We stayed up on the hill for a couple of hours, wrapped in a blanket, talking about things we loved.

Brady told me how he ended up in The Invisibles with the guys and how he had always had a love of music. He said that when they asked him to sing, he decided he wanted a change of pace. What he didn’t tell me was what he’d needed a change of pace from. The way he spoke was as though he had been a different person then. Of course, I didn’t pry. I, too, have secrets I’m not about to reveal yet. I’m afraid that, if I ask too many questions, I’ll have to give too many of my own answers.

He walked me home and kissed me good night at the door. Even though I desperately wanted to ask him to stay, I didn’t. I wasn’t ready for this to end between us, and I still had a lingering fear that the outcome would be exactly that if I slept with him.

After picking me up this morning, he takes me to a farmers market in town, where he buys us fresh vegetables and fruit. It surprises me that he waves and chats with almost all the vendors, introducing them to me, using their first names. When they ask him how he’s holding up, he shrugs them off, saying he’s great, and then he interrupts any follow-up questions, telling them we have to go.

I’ve never seen him this wound up before, almost on edge.

As the day continues and the questions from the vendors pry more, he stops acknowledging the vendors entirely and rushes us through the remaining booths. What I anticipated would be a leisurely stroll down Main Street is turning more into a sprint.

By the time we reach the last vendor, Brady firmly holds my hand in his, steadily moving us toward the end of the street. With the way my arm is outstretched as he practically pulls me down the road, I glance behind us, expecting a dangerous murderer to be stalking us.

“Brady Carsen? Is that you?” a sweet older lady with gray hair and a small frame calls out to him.

Brady ignores her and continues to walk.

I yank him back with my arm and tug my hand away from his. “Brady, that lady is calling your name.”

He zips around, and his expression isn’t casual and easygoing, like usual. Rather, it’s cold and angry. I can tell he’s mad at me for drawing the woman to his attention. His gaze ping-pongs between me and the elderly lady. He takes a deep breath and slowly releases it, his shoulders slumping. He entwines our hands again, leading me over to the table full of cookies, cakes, and breads.

“I thought that was you. How are you, Brady?” Her voice soft and caring, just like a grandma. Not really my grandma, but mine is sweet in her own way.

“Hi, Mrs. Fletcher. I’m fine. Thank you for asking,” he replies with the generic answer he spouted to every other person who knew him here.

“I was sorry to hear about—” she starts.

Brady quickly interrupts her, “Thank you, Mrs. Fletcher. This is Sadie Miller. She’s new to Western.”

He puts his hand on the small of my back, almost shoving me forward, and I offer my hand for her to shake while eyeing him.

“Nice to meet you, Sadie.” She smiles, shaking my hand in return. “Very beautiful, Brady.”

“I agree,” Brady responds. He grins back to her. It’s the first real smile from his lips in the last hour. The tension eases the tiniest bit.

“How did he get you, darling? I hope it isn’t the bad-boy band because my Brady isn’t some rock star who loves ’em and leaves ’em.” She peers directly in my eyes, like a detective, as though she can tell if I lie to her.

“You’re ruining my image, Mrs. Fletcher.” Brady laughs.

God, I love that sound. It’s a nice change from his demeanor during most of today.

“He’s a perfect gentleman.” I look up at Brady, and his lips turn up as he glances down at me.

“Glad to hear it. Now, pick something out. It’s on me. You’re too skinny,” she adds, pinching my arm.

“Um…” I grab my arm, holding where she pinched. Obviously, I’m not too skinny since she got some skin. I pick up a package of Rice Krispies treats and dig in my purse for money.

“Oh, Brady’s favorite. I used to make these for him when he was little. Just a moppy brown-haired little boy running around the streets.”

Brady turns a nice shade of pink from embarrassment.

“I promise to share,” I tell her, handing her five dollars.

“No, darling, it’s fine. Any friend of Brady’s is a friend of mine.” She pushes my hand back.

“Are you sure?”

She nods.

“Well then…thank you, Mrs. Fletcher.” I place them in our bag.

“Come give me some sugar, Brady. I never see you anymore.” She holds her hands out for him to hug her.

His large frame envelops her small stature. I hear her whispering in his ear. Brady nods his head in agreement and then releases her, giving her a kiss on the cheek. He’s sweet to her, and he seems calmer around her than with the others who knew him today.

“You, too, darling.” She waits for me to walk to her.

I gently wrap my arms around her, trying not to break her fragile little body.

“Don’t break his heart, Sadie. He can be stubborn and bullheaded, but your reward will be tenfold if you love him. He’ll try to keep you out, but push your way in, okay?” she whispers in my ear, making sure Brady can’t hear.

I’m thrown by her comment because I haven’t seen the closed off side of Brady yet, which means I might not know him at all.

I return back to Brady’s side, and he takes my hand in his, as though it’s natural. Those comfortable dating mannerisms are beginning to unfold now.

“See you later, kids.” She winks at both of us, and we walk away.

