The next morning, I wake up to the smell of coffee and three new text conversations. Two are my brothers wishing me farewells. Tonight is the show that starts their tour. They must be halfway to Vegas by now.

The third text is more interesting.

Kit: I didn't forget that it was my turn.

I stare at my cell screen as I fix my first cup of coffee—lots of sugar and lots of half and half. It's sweet and creamy but it's not nearly as effective a wake up call as hearing from him.

I try to remind myself that Kit has no romantic interest in me. We're friends—he made a point of reminding me last night.

This might never go anywhere, but I like talking to him. What could it possibly hurt?

Piper: You didn't really answer the question about your recovery.

Kit: I don't talk about that.

Piper: With anyone?

Kit: Yeah.

Piper: What about when you were in rehab? Did you just sit in therapy sessions and stare.

Kit: Not exactly.

Piper: But close?

Kit: If we're gonna be friends, you should know I'm a fucked up guy.

Piper: I thought we were friends?

Kit: If we're going to do this.

Piper: This?

Kit: This texting thing.

Piper: I didn't realize it was a thing.

Kit: Well, you're 19. You probably haven't spoken to someone on the phone since... ever.

Piper: Not true.

Kit: I know. I've heard Ethan and Mal call you. But I bet you text all your friends.

Piper: I call Rory sometimes. She's my BFF. Since grade school.

Kit: Fair. Let's call this a friendly warning: I'm a fucking mess. If you try to dig into it, you're gonna get lost.

Piper: I don't need a warning.

Kit: Not sure about that.

Piper: If you respond with something about how I'm a nice girl, I'll drive to Vegas and strangle you before the show.

Kit: Friendly warning?

I can imagine his dark eyes lighting up as he chuckles. He's teasing me. God, I love him teasing me.

Piper: As friendly as threats of bodily harm get. You can't scare me by warning me you're fucked up.

Kit: I can if I go into detail, but it's early and I forgot to pick up coffee. Not in the mood.

Piper: Where are you?

Kit: On the way to Vegas.

Piper: On the bus?

Kit: Yeah.

Piper: So you're with Mal.

Kit: He's in his bunk.

Piper: And Joel?

Kit: He's on the couch.

Piper: Where are you?

Kit: In my bunk.

Piper: Does anyone know you're texting me?

Kit: Let's make it our secret.

I fix a second cup of coffee. He wants to make this our secret.

Kit doesn't want my brothers knowing we're sharing any kind of intimacy.

He's not exactly offering to take my virginity, but there is an intimacy to talking like this.

I like it being our secret.

Piper: Okay, but I want to know what it is about recovery that's harder on the road.

Kit: Ask something else.

Piper: Or?

Kit: Or we can end the conversation.

Piper: What are you doing tonight?

Kit: Besides the show?

Piper: Okay, what are you doing tomorrow?

Kit: I'm sure Joel and Ethan are going out. They'll invite me to do something they don't want to do—mini-golf or the bookstore or some tourist trap that closes at eight.

Piper: How do you know they don't want to do mini-golf?

Kit: Who does?

Piper: Fair enough. And neither of them read.

Kit: Yeah. I get that they're trying to help, but it only makes me feel weirder.

Piper: Because they're pretending like they want to do something besides get drunk and/or laid?

Kit: Yeah.

Piper: Does Mal invite you out?

Kit: He doesn't usually go out.

Piper: Couldn't you go out and get laid?

Kit: Next question.

Piper: You still haven't said what you're doing tomorrow.

Kit: Reading in my hotel room.

Piper: All day?

Kit: I'll get lunch with somebody. Maybe dinner too. But, yeah, before and after that.

Piper: Isn't that lonely?

Kit: It can be.

Piper: You ever want company?

Kit: Yes, I want company. But I don't pick up some woman or hire a prostitute if that's what you're getting at.

Piper: Why not?

Kit: Not discussing that with you.

Piper: Geez, Kit, I guess I better ask for an approved list of conversation topics.

Kit: How about you tell me what you're doing today?

Piper: I'm supposed to meet Rory for lunch but I'm betting she's going to cancel to hang out with her boyfriend.

Kit: You shouldn't put up with that.

Piper: What can I do? We've been friends since I was eight. All of a sudden, he's the only thing that matters in the world. I can't change her mind. It would be like convincing you to give up music.

Kit: That wouldn't happen.

Piper: Exactly.

Kit: If she does cancel, tell her it pisses you off.

Piper: I do.

