The tour continued like clockwork, and each and every show we played was a hell of a lot of fun.

When I was up on stage, I was someone else. I let go and rolled with it, putting everything I had into every note. The applause and the whistles came in droves, and not once did I fall off the drum kit. Simone kept updating our Facebook page with an assortment of photos she took backstage, and it was a lot of fun to read through the comments and write back little status updates. I saved all my favorites onto my own phone and looked at them first thing in the morning to remind myself where I was now and where I was staying.

Right up until we’d left on tour, I shied away from social media. I deleted all my profiles and got a new email address after I broke my arm. The moment I’d gotten out of the hospital and checked all the notifications, I almost had a breakdown. The amount number of hateful things left all over my newsfeed by people I’d once counted as friends…it was devastating. I promptly canceled my internet service and only looked at my emails once in a while from my phone. The only apps I had on it—other than the ones that came with the thing—were for the weather and a stupid game or two. I turned old school and brought music magazines and listened to the radio. For all intents and purposes, I’d fallen off the face of the digital earth. And my savings account skyrocketed with the lack of a bill to pay.

I still didn’t have any personal profiles, but with Simone at the helm of the band’s internet presence, I didn’t need to worry. She knew a little about what had happened and had promised me she’d watch out for anything nasty, but so far, there was nothing but positive comments.

Operation ‘Avoid Will Strickland at all Costs’ was going well so far. When I was forced to speak with him, it was short and polite. We had two more days in Sydney, and then we were going toward Canberra. We were doing a few more interviews and promo shoots for some local magazines, but we didn’t have a show to worry about for a little while. I loved to play, but I was also glad for the break.

“Hey, Zo!” Frank came bounding into Dee’s and my hotel room a little too boisterously for nine a.m.

“Ugh!” I cried, pulling a pillow over my head. “I know I’m awake, but tone it down. I’m exhausted even listening to you.”

“Up and Atom!” he chortled, and I didn’t miss The Simpsons reference.

“What’s going on?”

“Interview, Zo Zo. They want you.”

“Do they just? Can’t they want me at about eleven thirty?”

“Will and Pete are going,” he said. “They want you and Dee.”

Great, but instead, I said, “Fine.”

“It’s a print thing, so they’re just going downstairs.”

“Is that meant to be a selling point?”

He laughed at my lack of enthusiasm. “Dee’s already there. He said to tell you that you’ve got thirty minutes before they get here.”

After I showered and made myself look presentable, I made my way downstairs, my stomach doing little flip-flops. By the time I actually walked into the bar, I felt physically sick. Looking across the room, I saw Dee waving me over.

There was one seat left, and I knew someone had done it on purpose. Dee was on one side, and Will was on the other. Somehow, I just knew they were in league with each other, and I didn’t know who I was annoyed at more. I should’ve known something was up when I saw them talking side of stage last night, all buddy-buddy and whispering in the corner like gossiping little girls. At what point did Dee decide to push me right in front of Will instead of pulling me away? I thought he was bad news in my best friend’s eyes.

I reluctantly sat down as Dee smiled at me. “Took your time. Got you a coffee. You’re welcome.” He knew I wanted to yell at him, but we always had that ESP thing going ever since the day we first met.

“I’m exactly on time,” I hissed, overly conscious of Will sitting beside me. “I want to talk to you later.”

He just grinned at me knowingly as the interviewer introduced herself.

I had no idea what half the questions were. I vaguely heard Dee answering most of them. Pete was there too, I suppose. Out the corner of my eye, I watched as Will pulled his hands off the table and folded them in his lap. I almost jumped out of my chair when I felt his fingertips lightly brush across my knuckles. I forgot to breathe, I forgot we were being interviewed, I forgot where we were. I had a sudden image of me trailing my hand up the inside of his thigh to…

I didn’t realize I was being spoken to until Dee elbowed me, and I snapped to attention, almost spilling my untouched coffee.

“What do you think, Zoe?” he prodded, trying to stifle a laugh.

“Sorry?” I asked, feeling my face turning red.

“What’s it been like being on tour with each other?” the interviewer asked with a knowing smile. I hoped I just came across as tired, not horny.

“What do I think?” I blinked. Even though everyone was looking at me, the only pair of eyes I could feel belonged to Will. “It’s our first major tour together, so it’s been helpful having a band along who’s done it all before.” Diplomatic. Even. Not at all desperate sounding.

“What do you think of these guys?”

I was put off by her question, but I had to answer, especially when everyone was staring at me. “They’re great musicians. I respect them.”

They all looked at me as if they thought I wasn’t telling the truth, but the interviewer looked pleased enough and moved on to another question.

Thankfully, after that, Will kept his hands to himself, and I said nothing that embarrassed me, though, by the time the interviewer left, I knew everyone was onto us.