“She’s sweet,” I say to Brady on our way to his car.

“Yeah, she’s like my grandmother,” he responds with a smile on his face.

“Did she used to babysit you or something?” I ask.

“Kind of.” He shrugs, not divulging anything else.

---

On the way to Brady’s house, he tells me that he’s making me lunch.

When we pull up to an older green house with a porch in front, he slows down. Ivory shutters with red paint outline the windows. The grass is neatly cut and trimmed along the sidewalk. Landscaped shrubs cover the front and sides of the house. I’m in awe of how it resembles a family home rather than a college student’s house.

After he parks in front of the detached garage, I still take in the nice surroundings while he leads me through the back door.

The first thing I notice is the smell of fresh laundry. After practically living in frat houses since I entered college, I know it’s rare to have a pleasant aroma in a house where a bunch of guys live. The kitchen is a little dated, not uncommon to college housing for rent. It could use a face-lift with new appliances and perhaps new cabinetry, but it’s clean and presentable. A small round oak table sits to the side of the room, giving it a cozy, homey feel. What surprises me the most is, there are no dishes in the sink or beer bottles strewed about.

“Take a seat, Sadie.” He pulls a chair out for me, placing the bags from the farmers market on the table.

“No, I’ll help you,” I insist, beginning to unpack the bags.

“I got this. You want something to drink?” he asks.

“Sure. Water?” Sitting back in the chair, I watch him comfortably move around.

He opens the fridge door to reveal a stockpile of beer, and I see my first sign that this is indeed a bachelor pad. Grabbing a bottle of water, he opens it before he hands it over to me.

When he puts it on the table, he hovers over and kisses me. “I’ve been waiting to do that all day.”

He pulls away, but I fist his shirt with my hand, yanking him back to me. I lick his lips, and he opens his mouth, his tongue eager to meet mine. As he places his hand on the back of my neck, demanding more of my mouth, I loop my fingers through his hair, and he groans. He wants more, so I slowly bring my tongue back into my mouth to end the kiss. The last thing I want to do is lead him on.

“Wow. Should have started that earlier,” Brady jokes as he walks back over to the fridge.

I take a sip of my water, and the coolness calms me down a bit, helping me come back to my senses. Brady’s kisses are sweet and tender yet possessive and demanding at the same time. He never rushes or tries to stop, as though he has all the time in the world to kiss me.

“I hope you like egg salad.” He grabs a Tupperware container out of the fridge.

“I do. Did you make it?”

“This morning, before I came to get you.”

“Brady Carsen, you are full of hidden talents.”

I bring my knees up and watch him move around the kitchen. It’s sexy as hell, seeing him go from the fridge to the counter, grabbing a knife and cutting the fresh homemade bread we bought. His steps are smooth and decisive. I could admire him cooking for me every day.

“Sadie?” He snaps me out of my trance.

I shake my head back and forth. “Sorry. Yeah?”

“Something has been on my mind since that time we had lunch at the Student Center.” His back is still turned to me while he washes the lettuce in the sink.

“What?” Oh God, what did I say then?

“Deal-breakers. What are yours?” he asks.

My body calms again. “Um…I don’t know. I guess I just know them when I see them,” I admit.

“Oh, come on. Tell me just one,” he pleads.

“All right…” I hesitate.

I don’t know him nearly enough for this. Theo and I would go back and forth all day with our deal-breakers, but I knew he never judged me, and I never judged him.

“I don’t like dirty shoes, the ones that are so worn and dirty, but I also don’t like brand-new blinding white ones either. I know it’s stupid, but—”

Brady interrupts me, “It’s fine. Glad I don’t have to worry about that.”

I glance over to the Converse he just took off. Fairly new and black.

“So, what are yours?”

“Well, I hate to admit this, and it’s probably some guys’ opposite of a deal-breaker. I hate it when a girl bends over, and you can see her thong,” he confesses as he turns around. He leans against the counter, casually crossing his ankles.

“So, if I bent over right now and you could see my thong, you would politely drive me back to the dorm and never see me again?” I raise an eyebrow at him.

“Like I told you that day, I don’t think there are any deal-breakers when it comes to you. Privately, feel free to bend over, and show me your thong anytime, but in front of others is a different story. I don’t like other guys seeing what’s mine.” He pushes himself off the counter to retrieve two plates.

I’m glad for the distraction because I need to absorb his “what’s mine” comment. It’s possessive and alpha. While his declaration scares the crap out of me to admit it, I like it. Makes me want to strip down right here and let him brand me.

“I’m yours?” I question.

“Yep,” he says, matter-of-fact. When he places the plates of food on the table, he looks concerned. “I’m sorry. Did you not want to be mine?” He smirks over at me, knowing my answer.

“I didn’t say that.” I bite my lip and concentrate on the plate in front of me with the egg salad sandwich and a side of fresh fruit.

I think I just agreed to be Brady Carsen’s girlfriend. I just hope it’s not short-lived when he inevitably finds out about my past.

