started booing, his smirk widening before he continued with, "This next song's a cover. We haven't performed it in a while but I think tonight is a good night for it."

When they were discussing the set list earlier, I hadn't noticed them talking about doing _any_ covers, and when I saw the confused looks the other guys were throwing his way, I figured that Blake was going off plan.

I glanced to my side to see Aiden standing a few feet away, shaking his head, trying to catch Blake's eye.

But Blake didn't look his way; instead he turned to the rest of the band and, moving the mic away from his mouth, said something to them that I couldn't hear over the noise of the crowd. I could tell by the expressions on Kane and Derren's faces that they were protesting, but then I saw Blake point at Connor, with a _Do as I fucking say_ look on his face.

Connor just shrugged, apparently unconcerned, and counted the guys in, cracking his drumsticks together over his head before he brought them down, hard. Kane and Derren were left with no choice but to join in immediately.

A look of grim satisfaction flashed across Blake's face as he turned away from the rest of the guys - to look straight at me. His eyes caught mine and held me there as he opened his mouth and sang the first few lines _right at me_.

It was _I Almost Told You That I Loved_ _You_ by Papa Roach. I don't know if you've ever listened to that song, but let me tell you, if it's aimed _at_ you like this clearly _was_ , it's pretty offensive. The main message of the song, at least how Blake delivered it, was this: _If I told you I loved you when we were fucking, I lied. I talk shit when I'm balls deep you... oh, and I like screwing with your head._

Yeah...

_Ouch_.

The song is pretty aggressive anyway, but Blake sang it like he was purging a wound. He pretty much spat some of the words, like they left a bad taste in his mouth.

I couldn't look away.

I was tangled in the music, unable to break free. I _wanted_ to look away, but I couldn't. I couldn't tear my eyes away from him. He was like a vortex, pulling me in so that he could wreck me. I gritted my teeth so hard that I gave myself a headache. The crowd was going wild as the song finished and Blake shot me another look, this time accompanied by an evil smirk.

_Bastard_.

I finally pulled my eyes away from him and looked at the rest of the guys.

Derren looked royally pissed.

Connor looked like he couldn't care less.

But Kane was looking at me like a jigsaw piece had just slid into place in his mind.

#

My eyes were glued to my phone. I couldn't have told you what I was _doing_ on my phone though, because it was purely a crutch to stop me from openly freaking out.

_Kane knows Kane knows Kane knows_ was going through my head on a loop as Hysterical Amy had a meltdown; that mantra was also interspersed with completely incoherent, heartbroken thoughts about how much Blake obviously despised me.

We were back in Sons of Sinners' dressing room and I was sitting on one of the couches, next to Connor, sneaking glances at the scene unfolding in front of me whilst pretending to stare at my phone.

Aiden, who was usually so calm and unflappable, was clearly irritated. He was standing, with hands on hips, calling Blake out over the cover song. "I told you, NO covers. I didn't say 'no covers' just to be a prick, I said 'no covers' because you only have forty minutes a night to convince an audience of _several_ thousand people that your band is worth listening to! If they want to hear a covers band, they can go to a _dive bar_."

Blake was leaning against the wall, bottle of bourbon in hand. "Okay, man. Heard you the first time. No covers. Got it." He took a casual sip from the bottle.

"Yeah? So what was that then?" Aiden was clearly exasperated.

"I just like the song," Blake said nonchalantly, giving the impression that he was completely unaffected by how irate the others clearly were with him.

Derren, who was sitting across from me, stood abruptly and burst out with, "Seriously, man? Why are you bein' such a fuckin' dick? What the fuck's _with_ you?"

Blake's eyes became glacial as he pushed himself off of the wall and strode towards Derren - but before he could get too close, Kane was between them with his hand on Blake's chest. Although Blake towered above Kane, Kane was broader, and I knew he could probably hold his own against him. Derren, on the other hand, wouldn't stand a chance if Blake laid into him.

"Easy, easy," Kane said to Blake, his quiet voice the epitome of calm.

Blake was rigid, but he didn't make another move towards Derren.

Kane spoke to Derren next, "Back off, D. He said no more covers, it's done."

Derren took a slow step back and then settled back on the couch, grinding his teeth in a clear show of frustration. "Fine."

Blake nodded curtly and backed away too, going back to lean against the wall.

Kane cut a quick glance to me and my heart leapt into my mouth. I felt sure he was going to voice his suspicions, but he didn't, he just took a seat next to Derren on the couch and ran a hand over the stubble on his head. He looked stressed and I could understand why, the tension in the room was palpable and I was pretty sure that he now knew that _I_ was the cause of it. Blake was acting this way because of _me_...and it was affecting everyone.

Something else to feel guilty about. Greeeaat.

Connor, who had stayed out of the confrontation completely and looked bored out of his mind with the whole scene, turned to look at me. "Now _that's_ done - Divide are already on stage, you want to go watch?"

I looked at him in surprise. "Can we do that?"

"Yeah, backstage pass, remember? We can watch from the side of the stage."

I jumped up, eager to see the band, and even more eager to get the hell out of there as quickly as humanly possible. "Yeah!"

#

Divide had just started their encore when Derren found Connor and I standing by the side of the stage. He patted Connor on the shoulder and shouted to be heard above the music, "Meet and greet time! Need you out front."

Connor looked back at me. "Hang out here? I'll see you after."

"Um, or I could just come with you?" I said, a little confused as to why he'd leave me here when Divide were pretty much done. Soon, there would be roadies everywhere dismantling the equipment.

"Nah, you should watch the end of the set."

"But I'll just get in the way here," I said.

Derren huffed. "Just bring her, man. She's hung out by our merch stand a billion times. Right, Amy?"

"Right," I said, frowning at Connor's tense look. "I'll stay out of the way, if that's what you're worried about."

He nodded. "Alright, it's just that we gotta be among the crowd so I'll be busy." He took my hand as we walked away from the stage, following Derren through the hallways of the arena.

We soon emerged into the public area, where the stores were still lit up and open. I followed Derren and Connor to where the Sons of Sinners merchandise stand was set up. There were t-shirts, tank tops, hoodies, CDs, pins, ball caps, all sporting the band name and logo. A pretty, blonde girl that I didn't recognize was manning the stand, dressed in a mini skirt and Sons of Sinners tank top.

"Hollie, you making us rich yet?" Derren called out as we approached.

She flashed a huge grin. "Not yet, but give it ten minutes, when the fans start leaving we'll be raking in the dough." Her eyes turned to take in Connor, and her smile faltered a little when she caught sight of me.

Connor nodded a greeting to her and then he glanced at me. "Hang out over there." He gestured to a coffee shop about a hundred yards away. "I'll come get you when I'm done."

"Oh - yeah, or I could help Hollie out?" To be honest, up until that point it hadn't even occurred to me to offer to work their merchandise stand. I guess that was the bad girlfriend in me, but I _had_ done it a few times before, back in Vegas when one of their buddies had let them down.

"No. You don't need to do that, she's fine."

"Don't be ridiculous, I'll help her out," I said, pulling my hand out of his and heading behind the stand. He let me go, but I could tell he wasn't thrilled about it.

"So, how did you end up selling merch for the guys?" I asked Hollie as I picked up a Sons of Sinners pin and attached it to my top.

"My brother is a sound technician for Divide, and I just came along for fun. A couple nights ago, I got talking to Connor - and the others - and I offered to help out." She shrugged. "Gives me something to do, you know, besides drool over Logan."

I snorted a little laugh. "He _is_ worthy of drool, though." Logan Fox was the lead singer for Divide, and he'd recently been voted The Sexiest Man in Rock - of course, the people who compiled that list hadn't heard of Blake yet.

"He _really_ is." She grinned. "So...um, how do you know Connor and the others?"

"I'm Connor's girlfriend."

I couldn't be sure, but it seemed like she blanched just a little. "Right - I figured you must be." She shot a quick glance towards Connor, who was standing with the other guys - Aiden, Blake and Kane had just arrived from backstage. "Have you guys been dating long?"

"About nine months."

"Oh, that's great," she said in a tone of voice that told me she thought it was anything _but_ great.

"Yeah." I nodded and offered her smile, incredibly conscious of the fact that I wasn't even _remotely_ jealous of her obvious attraction to Connor.

Then madness descended for the next hour, and any chance of casual conversation with Hollie was gone. The concert was over and the fans were starting to emerge from the arena and make their way towards the exits, but as they did so, some of them noticed that Sons of Sinners were standing there - and some of them recognized them. I realized that _that's_ what the guys were banking on. They mingled with the fans, talked music, signed autographs, posed for pictures, directed them to the stand where me, Hollie _and_ Aiden sold a massive amount of merchandise. By putting themselves in the path of the fans, they probably managed to sell triple or quadruple the amount that they would have sold otherwise.

My mind flashed back to something that Blake had said to me at the cabin, _Princess, stop worrying. I'll make it happen. Even if I have to strip naked at our shows to sell a fuck load of merchandise, I'll make enough money to make sure I see you._

Involuntarily, my eyes sought him out - and there he was, surrounded by about five women, all of whom were practically falling all over themselves to touch him. One in particular was _really_ beautiful, like Angelina Jolie in her prime beautiful, and I noticed that when she grazed a finger over his chest, he gave her a look like he wanted to devour her.

It didn't end there though.

When the crush of the crowd had died down, I noticed that the beautiful fan girl was still hanging around. She was standing alone - not far away from where I was - and her eyes were fixed on Blake, who was talking to a couple of teen boys, who'd asked him to sign their CDs. I watched as his eyes found hers and a slow smirk spread across his face.

Then he looked right at me, and his smirk took on a sadistic edge.

I knew him well enough to know _exactly_ what he was about to do.

You know that horrible sensation you get in your mouth right before you throw up?

Yeah...I got that.

It felt like the whole thing happened in slow motion; Blake excused himself from the conversation he'd been having and sauntered over to her. "You waited for me all this time, darlin'?" His voice was low and seductive.

She smiled flirtatiously at him. "Isn't that what you wanted, babe?"

He chuckled. "Sure."

Without another word, he took her hand and led her away, through a door that led to the backstage area.

Watching them go, it took every ounce of willpower I had not to puke all over their damn Sons of Sinners hoodies.

#

After that, everything around me felt distant and disconnected. It was like when you watch a war movie and a bomb goes off and there's this kind of high pitched ringing noise that cuts across all other sound.

Just the _thought_ of what Blake was doing _right then_ made me want to shed my own skin. I was almost at the point where I was about to just drop what I was doing and run out of there - _where_ I would run to, I had no idea, I just wanted to get away - when Hollie's voice trickled through my shell shock. "...Amy? What do you think?"

"Uh, sorry, what were you saying?" I shook my head in an attempt to clear it.

She smiled at me. "I was just saying, I think we can pack all this stuff up now, I don't think we're going to get any more customers."

"Oh," I glanced around. There were barely any fans left - just a couple of guys still talking to Connor. "Yeah, you're probably right."

"How'd we do girls?" Derren called over; he and Kane were approaching us with a tray of coffee.

"Well, put it this way, soon you're gonna run out of merch," Hollie said.

"Aiden's already on it," Derren nodded across to where Aiden was talking on his cell. "He's gonna get some more shipped out to us."

"So we're rich now?" Kane asked, grinning.

"Rollin' in green!" Hollie joked. "Seriously though, you guys could definitely pay for hotels for the next couple nights off the back of this." She handed him the metal lock box containing the money we'd made.

"No hotels," Derren warned. "All that cash goes back into the band."

"You're starting to sound just like Aiden," Kane said.

"Well, call me fuckin' crazy, man, but I don't want to go back to workin' a nine to five after this tour. We play it smart we can record the album _and_ get a slot on another tour off of the cash we make on _this_ tour alone."

Just then, Connor sidled up to Derren and plucked a coffee from the tray. "Come on," he said to Derren, although he was grinning at me. " _One night_ in a hotel wouldn't make a difference."

I sensed Hollie tense a little bit next to me before she spoke quickly, "If you guys are set from here, I'm gonna go catch up with my brother."

"Yeah, sure, thanks for helping us out, Hol," Kane said. Derren and Connor echoed his words. She cast me a quick glance and a slightly awkward wave as she passed me.