The first moment I could, I pushed my chair back and walked away, but Dee was hot on my heels.

“Okay, hot shot,” I said as he came level with me. “Rub it in.”

“Footsie under the table?” he asked with lewd wink.

“No.” I glared at him. “Handsy under the table.”

He let out a loud laugh, throwing his head back.

I slapped him on the arm. “What’s going on? You know, I saw you.”

“I know what you think you saw, hot legs, and I can safely say it wasn’t my idea.”

“Then what was?”

“I’m not at liberty to discuss such information,” he tried to say with a straight face, but apparently, he found my anger hilarious.

“What happened to wanting to keep me away?”

“He’s all right, Zo. He said he was sorry. I had words with him.”

“Oh, the magic ‘words,’” I said with air quotes as I rolled my eyes.

“Zoe.” He wound an arm around my waist and guided me toward the elevator. “All I’m sayin’ is to give the guy a chance. If he stuffs up in the first five minutes, I’ll be here to punch on. Okay?”

“Dee,” I said, lowering my voice. “You know I’m attracted to him. I don’t know how to deal with it. I’m good now. I’m happier than I’ve been in a long time, and I don’t want to stuff it up.”

He looked down at me with a frown, suddenly serious. “I know, Zo. But sometimes you’ve gotta take a chance, no matter how broken you’ve been in the past.”

I looked away, tears stinging my eyes.

As the elevator arrived and the doors slid open, Dee gave my waist a small squeeze. “I think you should take a chance.”

I didn’t like it, but he was right. “God, you piss me off sometimes, Dee, but I love you.”

He kissed me on the top of the head. “Till the end of time, sister.”

* * *

After the interview, we had some free time. There wasn’t a gig tonight because the venue was booked for an international band, so we decided to meet up with Frank, Chris, and Simone and go out for dinner somewhere. Just The Devil’s Tattoo and I was glad it was just us. I still didn’t know what to do about today, and every time I thought about it, which was every bloody minute, my hand tingled.

It was such a nice night out as we sat out the front of the hotel, waiting for the taxi we’d ordered. I sat on the edge of the flowerbed under the windows of the hotel bar, Dee beside me. Simone was standing as close as she could to Chris without it looking obvious she was into him, and Frank was horsing around as per usual.

“We look like a bunch of no-hopers loitering out here,” Frank said, pacing up and down the footpath.

“Singin’ for our supper,” Dee said in a posh English accent.

Frank started to do a poor imitation of a beatboxer, but all he managed to do was spit up all over his front, much to our amusement.

“You know, they have apps for that,” I said, waving my phone at him.

“You’re a genius!” He pulled his own phone out and started tapping on it.

“We should totally form an a cappella group,” Dee said.

“Don’t they do that with just their voices?” Chris asked.

“Yeah,” I said.

“We could be a hybrid,” Frank said as drum sounds began to come out of his phone.

“I know,” Simone exclaimed. “You could totally do that with Muse’s ‘Madness.’”

“Yes,” Dee almost shouted, clapping his hands together. “Let’s give it a go. Sing it, Zo. I’ll back you up.”

I knew they weren’t going to back down, so I nodded. The idea actually sounded quite awesome.

Frank worked out his drumbeat while Chris got out a guitar app with Dee and me were on vocals. It took us a few times to start because each time Frank started on his drumbeat, we would piss ourselves laughing at the way he tapped the screen with both index fingers. He looked like my Dad when he tried to type anything out on the computer.

“Shut up!” he yelled, trying to stifle his own laughter. “This is awesome. Don’t look at me!”

The third time was a charm, and we got through the intro with straight faces, and it sounded really good once Chris got in with his guitar app. Dee and I were used to singing together, so the harmonies worked better than I thought for a song we hadn’t practiced before.

By the time we reached the second verse, we had a small group of people gathered around us, including some of the hotel staff. They were tapping their feet and getting into it, smiling and laughing along with our over-the-top actions. It was the most carefree and completely happy I’d felt since we started the band. I loved every second of it.

When the song came to an end, we got a round of applause from the randoms who had stopped. Dee curtseyed for them and gave out some flyers he had stuffed in his back pocket—ever the slick salesman.

It wasn’t until we were laughing at how clever we were that I realize we had some familiar audience members and a future virtual one. Simone had her iPhone out recording us, her face glowing. As she hit stop, she gushed, “That was gold! I’m so uploading that.”

“Gimme!” Dee exclaimed, rushing over to her.

Simone replayed it for him, and Frank ran over and tried to see between them. They were all glowing, and it made me feel warm inside. Happy. I was beginning to really like this feeling.

As I watched them with a stupid smile on my face, I felt someone stand just behind me. Turning, I glanced up into Will’s smoky gray eyes, and my expression slipped as my heart flip-flopped in my chest.