After lunch, Brady gives me a tour of the house. Like I presumed, there are three floors. The main floor consists of the kitchen, family room, and dining room. The second floor has the bedrooms, enough for each guy to have his own room, and they all share two bathrooms. I veer over to the door outside of Brady’s room, but he rushes in front of me, telling me it’s all storage.

I’m happy when he doesn’t walk into his room but just points it out to me. I definitely can’t handle sitting on a bed with him. That would guarantee that we’d be in a lying position immediately. He does have a nice queen-size bed that looks appealing though. Hopefully, one day soon, it will be put to good use.

We walk down to the basement. Brady’s giddy with excitement. When he pushes it open, I’m speechless. He has a freakin’ music studio. It’s not just a few instruments set up in a corner. There are oversize brown leather couches and chairs lining a wall. It’s what I envision as some pop star’s recording studio. Switchboards face a glass window that overlooks a drum set, guitars, and microphones. It’s incredible.

I turn to see Brady’s perma-smile, showing how proud he is of this space.

“This is great, Brady,” I say excitedly, brushing my finger along one of the couches.

“I know. I think I’ve slept down here more than in my own bed.”

“So, this is where the magic happens with you guys?” I tease.

“I wouldn’t say that.” He comes up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist, and he kisses my neck. “I could show you some magic if you prefer.”

He brushes my hair to the side, moving his lips down my shoulder and back up my neck. I close my eyes. His warm breath is inviting. I can’t let this lead to something more, so I step away, making my way over to the switchboards.

“What does this do?” I fiddle with a button.

He comes up behind me again and continues kissing my neck. “Do you really want to know?” he whispers. His tongue flicks my earlobe.

I close my eyes in pleasure again, willing my heart to calm down.

“Brady,” I sigh.

“Come here.” He grabs my hand and leads me to the couch. Positioning me on his lap, he rests his hands on my waist. “I just want to kiss you, Sadie. I’ll never rush you, promise.”

I believe him.

Instinctively, I wrap my arms around his neck, letting him bring his lips to mine. Our tongues start to mingle together, and then he sucks my bottom lip. Goose bumps travel up my spine. Brady’s hands move up and down my rib cage in a slow, rhythmic pattern.

The anticipation of him touching my breasts becomes torturous. It’s like a double-edged sword. I want him to go there, but I don’t want to lead him on. As soon as I think he’s going to cup my breast, his hand moves to my thigh, stroking the outside of my right leg. My fingers slide through his hair while we continue to devour each other’s mouths. Again, he’s soft, and he doesn’t push me where we both desperately want to go.

“God, Sadie. There’s nothing better than kissing you,” he murmurs to me, breaking our kiss before his lips crash into mine again.

I don’t think I’ve ever kissed a guy for this long before. Guys are usually quickly preoccupied with other parts of my body.

I respond with a moan and wrap my leg around his waist to straddle him. He places his hands on my ass, drawing me into him, and I feel how hard he is. I don’t want to tease him, but I can’t yank myself away. It feels too good, too right. His hands travel up my stomach, and I know where their destination is, but I’m unable to stop them.

Just as Brady’s hands cup my breasts and his thumbs graze over my peaked nipples, the door busts open, and I fly off his lap, crossing my legs, as though nothing is going on. Brady starts laughing and straightens out his pants, looking over at me.

“What’s up, guys?” Trey asks, making his way into the room, followed by Dex and Rob.

“Nothing now,” Brady deadpans. He thrusts me back onto his lap, caressing my hip bone with his thumb.

“Sorry to ruin your good time with”—Rob leers my way—“Chanel.”

“Rob, you need to shut the fuck up.” Brady gently nudges me off his lap to stand chest-to-chest with Rob.

The two face off, and the tension in Brady’s shoulders is so tight that I’m afraid he’ll snap.

“All right, all right. I’ll be good.” Rob backs away and moves into the glassed-off area, picking up his guitar.

“You staying to watch us rehearse, Sadie?” Trey asks.

I notice he has a silver stud under his lip. That’s totally not my thing, but it’s oddly appealing on him.

I look at Brady, and he raises his eyebrows, silently questioning if I want to stay.

“Sure,” I agree, not wanting my time with Brady to end quite yet.

Brady positions me in the chair in front of the switchboards while he follows the guys into the glass room. They start testing their instruments, joking about something I didn’t catch. Then, Brady’s voice fills the room, and chills travel through my body in excitement for my private show.

How many other girls would be jealous right now?

“This is for you, Sadie Miller.” Brady strums his guitar a couple of times before starting a song.

The song is familiar, but I can’t place it at first. Brady’s soft brown irises are pinned on me, patiently waiting for my recognition. Then, the chorus comes, and I figure out he’s playing “Oh Sherrie” by Steve Perry, but Brady changes it to “Oh Sadie.”

I return his smile as Brady sings, mimicking Steve Perry in the eighties video. He clutches his fist close to his heart and bends his knees close to the ground.

My whole body melts with warmth. A little more of my heart floats over to the man singing only to me.