I had already made it back to the studio when I realized I'd never gotten a bottle of water. With Liam at my back, it was too embarrassing to turn around and backtrack. I'd just have to wait until our next break.

When I made it back to the music room I found Gael and Nathan huddled together, staring down at their phones with frowns on their faces.

"Bad news?" I asked, dread filling my chest.

Gael's head shot up, slightly panicked look in his eyes. "No," he lied.

I immediately pulled out my phone and checked my messages.

"Oh shit," I murmured, staring down at the newest email from the label's marketing department. All thoughts of Liam fled.

Nathan and Gael looked at me cautiously, as if waiting for an outburst. My heart sunk as I scrolled past the latest comments on a local music blog's latest post.

A cold nudge against my fingers startled me. Liam placed a bottle of water in my hand.

"Don't want to strain your voice," he said with an imperceptible smile.

I took it from him gingerly with a muttered thanks before looking back at my phone.

"What is it?" Liam asked, noticing the tension in the room.

"It's just a bad review," my brother said. "Not the end of the world."

But it wasn't the review that had bile rising in my throat.

"They're trashing us in the comments," I told Liam. "Someone's saying our last performance was one of the worst they'd ever seen. That I—" I cut myself off, nausea taking root in my gut. I felt sick, queasy — and above all, angry.

"Cerise?" Liam prompted when I failed to speak. "What's wrong?"

I swallowed around the lump in my throat. I didn't even want to say it out loud. I turned my phone around and showed it to him.

Liam winced.

"Shit," he cursed. "You shouldn't read things like this. Don't listen to those kinds of people."

The commenter on the blog post had written that the only reason Cherry Lips got a record contract must have been because I'd—

And at this part, the anger in my chest turned into pure rage.

—because I'd fucked one of the music execs.

"Why would somebody say something like that?" I paced back and forth furiously. "Why would somebody write that for everyone else to see? It's horrible and disgusting and—" The more I continued speaking, the faster and faster the words tumbled from my mouth. "No one would accuse any of you guys of sleeping your way to the top,” I spat. “It's revolting sexist bullshit and—"

"Cerise." Liam placed a hand on my shoulder. I cut off my rambling with a snap of my jaw. His hand was soothing as it ran up and down my arm. It was similar to our first meeting, when he had touched me in the artist lounge. This time there was nothing sensual about the motion. It was meant purely for comfort.

My heartbeat began to slow with every stroke of his palm.

"Ignore those people," Liam told me. "They're just internet trolls. They're jealous of your success. If they could do what you do, they'd be the ones up on stage and not the ones leaving shitty comments on some stupid blog. Don't pay attention to them."

"But—"

"I understand wanting to know what people are saying about you, but it's only going to act as a distraction," he said.

A distraction.

Liam was right. It was a distraction.

And maybe it was a bad distraction, getting in the way of my work.

But maybe, angsting about other people were saying was better than angsting over all the shit I'd been trying to suppress. It was easier. If I kept all my focus outward, I didn't have to deal with the creeping darkness threatening to overtake me at the very thought of Har—

"I want you to promise me something," Liam said, interrupting my thoughts.

The warmth of his touch helped calm me. Some of the anxiety that manifested itself as tightness in my chest slowly began to ease.

"Promise you what?" I asked.

"Don't go on the Internet for the next few weeks," Liam said.

I let out a choked snort. "What century are you living in?" I asked him.

"I'm not saying cut yourself off completely, but the only thing you should be worrying about is this tour. If you want us to be ready in time, you need to focus on what's important… like me," he said with a cheeky grin.

"You think you're the most important thing I should be paying attention to? You really do have an overactive ego."

I knew Liam was just trying to distract me and keep the rumor off of my mind. As annoyed and upset as I had been with him before, and as much as I had pushed him away, I had to be grateful that he had found a way to calm me down. My tensed muscles had begun to wind down, and my nails were no longer biting into my skin.

"Thanks," I murmured quietly.

Liam gave me one last pat on my back before standing.

"Why don't we continue practice?" Liam said.

"Sounds good to me," Nathan said. He was eyeing Liam and I curiously.

I hated that I'd gotten so upset, but it was almost worse that the guys had watched Liam soothe me like an upset child. I'd been so resolved to keep it together around him, especially when we were in front of the others. At least I could reassure myself that I hadn't been swooning over Liam like some fourteen-year-old girl. It was a small favor, but I would take it. The last thing I needed was for my band members to know I had this stupid, silly crush on my new guitarist.

I'd worked so hard to prove myself in the music industry. Being a girl in a rock band was never going to be easy. I had to show I could hack it. I had to be a professional. I didn't want to risk losing all of the respect I'd built up.

Liam slung his guitar strap over his shoulder and nodded his head to me.

"You ready to start?" he asked.

I stood up from the sofa and grabbed my microphone.

"I'm ready," I said. "I'm not going to let stuff like this keep on bothering me."

Even if that wasn't quite true, at least I could pretend.

I didn't know if I'd be able to keep myself from reading trashy blog rumors, but the memory of Liam’s palm on my bare skin — the memory of his hands, of his fingers, entwined with mine — made me want to keep my promise.