Kit: I want proof.

Piper: You're demanding.

Kit: Thank you.

Piper: Are you always demanding?

Kit: Sex is not on the approved discussion list.

Piper: You're no fun.

Kit: Fun isn't on it either.

Piper: Are you teasing?

Kit: Maybe.

Piper: You are. You like teasing.

Kit: That can be our secret too.

* * *

Thankfully, Rory doesn't cancel. I don't have to prove anything to Kit. Still, I text him when I get back from lunch.

I text him the next day. And the one after that. For the entire months of January and February, we spend every night—every single one—talking about everything and nothing.

Mostly, it's nothing—how well or poorly the show went, gossip about the other Dangerous Noise or Sinful Serenade guys (the headliners are gossip magnets), recaps of whatever TV shows or movies we're watching.

School is a drag. The only class I enjoy is drama. I pour myself into scene studies. I rehearse twice as much as necessary. I recruit classmates to do extra scenes with me.

No matter how hard I work, I want more. I want all my classes to be drama. I want all my free time devoted to acting. It's not good. I need to scratch this itch so I can focus on practical, money-making skills.

But my time is free and the house is lonely. Rory is busy with her boyfriend. I don't have much company.

Acting is the highlight of my days. Kit is the highlight of my nights.

On a sunny early March afternoon, post Bikram class, I settle onto the deck, ready to text Kit.

But I've already got something from him.

Kit: You ever see The Firm?

Piper: Why? Because I should be a lawyer?

Kit: Because it's amazing, over the top shit. But you should. Where have you been all afternoon?

Piper: Class then Bikram. I do it a few times a week. You think this figure comes naturally?

Kit: Hot yoga?

Piper: You've tried it?

Kit: Tried a lot of stuff in rehab. Don't tell me you haven't noticed how much hotter I am now than when I was using.

Piper: You've always been attractive.

Kit: You're not supposed to tell me.

Piper: You're in better shape, yes.

Kit: That's a start.

Piper: You're very, very hot. Do you work out a lot now?

Kit: All the time. It helps me focus. And I have to work off the sugar fix.

Piper: You have a sweet tooth?

Kit: Not exactly. It's more for the dopamine rush.

Piper: So sugar is the only fix you get?

Kit: And coffee.

Piper: And sex?

Kit: Haven't since that party.

I stare at my phone. Usually, any mention of sex sends him straight to a change of subject.

But he's answering here.

He really wants to talk about it.

Piper: Why not?

Kit: It's all wrapped together, sex, drugs, and treating people like shit.

Piper: Is that why you've been so cordial lately?

Kit: And tipping 50%.

Piper: As a former waitress, I appreciate that.

Kit: There's no way you're this coherent after hot yoga. I almost died the one time I tried it.

Piper: I'm sweaty and thirsty, but I'm fine.

Kit: I say bullshit.

I take a selfie and send it to prove my point.

Kit: You're barely wearing clothes in that picture.

Piper: I'm in a sports bra and shorts.

Kit: Those are shorts?

Piper: Yes.

Kit: They look like panties to me.

Piper: Only creepy people say "panties."

Kit: Uh-uh.

Piper: Yeah-huh.

Kit: And if I said, "Piper, take off your panties and spread your legs," you'd say "no way, Kit, that's creepy?"

Piper: If you told me to take off my panties, I'd be incoherent.

Kit: You hate the word that much?

Piper: You know what I mean.

Kit: I've had that affect on women before. I'm used to it.

Piper: Are you going to tell me what to wear now?

Kit: No.

Piper: But you want to.

Kit: Yes.

Piper: I appreciate that you respect me enough to bite your tongue.

Kit: Nothing to do with respect. If I tell you to do something, you'll do the opposite.

Piper: I will not.

Kit: Yeah, you will. So go naked at your next Bikram class.

Piper: Maybe I will.

Kit: Maybe I'll ask you to take a pic to prove it.

Piper: Last I heard, that's tacky.

Kit: It is.

Piper: So?

Kit: I'm a rock star. I'm allowed to be tacky. Don't go to your class naked. You'll get arrested.

Piper: Noted.

Kit: Still don't like thinking about some guy staring at your ass while you're in downward dog.

Piper: Will it make you feel better knowing my class is mostly women?

Kit: Yeah.

Piper: It is.

Kit: Good.

I lay the phone on my chest and lie back on the deck. The sun is warm on my skin, but that isn't why I feel hot. It's not the flush I worked up in my yoga class either.

