It was the bang, bang, bang on the door that scared the shit out of me.

The fact that it was two o’clock in the morning only added to what-the-hell-is-happening panic that burned through my thoughts.

We’d gotten back to the hotel an hour ago. It was long enough for me to shower and begin to wind down from the hectic sold-out show in Perth. The fact that half the dates in Australia were sold out was both exciting and daunting.

Mostly exciting. Australians had the sexiest accents I’d ever heard. Whoo.

“Who is it?” I called out a little hesitantly, wishing I had a knife or a bat or at least a rock I could chuck nearby. Then again, every room around mine had one of the guys on the tour in it. If I yelled loud enough someone would come, right?

Eh. I could use a lamp if push came to shove.

Someone—or something?—scratched at the door lightly.

Jesus Christ. “Seriously, who is it?”

There was more scratching.

Damn it! “Eli, I swear to God—”

A loud laugh pierced through the door. “It’s me.”

Me.

Sassy.

I groaned and grumbled climbing off the bed. “Damn it, Sacha. Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

“Yes.”

Yeah, I rolled my eyes, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t greedily sucking up the attention, especially after what he’d said during The Cloud Collision’s set. His favorite day was my birthday? That wasn’t him calling me cute or saying something else along those lines. So what the hell did it mean? What the hell did it mean, damn it?

It wasn’t like I could talk to any of the monsters, or even Carter, about it. It also wasn’t as if I could hop onto Skype and get Laila’s input because of the time difference. This wasn’t an e-mail-worthy conversation; it required a face-to-face conversation.

I had no one.

So…

I wasn’t going to bring it up and possibly make our friendship awkward until I could figure out how I was supposed to handle what he’d said and might have meant.

“One sec, Sassy pants,” I said in the middle of turning the deadbolt. I’d barely cracked the door when his smiling face greeted me. “Hi.”

“Princess,” he said with a long blink of his cool-colored eyes as he pushed the door open and slid inside.

He toed off his shoes the instant after he’d kicked the door closed. Before I'd even locked it, he was climbing onto my bed and reclining against the headboard. My mind said, “Danger!” But my ovaries screamed, “Naked! Now!”

Instead I did what any friend would have done: I jumped onto the bed as if him showing up to my room in the middle of the night was no big deal, and sat cross-legged next to where he took a seat.

Fresh-faced and damp-haired, he pushed his black locks straight back before rubbing at one of the shaved sides of his head. “I thought you’d be asleep by now.”

“I was still trying to wind down.” Plus, he’d banged on the door so loud that it would have woken me up even if I’d been passed out, but I kept that to myself. “What are you doing up?”

“Couldn’t sleep, and I’m not in the mood to get any writing done tonight.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Writing your next album?”

He nodded. “This tour is for the last record we have with our label and our contract runs out in exactly a year; we want to release another album the day after it’s over. I wanted to go ahead and get started on the songs now.”

“You’re self-releasing it?”

“Yeah. I’m pretty certain we’re going to have to sue our label for back royalties they owe us afterward.” He winced.

I made a face that he mirrored.

“It’ll be fine,” he assured me.

“I’m sure it will.”

He nodded, rubbing at the side of his head again as his eyes strayed to the chunk of my head that had met a death with Carter’s clippers weeks back. Sacha tipped his chin up. “Are you planning on shaving it again?”

“No. I’m lucky if I get two haircuts in a year; keeping up with it is too much trouble. I’ll just look dumb until it grows back in. And it’s probably way too cool of a haircut for me anyway.”

“You’re cool.” He smiled. “Most of the time.”

I sort of choked but still laughed. “Oh, thanks for such an awesome compliment.”

“It’s what I’m here for.”

I rolled my eyes playfully, settling my back against the headboard. “Sometimes I feel like I’ve known you my entire life, and other times, I ask myself what the hell I was thinking trying to be your friend.”

The grin that took over his mouth astounded me. “I’ve thought the same about you. What would my life be like if you hadn’t kicked me in the ass?”

