Thank god for leftover donuts and homemade face masks. I had gotten back from Boston super late. Cassie and Penny were long gone, but Grace had kindly left out the uneaten donuts. At that point, after the kiss and the drive, I’d had no shame and ate two of them standing up in the kitchen.

After sleeping in late, I was woken by the sound of Grace puttering around the kitchen. I threw on my favorite sweatpants and droopy-necked shirt, and padded into the living room to find my roommate doing what she always did on Sunday mornings. She’d get up early, go to the farmer’s market, stock up on supplies, come home, and experiment with face masks for the better part of the evening.

Luckily for me, she always needed guinea pigs for her beauty experiments.

“Whatcha cooking, good looking?” I asked her.

“Just a honey oatmeal mask with a bit of lavender,” she told me, not looking up as she mixed her concoction.

It looked a little bit like a bowl of oatmeal that had gone gray. But it smelled amazing.

“What’s it good for?” I sat down on the couch behind her.

“Soothing tired skin,” she glanced back at me. “Want to try it?”

I pulled my hair back into a ponytail. “Oatmeal me up,” I told her.

Five minutes later, I had about a pound of oatmeal on my face and another donut on my plate. It wasn’t the healthiest breakfast, but I had no regrets. I had gone to sleep last night unable to stop thinking about the kiss.

Annoyingly, Austin had become an even better kisser over the past eight years.

I could still feel the way his hands had cupped my face, how he had used them to deepen the kiss. How close our bodies had been, how I felt that long, hard length of him against my hip. It had ignited something inside of me that I thought I had gotten over. That I had hoped I’d left back in that stairwell, a long time ago.

“You seem distracted,” Grace observed, her own face covered with some strangely textured orange mask, wearing a fluffy pink robe that clashed with it and her red hair terribly. Somehow, she still managed to look adorable.

“I am,” I confessed. “Last night was . . .” I trailed off, not even knowing how to describe it.

“That’s right!” Grace twisted towards me on the couch. “You went to Boston for Austin.” She grinned. “That rhymes.”

“First of all.” I held up a finger. “I did not go to Boston for Austin.”

Grace giggled.

“I went to Boston for work,” I corrected her. “That’s the only reason I was there.”

“Mmmhmm.” Grace sipped at her coffee, looking unconvinced.

I rolled my eyes. “I would not drive all the way to Boston just because some guy asked me to.”

“I would,” Grace said earnestly. “If he was the right guy.”

I could already see Grace getting all starry-eyed about the whole thing. I loved my roommate, but she could be naively optimistic, especially in matters of the heart. She believed in true love and soulmates and all that stuff. I was a realist.

Not necessarily because I wanted to be, but because experience had forced me to be. Years of bad dates and awkward sex and guys who just didn’t get me. If I had a soulmate out there, he was doing a really good job at playing hard to get.

In the meantime, however, I seemed to find myself attracted to less than worthy men. Austin was just another example of that. He had been my first bad decision when it came to matters of the heart, and now it looked like he was doing his best to be my most recent bad decision.

But damn, could he kiss.

“Something happened last night.” Grace hit me on the arm. “I can tell from the look in your eyes.”

Dammit. I had been caught by my extremely observant roommate. Grace might come off to most people as a flaky, new-agey type, but I knew that she was sharp as a tack.

“OK,” I confessed. “Something did happen.” I took a deep breath. “Austin kissed me.”

“Ohmigod!” Grace practically stood up on the couch. “Why? When? How? And how was it? Was it good? I bet it was good. I bet it was really, really good.”

I held up my hand.

“It was good,” I told her.

She squealed, putting her hands to her chest.

“But that’s the problem,” I said, letting my head drop back against the couch cushions. “I’m supposed to be interviewing him, not making out with him.”

“It can’t be both?” Grace asked.

“Not if I want people to take me seriously as a journalist,” I reminded her. “How is it going to look if I’m hooking up with my subject?”

“I think anyone with eyes would completely understand,” Grace teased, but I shook my head.

“You know that’s not how it works,” I told her.

She sobered, and slowly nodded.

“I know,” she said glumly. “It’s just not fair.” She glanced over at me. “How was it? The kiss. Was it good? Tell me it was good.”

“It was good. So, so good,” I groaned. “Which just makes all of this worse.”

“Do you like him?” Grace wanted to know.