“You’re fucking beautiful,” he murmured in my ear and wandered off down the footpath, a paper bag under his arm.

I watched him as he went into the hotel, trying to figure out what just happened, dragging my teeth against my bottom lip. At the last second, he looked back and saw me staring, and his lips curved into a lopsided grin. Dammit.

This whole ‘Stay away from Will thing’ wasn’t going according to plan. Not when he kept sneaking up behind me and stealing my breath.

* * *

After dinner, the boys wanted to go out and sample some of Sydney’s alternative rock and Goth clubs. I couldn’t think of anything worse than being in a crowded room with loud music and copious amounts of drunk people without the safety of a stage, so I excused myself and went straight back to the hotel. Sleep sounded like a good idea to me, and there was the song that had been rolling around in my brain for far too long. That had to go down on paper before it rolled right out.

Before I went upstairs, I slipped into the hotel bar and ordered myself a cocktail. It had been a long time since I’d had one, and it reminded me of Ted’s Shed and their cheap sugar-laden versions back in Melbourne. I had my phone out writing down some lyrics and relishing the peace and quiet when I felt someone approaching me. I didn’t look up, hoping they were just going to order a drink. If I didn’t look, then there would be no conversation. Right now, I was content with my bright red drink and notebook app.

“Hey.”

I didn’t have to look up to know it was Will. Remembering earlier that evening, I blushed a little. I was kind of surprised to see him here. Wouldn’t he be out with everyone else chasing girls? Wasn’t that his MO?

“Why are you here on your own?” he asked, sitting down.

“I didn’t feel like going out,” I replied, glancing over at him. He was wearing a black V-neck T-shirt with a light dusting of blond hair peeking out the top, and I noticed the edge of another tattoo.

He nodded knowingly. “Seems like everyone had the same idea.”

“Why aren’t you with them?” I asked, putting my phone back in my pocket.

“Didn’t feel like it.”

We sat there awkwardly for a moment. I had to give him points for trying. He didn’t seem easily put off by all the shit I’d laid on him. I thought about what Dee had said that morning, about giving Will a chance, and I felt my willpower begin to crumble. Maybe I should, but I didn’t know what to say to him. There was more to these things than just physical attraction. I wanted more. I kinda craved it if I was entirely honest.

“What kind of music do you like?” he asked suddenly, as if he’d just blurted out the first thing that had come to mind.

“That’s a hard one,” I replied, thankful he’d said something.

“Why?”

I shrugged. “There are so many.”

“Can I look at your iPod, then?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. “You always seem to have it in your pocket.”

Surprised again, I pulled it out and handed it to him. “Go for it.”

I watched as he scrolled through it and melted a little when he smiled at some of the things he came across.

“The Clash?” he asked.

“I love their album Combat Rock.”

“‘Straight to Hell’ is my favorite song.”

“Mine, too,” I said carefully, narrowing my eyes.

He laughed. “What?”

“What a coincidence.”

He looked back at my iPod. “You have some great bands—Editors, White Lies. Love them. Friendly Fires?”

“I like their last album. Pala.” It was a light, dancey electro record, and it didn’t fit my image at all. “I’m kinda bummed that White Lies haven’t come to Australia yet. I’d really like to see them play.”

“Aren’t they like on their third or fourth album?”

“New one is coming out soon.”

He handed back my iPod, and his hand lingered against mine for a moment too long. It looked like he was struggling with something, and Will came across as the kind of guy who never struggled at all.

“I’m sorry,” he said after a minute of awkward silence.

“You’ve said.”

“I haven’t been myself lately.” He didn’t look up at me, and for a moment, I thought he might have been embarrassed. “I’ve done some stupid things, and I’ve made you uncomfortable.”

When I didn’t reply, he glanced up, and I shrugged.

“I wanna be friends with you,” he said. “Have I stuffed that up?”

When he said the word friend, I tried not to visibly cringe. That was Simone’s issue, wasn’t it? Being stuck firmly in the friend zone. She and Chris had feelings for each other but still couldn’t seem to act on them.

“I’ve got this song in my head,” I said, gathering up my phone and iPod, trying to be nice about ditching him. “I want to go write it out before I forget it.”

Before I could say ‘see you later,’ Will’s eyes lit up. “Can I help? I mean, I’d like to see you play.”

“Why?” Was he trying to torture me or something?

“Why?” he scoffed. “Because you’re brilliant.”

“You’re only saying that to be nice,” I declared, downing the remainder of my drink.

“I watch you every night,” he said carefully like he was afraid of scaring me away. “You’re brilliant.”

With a sigh, I slid off the barstool and took a few steps backward.

Give him a chance. I hoped Dee was right about him.

Will stared at me, unsure, and I rolled my eyes. “Well, are you coming or not? Hurry up before I change my mind.”

