When I return to the main room, Miles and Pete are back at the bench.

Miles shakes his head. "That was embarrassingly fast. You're better than that. I've heard you go for half an hour. A whole hour once." He looks at me. "Was a sight, well, a sound to behold."

I clear my throat. "The way you're phrasing that suggests that you were trying to catch us."

"Why would I do something like that?" Miles feigns innocence.

Pete can't muster up the enthusiasm to banter back. He shrugs.

Miles looks between us. His expression shifts, an acknowledgment of the tension in the room. He doesn't mention it. Just pulls his guitar into his lap.

"How about No Way in Hell?" he asks.

"That the only song you know acoustic?" Pete teases, but his heart isn't in it.

"When you have a voice this beautiful, you don't need to know anything." He slides a guitar pick between his teeth and spends a moment tuning. "You doing it Pete Steele style or Miles Webb style?"

"I'm a poor imitation," Pete says.

"It's a pretty good imitation."

Pete chuckles, shifting out of his bad mood. "You pretend you hate it."

"At first, I did hate it. But after Drew punched Tom… that warmed my heart."

"First time he punched someone besides you."

"Someone in the band, yeah." Miles laughs. "You really did instigate that one. All that shit about love being worth it and you wanting him to be happy."

"Getting at something?" Pete asks.

"No. Like Drew says, gotta entertain myself somehow when my girl is working." He pulls his shirt down his chest. "You can't pull off the imitation without the hot tattoos. You can admit you're jealous." Miles points to a tattoo of a rose covered in thorns. "Can't beat this."

I nod my agreement. "You can't." Pete's is better, but I'm still pissed and needy. I'm not admitting anything. And I am making this difficult. "Though I am fond of Pete's thigh tattoo. I'm lucky I get some insight into what he's been through."

"Jess—" Pete's eyes narrow.

"Plus, I get an up close and personal view when I suck him off."

Miles clears his throat. "As much as I prefer you dirty talking to Pete dirty talking, I'm gonna clear the room next time either of you goes there."

"You jealous?" Pete asks.

"No offense, Jess—you're a beautiful woman. Back in the day, I would have thrown you on the bed and made you come three times. But, no, I can't even think about other women anymore. Not even if I try."

"Think that counts as dirty talk," Pete says. "Gonna clear the floor?"

Miles looks from Pete to me. "If you guys need another fifteen minutes."

"No. It's fine." Pete's gaze goes to the piano.

"Whatever it is, I won't tell Tom." Miles pushes himself off the bench. "It's not my place but—"

Pete scowls. "You're right. It's not."

"You can be pissed if you want. Anybody would be pissed three months after their girlfriend of six years betrayed their trust. Would ask himself how he didn't see the fucking signs."

"Can we get on with this?"

The aloofness falls off Miles's face. "You're not yourself lately."

Pete huffs. "Play the God damn song."

Miles looks to me as if he's asking my permission. It's sweet that he's concerned about my well being. At least someone is.

My body and heart are still at war. As pissed as I am about Pete's mixed signals, I really, really want to hear him sing.

I nod. "Please play the song."

Miles shakes his head like he finds this a bad idea. Still, he positions his limbs. "Show must go on." He strums the guitar.

The acoustic version of the song fills the room. I press my hands into my thighs as I watch Miles's hands move.

Then Pete starts singing and I can't feel anything but his voice.

I've heard this song a million times. It played on the radio, every single hour, for months. It was inescapable.

But I never heard it like this.

Three am and I can't sleep

A common refrain, I know

As a sentiment, it's cheap

Someone to call To hold

To love no way that word-

She smiles and I drift away—

Oh hell no

This can't be

No way I, no way she

anyone else, maybe

but not me

I don't do this kind of thing.

The words sound so different on Pete's lips. There's a certain relief to them when Miles sings it, like he's embracing falling in love even though he's scared of it. But Pete sings with pure resistance.

Morning now and I can't think

of anything but her laugh, he cries

the sound she makes when I sink

my teeth/oh wow, those details

are mine to keep/ but she's not

And suddenly I want-

Oh hell no

This can't be

No way I, no way she

anyone else, maybe

but not me

I don't do this kind of thing

My heart pounds against my chest. His voice is dripping with pain. No wonder he's running at the speed of light. He doesn't want to fall in love again.