“I don’t know,” I confessed. “He’s sending me all these mixed signals. One minute he’s friendly and flirting, the next he’s leaving me at a bar by myself. He’s ignoring my questions, but inviting me to see him play. He’s refusing to let me do my job, but kisses me in the parking lot. I don’t know what the hell he wants.”

Grace thought about it for a moment. “Maybe he doesn’t know what he wants.”

“Ugh!” I threw up my hands. “This whole thing is so annoying.” I punched one of our couch pillows in frustration. “I don’t even know who the real Austin is.”

“What do you mean?” Grace wanted to know.

“Is he the cocky player that gets off girls in bathrooms, or is he the nice, genuine guy I always knew in school?” I wanted to pull my hair out. “He’s hot and cold—and I can’t get a read on him.”

Grace nodded sympathetically. “So what are you going to do?” she asked.

“There’s only one thing I can do. My job,” I told her.

We both sipped our coffee, our homemade masks drying on our faces. Then there was a knock at the door.

“Did you order food?” I asked, getting up. “You read my mind!” I opened the door without checking the peephole.

Huge mistake.

Austin stood in the hallway, looking effortlessly cool in a pair of jeans and a worn Jeff Buckley shirt. He raised an eyebrow at my appearance, but said nothing. Even though I was dying of humiliation inside—could his timing be any worse?—I tried not to let it show. Instead, I forced a look of mild annoyance onto my face.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded.

“I wanted to apologize,” he told me.

His expression was placid but I could see a smile curling at the corner of his mouth—trying to escape. No doubt he found my appearance amusing. But I wasn’t amused. Far from it.

“Is something funny?” I asked, putting my hands on my hips.

“Nope,” he responded quickly, his gaze dropping downward.

To my fuzzy bunny slippers.

Austin made a choked sound, like a laugh he was trying to pass off as a cough.

“I like your outfit,” he finally said.

I slammed the door shut.

Unfortunately, he’d had the forethought to stick his foot out and what should have been a satisfying slam just ended up being the door bouncing off of Austin’s boot and back into my hand.

I let go of the door and stormed back into my apartment. I heard Austin follow me, his heavy boots audible on our hardwood floors.

“Who was it?” Grace was still sitting on the couch, flipping through channels, her face smeared with her face mask.

She glanced over at me when I entered the living room, the remote falling from her hands as she saw who was in our apartment.

“Hi,” Austin said from behind me.

Grace’s mouth dropped open and she leapt to her feet. “Ohmigod,” she gasped, her eyes wide open. “You’re Austin James.”

Austin nodded, and I could tell he was doing his level best not to react to Grace’s face mask, which was even more ridiculous than mine. Instead, he reached out his hand towards her.

“And you are?”

“Oh! Of course.” Grace shook his hand. “I’m Grace Tennant. Mia’s roommate.”

“Nice to meet you, Grace.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Grace told him earnestly. She was probably the only person I knew who could say that phrase without it sounding like a dirty innuendo.

We all stood there in silence for a moment.

“So,” Grace said, drawing out the word. “Can I get you anything, Austin?”

“No,” I said just as Austin politely countered:

“A glass of water would be great,” he told Grace.

She gave him a huge grin and scurried off to the kitchen. After a few moments I heard a yelp of surprise, and I realized that Grace had probably just seen herself in one of the many reflective surfaces in the kitchen. My suspicion was confirmed when I heard her running out of the kitchen and into our shared bathroom, the door slamming shut behind her, and water turning on.

Even though a part of me wanted to do the exact same thing, I stood my ground, facing Austin—with my face mask and fuzzy slippers.

“What are you doing here, Austin?” I asked again.

He at least had the good sense to look a little sheepish.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “About last night.”

“You already apologized about last night,” I reminded him. “We already agreed that the kiss was a mistake.”

It had hurt to hear him say that, but I had dealt with it the best I could. The last thing I wanted to do was rehash my old rejection.

“I’m not talking about the kiss,” Austin said.

“Oh.” For the first time, I was glad for the thick paste on my face—that way Austin couldn’t see me blush.

“I’m sorry about the way I’ve been acting—in regards to the interview.”

“You mean how you’ve been acting like a spoiled brat who doesn’t want anything to do with me?” I asked.

The corner of his lips quirked upwards. “Yeah, something like that. I want to make it up to you.”

“How?” I crossed my arms.