"Bye, it was nice to meet you," I offered.

"Yeah, you too," she said over her shoulder as she hurried away.

After that, the rest of us took the boxes of merchandise back to the van where we were going to be sleeping that night, in preparation for an early start the next morning. The bunk in back could only be used when the van was stationary - Aiden said something about health and safety, and the fact that if someone was asleep in the bunk while we were travelling and the van had to break hard, they would probably wind up with a broken neck - so if we all wanted somewhere to spread out a little, we needed to sleep as much as we could before we set off.

Connor and I were walking a little way behind the others, when he threw his arm around my shoulders and said quietly, "Want to come on an adventure with me?"

Code for _Want to come have sex someplace?_

"Um..." I faltered; my head was still all over the place over what I knew Blake was doing.

He grinned at me. "Have you ever had sex in an arena?"

"Um, nooo..."

"Come on, then."

Abruptly, I stopped walking. He took that as a green light and, resting his hands on my upper arms, brought his mouth to mine, kissing me softly before nibbling on my lower lip. His lips were familiar and warm and, out of habit, I leant in to him a little - and then a sense of _wrongness_ hit me and I stopped short, a hand on his chest. "Wait."

"Really? I gave you time already."

"I know, I just...I don't feel well." It was true, I _didn't_ feel well. Of course, I couldn't tell Connor _why_ I felt sick.

He sighed heavily. "Right."

"Sorry," I mumbled, "I'm just tired and -"

"Is this about before?"

I frowned in confusion. "What?"

"Our fight earlier?"

"No." To be honest, I had completely _forgotten_ about our fight before, my mind was too caught up in other things. "It's just that I'm -"

"Tired, sick, yeah, yeah," he cut me off irately. "Do you know how many girls came on to me tonight?"

I narrowed my eyes at him. I had a feeling I knew where he was going with this. "No, why don't you tell me?" I said icily.

"A lot, alright. A _fucking_ lot. But I turned them all down for _you_."

Yeah, he went there. Jerk. I put my hands over my chest and feigned intense flattery, "Oh my _God_! Thank you soooo much for not screwing another girl behind my back! You are just the best boyfriend EVER!"

"You're fucking _insane_ , you know that?!" His face was contorted in a scornful grimace.

I was aware that Kane and Derren had turned around and were coming back across the parking lot towards us, probably drawn by the sound of our yelling.

"I just don't think that I should have to be _grateful_ that you aren't off somewhere banging a random groupie!" Yes, I was deflecting my anger at Blake on to him...but in my defense he _was_ being a jackass too.

He started backing away from me. "Know what? I'm gonna take a walk, because _you_ are fucking impossible."

"Connor -"

"Not now," he cut me off as he turned away and stormed into the night.

As Connor disappeared from view among the multitude of vehicles, Derren puffed out a long breath. "Well, this is awkward."

#

I went back to the van with Kane and Derren. When we got there, I saw that the side door was open and Aiden was making up a bed for himself on the back row of seats. Kane opened the rear doors and he and Derren put away the boxes of merchandise under the bunk.

"You sleeping like that, Amy?" Kane asked.

I glanced down at my outfit. "Um, no, I brought sweats and a t-shirt, I wasn't really sure about the sleeping arrangements..."

"How about you change in the bunk and let us know when you're ready? We're gonna have to share it with you, but we'll leave space for Connor."

I nodded and climbed up onto the bunk, when I pulled the doors closed behind me I heard Derren mutter, "Awkward as fuck."

I whole heartedly agreed with him.

I quickly changed and then opened the doors again. Kane and Derren had swapped out their jeans for sweats too. They climbed up and laid down next to each other at the opposite side of the van to me so that there was a sizeable gap between us. When they shut the doors behind them, we were in pitch darkness.

"So, um, there's no way Connor and Blake are _both_ going to fit in here is there?" I asked.

"Blake sleeps in front with Aiden," Kane said.

_Thank God!_ I screamed internally, Blake sharing with us would have been a whole other _level_ of uncomfortable.

We were all silent for a few minutes before Derren broke it. "I'm sorry, but this is fuckin' weird as _shit_!"

I couldn't help it, I burst out laughing at his obvious discomfort; so did Kane.

"Let's call Hayley," I suggested through my laughter. "Put her on speaker so I can ask her permission to share a bunk with you."

I heard the smile in Kane's voice when he said, "Good idea, Amy."

"Yeah, yeah," Derren griped good-naturedly. "You know this is weird as fuck, you feel it." The glow of his cell phone lit up his face as he called her. When she answered, he put her on speaker like I had asked and laid the phone on his chest so that the glow lit up the inside of the van.

" _How did it go tonight, babe?"_ Hayley's chirpy voice greeted us.

"Really good, babe," he answered, affection evident in his voice. "You're on speaker with Kane and Amy too. We're just about to go to sleep -"

I interrupted him, calling out "We're sharing a bunk and Derren feels awkward!"

Derren snorted and shook his head at me.

" _Hahaha!"_ Hayley's laughter sounded down the line. _"He's SO cute, isn't he?"_

"He is," I agreed.

"Tell him it's okay so we can go to sleep," Kane sounded bored but the light of Derren's cell showed the grin on his face.

Hayley was still laughing. _"It's okay, babe, I trust you."_

Derren grunted in response but I could see him visibly relax. My eyes misted a little at how much he cared for her, how much he wanted her approval.

Hayley kept talking excitedly, _"Amy, tell me about the tour! Are you loving it?! Is it fun out there?! I can't wait 'til I'm out there with you all!"_

Despite how awful I felt about what had happened that night, both with Blake and Connor, I was still grinning at the sound of her voice. "It's a little surreal but really exciting...you'll love every second."

" _I'm soooo excited! I miss you guys!"_

"You say that now," Kane said. "After you've shared this bunk with us, you'll be glad to see the back of us."

We chatted and joked with her for a little while longer, before Derren took her off speaker and put the phone to his ear. I couldn't hear her end of the conversation but it was impossible not to hear his. He told her he loved her and that he missed her, and there was no mistaking the sincerity in his voice as he did so.

It made me happy for them and sad for myself all at the same time.

When Derren hung up, all the awkwardness seemed to have dissipated - that was the magic of Hayley. Pretty soon I heard the guys' breathing even out and I knew that they were asleep.

But sleep didn't come as easily for me.

I felt like a little boat in the middle of the ocean with a storm raging all around and no way of getting to land. I felt so hurt, so angry, so guilty that I could barely stand it.

And I had _no_ idea what to do about it.

#

Connor climbed into the bunk hours after we had spoken to Hayley on the phone. As he settled down next to me I pretended to be asleep and the next morning neither of us mentioned our fight.

Blake continued to ignore me and plough his way through everything with a pulse...okay, that's a _massive_ overstatement, but the next night, after their show, he disappeared with another groupie.

We were in Spokane that night. It was the same deal as the night before, minus the offensive cover song and the fights. By around 2AM we were piling into the van; we were going to have to drive through the night to make the next concert in Edmonton, Alberta, the day after. Kane and Aiden had stayed completely sober so that they could split the night drive between them and then hand over to the other guys in the morning.

We were all set to go, but Blake was nowhere to be found. Aiden was calling him on his cell and leaving messages, but to no avail. Kane was sitting in the driver's seat, anxious to leave, and Derren and Connor were sprawled across the two back rows of seats, already snoring heavily after downing a bottle of Jack between them - the bunk in back was out of bounds because it couldn't be used when the van was being driven. I was sitting just behind the driver's seat, on the last remaining row of available seats.

Suddenly, Blake showed up outside the van.

Aiden's sigh of relief was audible. "I've been calling you for _half an hour_ , we need to get on the road _now_."

"Fuuuck, man, di'nt realize th' time," Blake slurred, clearly he'd been drinking.

"Just get in the van," Aiden said curtly, shaking his head, climbing into the front with Kane and slamming the door behind him.

I held my breath, realizing that the only place left for Blake to sit was next to me. I was about to get up and go shove Connor awake and tell him to let me share the back row of seats with him, but before I could move, Blake was climbing into the van, pulling the door shut behind him and flopping down on the seat next to me.

As Kane started the van, Blake let his head loll back against the headrest. "Hey, Princess," he murmured drunkenly.

The shock of him actually speaking to me rendered me speechless.

He rolled his head to the side and looked at me directly for the first time in days. "Said ' _hey, Princess_ ', y'gonna say 'hey' back or just fuckin' ignore me?"

I could smell the alcohol coming off of him in waves. It occurred to me then that I had never seen him _really_ drunk before. I'd seen him a little hyped or tipsy, but never wasted like this.

"Hey, Blake," I said quietly.

"She fuckin' speaks!"

I almost reminded him that _he_ had actually been the one who was ignoring _me_ but I thought better of it.

"You should try get some sleep, man," Kane said from the front seat.

"Can't...don't fuckin' sleep anymore..." Blake held my gaze as he spoke and, despite his drunken haze, his eyes were intense. "D'you sleep, Princess?"

No, I don't, I can't either.

I swallowed thickly. "You should drink some water." I leant down and pulled a bottle of water from my purse, which was by my feet. "Here, take this."

He chuckled mirthlessly. "Y'still pretendin' to care 'bout me? Why'd'ya do that? Y'don't fuckin' care."

I shot a quick glance at the front of the van and saw Kane looking at us in the rear view mirror, a troubled look in his eyes.

When I looked back at Blake, he was frowning like he was in agony. "Why'd'ya do it Princess?" he whispered.

My heart was pounding, I _hated_ seeing him hurting. I almost reached out and cupped his gorgeous face in my palm -

But then the image of him tangled up with a beautiful groupie flashed through my mind.

It was like a stab in the heart.

I bit down hard on my lip as my eyes filled with tears.

Blake's eyes drifted to my mouth and then back up to my watery eyes. "Don't do that," his voice was raw with emotion. "Don't you fuckin' _dare_ , I can't fuckin' stand it."

Not trusting myself to speak, I turned away from him, resting my forehead on the cold glass of the window, forcing myself to breathe slowly, willing myself not to lose it.

All of a sudden, I felt his big hand on me; he splayed it possessively over my stomach before curling his arm around my waist and gripping me tightly. Then I felt a warm pressure on my shoulder and a puff of breath against my upper arm; I knew without looking that he was resting his forehead on my shoulder.

I couldn't move.

To say I was 'conflicted' is like saying the sun is a little bit warm.

The smell of alcohol heightened and pulsed around me, but having him close to me again, even in that state, was quenching a thirst that ran so deep it touched my soul.

But at the same time, in that moment, a part of me hated him.

I _knew_ that wasn't fair. _I_ had pushed _him_ away after all, not the other way around...but the fact that he could just go off and screw groupies when my heart was still bleeding over him made me want to claw him to shreds.

Still, I couldn't bring myself to move away from him.

I looked out of the van window, seeing the lights of city fly by. Soon, we were on the interstate, falling in with the caravan of tour busses and vans that were all heading in the same direction. As I watched the steady glow of the tail lights and headlights, I felt Blake's arm around my waist relax, and the pressure of his head on my shoulder increase; his breathing had deepened and I knew that the alcohol had gotten the better of him and he was sleeping.

I don't think I've ever despised myself more than I did at that moment; relishing the feel of him against me while simultaneously hating him for sleeping with other women; all while my boyfriend slept alone a few feet away.

After a while, I couldn't take it anymore. I shifted out from under him and lowered his upper body down as gently as I could, so that his head was resting on my seat. I moved down the row and lifted his legs up so that he was lying on his side across the seats. I placed the bottle of water that I had been holding on the seat next to his stomach, knowing he would need it when he woke up.

Then I sat down on the floor of the van, resting my back against the sliding door.

"Are you okay, Amy?" Kane's quiet voice drifted from the front of the van.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I lied softly. I couldn't look at him as I spoke, I didn't want to see the judgment that I knew would be on his face - and who could blame him, really?

#

We spent the majority of the next day travelling. We made quick stops for breakfast and lunch, neither of which were particularly enjoyable experiences. At breakfast, Connor, Derren and Blake all looked like the walking dead - and Aiden lectured them about drinking too much and how they couldn't afford to let it impact their performance. Derren looked sheepish, even Connor looked a little contrite, but Blake looked like he wanted to beat Aiden's head in - which was pretty much how he looked at everyone for the rest of the day.