We were silent all the way upstairs until I unlocked the door to my room and flicked on the light.

“Wow,” Will said. “Who’s the messy one?”

“Dee,” I replied with a small groan.

“Thought as much.”

In the corner, Dee had a beat-up acoustic guitar that he’d left in our room. It was covered in various tattoo-art stickers and was trashed, but it had an amazing tone because of the imperfections. Flawed but beautiful. It was like some kind of metaphor.

I’d left my notebook on my bed with a pencil sticking out of its tattered pages. It was the same one Dee had given me at our first rehearsal. The very first thing I had written in it were the lyrics to ‘Walls.’ Now it was dog-eared and tired, the pages full of scribbles and marks.

“What are you working on?” Will asked, sitting on my bed cross-legged and tapping on the cover.

“It’s an acoustic song,” I replied, perching on the opposite edge. “I don’t know the words yet, but I’ve been trying to get down the chords.”

“Let’s hear it.”

I suddenly felt shy about playing in front of him, which was totally stupid. I’d played on stage a billion times by now and even on the street busking with Dee, but somehow, playing in front of Will behind closed doors was different. It wasn’t just playing. It was something else…something almost intimate. I cared about what he thought, and the realization scared the hell out of me.

I sighed, running my fingers over the strings, and thankfully, it was in tune. The way I was sitting, I could angle my face away from him, but I was still overly aware of his gaze on me. Trying to shut him out, I focused on the melody in my head and began to play it how I thought it might go. When I got to the bridge, it sounded off.

“See,” I said, my guard dropping. “I can’t get that bit.”

When I was greeted with silence, my stomach dropped, and I glanced up expecting to see anything but the look that was plastered on his face.

“That’s… Wow.”

“Shit, huh?” I grimaced.

“No,” he backpedaled. “I didn’t mean it like that. I meant it was beautiful. Soulful.”

My face reddened. I glanced down and noticed he had opened my notebook and had written the music as I’d played. I got madder than a bee in a jar when Dee wrote things in there. I had personal stuff written in those pages, stuff that I’d tried to work out into songs, but seeing the marks Will had made… He could write in it all he wanted.

“Here.” He held out his hand for the guitar. “I have an idea if that’s okay?”

With a small nod, I pulled the strap over my head, and he took it, nestling the guitar on his knees. “When you get to the bridge, it’s natural to want to go the way you did. I would’ve.” He played it again, and it sounded weird coming from his hands. He hit the offending chord, and I could see what he meant. “But,” he continued, looking up at me, “maybe you could try something like this.” He played it again, but this time, he chose a difficult chord, one I wouldn’t have even considered, and to my surprise, it worked. Better than worked. It was genius.

A smile tugged at my lips, and I glanced into his smiling face. “Write it down.”

“Have you thought about lyrics?” he asked, picking up the pencil, obviously pleased with my reaction.

“No, not yet. I have a few ideas, but I’m still thinking on them.”

We sat there talking through the song and working out another guitar part for what seemed like five minutes. I didn’t know when I’d let my guard down, but I was beginning to feel comfortable around him. Whatever anger I had toward him had just melted away into nothing. I may have started to let go a little, but I was still very aware of everything he did. The way he wrote, the way he played the guitar, and the way he sat on my bed. Every time I looked up, he was smiling at me, his stormy gray eyes sparkling, and I wondered if this was what it was like. Being happy with someone.

“Shit,” he exclaimed suddenly, looking at the alarm clock on the bedside table. “It’s two a.m.”

“What?” I sat up, rubbing my eyes. We’d been mucking around with this song for almost three hours.

“I had better go in a minute.”

“Sure.”

We fell silent for a minute as I put the guitar down on the floor. It hadn’t taken much for us to fall back into an awkward silence.

Will was the one who finally spoke. “Did you really mean what you said in the interview today?”

I eyed him, wary of his intentions. “I mean everything I say in interviews.”

“Good.”

“Good?”

“Good,” he said with a wink.

Dammit, he was so hot when he did that. I was suddenly very aware that we were alone and sitting on a bed together, and I tried my hardest not to look at his lips, but that’s exactly what I did. Annoyed, I glanced down at the notebook.

Will let out a low laugh and slid off the bed. “I’d better get going, anyway. It’s late.”

“Sure.” I tried not to sound disappointed as I stepped over the guitar and walked him to the door so I could lock it behind him.

Opening it, he said, “See you tomorrow.” At the last second, he turned back like he wanted to say something else but grimaced and walked out into the hall, closing the door softly behind him.

I stared after him, not sure what had just happened. Who the hell was that guy I’d just written music with? That was not the Will Strickland I had come to know. This guy was kind and genuinely interested. This guy warmed my heart and all the other places I was too embarrassed to think about. I couldn’t help but wonder which one the real Will Strickland was, and I hoped it was the latter.