“I’m going out of town this weekend,” he told me. “I have a cabin upstate where I work, and I was thinking you could come with me. Get a chance to talk about the article without the crush of the city all around us. Without fans or managers or bandmates. Just you and me. Really talking,” he promised. “No more games, I swear.”

I swallowed. Hard.

Because I’d had lots of fantasies that involved just Austin and me. And after last night’s kiss, those fantasies had been playing havoc with my sense of control. It didn’t help that he seemed completely earnest about the whole thing.

“When are you leaving?” I asked.

“Whenever you’re ready,” he told me.

I blinked. “Now?”

He nodded. “My car is downstairs. I can wait for you there while you get your things.” He paused, looked at me. “That is, if you’re interested.”

“Yes,” I said, way too quickly. “I mean, sure. I think I can make that work.”

He grinned at me and my stupid body got all hot and bothered.

“Great,” he said. “I promise to be a more responsive subject.”

“Good,” I croaked, imagining exactly how responsive he could be.

“I’ll be downstairs,” he told me.

“OK,” I managed. “Give me ten minutes.”

I expected him to leave, but instead, he took a step towards me. He lifted his hand, and automatically I leaned towards it. But he didn’t cup my cheek the way he had done last night, the way I had expected. Instead, he dragged a finger through the thick mask on my face and popped it in his mouth.

“Mmm,” he said. “Sweet.”

Then, he turned and left.

I waited until I heard the door close before I hollered for Grace. She immediately came careening out of the bathroom to find me, leaning against the wall, trying to catch my breath.

“What happened?” she demanded. “Where did he go? What’s going on?”

“He tasted my face mask,” was all I could manage.

Grace stared at me. “What?”

“He did this,” I mimed exactly what he had done, and Grace’s eyes went wide.

“Well, he probably shouldn’t have, considering there were uncooked egg whites in that,” she mused.

“Grace!” I grabbed her arms. “Uncooked egg whites are the least of my problems right now.”

“Right, right.” She gave herself a little shake. “Sorry. So he tasted your face mask and then—?”

“Actually, he invited me to stay with him at his cabin for the weekend,” I told her. “And then he tasted my face.” I made a face. “Jeez. It sounds so dirty when I say it like that.”

“Yeah it does.” Grace gave me her best impression of a lecherous expression, which was still adorably innocent.

“Focus,” I ordered both of us.

“Right.” Grace faced me. “So Austin asked you to his cabin for the weekend. What did you say?”

“I said yes?”

Grace’s eyes went even wider.

“For work!” I insisted.

“Sure,” Grace said. “For work.”

Obviously she didn’t believe me. I couldn’t blame her—I didn’t believe me either.

“This is a bad idea,” I said, sinking down onto the couch.

Grace nodded, sitting down next to me.

“I can go tell him that you can’t go,” she offered.

“No!” I said, again way too quickly.

“Or I can not do that,” Grace grinned at me.

“What have I gotten myself into?” I groaned.

Grace faced me. “Look,” she said. “If you go with Austin, you’ll probably get really good material for this interview.”

I nodded.

“Nothing else has to happen,” she added.

I gave her a look.

“If you don’t want it to,” she concluded. “But if you do . . .” She lifted her hands. “Well, then you can just chalk up whatever happens to fate or karma or something else.”

“Nothing is going to happen,” I said, with more confidence than I felt.

“Then everything will be fine.” Grace patted me on the knee.

“I’m only doing this for the job,” I told her.

“Yep,” she said, getting off the couch. “Just make sure you pack condoms. For the job.”

---

I didn’t pack condoms. Because nothing was going to happen. In fact, I packed nothing sexy, or revealing, or enticing. I even made sure to pack my bunny slippers. I was going to Austin’s cabin to do my job—and I’d be doing it in sweatpants and a ratty sweater. We had both agreed that last night’s kiss had been a mistake. Anything else would be an even bigger mistake.

With my duffle bag slung over my shoulder, I headed down to the street. Just as he had promised, Austin was outside waiting in his car. I wasn’t sure what I had been expecting him to drive, but it certainly wasn’t the dusty blue pick-up truck sitting at the curb. It was a nice truck, clearly well-cared for, but it wasn’t flashy or sleek.

“Ready to go?” Austin asked, taking my bag from me.

I managed a nod, though I was distracted by the beautiful image of his muscles flexing in his tight shirt as he put my bag behind the seat in the cab. Then he opened the door for me, holding out his hand to help me up into the high truck.