By the time we arrived at the venue, the guys barely had time to unload their stuff and set up for sound check. While they were getting ready in their dressing room, I located a rest room and freshened up, changing into a fresh pair of skinny jeans and a loose fitting, satin cami with spaghetti straps \- slightly crumpled from being kept in my bag.

When I emerged from the rest room and started to head backstage for Sons of Sinners' performance, I heard someone calling my name. I turned to see Hollie jogging towards me, blond ponytail bouncing behind her.

I offered her a smile. "Hey, are you coming in to watch?"

She licked her lips, a quick nervous action. "No - I - uh - I was wondering if I could talk to you for a minute."

"Oh, okay, sure." I looked at her expectantly, but she didn't start talking, instead she just looked at me like a deer in headlamps. "Um...what did you want to talk about?"

She wrung her hands together. "I just want you to know that..." she broke off and shook her head before blowing out a long breath. "No - okay, look, when I was in high school I dated a guy on the football team. We dated for about six months before I found out that he was _also_ sleeping with about three other people." She shot a panicky look at me. "The _worst_ thing about it was that some of my friends knew about it. They could have told me what an asshole he was, but they just let me carry on dating him, _knowing_ what he was doing behind my back. When I finally found out what was happening, I just _hated_ that my friends kept it from me. It was the most humiliating thing about the whole situation, you know?"

I nodded, I could hear my heart pounding in my ears; I was pretty sure I knew what was coming next.

"I promised myself, that I would _never_ do that to another person...and that's why I have to tell you this." Her breathing had quickened. "Connor and I slept together a couple of nights before you joined the tour - I didn't know he had a girlfriend, I swear, I'm _not_ like that, I'm _not_ some groupie who follows guys around. I thought - I thought that maybe he liked me. He was so charming and funny, talking about taking me on an 'adventure'." She air quoted the word.

My stomach lurched. I had always thought that going on an 'adventure' was _our_ thing. Turns out it was just Connor's line.

Hollie's hands were shaking as she finished up with "I'm just so sorry, if I had known about you I _never_ would have done it."

I stared at her in silence, feeling numb. I knew that I should probably be feeling angry and upset by then, but I just felt kind of... _stupid_ , like I was the biggest idiot on the planet.

"Amy? Are you okay?" Hollie asked quietly.

I shook my head 'no' but I said "Yeah."

"Uh - can I... _do_ anything?"

I couldn't stand the pity in her voice. "I need to go," I said, looking into her earnest face, wishing I could hate her, but knowing it wasn't her fault. "I just - I need to think." I didn't wait for her to reply before I started to hurry through the venue, towards the exit.

#

When I got outside, tears of humiliation sprang to my eyes. I sat down on a low stone wall that separated the parking lot from the walkway around the arena and buried my head in my hands. I sat there for a long time, thinking back over all the times that Connor had gotten angry at me for suggesting that he had flirted with other girls or been unfaithful to me. Over the months, there had been several examples. I've already mentioned a couple of the more major instances, but there were more. Of course, the one that stuck out the most in my mind was the time that I stayed at his apartment all night, waiting for him to come home to me, only to later find out that he had stayed the night at his ex-girlfriend Carley's house.

But he had told me that nothing had happened.

And I had _chosen_ to believe him.

I had _always_ managed to talk myself out of thinking that he had cheated on me. I always ended up telling myself, _No, he wouldn't do that._

Even after we broke up, I had told myself that.

Turned out, he absolutely _would_ do that.

At least according to Hollie...

Right then, I knew that I needed to hear the truth - from Connor. And I wasn't going to back down until I got it.

I stalked back to the arena like a woman on a mission. I must have looked pretty badass (or demented) because the few people I passed gave me a wide berth.

When I got to the entrance, I flashed my pass and the security team let me right inside. More fool them. I walked through the maze of hallways until I reached Sons of Sinners' dressing room. I could tell they were in there by the sound of voices on the other side of the door. I paused for a moment and listened; it sounded like they were joking around and I heard a couple of female voices in the mix.

Groupies, I assumed.

THAT was the moment that my humiliation started to bubble over into anger.

I threw open the door and marched inside. The door banged against the wall, loudly announcing my presence, and everyone in the room turned to look at me. Derren and Aiden were standing off to one side, studying something on Aiden's iPad; Kane and Blake were lounging on a couch with two girls sandwiched between them; Connor was sitting on another couch to my right, with his phone in his hand. For a beat, they all stared at me in silence, then Connor spoke. "I was just about to call you. Where've you been? You missed our set."

"I've been with Hollie," I said, my voice clipped as I watched him closely for his reaction. His eyes widened a little, but he didn't say anything. "What? Aren't you going to ask what we talked about?" I challenged.

He stood up, putting his hands out, palms facing me. "Amy, you shouldn't believe what -"

"Are you SERIOUSLY going to deny this?!" I yelled, making everyone in the room jump.

"Amy, listen -"

"She told me what _happened_ , Connor! She told me that you asked her to go on an 'adventure' with her! _That's_ how I know it's true, so don't you _dare_ lie to me!" My tears were falling freely; tears of fury and mortification.

"Jesus, calm down -"

I started advancing on him, my hands balled into fists at my side. "JUST ADMIT IT!" I screamed. "Just ADMIT what you did, you _fucking_ coward!"

"ALRIGHT!" he roared, his face distorting in to an ugly grimace. "I fucked her! She actually _wanted_ it, _unlike YOU!_ "

I blinked in shock and looked away, noticing that the other guys were now standing close by, their body language tense, like they were ready to jump in. Blake's expression was grim, and I saw the muscles in his jaw tick as he glowered at Connor. There was no sign of Aiden or the girls who had been in the room when I walked in. I wondered dimly if Aiden had already ushered them out.

I forced myself to look back at Connor, making my eyes meet his dead on. "What about Carley?" I asked, my voice low and cold. "Did you sleep with _her_ too? That night you didn't come home?"

He was quiet for so long I thought he wasn't going to answer; finally, he ground out a "Yes," through gritted teeth.

I felt a tickle on my jaw and lifted my hand to wipe away the tears that were suspended there. "Any others?"

He didn't answer, but he at least had the decency to look ashamed.

"Why did you even ask me to come on tour with you?" I asked, my voice laced with bitterness. "Why did you ask me to get back together with you? You clearly think so little of me."

He snorted scornfully. "Because I _wanted_ you to come with me. _You're_ the one who started bitching and moaning again -"

" _Bullshit_! You'd already _cheated_ on me by then!"

He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "I just thought it would be different! Jesus, I thought it was what I wanted..."

"So what you said in the hospital was all just - what? You feeling nostalgic?"

"I was _coming down_ , Amy! I was freaking out and I said some stupid shit." He shrugged and shook his head as if to say _What did you expect?_

I closed my eyes and rubbed my hands over my damp face. The dark comedy of the situation struck me with full force and I barked a humorless laugh that was half sob. "To think I actually felt guilty," I murmured. "I _tortured_ myself over what _I_ did and the _whole time_ you were sleeping around behind my back." I shook my head in disgust - at him, at myself, at the whole situation.

Connor's face darkened. "What do you mean?"

I realized the implications of what I had just let slip. I stared at him with wide eyes, unable to speak as heat flooded my cheeks.

He tilted his head to the side as he regarded me, like a lion about to devour a mouse. "What. Do. You. Mean?"

I felt a hand touch my shoulder lightly. "Amy, maybe you should come outside with me," Kane said softly, and when I turned my head to look at him, I could see the concern written across his face.

But I was sick of carrying secrets around with me; I was just so goddamn _tired_ of all the lies. I knew that I had to come clean with Connor. Even with everything _he_ had just admitted, I couldn't stand the guilt any longer.

I shook my head at Kane and looked back at Connor. "I slept with someone else after we broke up," I said to him, my voice only wavering a little. "When you asked me to get back together, I broke it off with him."

"Who was it?" he snarled.

"It doesn't _matter_ who it was. The point is, I was with someone else but I gave them up for _you,_ I gave up _every_ thing for _you_!" My voice was loud and shrill and I didn't even try to temper it, I just let him _have_ it, I released all the venom I had stored up. "Because I was _terrified_ of what you would do if I didn't, because you said you _needed_ me! I ripped my HEART out for you and it meant _nothing_ to you!"

Connor's mouth set in a hard line and the scowl on his face was pure loathing. I guess he didn't like the shoe being on the other foot. I met his eyes defiantly for a moment, before they were pulled in another direction.

Like magnets connecting, my gaze locked with Blake's. His brows were drawn down low over his blue eyes but his mouth was parted, like he'd just had the wind knocked out of him.

As I stared at him, I saw the _exact_ moment that he realized that I'd lied to him.

I managed to snap my eyes back to Connor, but it was too late. I could practically see the dots connecting in his head. He looked back and forth between me and Blake, his eyes hardening.

"Oh, shit," Derren breathed. He'd clearly got it too.

"My cousin?" Connor snarled, disgust coating his words. "My fucking _cousin_?"

I didn't have time to answer before he started swinging. Blake managed to intercept the punch aimed at his face and grab Connor's hand, using the grip he then had on him to pull him forward and barrel his fist into Connor's stomach. I heard Connor's pained grunt, but he launched himself at Blake regardless, trying to take him down. Then Kane was there, huge arms bulging as he tried to shove them apart. He ended up grappling with them both, managing to hook one of his legs around Blake's and send him down backwards, but Blake had no intention of letting go of Connor, and they all crashed to the floor in a mass of fury. It was like watching a wrestling match, only there was no referee, just Derren desperately trying to pull Connor off of the top of the pile, but to no avail. They were in full on barroom-brawl-mode when Aiden came back into the room.

"Jesus _Christ_ ," he hissed, before darting back out again and shouting down the hallway for security.

Moments later, three burly men entered the room and started to pull the guys apart. My hands were over my mouth, and I'm sure my eyes were bugging out, when Aiden positioned himself in front of me. His expression was cold and clinical.

"Get out of here," he said, his voice clipped. "Wait in the hallway. _Do not_ come back in here unless I tell you to."

I cut my gaze back to the guys, who were still being dragged apart. I could see blood on Blake's lips and one of Connor's eyes looked like it was puffing up.

" _Now_ , Amy," Aiden said. "Or I will have you forcibly removed."

I nodded and backed away on shaky legs, finally turning away when I reached the door.

It slammed behind me.

#

I stood in the hallway, staring at the closed door for what seemed like an eternity before it occurred to me that I was _still_ being an idiot.

What the _hell_ was I waiting for?

Connor had been screwing around behind my back this whole time, and Blake had clearly taken great pleasure in rubbing his sexual exploits in my face the past two nights...

So, again, what the _hell_ was I waiting for?

If they wanted to beat each other to a bloody pulp over me, I figured I'd do the world a favor and leave them to it.

I wasn't about to wait around to be summoned back into their presence like some pathetic dog begging for scraps.

I was _done_.

I turned on my heel and started to stomp along the hallway. I got maybe twelve feet before I heard the ominous sound of a door opening behind me.

"Amy, wait!" Blake commanded sharply.

"Leave me alone," I shot over my shoulder, not slowing my pace for a second.

"Amy! Dammit, wait!"

I heard the sound of his footsteps gaining on me and I knew he was running, it didn't take him long to reach me. He grabbed my upper arm and pulled me around to face him.

"Don't _touch_ me!" I shouted, jerking my arm away from him.

I wouldn't have stood a chance of pulling out of his grip if he'd really wanted to keep hold of me, but he let me go. "Okay, okay, I won't - but just wait. We need to talk."

"There's nothing to say," I snapped, then sniffled, those damn tears would _not_ stop falling.

"Fuck, _yes_ there is!" He rubbed the back of his hand over his mouth and it came away bloody.

"No -"

"Yes! What you just said in there? We need to talk about it."

I shook my head violently. "No, we don't - we aren't. I don't want to talk to you about _any_ of it!"

He looked completely bewildered. "Why not?"

