"Let me see them," Grace says, grabbing at my journal. "Come on, Addison."

"No way." I grip the notebook tightly in one hand, swatting at her with the other. "It's private."

"Fine," she says. "I can always guess your secrets anyway. Is it about a boy?"

I exhale heavily. "No, of course not."

Grace wrinkles her nose. "You aren't interested in anyone? What about that singer, the one you toured with? Not the older guy. The other one, the nice one, the one your age?"

"Nick?" I ask. "He's gay."

"Is he?"

"He's not out yet, but yeah."

"You're boring," Grace says, sniffing. "Have you heard from Hendrix?"

"No. Why would I hear from him?" My voice catches in my throat. I haven't heard from him in months. I don't know where he is now. He graduated from Marine Corps training last month, and I didn't go. No one did, even his own father.

We had an event, a big country music one that I had to go to as part of my contract. The event was Hendrix's father's excuse, but I think really the Colonel just didn't want to go. I'm not sure if his father was disappointed in Hendrix for joining the Marines, or secretly intimidated by the fact that he joined and actually completed training.

I think he expected Hendrix to show back up on the front doorstep a few weeks into training, because he'd dropped out or was kicked out.

I think that's what I expected, too. That's what I hoped. And then each week passed, and it didn't happen.

"I don't know, Addison," Grace says. "You guys are like BFFs. I figured you'd hear from him. Is he done training?"

"I have no idea," I say, shrugging. Acting like it's no big deal. "What do you mean, we're BFFs? We hardly talk."

Grace cocks her head to the side and studies me carefully. "Addison Stone, you and Hendrix are besties, whether you want to admit it or not."

I roll my eyes. "This is a bo-ring conversation. Why don't we talk about something more interesting. Like your love life, for example?"

Grace blushes, and I immediately sit up. "Why are you blushing?" I ask. "You met someone."

"No, he's nobody. He's really…not my type."

"As in, he's normal?"

"Screw you, Addison," she says. But she's smiling. Come to think of it, I've seen her smiling a lot more than usual lately.

"I don't want to talk about it," she says. "It's not going anywhere. We're just hanging out. Anyway, what are you scribbling in your journal?"

"Songs."

"Ooh, show me," she says. "You never sing for me anymore."

"Because the studio is writing all my music now," I say, shrugging. "It's not so fun anymore. It's more like a job, so it's kind of lame now. Anyway, they're nothing."

* * *

"Finally!" Sapphire yells in my face. "I didn't think you'd grace us with your presence, even for my birthday, since you've become a complete recluse and gone into hiding!" She grabs my shoulders and kisses me on each cheek twice, her extra-pretentious air kiss, before she takes my hand and leads me into the club. The music is irritatingly loud and the base sends vibrations through the floor that make it feel like it's traveling through my body.

The club is packed, and Hendrix is behind me, his hand on the small of my back as he guides me through the crowd. His touch does the same thing to me it always has – it sends a thrill of arousal rushing through me, and I immediately think of what it felt like when he ran his hands over my naked flesh. Part of me wants to just stop, right here, and spin around in his arms.

Someone gets too close to me, and Hendrix puts his forearm up to protect me. I want to tell Hendrix that I'm sorry for the morning after. And the whole week. And for being a complete bitch. I've wanted to tell him that a hundred times this week. I even knocked on his door once, but stopped, my fist frozen in mid-air, unable to follow through.

The smart part of me knows that what happened between Hendrix and I was colossally stupid. But so is this tonight, going out to a club with my old friends. Maybe part of me wants to get a reaction from Hendrix.

I can't continue with him, the way it has been, silent between us, our own private two-person cold war. I want something to happen, even if it's a goddamned explosion, fireworks, a fight that goes nuclear.

As soon as Sapphire air-kisses me, I remember how fucking awkward it was for me before, going out with them while they partied and got stoned and acted so damn pretentious. Why did I used to think this was fun, anyway? Lounging around on a chaise in my makeup and short dress in a roped-off VIP area while my friends laugh and people in the crowd snap photos that will wind up on the cover of a tabloid? It's risky.

We're not even here for ten minutes before Hendrix leans over and yells in my ear. "Are you about fucking finished here?" he asks. "You've made an appearance. You need to get out of here before anything gets out of hand."

Sapphire leans over and yells in your ear. "Your bodyguard is way too over-protective," she says. "You need to loosen up, have a little fun. Besides, there's someone here who wants to say hi to you."

Jared. He's flanked on either side by two of his douchebag friends, and my heart sinks in my throat as I look at him. He walks straight toward me, but Hendrix steps between us.

"Down, boy," Sapphire says, making a barking sound. I could punch her right now. Hell, I could punch Jared right now.

"Call off your attack dog, Addison," Jared says. "I just want to wish Sapphire a happy birthday."

"Hendrix," I say, my voice tight. Hendrix doesn't move, and I stand up, nudging him to the side. "I can handle this myself," I say, irritated that he thinks of me as some incapable girl he has to protect from absolutely everything in life.

Hendrix leans in close to me, his hand brushing against the side of my waist, and it sends a shiver up my spine. "He doesn't touch you," he says to me, his tone warning. "He lays a finger on you and he's dead."

"You're threatening to kill my exes, Hendrix?" I ask. I can't tell if my words are lost in the thumping of the club music, and I think my friends are staring at us, but I don't care. I'm sitting there feeling badly about how immaturely I've behaved, thinking about apologizing, and then Hendrix goes and says something like that.

"Your bodyguard doesn't know his place, Addison," Jared says. "You might want to put him back in his kennel."

Hendrix spins around and grabs Jared by the arm, pulling him out of the VIP area. Jared's friends are on Hendrix immediately, but he shrugs them off like they're nothing, tossing Jared out into the crowd.