I crossed my eyes and groaned, earning a bright laugh from the guy next to me.

“I’ve never met anyone I’ve felt so comfortable with so quickly,” he said like it was nothing.

Why did he have to be so sweet? I pushed that question into the back of my brain and beamed at him, appreciating what he was saying. “I’m picky with my friends, you know.”

"So I should feel honored that I'm your best friend?" he asked, raising a dark eyebrow while a goofy, crooked grin covered his lips.

I couldn't help but snort. "We're best friends?"

He sat up a little then, nodding with that same ridiculous smile on his face. "At least."

Wanting to focus on his words but being too scared, I waggled my brows at him. "How old am I?" I asked, knowing he had no idea.

"Twenty… three?" he asked, twitching an eye.

"You’re fired. I'm twenty-six.” I groaned, flicking his thigh in return. “What's my favorite color?"

He made another face. "Blue?"

"How did you know?"

"You're always wearing blue," he boasted with a wink. "What do you think my favorite color is?"

I stared at him right in the eyes. "Pink, duh."

He blinked those long fanning black lashes once and only once. “Do you have any idea how easy it is to love you?”

There was no way to respond to that. Plus, he was joking. I mean, he was joking, right? Instead of taking the risk of saying something I’d regret later, I reached forward and attempted to flick him in the forehead, but he caught my hand. I tried to yank it back, but almost punched myself in the face instead. I scowled.

"What's your favorite thing to listen to?" I asked, figuring that since we were on a roll getting to know each other a bit more, I might as well take advantage.

"You know, I don't have anything specific I like," he answered, pursing his lips. What a typical musician answer. "I like and hate everything. I can listen to anything as long as it's good. What about you? Kidz Bop?"

I threw my head back and laughed. "Oh yeah, I’m so glad you told me about how catchy it was.”

Sacha smiled and made a gentle, amused noise in his throat that sounded faintly like a snort as he fluttered those thick, long eyelashes in my direction. "I'll send you the rest of my collection when I get home," he teased me. When I grinned at him, his expression softened and his eyes flickered down to my hands. "You haven't been with anyone since you and Brandon broke up?" he asked abruptly.

The question sort of threw me for a loop since I wasn't expecting it at all. But that void that I felt for my ex was numbed and so insignificant I couldn't bother to remember anything about him that used to mean something to me. "No," I told him simply. "I thought my heart was broken for about a little bit. Then I was too pissed and depressed with life to bother with anything besides school for a while. Now, I’m just minding my own business, enjoying the tour, taking advantage of being the captain of my destiny for a little bit.”

And having a huge, massive crush on you that defies all sense, I thought.

He nodded thoughtfully. “No regrets, then?”

“None.” That was the truth. “Everything happens for a reason, and I know that things wouldn’t have worked out between us in the long run anyway, you know what I mean?”

"Yeah," he replied in a soft voice. "My last girlfriend, Liz—you met her in San Francisco, remember?" How could I forget? I nodded and threw up in my mouth at the same time but luckily his attention was on his hands instead of the faces I was making. "She broke up with me because she hated me being gone all the time. She wanted me to choose her over my music, but," those pale gray eyes looked into mine, "I don't know. It didn't seem like the right thing to do. I didn't want to do it. She knew before we started dating what I did for a living; it wasn’t a surprise. I haven't wanted to date anyone since her, because I don't want to get stuck in that type of relationship again, I guess."

The idea that someone, specifically Ronalda, would ask Sacha to quit on his dream and his incredible talent to fight off her loneliness, made my heart churn. His gift didn't deserve to fade away, and those selfish reasons made me burn. "I think someone who really loves you wouldn't ask you to give up what you love, what you were meant to do," I told him in such an even voice it shocked me.

He smiled at me and nodded. "I think the same thing, Princess."

---

"I'll meet you in twenty," Sacha whispered into my ear as we were getting off the van after a very late dinner in Geelong.

It was a mutual decision that both of us would shower before he came over to my room every night, even though I would have gladly let him shower in my room. With me.