"Because it doesn't matter anymore! Don't you _get_ it? I _loved_ you, Blake! And I _know_ I threw it away, and I _hate_ myself for that, but none of that matters anymore!"

He stepped closer to me and took my shoulders in his rough hands. "The _fuck_ it doesn't! Of course it matters -"

I shoved against his chest, but he wouldn't let me go. I started to beat my hands against him, screaming at him to get off me, like a crazy woman having a breakdown - which I guess I pretty much was by that point. All of my anger and hurt poured out, and it was directed at him. "How could you _do_ it?" I sobbed. "How _could_ you?"

"How could I _what_? YOU ended it! I didn't do anything!"

I was ugly-crying now. No-holds-barred toddler sobs. I wasn't fighting him anymore, but my hands were pressed flat against his chest, holding myself as far away from him as I could. "How many groupies have you _screwed_ this week?"

Realization dawned and his mouth worked silently for a second. "...I thought -"

"You made _sure_ I saw you. You _wanted_ to hurt me. I never thought that you would _ever_ deliberately hurt me, but you did -"

"You told me we were a _mistake_ ," he hissed.

"Well, you proved me right. Clearly it _was_ a mistake."

His face darkened with pain.

I pushed against his chest again, but it was like trying to move a mountain. "Let me go."

"No."

"Let me GO!" I screamed.

He held me for a second longer, his eyes tormented, and then he relaxed his grip on me. I pushed away from him and stepped back out of his reach.

"Princess," his voice cracked as he tried one last time. "I love you - please, we can fix this."

I choked down another sob and shook my head. "No, we can't. It's too late. _Nothing_ can fix this, it's too broken. Just go back to your _groupies_ , Blake, because I'm done with you." I turned away before I could see the impact of my words, running full speed towards the exit and out into the night.

#

I unlocked my apartment door quietly and stepped inside. A quick glance around told me that Mel wasn't home.

I knew I should probably shower, eat something, go to bed...but instead I shuffled over to the couch and flopped down, curling myself into a ball as the tears rolled down my face.

It was eighteen hours after everything fell apart and I was finally home, but my head and heart were still in Canada.

When I left the arena, I had jumped straight into a cab and gone to the airport. I didn't even take my luggage with me; it was still locked in the van and so I had just abandoned it there. I had to wait in the airport all night, eventually boarding a plane at 2PM the following day. The cost of the plane ticket had almost wiped me out financially, but I didn't care. My finances were the _least_ of my worries.

All of the emotions that I had been trying desperately to hold in check over the past couple of weeks were just _bleeding_ out of me simultaneously.

There was a hole in my heart where Blake should be. I knew that I wasn't going to just be able to get over him. I didn't just lose a lover; I lost one of my best friends too.

And I didn't see how I would ever be okay again.

#

I was still lying on the couch when I heard familiar voices outside the apartment, followed by a key scraping in the lock.

"...I just wish we knew that she was - _hey_! Amy! You're here! Oh my _God_ , are you okay?" Mel was rushing across the living room towards me with Hayley hot on her heels as I sat up and wiped my eyes, blinking blearily as my friends barreled into me and enveloped me in a group hug.

"We heard what happened," Hayley said as she squeezed me tight. "We've been so worried, no one could get hold of you!"

"Why didn't you _call_ us?!" Mel demanded, even though she was rubbing my back soothingly.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled as they released me and settled on the couch either side of me. "My phone died hours ago." I stared down at my lap, scared to meet their eyes, dreading the disappointment or anger or _whatever_ I might see there. I had no idea what happened in Canada after I left and I almost didn't _want_ to know, but I forced myself to ask, "Is - um, so you've spoken to Derren?"

"Yeah," Hayley said quietly.

"Are they - I mean, is there still a band?"

She snorted. "Yeah, there's still a band, although apparently Blake and Connor messed each other's faces up pretty good after you left. Derren said that Aiden went apeshit! I think things have calmed down a little now though."

I winced and hung my head.

"This isn't your fault, Amy," Mel said firmly.

"Oh, no, I'm pretty sure it _is_ my fault," I said. "I was such an _idiot_." I glanced at Hayley. "You must hate me."

She looked genuinely shocked. "Why would I hate you?"

"You and Connor have been friends since high school -"

"Just because we're friends doesn't mean I can't see him for the _enormous_ dickwad that he is! And don't think I haven't told him that too."

"You have?"

"Of _course_!"

"Oh..." I shook my head. "But it wasn't all him -"

" _Oh_ no!" Mel interrupted. "Don't you dare defend him, Amy, or I swear to God -"

"I'm not!" I said quickly. "I promise. Connor - biggest dickwad on the planet. I'm in total agreement. It's just...there's more to it than that."

"The Blake part?" Hayley asked gently.

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Since when did the mere mention of his _name_ have the power to make me cry? Oh yeah, that's right, since he flaunted his groupies in my face and broke my heart.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Hayley asked.

I took a deep breath. "Do we have alcohol?"

She grinned slyly and got up off of the couch to rummage in a bag that she had left on the floor. "Thought you'd never ask," she said, brandishing two bottles of wine.

#

We sat on the couch, each with a full glass of wine in our hands, and I told them _everything_. I _did_ skim over most of the naked parts, but apart from that I was completely honest.

Finally.

"So when I say it's not all Connor's fault, I'm serious. I had feelings for Blake long before Connor and I broke up, even though I didn't even realize it at first." I finished.

The girls stared at me in silence for several seconds.

"Wow," breathed Hayley. "I had no idea."

"Me neither," Mel said. "I thought you and Blake were just a fling."

I smiled bitterly. "Turns out we were."

Hayley reached out and squeezed my hand. "I'm so sorry, Amy," she said sympathetically.

I tried desperately not to start crying _again_. "Thanks, but it doesn't matter now anyway. It's over."

"Is that what you really want?" she asked quietly.

"...no," I admitted, closing my eyes briefly. "But how can we be together now? After...well, everything? I can't just forget what he did."

Hayley nodded sadly.

"For what it's worth, I think Blake really does love you," Mel said.

"I think he does too," I admitted. "But if his version of love is going out of his way to hurt me, then I think I'll pass."

"I understand. But just remember that he was hurt, too," she said gently. "Maybe 'hurt' is an understatement. A guy like Blake doesn't fall in love easily."

I stiffened. "So I deserve everything I got, right? He was hurt, and _I_ hurt him, so whatever he did is totally excusable? Is that what you mean?"

"No, that's not what I'm saying -"

"What _are_ you saying then?" I snapped.

She sighed. "Just that _maybe_ he had his reasons for doing what he did."

"Yeah!" Hayley said. "His 'reasons' were that he couldn't keep his dick in his pants!"

"Exactly!" I exclaimed, irritated that Mel wasn't immediately condemning Blake's behavior.

"Okay, who's the Psych major here?" Mel demanded. "I have a theory."

"Here we go," muttered Hayley. "If you weren't always right, you'd be annoying."

Mel rolled her eyes. "I'm just saying, his reasons were _more_ than that. We're talking about a guy who has _always_ slept around, and has _never_ shown any interest in being exclusive with _anyone_ \- until you. And he tells you he loves you and believes that you love him back, only to be told less than two days later that you regret what happened and you're going back to your ex-boyfriend. And _then_ he had to actually _see_ you with Connor. He was probably _devastated_ Amy. People lash out when they're hurt."

"That's actually a really good point," Hayley conceded.

"Hayley!" I shrieked accusingly.

"Oh, I'm not saying you should _forgive_ him or anything," she clarified. "He acted like a _total_ caveman, but now I can see why he reverted to form."

"See?" Mel said, a little smugly. "The groupies and all of that, it's just who he is, it's how he deals."

I stared back and forth between the two of them. "So, let me get this straight. _Connor_ sleeps around behind my back and we all agree he's a 'dickwad'. But _Blake_ sleeps with other women pretty much _in front of me_ , and - poor him - he's just working out his issues?" I spat scornfully.

"Yeah," Hayley said.

"No!" Mel said at the exact same time.

Hayley and I looked at her questioningly.

"Well, okay, yeah, _kind_ of." She rushed on at my eye roll, "I haven't finished my theory, there's more -"

"Oh goodie," I snipped, chugging back another mouthful of wine.

"Want to hear it or not?" she challenged.

"Go on," I muttered grudgingly.

"Okay, so if he was only doing those things to lash out at you, then maybe now you're not there, he's not."

"Not what?" Hayley asked. "Banging everything that moves?"

"Yeah," Mel said simply.

I narrowed my eyes at her. "So you think that now I'm not there, he's just going to _stop_ going to Groupie Land?"

Hayley snorted and ended up spitting wine on herself.

Mel shrugged. "If he stops, then you'll know that it was all for you."

"That is _the_ most fucked up thing I've ever heard," Hayley murmured.

I couldn't agree more; I slung back the last of my wine and held out my glass for a refill.

#

I felt the delicious tickle of his warm breath on my neck, just behind my ear. At the same moment, I felt calloused fingertips skimming up my thigh, over my hip to my stomach, where the flat of his hand came to rest. I became aware of the heat of a large, solid body behind mine. I wriggled backwards in the bed, wanting there to be no space at all between us. As I did, I felt the pressure of something long and thick settle against the curve of my ass. I couldn't help the little sigh that escaped my lips.

"Morning, Princess." Blake's husky whisper came from behind me.

"Hey, you," I murmured, turning my head, needing to see him. My eyes flickered open - and he was gone.

Tears sprang to my eyes as I pulled the comforter up over my head and wept into my pillow.

The dreams were killing me.

_Every time_ I closed my eyes, he was there and _every time_ I woke up, I felt like I had _just_ walked away from him again. It was like ripping off a band aid repeatedly only, you know, way worse.

I didn't know how long I had been in bed but I knew it was a _long_ time. I only got up occasionally to go to the bathroom and, when the pain in my stomach became unbearable, to eat; other than that, I wallowed in my self-pity.

I knew it wasn't healthy, I knew it wasn't getting me anywhere, but I couldn't help it. It was like the life had been sucked out of me.

The only thing I _did_ do was look at my phone. Actually, if we're being technical, I _used_ my phone to cyber-stalk Blake. Almost every day, there were new pictures of him uploaded onto the band's social media accounts. Pictures of him posing with fans after shows; pictures of him and the guys outside stadiums, or at sound check, or playing on stage in front of thousands.

I studied them all.

And I was _pretty_ sure that Blake was unhappy too. He just looked _different_. It took me a little while to pin point exactly _why_ he looked different, but then one day it hit me. I was looking at a picture of him and Kane standing outside a stadium, underneath a glowing billboard showing a publicity shot of the band. In the picture they were both smiling, but Blake's smile didn't reach his eyes. In fact, his eyes, which had always been expressive and full of life, looked almost _dull_.

I know this makes me sound messed up, but the idea that maybe Blake was suffering at least _some_ of the agony that I was going through, made me feel less hollow; almost like the connection between us was maintained by mutual pain.

But in the absence of any other sign _at all_ that he was still thinking of me, I clung to those pictures like they were a life preserver.

Because he hadn't called. He hadn't texted. He'd made no attempt to contact me at all. And despite the fact that I had essentially told him to leave me alone until the end of time, I was still desperate to hear his voice again. I knew that made me weak and pathetic, but that didn't make it any less true.

I was a walking romantic novel cliché; wallowing in my pit of despair and torturing myself with pictures of the man responsible for breaking my heart.

And I was powerless to stop it.

#

My bedroom door burst open and Hayley bounced into my room. "That's it! Time to get out of bed!" She chirruped.

"No," I mumbled, pulling the covers over my head.

Seconds later, she ripped my comforter off of me and dropped it to the floor.

"Hey!" I shouted, sitting up angrily.

"We need to be at work in less than two hours," Hayley said, crossing her arms over her chest in an attempt to look threatening. "And God knows when the last time you showered was, it's probably gonna take at least an hour to comb out the knots in your hair, so get _out_ of bed and let's get started on project _Wake The Hell Up_."

"I put in three weeks' vacation time right before finals," I grumbled. "I don't need to go back to work for, like, four days or something."

"Uh, _no_ , Miss Mopey, you need to be back at work today, your three weeks are up."

"What?" I squeaked in panic. "They can't be!"