It's Kit.

He's protective of me.

Possessive even.

And not in a she's my friend's baby sister way.

In a much, much more exciting kind of way.

* * *

My post-Bikram selfie starts a beautiful chain reaction. Kit starts sending pictures. We share the little moments that highlight our days.

He sends a post-workout selfie, proving that he really did spend three hours at the gym. Not that I care about math when I have a picture of Kit dripping with sweat on my phone.

I send a post-yoga selfie, proving that I am incredibly coherent after ninety minutes in a nearly 100 degree room.

He sends pictures of Joel making a fool of himself. I send the A I get on my literature term paper.

It becomes a part of our routine. We share our days with words and pictures. It makes it easier to come home to an empty house, to get through on-campus lunch or coffee alone—Rory is still in boyfriend land and most of my other friends ask about my brothers by minute five of our conversations.

I'm not as lonely as I was before I started talking to Kit.

He really is my friend, a good friend.

He really does brighten my days.

* * *

Tomorrow night is the last Dangerous Noise show before the break.

I should be thinking about how I'm finally going to see Kit in the flesh, about the delicious things he could do to me.

But I'm not.

I'm trying to study for this stupid bio test.

I'm barely pulling a C and this unit on cellular reproduction is giving me tension headaches. I can't remember any of the names of anything. I had an easier time learning every one of Juliet's lines.

I read over my notes five times. I copy them all by hand. I copy them onto flash cards. I quiz myself with the flashcards until I've got paper cuts on all eight fingers and both thumbs.

My brain is mush.

This test is tomorrow. I need to know this backwards and forwards.

I lean back in my chair and take a deep breath. The last hint of orange fades from the sky as the sun recedes into the Pacific Ocean. The nights here are beautiful. The dark blue ocean runs into the dark blue sky. The moon highlights the sand.

Nineteen years and I'm still not sick of staring at the ocean. As much as I want to live in a house that isn't owned by my asshole parents, I really like this house. Even all big and empty and lonely.

My stomach rumbles. I go downstairs and get to work fixing dinner.

I put on a pot of water. Once it's boiling, I crack spaghetti. In another pot, I heat up a cup of marinara sauce and a handful of frozen broccoli.

It takes about ten minutes until I have dinner on a plate. I eat quickly, savoring the firmness of the pasta and the tangy tomato of the sauce. It's nothing fancy, but it's something I made. It's my dinner. That makes it delicious.

When I'm finished, I leave the dish in the sink and head back to my room.

I try to pour myself into my flash cards but my brain is mush. I don't think twice. I immediately text Kit.

Piper: Please tell me I never need to do biology again after this semester.

Kit: That pick up line ever work before?

Piper: Don't tease. I'm freaking out.

Kit: Test tomorrow?

Piper: Yeah.

Kit: Call me. I'll quiz you.

Piper: Don't you have a show now?

Kit: You keep track of our schedule?

Piper: I thought so.

Kit: No show today.

Piper: How are you going to quiz me over the phone?

Kit: You have a study guide?

Piper: Of course.

Kit: Email it to me.

Piper: I don't think I've ever emailed you.

He sends his email address. It feels like a secret, but I'm not sure why. It's not like the guy does most of his communication through email.

I take a moment to send over the notes, and to check my Facebook messages to see if Rory is free this weekend. She's not. She's still off in boyfriend-land. It's been three months now.

She's my only close friend. She's the only person who I've known since before Ethan and Mal were famous. Which means she's the only person who doesn't see me as the girl with famous brothers.

I miss hanging out with her.

My phone's ring pulls me back to my room. That's Kit calling. Suddenly, I feel hot, really hot. And not at all dressed appropriately. And sweaty. And tongue-tied.

I pick up the phone. "Hey."

His deep voice flows through my speakers. "Hey."

"It's different, hearing your voice instead of seeing texts." I like it. I like it a lot. In fact, it's doing things to my knees and my stomach and especially to my sex.

"Good different?"

"Good different." I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. We're studying for my test. I can handle that. "Shouldn't I ask what you're wearing or something?"

"Depends what you're asking after that."

"Where are you?"

"Hotel room."

"Oh..." Now, I'm picturing Kit alone in his hotel room. "What are you wearing?"

"You first."

I look down at my pajama pants. "The sexiest thing in the world."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Are you ready to go out of your mind with desire?"

"Ready."

"Hello Kitty pajamas."

He chuckles. "That doesn't surprise me."