Not that I would ever make the offer out loud but there was nothing wrong with simply thinking about it. That night in Perth, where he'd stayed until close to five in the morning, had just been the beginning. What followed were five consecutive nights of sitting in my room with a handsome, showered and delicious-smelling man.

Unfortunately and unsurprisingly, it was pretty innocent. We sat on the bed and talked a lot, watched television and ragged on each other for our likes and dislikes. When I told him that I'd seen My Girl about a million times, he'd rolled his eyes so far back I was worried those pretty irises would stay there. When he told me he’d seen all of the Transformers movies in person at least six times, and even sat in line for twenty-four hours to catch the first showing of one, I stared at him blankly.

The thing that killed me the most about our friendship was that the more I learned about Sacha, the more I liked him. I liked that he volunteered at a pet shelter, that he knew how to play four different instruments, and that he had a pet turtle named Mercury that Julian’s brother babysat when he was on tour. I thought it was amazing that he worked at a studio as a session pianist and back-up singer when he was home. The bastard was sweet and thoughtful, and he laughed at my jokes and my embarrassing stories.

This huge, blinding forest fire of happiness filled my chest when I was around him. While it should have been a beautiful thing that I liked him as much as I did, it wasn't. I had no idea where things stood between us. We were definitely friends; that was blatantly obvious. I loved spending time with him because he had this way about him that always put me in a good mood but…

I wasn’t sure whether there was actually something more. Our joking could be considered flirting. He spent more time with me than he did with anyone else by multiples. When we were at the venues and he wasn't busy, he'd began coming to visit the merch table even if he had to wear a hoodie to avoid getting mobbed by fans.

This, us, was so complicated.

I didn't want to assume anything, so I didn't. After all, he'd mentioned Ronalda as his ex, but I couldn't help but remember that conversation that I'd overheard. Then there was his comment when we’d been in the car back in Philadelphia about how he’d told her something about it not being the right time to talk about whatever. Was there something else that could possibly be going on? I had no fucking idea, and I sure as hell wasn't going to ask.

Pushing those thoughts out of my head, I skipped to my room and showered as quickly as possible so I could be ready for my nightly visitor. Was it a little desperate? Maybe. But I didn't care. It wasn’t like anyone saw me.

The knock on my door came just a couple minutes after I finished smothering lotion all over my skin. "What's the password?" I asked walking toward the door.

"Gaby is the princess of the universe."

I snorted. My hands paused on the deadbolt as I smiled to myself. "Anddddd…?" I asked, just to be a pest. Like what he said wasn’t enough.

There was a pause. "I have cookies."

"Bingo!" I unlocked the bolt and didn't even bother ushering Sacha in. He did his usual routine, kicking off shoes, peeling off his hoodie and plopping onto his side of the bed.

He tossed over a packet of cookies he had more than likely bought at the vending machine. "Save me half of one," he requested sweetly, wiggling his butt onto the mattress to try and get comfortable.

I nodded at him, already tearing the package open before jumping on the other side of the bed. I had to crawl with the cookies in my mouth over to a spot right by his chest, where I crossed my legs. He looked over and patted a spot slightly closer to him. “Come keep me warm.”

He could have put a jacket on, but I didn’t remind him of that.

The small part of my brain that still hadn’t recognized he was my friend and only my friend, wanted to say that if he wanted to, he could crawl under the sheets, but only someone with an IQ of 20 would say that to him.

I also could have messed with the thermostat in the room but… nope.

In hindsight, what I should have done was turn down the air even more so I could give him a reason to cuddle. I didn't do that either though.

What I did was scoot closer to him. So close he reached out to palm my knee. I stared at his hand and kept my mouth closed despite knowing how stupid it was.

Sacha flipped through channels with one hand at the same time the other one patted my kneecap while I ate the sweet vanilla cookies he'd brought. I was more focused on his long fingers rubbing my legging-covered legs than the movie he'd put on.

"Do you have any Chapstick?" he asked me a second later.