He's not being cruel on purpose.

But that doesn't make it any more excusable.

When they're finished I offer a small clap. "That was beautiful. Thank you." I scoop my books into my hands and keep my eyes anywhere but Pete's. "But I really should finish this assignment."

"There's a desk in the guest room." Miles sets the guitar down. "I'll show you."

"Thanks."

I can feel Pete staring at us as Miles leads me up the stairs. He takes me to a large room with colorful decoration and a wide desk and explains all the bits and pieces of it.

He lingers in the door for a minute. "Want me to talk to him?"

"You strike me as the kind of guy who will do whatever you feel like doing, no matter what I say."

"Fair point. Do you?"

"You think it's a good idea?"

Miles nods. "Something is wrong. Pete's always been the steadiest guy in the band. I keep pretty cool. Not so much back in the day. But now, I can take shit in stride. Tom and Drew—they fly off the handle like that." Miles snaps.

"You push their buttons."

He smiles. "Me? No."

"You enjoy it."

He nods. "Teasing is great when everyone is on board. When they're not—" He cocks a brow. "What the hell happened? You still look needy."

"I barely know you," I say. "I'm not about to share my relationship problems with you." That's already too much.

"I can give him a verbal lashing about being a cunt-tease."

"No. I'm the one who stopped him." I bite my lip. "It's complicated."

"He does care about you. Whatever is going on. He does."

"What do you mean?"

"Details don't add up. I don't care. Whatever you're trying to prove, whoever you're trying to prove it to, it's not my place to get in the way."

Miles knows we're full of shit.

I swallow hard. I'm not going to convince him otherwise. The best I can hope for is a poker face.

"I'm not gonna let him fuck this up. He cares about you. Make him realize that."

"How do you know?" I ask.

"Known the man since he was thirteen. I can see past the bullshit. Tom… he's gonna see that you're pretending. Pete's real good at convincing everyone he doesn't need help. I get it cause I'm the same way."

"Is it that obvious?" I ask.

"No. Aiden said something. Doubt anyone else picked up on it. Especially given how Drew and Tom were bickering." Miles shifts his weight. "I remember how it felt, losing the only family I had left. I never thought I'd breathe again." He pulls down his shirt and points to a tattoo that says be brave, live. "My uncle. He was a great guy. I spiraled out of control a lot worse than Pete did. Was lucky I had people who cared about me when I hit bottom."

"I'm sorry. I'm not following."

"He told you about his tattoo?"

I nod.

"He's never told anyone about that."

"How do you know?"

"Heard him and Cindy screaming enough times to know. They fought like cats and dogs. But I get it. Sometimes, you hold onto something so long that you don't know how to let go."

The sun pokes through the window. It casts orange light over the room. It's almost evening. Already.

I can't stomach talking about this anymore. I set my laptop on the desk. "I'm going to study now. Are you going to talk to him?"

"Only about the song."

"Oh. Good."

"Mmm." He steps into the hallway. "Maybe a word about being a tease. That's no good."

My laugh diffuses the tension in my back.

Miles nods a goodbye. I settle into the desk with my assignment. But once the piano music floats into my ears, I can't concentrate for shit.

* * *

It takes hours to get through my assignment. When I finish, I hide under the pink comforter with my Kindle and a soapy YA romance. Ah, life really was so much simpler before sex complicated everything.

It wasn't better, but writing off boys made it simpler.

High school was awful. Between acing my classes, serving as editor of the school paper, and taking care of Dad and Madison, I had no free time. College offered a little more freedom, a little more time, but mostly I filled it with worry. And with Nathan.

It's late when someone finally knocks on the door. The handle turns and Pete steps into the room. The light from the moon casts highlights over his face. It's not fair how beautiful he is. It makes it harder to resist him.

"We should go," he says.

No apology. Not even a word about his ruthless teasing.

I turn my back to him. "I don't want to go."

"We're overstaying our welcome."

"Then you go." I hug my chest. It takes great effort to keep my voice strong and steady. "I'll ask Miles if he minds me spending the night."

Pete takes steps towards me. The weight on the bed shifts as he sits next to me.

His fingers graze my neck then they're back at his sides. "I'm not leaving you here alone."