"They really are. You've been cooped up in this apartment for long enough. Your mourning period is over."

"I'll call and say I need more time off," I said petulantly.

"Too late," she replied smugly. "You need to give at least a week's notice to do that."

"Then I'll quit."

"And live on _what_ exactly? Or, wait, are you gonna go stay with your parents for the rest of the summer?"

I narrowed my eyes at her. She _knew_ that my parents were in Europe. They planned their trip when I told them that I wasn't coming home for summer break. I had explained that I had gotten back together with Connor and was going on tour with him for a while, then after that I planned to stay in Las Vegas and work. In fact, they probably still thought that I was on tour with him; I had only exchanged a few messages with them since I got back, and in none of them had I even _hinted_ that anything was wrong - I didn't want to make them worry and ruin their trip.

The look on Hayley's face said that she knew which direction my mind was headed. "Thought so," she said triumphantly. "Peel yourself off of those icky bed sheets and haul your ass into the bathroom."

With no other viable option, I did as I was told. When I caught sight of myself in the bathroom mirror, I winced. I looked like hell. Pale face, dark circles under eyes that were red and puffy from crying, hair like a birds nest - imagine Whitesnake circa 1985 and you're somewhere close.

Suddenly, a shower seemed like a _very_ good idea.

When I emerged from the bathroom twenty minutes later, I saw that Hayley had laid out jean shorts and a tank top on my bed. I got dressed and then went to find her in the kitchen where she had made sandwiches.

"Thank you," I said quietly as I sat down to my food.

"You're welcome." She smiled at me.

"Where's Mel?" I asked.

"Considering it's almost _noon_ , I'd say she's probably been at her internship for, oh let's see, around four hours now."

"Oh, crap!" I put my forehead in my hand. "I totally forgot she was doing that. I'm _such_ a bad friend! I was going to get her some 'good luck' muffins for her first day."

"Well, you _definitely_ missed the boat then, her first day was two days ago."

"Oh God," I groaned.

"It's okay Care Bear, she understands."

"Care Bear?" I looked up at her in disgust. "Not _that_ again."

"Stop with the big eyed cat from _Shrek_ look and I'll stop with the Care Bear nickname, deal?"

" _Fine_ ," I grumbled.

She grinned. "Good. Now eat your sandwich."

Half an hour later, I left my apartment for the first time in weeks and went to work. Strangely enough, it didn't actually suck as much as I thought it would. In fact, it gave my mind something else to focus on, other than my internal misery, and I figured any kind of distraction was a good thing.

Hayley drove me home again afterward, and I made her stop at a bakery on the way so that I could pick up some cupcakes for Mel, a belated 'good luck' gesture for her internship, combined with a 'sorry for being a bitch and missing your first day' peace offering.

When Hayley and I walked into the apartment, Mel was in her usual spot on the couch. "Hey awesome roomie," I said. "Cupcake?" I placed the tray down on the coffee table in front of her and she leant forward to read the messages that I'd had written out in pink frosting.

"Never seen the word 'beyatch' written on a cupcake before," she mused with a smile, picking it up.

"The woman in the bakery wouldn't write B-I-T-C-H, she said it was disrespectful," Hayley informed her, as she and I picked up a cupcake each and joined Mel on the couch.

Mel burst out laughing. "But 'beyatch' was okay?"

"We didn't question it," Hayley grinned.

"Sorry for forgetting about your internship, that was crappy of me," I said contritely. "And I'm sorry for being a snappy hermit 'beyatch' the last couple of weeks."

She smiled at me. "It's okay, you had your reasons."

"I'm still sorry."

"These babies make up for it," she said, licking frosting off her fingers.

"So, tell me about the internship," I said. "How's it going?"

Mel's face lit up as she started telling us about the therapist she was working for, and regaling us with little stories about the sessions that she had been allowed to sit in on.

Hearing how an 'anonymous patient' liked to make models of all of his ex-girlfriends out of cheese, and then melt them under the grill, made me feel marginally better about my own mental health.

#

Soon after Hayley pulled me out of my self-induced incarceration, she left to go join the guys (or, more specifically, Derren) on tour. I gave her a ride to the airport and tried to be genuinely happy for her as she practically bounced with excitement in the passenger seat. She saw straight through my act, of course.

"Amy, when you fake smile you look creepy," she said accusingly as we pulled up outside Departures.

I scoffed. "Hey! I do _not_! And this _isn't_ fake." I got out of the car and walked around to the trunk to help her with her luggage.

"Yes it is," she hoisted her duffel bag on to her shoulder and shot me a scathing look. "You forget how well I know you." She drew a circle in the air in front of my face. " _This_? Totally fake and totally creepy."

I laughed a little and rolled my eyes. "Okay, fine, you got me. I do _want_ to be happy for you though," I said as I handed her another, smaller, duffle bag before I closed the trunk.

"I know," she smiled. "But at least when I'm out there with them you'll have eyes and ears on the ground."

I furrowed my brow. "What do you mean?"

"You know, Mel's theory? About Groupie Land and a certain lead singer _not_ going there?"

My breath caught and a feeling of nausea rolled inside me at the images of _him_ and _them_ that crashed through my mind. I shook my head. "No. No, Hayley I don't want to know -"

"But -"

"No," I said forcefully. I honestly didn't think I could handle hearing that Mel's theory was, in fact, total bullshit. I'd rather just stay in the dark.

Hayley looked at me searchingly for a moment before she reluctantly agreed not to 'report back' on Blake's behavior.

After she left, the weeks rolled by slowly. I worked a lot, I took on extra shifts; I went out with Mel - for dinner, to the movies, whatever; I busied myself as much as possible during the day so that by the time I fell into bed I was exhausted.

But I cried myself to sleep every night.

And I still dreamt of him.

#

Blake's eyes were fixed on mine, so intense that it was like they could see into my soul. I could see every sapphire fleck that shimmered in the glacial turquoise of his irises; I saw the deep blackness of his pupils flare wider as he lowered his forehead to mine. As our heads touched, I felt his naked body flex against me and the slippery head of his thick shaft push inside of me. I gasped and wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

I needed all of him, I couldn't wait.

He slid inside slowly, letting out a low groan as he seated himself to the root.

"I miss you," I whispered.

He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could speak, an abrasive, buzzing sound filled the room. I gasped with shock at the same instant I felt the pressure inside me ease, like he was pulling out of me, only he wasn't, he was fading away.

And then he was gone.

My eyes snapped open, and I was alone in my darkened bedroom once more, bitter tears of disappointment already trailing onto my pillow.

The buzzing sound started again and I realized that my cell phone was vibrating on my nightstand. I reached out and picked it up, blinking the sleep out of my eyes as the screen came into view.

Holy _shit_.

It was _him_.

I blinked at the phone, hardly daring to believe that Blake was actually calling me after all the weeks of radio silence. I was just about to answer it when I stopped myself.

What the _hell_ was I thinking? What good could possibly come from talking to him?

_I just want to hear his voice_ , Inner (and fairly pathetic) Amy murmured.

As I stared at the screen, the call went to voicemail. Only for his name to flash on the screen a moment later as he called again. I was pretty much _sweating_ by that point; my heart was pounding with just the _thought_ of answering the call, but again I let it go to voicemail.

I clutched the phone tightly, willing him to call again even though I knew I probably wouldn't answer that one either - but just the knowledge that he was calling me, that he was _thinking about me_ , was like salve to a wound.

A minute later, my phone buzzed again; he'd left me a voicemail.

My heart was still pounding as I held the phone to my ear and listened.

" _Hey, Princess."_ Blake's voice was quiet and gritty; the sound of his nickname for me rolling off of his tongue sent tingles through me. _"Sorry for calling you so late. I guess you're probably sleeping...or maybe you're just ignoring me - yeah, that's probably it, right?"_ There was a puff down the line and I could imagine him letting out a wry snort. _"Yeah, if I were you, I'd probably ignore me too."_ He paused and I heard the sound of liquid sloshing in a bottle. I was pretty confident that meant that this was a drunk dial. He sighed before he continued. _"We fucked this whole thing up pretty good, didn't we? I mean, shit, did we EVER."_

My mouth dropped open with indignation at the implication that _we_ were both _equally_ responsible for this mess at the same time that Rational Amy conceded that he had a point.

When he spoke again, his voice held a new intensity. _"But I'm sorry for my part. For what it's worth, I'm sorry._ He sighed again. _"You went back to him and I thought...dammit, all I could SEE was you and him together. Every time I closed my fucking eyes, I saw you WITH him..."_ The bottle sloshed again. _"But you didn't, did you? We talked about you, Princess. He told me._ _You went back to him, but you didn't fuck him, did you?"_

As I tried to wrap my head around how _that_ particular conversation would have gone, I heard him bark a bitter laugh.

" _That's the fucking sucker punch, right? That's what separates us and makes me worse, isn't it? Shit..."_ He paused for so long that I almost hung up, but then he suddenly spoke again, his voice tired. _"I can't stop loving you, Princess."_

I told myself to just delete the message, but instead I replayed it again and again, just to hear his voice, just to hear him say he loved me, no matter how begrudgingly he'd said it. Over the next few days, I must have listened to that message fifty times.

Then he called again.

It was the same deal as last time. The buzzing of my cell woke me in the early hours of the morning. When the voicemail came through, I didn't even hesitate for a second before I listened to it.

" _So, today I finally grew a pair and asked Hayley about you. Know what she said? Nothing. Not a fucking thing."_

I sent a silent thought of thanks to Hayley. The last thing I wanted was for Blake to have any idea how broken I'd been, how broken I _still_ was.

" _I just wanna know if you're okay...'cause I'm not okay. And the fucked up thing is, if you're not okay either, then this isn't over. If you're still mad and upset, then it's NOT over. 'Cause if it was over, we wouldn't feel anything..."_

As he trailed off, I gritted my teeth. Because he was right; as much as I hated to admit it to myself, as much as I had claimed the contrary over and over again, I _still_ didn't really think of us as over. But I knew that I damn well _should_.

" _I'm mad at you, Princess,"_ he said after a moment, and my temper flared at the audacity of that statement.

_He_ was mad at _me_?!

I mean - just - _what_?!

His voice was hard and angry as he continued. _"The ONLY fucking thing I ever asked you to do was NOT lie to me. And you did. You fucking lied about everything."_ I heard him take a deep breath and when he spoke again his voice was more controlled, although the steel remained. _"You should've talked to me, told me the truth and just fucking TRUSTED me like I trusted you. I could've figured it all out. Connor - everything. I've been dealing with his bullshit for YEARS. If you'd just trusted me, none of this would've happened."_

My hand tightened around the phone, I almost threw it across the room in my fury at his words.

_Everything_ I had done, I had done to keep Connor from doing something stupid; I had done it to keep _Blake_ from losing someone else. The futility of it all was laughable, but still, my intentions had been good - incredibly _misguided_ , but good all the same.

But here he was, telling me what I _should_ have done.

And the worst part about it? He was freaking _right_.

Blake's voice was softer when he left his parting shot. _"But I love you, Princess, and I'm so fucking sorry for what I did - and you KNOW that's the truth."_

He left more messages after that. Every few days, my phone would wake me in the middle of the night and I would let it go to voicemail before listening to the message immediately, like an addict desperate for a hit.

Some of the messages were more of the same. He was sorry for what he did. He loved me. He wished that we'd _both_ done things differently.

But some of the time they were softer, sadder.

" _Hey, Princess. Lost count of how many times I've called you now but I know it's a lot. I wonder if you're listening to these messages or if you're just deleting them...fuck, I hope you're listening. Anyway, I'm sitting in the parking lot of some arena. I can't even remember which one - shit, I can't even remember which city I'm in - but the moon's bright tonight, like it was that weekend."_

I knew immediately which weekend he was talking about. There was only _one_ weekend, after all. _The_ weekend. That one perfect moment in time before everything went to hell.

" _I just wish you'd talk to me. Or just let me know that you're hearing me?"_ He sighed and it sounded like defeat. _"But whether you're listening to this or not, it doesn't change the fact that I love you, and I miss you."_

After I listened to that message, I almost caved and called him back. I stared at his name in my contacts list for a full half an hour before I turned my phone off and shoved it in the draw of my nightstand.