I moved my head in the direction of my backpack, which was sitting on the floor right next to him. "Top pocket," I answered in as lady-like a way as I could without spitting crumbs all over the place.

He nodded, reaching over the edge of the bed to grab my backpack and planted it on his lap to search through it. The top pocket was unzipped and he reached in, looked at whatever he was holding and made a face. "What's this?" he asked, holding something out.

I coughed all over him. Literally. Crumbs went all over his shirt and sweats but I couldn’t find it in me to give a single shit when I recognized what he held.

My little bullet, which looked like a lip balm tube made of metal, was sitting in his palm. I'd bought it while we were still in Darwin the day after we left Perth, on an outing with Carter when we had nothing to do at the venue for hours. I'd ditched him at the music store while I ran to the shop next door and bought my new friend.

"I'm sorry!" I gasped, trying to wipe at his chest. There were tiny pieces of cookie all over his heather-gray shirt. I snatched the small vibrator out of his hand, slipped it under my thigh and then started brushing his clothes off.

He laughed and shrugged, picking pieces off too, popping the larger ones into his mouth. "Was that what I think it is?" he asked in a low, amused voice.

"Lipstick? Yes," I lied, keeping my eyes on his T-shirt while I finished picking off the remaining pieces.

Sacha nudged my knee. "Liar."

"You're a liar," I muttered.

"I am?" he asked me in that same voice he'd used with his last question.

I slowly dragged my eyes up to his gray irises.

"Yeah." My skin got itchy all of a sudden. "Your passport says that you're a male but you're really a female."

"Gaby," he groaned, trying to disguise his laugh. "You're giving my manhood a complex."

Thank the lord I didn't have any more cookies in my mouth at his use of the word manhood.

Looking up at him, I saw that his eyes were trained on the leg that I'd shoved the bullet under. Then he looked at me and I swear his lids looked heavy.

Three hours later, when I started swaying with sleep, he pulled back my bed sheets. "I'm leaving. Lock the door after me before you fall asleep," he whispered, and then he kissed me on the tip of my nose.

Yeah, I suddenly wasn’t so sleepy after that.

---

"What's the password?"

"Gaby's birthday should be a national holiday."

I grinned like an idiot, and fortunately, I was in my room alone so he couldn't see my facial expression. It had to be bordering on ugly from how hard my cheeks strained in such a short amount of time. "Andddd?" I asked, in what had become our game.

He laughed from the other side of the door. "I bought you a book."

My grin widened exponentially while I unlocked the door to let him in. He'd barely made it in before he was kicking the door closed and putting a hand on each of my cheeks. I hadn't seen him all day.

When Eliza woke me up that morning for breakfast by drumming his fists on the door in beat to a Ghost Orchid song, my first thought had been: I feel like hell. My body hurt, I had a raging fever and I just felt like overall crap. Eli took me to the doctor, where I was told there was a virus going around that I could have caught from anyone. I ended up staying in my room with my brother for the majority of the day until he caught a cab to the venue in the evening.

“I don’t think you should be in here. I don’t want to get you sick,” I warned.

He rolled his eyes, not moving his palms off my face. “I don’t get sick. I’ll be fine. Are you still feeling like shit?" he asked me softly.

I nodded, staring straight into his bright eyes. "Yeah."

He leaned forward and examined my face. "I've been worried about you all day. Mason didn't tell us you were sick until we were halfway to the venue. I just thought you and Eli went to go do something on your own."

"You missed out on a doctor's visit and the strangest-tasting soup I've ever eaten," I smiled at little at him.

Sacha gave me that lopsided grin I liked. "Party animal." His hands brushed down my neck to rest on my shoulders. "Want me to go get you something?"

I shook my head and gestured toward the bags on the nightstand. "Rosemary’s Baby brought me a sandwich and juice when you guys got here, but thank you."

I don't know why every time I thanked him, he smiled. Always. He reached behind him for a second, his elbow wobbled in the air, before handing me a book. "The lady at the bookstore said that since you’re a history nerd, you’d probably enjoy it,” he said, setting the paperback into my outstretched hand.