"I'm going to the bathroom," I say, pushing my way past them. "And I don't need an escort."

I weave my way through the bodies of people in the club, my hand over my forehead, shielding my face, and breathe a sigh of relief when I reach the bathroom without anyone recognizing me. Inside, I exhale deeply, leaning against the wall and closing my eyes.

"Oh.My.God. Are you Addison Stone?" The girl looks up from the counter and sniffs loudly. She stumbles up to me, half-drunken, her eyes glassy. "I just love you. You look so hot. Can you take a selfie with me?" She doesn't wait for a response, just leans in close to me and tries to snap a photo, but I duck out of the way.

"Sorry," I say. I can't imagine the clusterfuck that would result from a bathroom selfie with this obviously high party girl, when it got uploaded to social media. I just want to get the hell out of here.

When the bathroom door opens, I'm relieved. But only momentarily, since it's Jared. "Addison," he says. "Someone said that's your brother. Is that your fucking brother out there? He's an asshole."

I roll my eyes. Not this right now. "The ladies room, Jared? Oh, that's right, it's your favorite place to get some. Not from me, though, thanks anyway."

"Of course not," he says, glancing at the cokehead who's watching us with interest. "Missionary style, boring as fuck Addison, getting it on in a bathroom?"

"Fuck you, Jared," I say, stepping around him, but he grabs my wrist, and I jerk it away.

"I came here to talk to you, Addison."

"I have nothing to say to you."

Jared turns toward the girl who's standing silently by the sinks. "Normally I'd let you suck my cock, sweetheart, but you can get the hell out of here." She stares stupidly at him, and he speaks more loudly. "Get lost."

"Asshole," she mutters, stumbling drunkenly out of the bathroom.

"I'm not staying either, Jared," I say, but he's in front of me, in my space with his hand still on my wrist, and he walks slowly forward, backing me up toward the wall. My heart catches in my throat.

"Get. Out. Now." Hendrix is opening the door, grabbing Jared by the back of his shirt. He slams him up against the wall.

"Hendrix! Don't! Please!"

Hendrix's face is contorted in anger. "I thought I told you to get the fuck out of this club," he says.

"Get out, Jared," I say. I'm terrified and I want Jared to leave, but not out of any sympathy for him. I'm worried about Hendrix. I'm worried Hendrix will do something that will get him in trouble, and that will be it.

"Nice bodyguard you have here, Addison," he says, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "We were just having a little chat about how she likes getting it on in public restrooms."

Hendrix punches him across the jaw, the blow sudden and fierce, and Jared slides down the wall onto the floor with his head down.

"Hendrix!" I yell. "Did you just kill him? Please tell me you didn't just kill him. We need to check his pulse or something." But Hendrix has his hand on my arm, and he takes me, wordlessly guiding me out the door of the bathroom.

Sapphire is outside of the bathroom, and Hendrix yells at her. "Your friend is passed out on the floor in there," he says. "You should go get him."

"Addy," she calls after me, but Hendrix is already guiding me out the back exit of the club.

"You're walking too fast." I can barely keep up on my high heels, and I stumble.

Before I know what's happening, Hendrix grabs me and slings me up over his shoulder. "Now you don't have to walk."

"Hendrix, stop being such a dick. Put me down. My ass is hanging out everywhere."

He covers my ass with his hand. "There. Now it's not."

"I'm serious, Hendrix," I yell, smacking him on the back. "If you don't put me down, I'm going to scream."

He doesn't say anything, just walks back to the car, and sets me down on the ground, hard. "There," he says. "Happy now?"

"I didn't need your help in there," I say. "I don't need you to go all fucking – I don't know what –"

"Marine?" he asks, crossing his arms across his chest. He smirks at me, and I want to smack him across his face. His very sexy, very chiseled face.

"Yes," I say, flustered by the fact that his eyes bore into me, but I don't want him to stop looking at me the way he does. I brush my hair away from my face. "I didn't need you to go all fucking Marine on them. I don't need you to rescue me."

"Could have fooled me," he says. "Looked like you needed rescuing the minute you walked out of your door wearing that tonight."

"What's wrong with this?" I ask. "I'll wear whatever I damn well want to."

"You might as well be naked," he says, just like he did before. He leans forward, his hands on the roof of the car above me, and I inhale sharply at how close he is to me. And at the way he says naked, like that's exactly what he wants. I can't take my eyes off his lips. I want to feel them against me. "I'd rather you were naked."

I raise my eyebrows, my throat pounding loudly in my chest. "I thought you didn't approve of this dress."

Hendrix leans forward, his mouth close to my ear. He runs his hand slowly up my thigh. "I said, I would rather you were naked. But I approve of the dress," he says. "Only because I know you wore it to get a rise out of me."

"I wore it for myself," I lie. "You're delusional."

He doesn't take his eyes off me as he reaches between my legs. And I don't stop him. "You're wearing panties, which is unfortunate," he notes. But you're wet. Just admit that tonight was all about getting a reaction from me, Addison."

I shrug, trying to be nonchalant when my heart is about to beat out of my freaking chest.

"Okay, have it your way. Get in the car," he orders, his voice gruff. I stand there stupidly for a moment, a hot mess of desire and need that overtakes my ability to even form a rational thought, and then Hendrix pulls away from me and opens the car door, ushering me inside.

On the short drive home, he's silent, and I wonder for a moment if what happened between us again really happened, or if it's just a figment of my imagination, some kind of late night delusion. But as soon as we step inside the apartment, Hendrix has me by my arms and presses me up against the wall, his hand running up my thigh. "Admit it," Hendrix says softly.

"It's all about you, Hendrix," I say sarcastically. But that's actually the truth. It is all about him, isn't it?

"It is all about me, Addy-girl," he says. "It's all about you and me. Always has been."