I couldn't call him back; I didn't trust myself. Because, if I'm honest, he was wearing me down. With every voicemail I got, my resolve crumbled a little more _._

I _wanted_ to forgive him. Hell, I think I actually _was_ forgiving him by that point. If I actually _spoke_ to him, I wasn't sure that I could stop myself from just giving in...

But I _couldn't_ do that. I couldn't _let_ myself do that. If I did that, I was the biggest fool on the planet, right? He had _proven_ to me that he was nothing more than a man-whore. Okay, so he 'loved' me, but what _kind_ of love was that? What _kind_ of love meant that you went out of your way to hurt the other person?

_But YOU hurt him first,_ a voice murmured inside my head. _If he'd done the same thing to you, would you have been a good enough person NOT to want to hurt him right back? Isn't that what you're doing RIGHT NOW by not talking to him? Hurting him? Deliberately? In the only way you can?_

I really didn't have an answer for that, but one thing I _did_ know was that if I spoke to him, I was lost, because I wasn't strong enough to walk away from him again.

So I didn't call him, and the next time he called me, I still didn't answer.

#

I dumped two teaspoons of sugar in my coffee and settled at the kitchen table as Hayley's chirpy voice sounded through my cell.

" _Hey, Care Bear!"_

"Hey Hayls!" I ignored that horrific pet name she used and tried to sound upbeat. "How's it going? You having fun?"

" _Yes! Miami is AWESOME!"_ she practically shrieked.

"Yeah?"

" _Yes! If I ever get married, I'm having my bachelorette party here! It's AMAZING!"_

I smiled. "Sounds like you're having a great time."

" _I really am! Apart from the sleeping arrangements - my back is KILLING ME from sleeping in that stupid van. So anyway, how are you doing?"_

"Fine." I brushed off her question the same way I did every time she or Mel asked it.

" _Okay...that's good."_ She didn't sound at all convinced.

"Look, Hayley, I need to ask you something. Can you talk? I mean, without being overheard?"

" _Yeah. The guys are in an interview right now then they have sound check so I'm just chilling on the beach. Seriously, Amy. Bachelorette party. HERE. If I ever get married."_

"Hint received loud and clear," I chuckled.

" _Good. So, what's your question?"_ she asked, although the cadence of her voice suggested she already sort of suspected she knew why I had called.

"Um, okay..." I hesitated, starting to dread the answer even before I asked the question. "Okay, remember Mel's theory?"

" _Yeah..."_

"Well, has he?"

" _You mean has Blake gone to Groupie Land?"_

"Yeah."

" _I thought you didn't wanna know?"_ she said, a hint of teasing in her voice.

I sighed and rolled my eyes, even though she couldn't see me. "I changed my mind. I just - I need to know."

" _No, Amy, he hasn't."_

"You're positive about that? Just because you haven't _seen_ him do it, doesn't mean he _hasn't_ done it," I pressed, refusing to believe what she was saying straight off the bat.

" _Oh, come on! Give me some credit! I've been watching him like a hawk. And besides, we're living in a tiny van together, if he was visiting Groupie Land every night, I would've picked up on it. I'm actually pretty sure groupies are the furthest thing from his mind right now. Connor's giving him hell over it."_

"What do you mean?"

" _Well...in the interests of full disclosure, Connor HAS been visiting Groupie Land and he wants his 'wingman' to go with him..."_ I could hear the cringe in her voice. _"Should I not have told you that?"_

"No, it's fine, I honestly don't care what Connor does," I told her sincerely. In fact, until she had just mentioned Connor, I'd barely given him a second thought. A part of me felt a tiny bit guilty for that.

" _Good,"_ she sighed in relief.

"But Blake hasn't? You're _sure_?"

" _Yes, I'm sure. I swear, Amy, all he does when he's not on stage or doing promo is scribble in that ratty notepad of his or play his guitar."_

"Oh," I murmured as relief flooded through me.

But at the same instant that a spark of hope ignited inside me, it was snuffed out by my self-doubt.

Because I still didn't trust myself.

The memory of Connor's betrayals were still fresh in my mind, and more specifically, the memories of all the times that I had _chosen_ to believe in him despite all the evidence pointing to the fact that he was a cheating scumbag.

I'd been burned by a Maxwell one too many times to believe that I could trust my judgment when it came to Blake.

So when he called again that night, I still didn't answer.

#

On the day that Sons of Sinners arrived back in Las Vegas after their tour ended, I was working the late, _late_ shift at Realm Records. And I was trying not to think about the fact that Blake was now in the same city as me for the first time in _months_ \- and what that could mean.

At around 11PM, I cranked up the music in the store and walked over to the front doors to prop them open so that our, highly immoral, _Sell CDs to Drunk People on Their Way Home from the Local Dive Bar_ business plan could commence. I stepped onto the sidewalk to secure the doors so they didn't swing shut - and that's when I saw it.

It was parked a ways down the street and it was obviously dark, but I would recognize it anywhere.

By 'it' I mean a rusty, blue, Chevy pickup.

I couldn't see _him_ , the front seats were in shadow, but I knew he was _there_. And in that moment, as all of the air escaped my lungs and my heart clenched inside my chest, I felt my resolve crumble further with just the knowledge that he was _here_. That all of the _time_ and the _distance_ and the _hurt_ hadn't changed a damn thing when it came to how I felt about him.

"Hey! Amy! Get in here, I need you on the cash register!" The shout came from inside the store. A glance back inside showed me the slightly irate face of Jerry, my boss.

I looked back at the Chevy, narrowing my eyes, searching the gloom for even the barest outline of the man that I had dreamt about every night for the past three months, but to no avail.

"Amy! Come _on_!" Jerry shouted again.

With one last lingering look down the street, I went back inside and did my job.

It was the longest forty minutes of my life. My mind wasn't on what I was doing; I made mistakes, I short-changed, I over-charged, I under-charged and generally made a mess of the whole thing.

By the time the last of the customers left and I finally stepped back outside into the night, the truck was gone.

And I was left wondering if it had ever really been there at all.

#

When I got back home, hoping for ice cream and a round of _Psychoanalyze the Mysterious Appearance and Subsequent Disappearance of THAT Chevy outside My Work_ on the couch with my roomie, Mel was nowhere to be found. Then I remembered that she had a date with a guy that she had met at her internship. She had seemed pretty smitten and had dropped a pretty heavy hint that she wouldn't be coming home at all that night.

I showered and forced myself to eat some leftover macaroni cheese from the fridge, and then I stared at my phone for what seemed like hours. My thumb hovered over Blake's name in my contact list, as it had done so many times over the last few months.

But in the end, I did what I always did; I went to bed, knowing I'd see him in my dreams...

"Amy!" Blake's gruff voice sounded muffled, like he was calling to me from the other side of my bedroom wall.

_Amy_?

He hardly _ever_ called me by my _actual_ name. That was weird.

"Ugh, nice dream," I muttered irritably as I rolled over groggily in my bed and burrowed back down into the covers.

I had just gotten comfortable when I heard a loud hammering sound followed by Blake all but shouting, "Amy! Open the door!"

I sat up straight in my bed so fast I almost gave myself whiplash.

This wasn't a dream.

My heart skidded to a halt in my chest - then started pounding like it was trying to burst my ribs apart.

I was frozen, like a rabbit in headlights, when the hammering on my door sounded again - this time it seemed like he was about to knock the door off of its hinges. "Amy! Open the _fucking_ door!" he shouted. It was then that I processed how ragged his voice sounded; there was an edge of emotion that seemed barely controlled.

My mouth was dry as I pushed myself out of bed and padded through my apartment to the front door, because that was the moment I _knew_.

Blake wasn't beating my door down in the middle of the night just to try and get me back.

Something was very wrong.

#

I opened the door.

His hands were braced on either side of the door frame and he was leaning forwards slightly, breathing heavily. The black hoodie he wore obscured his hair and cast his face into shadow. But I could see the glint of his eyes, dark with depthless pain.

"...Blake?" My voice was barely more than a breath. "What happened?"

For a moment, he didn't move, it was as if he had been carved from stone. Then, all at once, his face seemed to crumple. "He's gone," he ground out through clenched teeth. " _Fuck_ \- he's _gone_." His voice broke on the last word.

Without even realizing I'd moved, I found myself crushed against him, my arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders as I buried my face in his neck.

I didn't need to ask who he was talking about.

It was Connor.

Blake's arms were around my back like a vice, squeezing me, his fingers digging into me. My hands were bunched in the back of his hoodie; my knuckles must have been white from holding on so fiercely. His face was buried in my hair and he was crying; his chest heaved against mine and I heard his strangled cries as he fought in vain for control.

The tears fell from my own eyes in silent streams as I held him, my heart breaking for him even as I felt numb to my own loss. My thoughts were jumbled. But one thing that kept coming back around in my mind was that I wasn't shocked. I understood that deep down, somewhere subconscious and hidden, I had been waiting for this.

This was where Connor was headed all along.

With the acknowledgement of that truth, came a kind of emptiness. I knew that I should feel sad or angry or...well, _something_.

But I didn't.

It was as if, when I had flung my arms around Blake, I had kind of channeled his pain, but after the initial wrench that coursed through me, all I felt was a kind of resigned numbness. It was as though my brain had just switched off my emotions. Like, _click_ , we'll deal with _those_ later.

Minutes or hours later, I realized that Blake had stilled. Gradually, he relaxed his hold on me and we pulled apart. His head remained bowed, his face in shadow, as I pulled him inside the apartment. The darkness thickened around us as I shut the door. Taking his hand, I led him into the kitchen and turned on the light. I made coffee, my hands working unconsciously as my mind seemed to just...float.

When our drinks were ready, I set our mugs on the table and sat down next to Blake. He was sitting with his elbows propped on the table, his head in his hands.

When I finally spoke, I didn't recognize my own voice. It sounded flat, empty. "Tell me what happened."

If I sounded bad, Blake sounded worse; I had never heard desolation like it. "Overdose," he rasped. "Roni called and said he was in the hospital, that it was bad. By the time I got there it was too late...he was - he was already..." His fingers grasped his hair tightly under his hood as he stumbled over the word he couldn't bring himself to utter. "I had to identify him. Roni said she couldn't do it."

I put my hand over my mouth as I he spoke, horrified at his suffering and feeling completely helpless to lessen it.

"He just looked like he was asleep...he looked so fucking _young_ , like when he was little and we used to camp out in the back yard, he always fell asleep first..." He broke off again, fighting for control.

Not knowing what else to do, I curled my body against his side, resting my head on his shoulder and winding my arms around him. He didn't hug me back, but I felt him lean into my touch.

So I just held him.

We sat in silence for a long time after that, our coffee untouched.

Finally, I asked the question that was bubbling in my mind. "Is it my fault?"

Blake stiffened suddenly, like an electric current had shot through him, and he lifted his head from his hands and turned to me, his expression fierce. "No. _Fuck_ no!"

"But he was clean when I left -"

"Yeah. He was. And he _stayed_ clean until he went to meet up with those _fuckers_ he calls friends!"

"Matt and Luke," I said flatly. Connor's go-to stoner buddies. Only they weren't just stoners, they were way worse.

"Yeah," he snarled. "They were at the hospital, actually fucking stuck around this time. Said they were just having a _good time_ and then he just..." He shook his head and I saw the muscles in his jaw bunch. His eyes were hard as he reprimanded me, "This was _not_ you. This had _nothing_ to do with you. Do you understand me?"

"...yes," I whispered.

He searched my eyes for a long moment until, apparently satisfied, he nodded and then gently, but firmly, pulled my arms off of him and stood up.

As I looked up at him, I actually _saw_ the walls going up. The sorrow in his face was masked now, the only evidence that it had been there at all was the lost look in his eyes; like he was adrift, a man alone. It tied me in knots to see him that way. When he spoke again, his voice was softer, more dethatched. "I gotta go. Roni's useless, and this shit ain't gonna sort itself."

I stood up too. "What can I do? Let me help."

"No."

"Blake, you don't have to do this alone."

"I do."

I shook my head. "You don't. I'm here -"

"No." The steel in his voice told me that there was no point in arguing further. He had made up his mind, there was no changing it.