Memoirs of a Geisha was the title.

I threw my arms around him and hugged him weaker than I normally would have, slightly smirking at him calling me a history nerd. I did like my historical fiction, especially since I hadn’t had time to read much while I was in school. "Thank you."

Sacha wrapped his arms around the middle of my back and squeezed me to him tightly enough to make up for my lacking strength. "You're welcome."

“You’re the nicest man I’ve ever met. I don’t care what anyone says about you.”

He chuckled lightly, rubbing my back. We pulled apart after a minute, and then he was taking off his shoes and lying on the side of the bed I hadn't contaminated yet. "So you have a virus, huh?" he asked, flopping his long arms open across the mattress.

"A big, stinking virus," I told him, sticking out my tongue. "I should be better the day after tomorrow supposedly."

He made a face while I put my present on top of my backpack. "That sucks," he replied, watching me. A slow smile crept across his cheeks. "Poor little sick baby."

Snorting pathetically, I took a sip out of the bottle of water I had on the nightstand before flopping on the bed next to him. I sprawled out on the queen-sized mattress, which didn’t say much because I wasn’t exactly a supermodel-like height. "Suck it."

"Suck what?" he laughed.

"My invisible nuts," I snickered, turning my head just a little to face him.

He was sitting up on the bed while I was laying down flat. "I forget about those things." The hand closest to me reached over to grasp my forearm. "I see this girl who's usually pretty fucking gorgeous and the last thing I expect is for her to have a pair under her clothes," he chuckled.

I soaked up his compliment for all of a split second. "Wait a second. What you mean by ‘usually?’"

"You're sick," he explained with amusement tinting his voice, ignoring my question about the nickname.

"So you're telling me I look like shit?" I finally laughed despite the sharp pain in my throat, not at all insulted by what he was implying. There was no way I didn't look the way I felt: like a big, old pile of poo.

His palm stroked my arm. "You don't exactly look your best, Princess, but you're still pretty," he offered me.

I smacked his hand off and laughed, attempting to roll away from him.

Sacha laughed louder, slipping an arm under my body and pulling me over. Part of the way onto him. "Quit fishing for compliments. You're still pretty." He crushed me to his bouncing, entertained chest. His other arm finished the circle around me, my breasts pressed against his ribs, the side of my head meeting his pec.

"All I hear is blah, blah, blah," I laughed into the soft material of his red

hoodie, ignoring the sirens going off in my head and the way my heart so suddenly pounded in my chest at his proximity. This wasn’t what friends did. This was absolutely not what friends did. But I sure as hell wasn’t moving or saying something to ruin the moment.

He squeezed me to him tighter. "You're a pain in the ass."

"Like you’re one to talk."

"Shouldn't you be sleeping or something? Isn't that what people do when they're sick?"

I nodded against him. "Yeah, but there's this annoying guy that likes to hang out in my room and keep me up every night."

"What an asshole," he hissed, shaking his head as he said it.

"I know, right?" I laughed.

Sacha tilted his head down so that his lips were so close to my forehead I could feel their heat. "Want me to leave?"

As if there was another possible answer. "No."

He didn't say anything, but I felt him start wiggling his way down the bed. "I'll wait until you start to fall asleep, then."

"Okay."

We sat there quietly with the television so low it just sounded like a whisper in the background, until, "Hush, little baby, don't say a word—"

"What are you doing?" I started laughing hoarsely.

"I'm singing you a lullaby to put you to sleep," he said.

I shifted just a little in his arms, tucking myself into his warmth and ignoring the voice in my head that said friends really didn’t do this kind of stuff. "Okay, continue."

His chest moved with silent laughter. "Sacha's gonna buy you a mockingbird—" I snorted, trying to cover it. His chest shook more but it didn't break his song's stride. If anything his sweet, beautiful voice got a little louder. "And if that mockingbird won't sing, Sacha's gonna buy you a diamond ring."