The moment our fingers touched, there was a spark. I did my best to ignore it, telling myself that it was just static or something else like that.

We got into the truck, and you could cut the tension with a knife. I sat on one side of the long seat, trying not to be completely and painfully aware of Austin, sitting only a few inches away. It felt as if the air was crackling between us.

“You want to pick the music?” Austin asked, tossing me his iPhone. “There’s a jack to hook it to the main system.”

“Sure.” I scrolled curiously through his library until I found some classic country music.

He laughed. “You like Jonny Cash?”

“It seemed like it matched the truck.”

Austin grinned at me, but I made sure to keep my eyes straight ahead, even though it was a real pleasure just to look at him. But that wasn’t what I was here for, and it was best that I kept reminding myself that. This was about work. Not pleasure. Definitely not pleasure. Definitely not the kind of pleasure I’d been deprived of for a very, very, very long time. Nope. No time for that.

So I stared straight ahead and kept my hands folded in my lap and my legs crossed at my ankles. Austin pulled away from the front of my building and headed into New York City traffic. It wasn’t until we were off of Manhattan and heading deeper upstate that Austin let out a low, long sigh, as if it was something he had been holding in for hours. Maybe even days.

The day was absolutely beautiful. Austin had rolled the windows down when we left the city, and the air was fragrant with springtime blossoms. All around us was green and bright, plants blooming, trees thick with leaves.

I loved Manhattan, but sometimes it was nice to get out of the city. It had been a long time since my last vacation, something I didn’t even realize until we were a good hour or so away from home.

Austin hummed along with the music, and slowly, I began to relax. I draped my arm out the window and leaned my head back against my seat, letting the wind ruffle my hair. The sky was clear and blue, a couple of fluffy white clouds off in the distance doing nothing to block the bright sunshine that streamed down on us.

“It’s nice to get away, isn’t it?” Austin asked.

It was the first thing either of us had said since leaving the city.

“Yeah,” I agreed.

“You’ll like the cabin,” he told me. “A lot more of this.”

I looked over at him, and he gestured towards the beautiful horizon. The sun made his skin glow, and his eyes seemed to sparkle even more than usual. He seemed happier out here. More at ease.

Not that he was someone who seemed uncomfortable with himself. I had seen him come alive on stage, in front of a crowd, but this was different. This was another side of him. It was even a different version of the person I remembered from holiday dinners.

That Austin had been polite, but guarded. Always a little withdrawn. And the Austin I knew from the stage was bold and brash, but also always seemed to be holding something back. This Austin, the one sitting on the other side of the seat, was more relaxed than I’d ever seen him before. He seemed completely comfortable in his skin.

All these pieces that made up one man.

He too had his arm hanging out the window, and I could hear his fingers drumming along the side of the car door in rhythm with the song that was playing on the stereo.

“So,” he said, glancing over at me for a second. “Did you pack any of those weird monster face mask things for the weekend?”

“Monster face masks?” I laughed. “I’ll have you know that my roommate makes those by hand and they are exceptionally good for your skin.”

“Sure,” he agreed with a nod. “But they make you look like a monster.”

“Didn’t stop you from molesting my monster face mask,” I pointed out, grinning.

He laughed. “Touché.” Austin gave me a sideways glance. “What was in that, anyways? It tasted like breakfast.”

“Oatmeal and honey,” I told him. “And raw egg whites. Grace was very concerned about you ingesting them.”

Austin made a face. “Am I going to die?”

“From raw egg whites?” I asked. “I don’t know. Guess we’ll find out.”

“No sympathy, huh?”

I shook my head, smiling. “None at all.”

He gave me a look, and after a moment, both of us burst out laughing.

“Cold-hearted,” Austin teased. “I was warned about girls like you.”

“Not as much as I was warned about guys like you,” I shot back, the tension broken.

“Oh yeah?” Austin raised an eyebrow. “What is a ‘guy like me,’ exactly?”

“Please,” I scoffed. “You know exactly the kind of guy you are. The bad boy rock star that all the girls go crazy over.”

Austin was quiet for a moment.

“Is that what you think of me?” he asked.

“It’s what the world thinks of you,” I said playfully. “Tough life.”

I realized it was almost exactly the same thing I had said to him that night in college, when we had gone to the food trucks and one of the girls working there had flirted with him. Both then and now, he seemed uncomfortable with the descriptor.

“But hey.” I leaned back in my seat. “You have the whole weekend to prove me wrong.”