I gave in quietly. "Okay. You know where I am if you need anything. Please don't do this alone."

He jerked his chin in a kind of cursory nod as he turned away from me. His strides were purposeful as he moved towards the front door, his back was straight and his shoulders were set, all vulnerability put aside in the face of his responsibilities.

#

The next few days were a hazy blur. I went through the motions. I existed in a kind of limbo. I think we all did.

We ended up at Hayley's house; we all gravitated there, needing to be close to one another. Her mom was amazing; cooking meals for us all, urging us to stay over, letting us use the house like a hotel. Derren pretty much lived there, and Hayley didn't leave his side. Kane and I came and went, doing our own thing but unable to stay away from the group for long. Mel showed up now and then and sat with us as we watched movies together late into the night. I couldn't tell you what we watched, and I don't think any of the others could either, but that wasn't really the point.

It was just that none of us wanted to be alone.

Blake was the only exception.

I tried calling him, but he never picked up. I almost went to his house, but Kane stopped me, telling me Blake had made it clear he wanted to be left alone. He'd pretty much kicked Kane out of the house they shared and I got the impression there had been at least the threat of violence involved. The only time I caught a glimpse of him was when he came over to talk to Derren and Kane. The three of them went into the back yard for twenty minutes before Blake left without a word to anyone else.

"What was that about?" Hayley asked, when Kane and Derren came back into the living room.

"Funeral's the day after tomorrow," Derren said quietly. "Blake wants me to give the eulogy."

"Are you gonna be able to do that?" Hayley asked, her concern evident.

Derren rubbed his forehead and murmured, "He was my best friend, I need to do it."

Hayley put her head on his shoulder and cuddled into him. "Is Blake gonna sing?"

"Yeah, but he didn't say what."

I bit my lip, unable to contain my worry. "Is he doing okay?"

Kane shook his head. "Hard to tell. He was all business."

"I'm worried about him," I admitted, probably for the hundredth time. "It can't be good for him to be alone."

"I'm worried too," Kane sighed. "But it's what he wants. We've gotta respect that."

I nodded silently, but I was starting to wonder if that was really the right thing to do.

Kane seemed to read my mind. "You know Blake, you can't make him do anything he doesn't wanna do. Fighting him on this'll just make it worse."

"...I know, it's just...hard."

"Maybe you could just text him again," Hayley offered. "Just tell him we're here."

"Yeah, I will." It would probably be the twentieth text that I had sent him, but I couldn't just do nothing.

"There's something else," Kane said, his voice heavy. "They got the toxicology report back. Pretty much confirmed what we already thought. They found alcohol and cocaine in his system. He overdosed and it caused a massive heart attack. He died almost instantly."

The bare facts were clinical and impersonal. It made Connor sound like he was just another statistic, that what happened to him was just science at its worst.

Then came the funeral.

#

As Mel and I entered the cemetery, through the curling, wrought iron gates, we passed a group of reporters. Apparently the sudden death of a 'potential future rock star' was enough to interest the local media. A couple of them called out questions as we passed; things like "How did you know Connor Maxwell?" and "Would you care to make a comment for _The Herald_?" We ignored them, clutching each other's hands as we walked across the rolling grass, falling in with the steady stream of mourners winding their way through the headstones.

There was a huge crowd of people, clustered together like a murder of crows, all wearing black suits and dresses. Connor had a lot of friends; people he grew up with, members of other bands, guys from work. It seemed like everyone he ever _met_ had shown up to pay their respects.

As we joined their midst, falling in naturally beside Hayley, Derren and Kane, I instantly recognized Connor's mother, Roni, and his brother, Jace. Standing alongside them was a man that could have only been his father. He looked like Connor, although he was fleshier and wore an unkempt beard. Next to him was Nate, Blake's dad. Even if I hadn't already known, it would have been clear that they were brothers; they were practically identical - only Nate was much better turned out.

My eyes searched the crowd for Blake, finally finding him standing apart from everyone else. I know we probably all looked awful, but even so, the sight of him chilled my blood. Although he was immaculately dressed in a black suit and black button down, his face was drawn and pale, the dark circles under his eyes looked like bruises. His eyes were sunken, glassy and emotionless. He looked like he hadn't slept in days.

But those observations dropped from my mind when my eyes finally followed his gaze to rest on the coffin. It was a pale, oak casket with Connor's brown leather jacket draped over the top. The sight of that jacket awakened a sense-memory in me that dragged me back in time; the tang of old leather, smoke and stale whiskey drifted up into my nostrils. An untamed scent that was all Connor.

_Then_ it finally hit me.

Connor was really gone. He wasn't just on tour, or avoiding me, or getting on with his life without me, like he _should_ have been. He was just _gone_.

Forever.

I don't remember starting to cry but I _do_ remember Hayley and Mel putting their arms around me and squeezing me tightly, like they thought that I would simply unravel and crumble to dust if they let go.

I was filled with an overwhelming, crushing sadness that the man that I had adored so much, for a few whirlwind months the previous fall, was gone. As I stood by his graveside, I wasn't grieving for the man in the coffin; I was grieving for the man that I had met a year ago.

The man who had swept me off of my feet and taken me on an adventure to the roof top of a derelict bowling alley and shown me the lights of Las Vegas sprawling out before me.

The man who took my virginity with more care and attentiveness that I ever imagined he could.

I grieved for _that_ version of Connor.

Everything else just fell away.

I didn't hear what the priest said; I didn't hear Derren's eulogy; the only time I came back to myself was when I heard Blake's gravelly voice addressing the crowd. "A lot of you probably know that one of Connor's favorite bands is Oasis." I looked up to see him standing with his acoustic guitar slung on a strap over his shoulder. "He had every CD they ever released. So it seems right to play one of their songs." His gaze dropped to the coffin. "This one's for you, buddy," he said quietly.

Then he played _Don't Go Away_.

It was perfect and heartbreaking and honest.

#

The wake was held at Connor's mom's house, which was in the same neighborhood as Blake and Kane's place. Although it was a little bigger, with a first floor and a garage to the side, it still had that run down look.

The house was crowded with what seemed like hundreds of people, and our little group ended up clustered together in the corner of the living room, next to where Connor's drum kit had been set up. A framed picture of Connor whaling on the drums, his sticks a blur and his eyes scrunched shut, had been placed on the stool behind the kit. In front of the picture, there was a small glass of bourbon, Connor's drink of choice.

I felt myself tremble a little at the sight of it and Mel squeezed my hand tighter.

Derren doled out shot glasses to us all, identical to the one on the drum stool, and Blake filled them before taking a deep pull straight from the bottle.

Without pausing to consider, I knocked back the shot in my hand, relishing the burning in my throat as I held out my glass for a refill. Blake's eyes met mine impassively as he obliged.

"It was a...beautiful ceremony," Mel said haltingly. "Derren, your eulogy was perfect."

"Yeah, it was," Hayley squeezed his arm.

Derren smiled thinly and nodded, before swiftly annihilating his own shot of bourbon.

"Yeah, man," Kane agreed. "And that reading you did at the end summed him up completely. Pure Connor." He smiled a little.

"Absolutely," Hayley was starting to smile now too. "It reminded me of his rebel streak, all the times he would get kicked out of school."

Derren snorted a laugh. "Remember when he walked out of the last SAT?"

"Oh yeah!" Hayley exclaimed.

"And he's yelling _Screw you guys! I'm going home!_ as loud as he can -"

"- and Principal McCruder ended up chasing him across the quad screaming about how he's gonna get him arrested for 'disturbing the peace' or something stupid -"

Derren guffawed. "- and Con just drops his pants and goes _Arrest this!_ "

"He _didn't_?!" Mel gasped through her giggles.

"Yeah, he did!" Hayley laughed as she wiped away a tear. "It was all anyone could talk about at Prom."

Kane was chuckling a little by then too - all of them were, apart from me and Blake. I looked across at him and saw him staring back at me. I saw his mask slip a little and glimpsed the storm underneath. Then he shoved through the group and disappeared through the crowd towards the back of the house.

A moment later I followed him.

#

I pushed my way through the throng of people in the kitchen, who were tucking into the buffet food laid out on the table, and shoved through the back door.

I emerged onto a wooden deck with steps leading down to the yard. Before I had time to even look around, a loud cracking noise came from my right. My eyes jerked towards the sound and I saw Blake, still clutching the bottle of bourbon in his left hand, his right fist balled up against the wooden garage wall.

As I watched, he pushed himself backwards and drew his fist back. Realizing what he was about to do, I shouted across the yard, "Blake, DON'T!"

Too late.

His fist pounded into the wall again with a sickening crack and I saw the blood dropping from his knuckles as he pulled his fist back. I ran across the yard and grabbed his forearm with both of my hands, simultaneously slipping myself between him and the wall.

If he was going to land another punch, it would be in my face.

His breathing was ragged and he was staring at the wall, not looking at me, even though I was holding onto him tightly, practically pressed against him.

"Move," he commanded, his voice gravelly.

"No," I said as calmly as I could, even though I felt like I was about two seconds away from bursting into tears.

" _Move_ ," he repeated.

"No. I'm not going to watch you hurt yourself."

Abruptly he pulled out of my grasp and turned away, storming across the yard and releasing a yell of frustrated fury to the sky. He started pacing, like a caged animal, seemingly unaware of the blood dripping to the floor from his hand.

Then he started to rant. "I can't do it. I _can't_ stand in there and talk about all the fucking funny shit he did once upon a time. I _can't_ fucking listen to that shit! It's _bullshit_! All of it!" He was shouting now, his face contorted in rage and pain. "He was a fucking selfish little _prick_ who thought he was invincible." He whirled towards me and roared, "HE HAD A _FUCKING CHOICE!_ " His eyes were blazing, imploring me, like a drowning man reaching for a life raft. "He didn't _have_ to die!"

I knew that all his anger at Connor was coming from a place of untold pain. Despite their differences, they had loved each other fiercely. I had never felt more helpless as I tried to soothe him. "They're just trying to remember the good -"

He stopped a few feet away from me, shaking his head. "NO! No...you can't just do that! You can't just _choose_ what to remember! _I_ can't _choose_ what to remember. I can't forget what he looked like on that table...I can't forget..." His jaw clenched and his throat worked to swallow the sobs that threatened to break free.

I started towards him, he was about to break and I couldn't just stand by and watch.

But before I reached him, I heard a vaguely familiar voice come from the direction of the house. "Son? You okay?"

Blake and I turned as one to see his father descending the steps to the yard. He strode purposefully towards Blake and pulled him into a strong embrace, murmuring something into his ear.

I stepped back, trying to give them space. But as almost as soon as it had begun, the hug was over. Blake pushed Nate backwards with a feral snarl; his dad stumbled slightly, then came to a halt, staring at his son with a mixture of frustration and sadness.

For a moment, none of us moved...

I know it sounds selfish, but it was too much for me. The months of sadness and loneliness, then finding out about Connor, the funeral, the memories it had awakened - all of it overwhelmed me. And seeing Blake like that pushed me over the edge. I didn't know what to do for him and I couldn't stand seeing him in that much pain.

I burst into fresh sobs.

I put my hands over my mouth to catch them, to try to muffle the sound, and I clamped my eyes shut, but my tears cascaded down my face regardless.

Seconds later, I felt strong arms around me, pulling me close, holding me tight against a strong chest. "Shhh, I got you," Blake whispered into my ear. "I got you, Princess."

That tenderness only made me cry harder. _I_ should have been comforting _him_ , not the other way around. I wrapped my arms around his waist and buried my face against him. After a minute, he spoke again. "I'm getting you out of here, c'mon."

I pulled my face back to look up at him. "We can't leave."

He brushed his thumb across my cheek, catching some of my tears. "We can. We are. I'm taking you home."

"You can't drive like that, son," Nate broke in. "I'll drive you, I brought the Honda."

"No -"

"You're three sheets to the wind and you've messed up your hand, you want to crash and hurt that girl?"

That seemed to get through to him; Blake's jaw clenched and he closed his eyes briefly, before addressing his father. "Are _you_ sober?"

For a beat, Nate didn't respond. When he did, he couldn't disguise the hurt in his voice. "Yes, of course. I wouldn't have offered to drive you otherwise."