His voice is heavy. Is he worried about me or about himself?

I keep my eyes on the pastel bedspread. "I'm not alone. Miles and Meg are here."

"You know what I mean."

I try to wait him out. Nothing. For a full minute, the room is filled only with the sound of our breath.

Finally, I break the silence. "Are you going to apologize?"

"I got carried away."

"That's not an apology."

"Come on, Jess." Frustration breaks through his calm voice. "We'll talk at home."

"At your home."

"It's our place."

"No, it's your place. I have a corner of a room. It's not even decorated with my stuff. It's still Tom's because you'll kick me out as soon as I stop being useful to you."

"If you want another room, you can have it. Decorate however you want. I don't care about that house."

"It's easy to offer things if you don't care about them." I pull the blanket tighter around my chest.

Pete leans closer. He brushes my hair behind my ears. "What do you want?"

I turn, so we're eye to eye. There's all this intention in his deep brown eyes, but I've got no clue what it is he's intending.

I swallow hard. My voice is a whisper. "You knew what you were doing."

His gaze goes to the blue light falling through the window. "I'm sorry if I led you on."

"There's no if."

"I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."

"Is that what you do when you forget your inhibitions—you call me baby?"

"It was dirty talk." His posture stiffens. "Didn't mean anything."

I push myself to a seated position. I need some semblance of power here. Even if being inches from him is doing things to my concentration. Damn body is fighting with my heart again. It doesn't need to respect itself in the morning. It doesn't care about anything but getting its satisfaction.

I allow myself a second to consider it. If it's all physical, if I use him to get my pleasure and give him nothing—

No. Even that won't work. I can't separate love and sex. Not with Pete. Not right now.

"You said you'd never lie to me." I stare into his eyes. "Don't start now."

"What do you want to hear?"

"Explain why you're playing with my feelings."

"I don't want to lead you on." He shifts off the bed.

"Do you love me?"

"No."

His voice is utterly to the point. He didn't even have to think about it.

"Are you falling in love with me?"

"This isn't going to be a relationship."

"That's not an answer."

"I'm not answering. It doesn't matter." His stoic facade breaks. For a second, his expression fills with vulnerability. He runs his hand through his hair. It's like the words are on the tip of his tongue. Like he's desperate to tell me how he feels. "This isn't going to be a relationship."

"Why can't it be a relationship?" I swallow hard. "You tell me things you don't tell anyone. You get carried away calling me baby. You have feelings for me too. Give me one good reason why you can't throw away that idea and let yourself fall in love with me."

"I can't."

That's it. He can't.

No. I shake my head. "Bullshit. You don't want to."

"Fine. I don't want to." He takes a step backwards.

"That's a choice you're making."

"Yeah."

"I can make choices too."

He stares back at me.

"I'm not going home with you tonight. That's my choice. I…" I thought I could trust him. I was wrong.

Pete holds strong. "They're gonna—"

"Miles already knows. He more or less told me." I smooth my skirt, but the gesture doesn't soothe me. "If they don't want me here, I'll take a cab somewhere. I'm not going home with you. Not tonight."

"You said you could handle this."

"You didn't mention that you'd lead me on." He certainly didn't mention that he'd be fucking perfect in every fucking way. "How do you expect me to feel when you hold me and whisper you'll be okay in my ear, with that sexy, reassuring voice?"

His expression hardens. "Fine. I'll see you tomorrow. What do you want me to tell them?"

"I don't care. You think of something."

He takes a step backwards. "I'm not trying to hurt you."

Yeah, but he's succeeding. "It's only another week until your brother's wedding. I'll be fine as long as you stop pretending."

"Pretending what?"

"That you care about me."

"Jess. I do—" He runs a hand through his hair. "Okay. You're right. It's better if we don't hang out for a while."

My stomach rises up in my throat. He's barely fighting this.

I manage to nod. Manage a poker face. "Glad we're on the same page. Have a safe drive."

"Call me if you need anything."

"I won't."

"But if you do. Promise." His expression is demanding.

I hate how much I want to reassure him. "Fine. Goodnight."

"You too."

His eyes cloud with frustration.

Still, he steps into the hallway. I can hear him at Miles's door, talking about something, then he's making his way down the stairs.

Then the front door slams shut.

And he's gone.