Fumbling with the strings on my bass, I winced as the sour note bounced off the walls in our rehearsal space. Logan slammed his microphone into the stand, then turned a murderous glare in my direction.

“What the fuck is up with you, Christian?” Gripping his blond hair in frustration, he paced in a circle. “It’s a simple fucking chord change.”

“Give it a rest, Logan,” Cameron said with a sigh as he lifted the guitar strap over his head.

Feedback screeched from the amp, drowning out Logan’s retort as Cameron stalked to the row of stands to stow his instrument.

“You owe me one,” he said, bumping my shoulder on his way to the mismatched couches in the corner.

Cameron’s phone was out and he was already tapping the screen before his ass hit the cushions so I doubt whether his motives were completely pure.

Sean climbed down from his drum kit and stretched his legs. “Thank fuck,” he grunted, eyeing Logan on his way to the fridge. “What’s with the three hour practices, anyway?”

Logan’s piercing blue eyes burned with barely contained agitation as he watched Sean take a seat next to Cameron. When he cut his gaze to me, I saw something more.

Guilt.

Six months ago, Logan personally kicked our manager to the curb while we were in Dallas playing a rock festival. Lindsey Barger, the bitch the record label handpicked for us was a lot of things. Stupid wasn’t one of them.

Before we’d even returned to Austin, Lindsey was back in Los Angeles, waging a private war against the band. Labeling us “divas” and “hard to handle,” she continued to badmouth us at every turn. As a result, our label was dragging their feet on renewing our contract. And without a contract there was no new material to promote, so we were stuck. Right back on Sixth Street, playing at the Parish where we started.

Things weren’t critical—yet—we had two singles hanging by their fingernails on the Billboard 200.

But if we didn’t set something up soon . . .

Some of the angst retreated from Logan’s posture as he flopped onto a chair next to the one I’d staked out across from the couch.

“Y’all know I’m trying to set up an audition with Twin Souls, but they’re not returning my calls,” Logan admitted as he twisted the cap off his bottle of Shiner Bock. “I want to be ready when they do. That means we got to stay tight.” He swung his gaze to mine and I shrank in my seat. “Focused.”

“You haven’t heard anything yet,” I said through a sigh.

Logan’s blue eyes shot daggers straight at my forehead. “You think if the biggest management company in the business gave me a jingle I’d keep that shit under wraps?” He turned to stare into the distance, nodding to himself. “They’ll call,” he insisted, lifting the bottle to his lips to take a large gulp of beer. “It’s only a matter of time.”

I wanted to find the will to care, but right now I was too fucking irritated. And it had nothing to do with the band, which annoyed me even more. Here we were, talking about major shit that impacted my future, all of our futures, and I was losing sleep because I hadn’t seen Mel in two days.

After our dustup with Mitchell at the library, she’d backed off on our nightly encounters. She told me she needed to buckle down and study, so I left her alone.

Fishing my phone from my pocket, I threw caution to the wind and then tapped out a text to Mel.

You know what they say about all work and no play? Hit me back when you’re ready to play. 

I shook my head, deleting the message. Cheesy wasn’t the way to go.

Gazing at the blank screen for a long moment, I finally punched in: Miss you, angel. Finishing off the text with a smiley face emoji, which I never used, I pressed send. 

When Cameron chuckled low in his gut, I discreetly set my phone aside.

“What’s so funny?” I asked.

Cameron drained his beer and then pointed the neck of the bottle in my direction.

“You are.” He chuckled again, with more gusto. “I know that look, man. Who is she?”

Folding my arms over my chest, I went for casual. “There is no “she.” Just because you were bitten by the bug doesn’t mean we’re all going to catch it.”

“You’d be lucky to catch what I’ve got.” Cameron socked me in the arm on his way to grab another beer.

He was totally serious—whipped like a dog, and proud of it. He didn’t even bat an eyelash when Logan and Sean started in, needling him about his newfound domesticity.

Cameron was never the player Logan was, but he was a close second. He left a string of broken hearts in every city we visited, until he met Lily Tennison during our ill-fated concert stop in Dallas.

Ignoring Tweedle-Dumb and Tweedle-Dumber, I twisted in my chair to meet Cameron’s Zen-like gaze. “All of a sudden you’ve got it all figured out, huh?” I snorted. “You meet a chick and three days later you’re a changed man—is that how it goes?”

“It was four days, but it don’t matter.” Cameron shrugged, reclaiming his seat. “When you know, you know.”

“It’s only been a few months,” I responded, unable to keep the skepticism from my tone. “Let’s see how Lily handles it the first time you have to pick up and leave for a year.”

Cameron’s hazel eyes turned cold enough to chill the air between us. “Lily’s here to stay. She ain’t with me because of all this shit.” He motioned to the small stage and all our abandoned equipment. “It doesn’t matter whether I’m home or in fucking Brazil, she ain’t going nowhere.”

I didn’t want to burst his bubble, so I barked out a laugh. “I hope you’re right. Since Lily’s got your balls in her pocket, it would be awfully inconvenient if she disappeared.”

A confident smile eased onto Cameron’s lips. “Not going to happen.”

I frowned at the unanswered text and let out a resigned sigh. “Well, Mel’s not Lily.”

I jerked my gaze to Logan’s when a laugh erupted from his chest.

“So you’re batting for the other team now?” he chided. “When did you start dating dudes? Does Mel have a cute sister you can set me up with?”

“I’ve seen some of the chicks that stumble out of your bunk on the tour bus,” I replied blandly. “Maybe you should think about expanding your dating pool.” 

Choking on his beer, Logan’s eyes bugged out.

“I love all women, Wikipedia,” he said through a cough. “Don’t judge. Especially since you’re dating a dude.”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m not dating a dude.” Seizing my phone from the arm of the chair, I pulled up a picture of Mel and then shook it at Logan. “Does this look like a dude to you?”

Logan’s smirk faded as he peered at the screen. “No, that’s definitely not a dude.”

Grabbing the device before I could stop him, Logan tapped the screen to enlarge the image. 

“What the fuck are you looking at?” I snarled. “Give me the damn phone!”

Batting my hand away, a smile tilted his lips. I knew that look; he was checking out her tits.

“Chill, man.” After one more appreciative glance at Mel’s photo, Logan tossed the phone at me. “I was just looking for the scar on her head.”

I narrowed my eyes at the asshat’s stupid grin. “She doesn’t have any scars on her head, you moron.”

Shrugging, Logan propped his feet on the table, his smirk firmly in place. “A chick like that’s got to have some kind of defect if she’s hanging out with you.”

As I stared at the photo on the screen, the picture morphed into an image of Mel on the floor of her bedroom, shaking in a pool of sweat. 

“Melody’s not defective,” I said quietly. “She’s fucking brilliant, and she’s perfect.”

Silence blanketed the room. The awkward kind. Logan no longer smiled, but surveyed me with a blank expression that matched Cameron and Sean’s.

“So, when do we get to meet this perfect woman?” Cameron asked, snapping the tension filling the air.

I was about to answer when my phone lit up with a text from Mel. 

Miss you too. Come over after practice if you can.

The knot in my stomach unwound as I tapped out my reply.

On my way.

Jumping to my feet, I scooped my backpack from the floor. “Gotta jet. See y’all later.” 

Much later, I hoped. I owed Mel at least four orgasms, and I wasn’t planning on letting her out of bed until I settled the debt.

“You didn’t answer Cam’s question,” Logan called as I headed to the door. “When do we get to meet your imaginary girlfriend?”

Girlfriend?

I didn’t have time to argue the semantics.

“Soon.”