Blake glanced at him and nodded curtly. "Fine. Let's go."

We walked around the side of the house, past the garage and through the side gate. Blake kept me tucked under his shoulder the whole time, his arm tight around me. When we got to his dad's car, we both climbed in back, like we were in a cab.

During the drive, Nate only broke the silence to ask for directions. Blake told him where to go as he held me and stroked my hair as my sobs faded, leaving me hiccupping and sniffling like a two year old.

When we pulled up outside my apartment, Blake climbed out quickly, muttering a gruff word of thanks to his dad and then offering me his hand, the one that wasn't injured. I didn't take it right away. I looked at Nate in the rear view mirror; I couldn't help feeling bad for him right then.

"Thank you for the ride, Mr. Maxwell - Nate, I mean."

He smiled sadly at me. "You're welcome, Amy. Take care of him, okay? Make him ice that hand. If it swells too much, he might've broken something and he should to go to the emergency room."

"Okay, I will," I offered him a small smile in return as I reached out and took Blake's hand.

#

When we entered the apartment, I headed straight for the kitchen, grabbing an ice pack from the freezer and digging out the first aid kit that we had stashed in one of the cupboards. When I had rummaged through it and found what I was looking for, I looked up to see Blake leaning a shoulder against the doorframe, watching me.

"Come here," I said softly, moving past him and out into the living room. "We need to clean you up."

Wordlessly, he followed me and sat on the couch where I indicated, offering his hand to me as I perched on the coffee table in front of him. I put my own hand under his, palm to palm, as I examined the damage.

The first three knuckles were split and bleeding, although the blood flow had pretty much stopped by then, and the whole back of his hand was starting to bruise and swell. I didn't know a whole lot about first aid, but I asked him to make a fist and wiggle his fingers anyway. He followed my instructions silently.

"In my _entirely_ _useless_ medical opinion, I don't think anything's broken," I said wryly. "But this next part might sting." I started to clean up one of the cuts, glancing up into his face as I did so to gauge his reaction.

He wasn't even looking at his hand; his eyes were fixed on me. His face was impassive, but his eyes held that _look_ , the one that made me feel like I was all he could see in the world.

Feeling the heat rise in my cheeks, I looked back down at his hand, working to clear away all of the blood that had started to dry there. "I think these look pretty clean, but I should probably bandage you up," I said, as I unwrapped a dressing and pressed it gently over his knuckles. I secured it with a bandage before taping down the end. I laid the ice pack over the back of his hand and held it there, sandwiching his big hand between my smaller ones. "How does it feel?" I asked, after a minute of silence.

When he didn't answer, I pulled my eyes away from his hand and looked up at his face again. The intensity in his eyes took my breath away, captured me completely and held me there. The white-hot blue of his irises seemed to burn with emotion. We stared at each other, the air between us seeming to crackle with an invisible connection that neither of us could manage to break.

There was so much left unsaid between us. So much _I_ needed to say to _him_...

But in that instant, none of it mattered.

When he reached out and hooked his hand around the back of my neck, pulling me towards him, I met his kiss willingly.

#

His mouth crashed into mine with feverish urgency. He shook his injured hand free of mine, the ice pack dropping to the floor, as he curled his arm around my waist and lifted me up with him as he stood. Instantly, I wrapped my legs around his hips tightly, locking myself against him as I threw my arms around his neck.

I was consumed by the kiss, by the feel of his skilled tongue tangling with mine, tasting of bourbon and Blake and home. His mouth seared over mine; drinking me in like he'd been starving without me. I kissed him back just as desperately, needing to feel everything he had to give. More than anything, I wanted to chase away the pain that surrounded us. I wanted to push back at the darkness, keep it at bay for just a little while, just long enough to see a sliver of light.

When he set me down again, it took me a second to realize that we were no longer in the living room. He had walked us through to my bedroom without me even registering that we were moving. I was so lost in him I hadn't even noticed.

He broke the kiss, leaning his forehead on mine; our eyes immediately locking as our heavy breathing filled the air. Neither of us spoke, like we were afraid to break the fragile spell that surrounded us. Our eyes communicated what our words couldn't, like a silent communion. Longing. Guilt. Anger. Love. Hurt. Fear. _Need_.

Reaching up, I threaded my hands in his hair and pulled him down towards me again, mashing my lips to his in a bruising kiss.

It was all the encouragement he needed.

His hand went to the nape of my neck, tangling in my hair, bunching it in his fist and pulling my head back as his hot mouth dropped to my neck, sucking and biting my tender skin. His other hand tugged at my dress, roughly pulling at the zipper and then, before it was fully undone, jerking it off my shoulders and down to bunch around my waist. Then he was grasping at my breasts, hard, kneading them roughly and pinching my nipples through the fabric of my bra, keeping me in place the whole time with the hand that had captured my hair. I gasped in pain and desire as he clamped his finger and thumb together around my right nipple and tugged at the same instant as he sucked my neck punishingly, drawing the skin into his mouth for seconds on end, marking me.

I don't think I'd ever been so wet in my life. _Months_ of dreaming about him, about _this_ , had me on a knife edge. Everything he did sent pulses of aching need to my center. I was ready for him in seconds, desperate to have him inside me.

I grappled with his belt and the zipper of his slacks, loosening them before pulling at the waistband of his boxer briefs and reaching inside. I curled my fingers greedily around his already rock hard heat. Just the feel of him in my hand again, after wanting him for so long, made me moan. He growled against my neck as I pumped him once, twice, three times, before swirling my thumb around his thick head, using the dampness I found there to massage him.

Suddenly, his hands were under my arms and he was throwing me backwards onto the bed. I bounced with the impact, gasping at his roughness as another surge of wetness gathered between my thighs.

Then he was on his knees on the bed, looming over me. He reached down and tugged my dress the rest of the way down my body. Seeing his eyes drop to my breasts, I reached around and unclasped my bra before he could rip it from me - he hooked his fingers though the front and yanked it away, like it offended him. I was left in only my panties, but not for long, he literally tore them from my body, grasping them in both strong hands and ripping the fabric apart before discarding them. If his actions pained his injured hand, he showed no sign.

My hands were at the buttons of his shirt, fumbling, trying to undo them as quickly as I could. I had never felt more desperate for anything in my life. I needed him naked, inside me, _now_.

He shrugged off his suit jacket and then pulled away from me, reaching back and pulling his partly-unbuttoned shirt over his head, revealing his upper body in all its muscled, tattooed glory. Then he shoved himself to his feet and pushed his slacks and boxers all the way down, peeling off his socks and shucking off his shoes quickly. His eyes barely left mine as he worked; the frenzied heat in them made my clit buzz in anticipation and I had to bite my lip to keep from moaning again.

He was on me again in seconds. His hand was back in my hair, grasping roughly, almost painfully as he positioned my head where he wanted it and dove in for another punishing kiss. He shoved my thighs apart with his knees as he leant over me and, with only a brief stroke to test my readiness, he plunged two fingers inside of me.

I cried out as my back bowed off the bed and my core clenched around him. His large thumb massaged my clit as he simultaneously pumped his fingers back and forth, curling them upwards, stroking my sweet spot. He stopped kissing me as my breathing became erratic, and I didn't need him to command me to open my eyes, I just _knew_ what he wanted. A look of triumph flashed across his face as our eyes met, and his pupils dilated as I gasped and moaned in response to his talented hand.

My orgasm started to build; I fought the urge to let my eyes roll back in my head, needing to give him what he wanted, needing to stay _connected_ to him through my release. My inner muscles contracted violently around his fingers as I screamed incoherently, waves of aching pleasure taking me over.

Watching me, his face contorted, like he was in delicious pain, his teeth clenching against an animal growl. The knowledge that I was creating that reaction in him ratcheted up my own pleasure and prolonged my powerful orgasm.

When my contractions started to fade, I reached for him, but he grabbed my hands, raising them above my head and lacing his fingers through mine. I felt his strong fingers close around my hands as he pushed them into the bed, holding me completely at his mercy. The thick head of his cock stroked against me, our slick skin sliding together as he lined himself up at my entrance.

Then he stopped moving. He was completely still, searching my eyes as he hovered above me, a silent question hanging between us. There was _nothing_ between us...

But I trusted him. Even after everything, I still trusted him about this.

I wrapped my legs around him, urging him to give me what we both wanted. A millisecond later, I was gasping as he shoved his huge cock inside me in one fluid stroke, filling me to the brim, stretching me to my limit. He moaned as he bottomed out inside of me and then stilled again for a moment, allowing me to adjust to his size.

Our gaze never faltered as we made love almost silently. This time there was no talking, no begging, no commands, no endearments - everything was spoken through our gaze. It was the most intimate experience of my life, even as he started to slam into me, taking me roughly and furiously. I held to him, my legs wrapped tightly around him, raising my pelvis to meet him stroke for stroke.

It was like we were one being, our breathing quickening simultaneously, our moans overlapping, my gasps interlacing with his groans.

As my core started to contract around him, he lowered his forehead to mine, the intensity in his eyes multiplying, commanding me without words to stay with him, to ride out my release without breaking our connection. We came together, my whole body tensing and vibrating against him as I finally whimpered his name. His pleasure culminated in a guttural groan which punctuated the wild pulsing I felt inside me.

We kissed sweetly and tenderly as our gasping breaths slowed. I felt like I was drunk, everything seemed hazy and unreal, but Blake was constant.

He was everything I needed in that moment.

I knew that there were a million things we needed to say to each other, a million hurts to heal, but I wasn't about to ruin the moment for anything.

All of that could wait.

We still didn't speak a word as Blake shifted off of me, lying on his back and pulling me to him. I rested my head on his chest, my left arm and leg thrown across his body as I snuggled into his warmth. He clutched me to him possessively, stroking my hair as he dropped lazy kisses onto the top of my head.

The last thing I remember, before sleep took me, is closing my eyes and breathing in deeply; luxuriating in his scent, the feel of his skin against mine, and his steady heart beating against my ear.

#

When I woke up, hours later, the moonlight was filtering through the drapes at my window. The space next to me was empty, the sheets cold. My heart lurched in my chest at the thought that I had dreamed it all.

Then I saw the note.

A small, crisp square of paper, obviously taken from the notepad on my desk, was resting on the pillow next to me. Hope blazed within me as I reached over and plucked it up - but the hope quickly fled as I read the words written in Blake's familiar scrawl:

I can't do this.

I'm sorry.

Goodbye, Princess.

END OF PART ONE

READY FOR MORE?

### LET IT BURN:

SONS OF SINNERS PART 2

Three years after the events of the first book, Amy Scott has moved on. She has a job she loves, great friends, and the life she wanted.

Almost.

One thing is missing - not that she'd _ever_ admit it, even to herself.

But when _he_ comes sauntering back into her life, she's forced to face the feelings she's been trying so hard to forget.

He's not a struggling musician anymore. He's one fourth of the most famous rock band on the planet. Sons of Sinners blew up! And now he has money, fame, and more women than he could get through in _two_ lifetimes.

And if there's one thing Amy knows from experience, it's that women are his weakness.

But he says he only wants her, the only woman he ever loved...

Can she give a second chance to the man who tore her apart? Can she risk the pain she knows is waiting if he lets her down again? Is it even possible to rebuild everything they destroyed?

Because, when the pain runs that deep, some people just can't be saved.

STALK ME!

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# ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Firstly, and most importantly, I would like to thank every single person who is reading _this_ because it means that you've read the whole book - and that is amazing to me. This is my first book and I can honestly say that I've had a blast writing it, so to actually have readers completely blows my mind! If you enjoyed it, please leave a review to let others know what you thought.

Next, I want to thank all of my beta readers, but particularly Emma, who went through this thing more thoroughly and honestly than I ever expected - you are a legend and I can't thank you enough.

I also want to thank my husband, without whom I would never have spent countless hours hanging around backstage, or sitting in on recording sessions, or watching band practices and gigs, or writing lyrics to work with the hook in his head. Without those experiences, this book may never have been born. But more than that, I want to thank him for supporting me completely and without question...and for constantly saying, "Get it written. Get it done. Get it out there." I did, I have, and it is - thanks to you.