There's something about his voice, this lightness. He thinks I'm cute, yes, but is it in a my friend's baby sister is so innocent kind of way?

It sounds more like you're so cute I want to corrupt you.

I dig my fingers into my phone. "What about you?"

"Nothing as sexy as Hello Kitty pajamas."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"You're a tease." Goosebumps spread over my arms. My voice is shaky. "You said me first. That means you second."

His voice gets lower. "Jeans."

"And?"

"That's it."

"Boxers?"

"I shouldn't—"

"Deal's a deal."

"No boxers."

I nearly drop the phone. No boxers. Kit isn't wearing boxers. Kit is commando under his jeans.

It's really hot in here. The polyester pajama bottoms aren't helping. I need to be out of them, now. I need to be out of all my clothes in that hotel room with him.

"You go commando?" I ask.

"Yeah."

And there goes my concentration. There is no way I'll learn anything about biology now. There is no way I'll think about anything but him rubbing against his jeans.

I reach for something, anything, I can say. "Tomorrow's the last show before the tour ends."

He lets out one of those guy grunts that means yes.

"First time we'll actually see each other in a while."

"That bad?"

No, it's scary. What if he still looks at me like I'm some innocent kid he's supposed to protect?

What if he looks at me like he wants me?

I like Kit. A lot. And I really don't give a fuck about the way my brothers think I'll be ruined by a bad boy.

But I'm not stupid. I know that me and Kit getting together would mean a hell of a lot of trouble for him, for everyone in Dangerous Noise.

It shouldn't be that way— I'm an adult, my brothers should have no say in who I date—but it is.

"Piper?" His deep voice draws me back. "You there?"

"No. It's good. But what if you don't recognize me?"

"You sent me a picture two days ago."

"I dyed my hair yesterday."

"You didn't mention that."

"I didn't think you were into makeup and beauty tips. You don't wear eyeliner like Ethan does."

He chuckles. "Is it that different?"

"Hold on." I check my phone's gallery for my best post DIY dye job selfie then I send it to Kit.

"You're wearing Hello Kitty pajamas in this pic."

My cheeks flush. I laugh nervously. "That's true. You can tell me if it looks bad. That's what friends are for."

"No, it's cute. Light."

"Too light?"

"No."

"Trashy light?"

"No. Looks natural, give or take. Any reason why you changed it?"

"In the mood to change my look." Away from innocent, plain good girl. "You know how it goes. Or maybe not. You've been rocking the motorcycle boots for a long time."

His laugh gets lighter, higher. "Thanks for noticing."

"Even in the summer. Don't you get hot?"

"I wear sandals."

"You do not."

"On occasion."

"And shorts?"

"On rarer occasions."

"I'd like to see that." I'm sure Kit still looks out of this world hot in shorts and sandals. I'm sure he still looks like a rock star bad ass.

"You do that yourself?"

"What?"

"Your hair?"

"Yeah. Me and Sally's Beauty."

"Looks professional."

"Thanks. I, uh, well, you'll see it in person tomorrow. You can see how good it looks. I'm... I'm looking forward to that. Since we're friends and all."

"Don't lie Piper."

"Huh?" Please say, we're not friends, I want you, you want me. Let's get a hotel room after the show and fuck like rabbits.

"You want to rope me into studying tomorrow. It's easier in person."

I let out another nervous laugh. "Yeah, I get to brag in class tomorrow. I have a rock star study buddy. Who else can say that?"

"You've had two rock star study buddies for a while. I'd put good money on Ethan and Mal insisting they help you."

"They do."

"Joel would help too. That makes four."

"I feel popular."

"You are."

"Yep. I'm the band pet."

"It's not like that. You're a nice girl—"

"I will hang this phone up right now."

"No you won't," he teases. "You want to talk to me."

I admit nothing.

"I could go on and on about what a nice girl you are, but you'd still stay on the line."

I bite my lip to keep from begging him to go on and on about what a nice girl I am. I'm getting the feeling it ends with and I'm going to corrupt you.

I'm getting delusional.

I need sleep.

His deep voice flows through the speakers. "But, I won't torture you. How about a sweet girl?"

"Better."

"People want to see you do well. I get it. I've known you since you were sixteen. You were a kid then. Now, you're a woman."

"You really think so?"

He's quiet for a long moment. When he speaks, his voice is too even to give anything away. "You're a sweet girl, Piper."

I'm not sure what that means, but I like the way his voice feels in my ears.