The guys were over by the juke box, close enough that I could see the silver ring that Jules always wore on this thumb, but far enough away that I couldn't hear what was making them all laugh and slap Hudson's back.

"'Scuse me," Eric said.

I looked up, startled. "Oh, sorry," I said as I realized he couldn't get by. Not with me practically hanging out of the booth like this. He set two beers down on the table. "Thanks," I muttered as I lunged for it.

"Nice place, huh?"

"What?"

He gestured around the dimly lit bar. "Nice, huh? They just renovated."

I looked around. With its U-shaped bar of gleaming hardwood and cold pint glasses, it certainly passed muster as a drinking establishment. And the guys sure seemed to be enjoying the jukebox filled with 70s New York punk. But I could barely muster enough enthusiasm to smile at Eric when I replied. "Yeah. Nice."

I took a sip of my beer. And then a gulp.

Two birds with one stone. That's what tonight was supposed to be. Simultaneously keeping my promise to Jules and his need to unwind, while also seeking out the attention of normal guys for once in my life. Nice guys like Eric here who bought my beer for me and was now looking at me expectantly like he was waiting for me to say something.

Shit, did he say something?

"I'm sorry, what was that?" I sounded like an asshole. I felt like an asshole.

I also felt like I wanted to crawl out of my skin.

Eric looked miffed at having to repeat himself. "Sorry," I repeated as I gulped down another swig. "Loud in here."

That was a lie. The pub was dead. The music had fallen silent and now the only sounds were the clink of glasses and the guys over by the jukebox, giving Niall shit about his selection.

Eric launched into his story again. As far as I could tell it was the same one he'd been trying to tell me since I'd climbed into his truck. Something about the time Jaxson Blue had stayed at the hotel.

This time I made it all the way through to the end of the story, only to be convinced he was bullshitting me. There was no way in hell the cocky, blue-haired king of pop would ever stay in such a quiet place. Hell, the only reason Wreckage was here was because I'd forced them to be.

I snuck a fond glance in the direction of the guys. Eric shifted in his seat, clearly made uncomfortable by the fact that my attention was wavering. "How about you?" he asked.

"How about me what?"

"Your best celebrity story!" he prompted, as if that was the point of this conversation all along.

I smiled but I was sure it came out more like a grimace. Over at the jukebox, the guys burst into easy laughter and Jules' laugh was the loudest of them all. I glanced wistfully over my shoulder, wishing we could pick up and join them, but Eric was being nice, and he was interested in me and he was the kind of guy I needed to start paying more attention to, so...

"Well? I've been sneaking into shows since my best friend and I were fourteen...."

"Your parents let you go to concerts at fourteen?" He looked horrified.

"Let is a strong word, don't you think? I've got four younger brother," I chuckled. "My parents always had a bigger problem to worry about."

He laughed a little, but seemed really uncomfortable doing it.

I leaned back. "So my first concert was some death metal thing I had no business being at," I mused, picking at my nail. "Some drunk guy broke a beer bottle near my head." I parted my hair over my ear. "Still have the scar, can you see it?"

"Jesus!" Eric hissed.

I laughed. "It's a battle scar! A trophy! My friend CeCe and I, we would collect 'em, show each other our bruises. We thought of them as badges of honor."

"That's messed up."

I took another sip of my beer and looked back over at the boys.

Jules was watching me. I had the fleeting desire to call him over. I had a feeling he'd appreciate my mosh pit stories.

"So yeah, as far as celebrities are concerned?" I turned back to Eric, but I could still feel Jules' eyes on my back, heating up my skin. He'd been acting pissed at me all night, but whatever I'd done, it seemed I was now forgiven. I looked back over my shoulder at him and he lifted his lager in salute. "Um..." I tried to remember what I was going to say. "I can't think of the biggest one."

"Probably right now, huh?" Eric said glumly.

"Yeah probably." I looked up at him. Solid. Nice. Boring as fuck. I suppressed a yawn. "Eric, it's been a long day. I need to get back and get some sleep, I'm exhausted."

"You sure? The evening's still young."

"We have an early call tomorrow."

"What about them?" he gestured to the guys.

I pressed my lips together. Jules was sitting down on a stool now, hunched in conversation with Ewan and some townie. But he seemed to have a sixth sense because the second I looked at him, his head popped up to see me getting up from my booth.

No. Distance. Boundaries. "They'll be fine," I said, even though every control-freak nerve in my body sounded a jangling alarm at the idea of leaving them alone in a bar like this. It went against everything I stood for.

But I had to get away. "Yeah, they'll be fine," I repeated. "Just...take me back?"

The truck sliced the night with its high beams but around us the night was so black that even though I was sitting next to Eric in his passenger seat, I could almost imagine I was all alone. It was so dark I had no idea how he knew what turns to make. How earth would the guys get back on their own? For a moment I thought about asking Eric to go get them for me once he dropped me off. But I knew that I was pushing the limits of his niceness. That'd be a bitchy move, even for me.

He didn't try to kiss me, just gave a friendly, distant hug on my porch, and then drove away, leaving me standing there feeling shitty. He really was a nice guy.

Why the hell couldn't I fall for a nice guy?

I collapsed into bed. My body was exhausted but my mind kept whirling around like a snake trying to eat its own tail. I tried to replay some of tonight in my head, tried to remember the way Eric looked, the things he said. But hovering at the edges was always Jules.

Fucking Jules. Getting in the way. Messing everything up. Messing me up.

My mind flashed back to him sprawled out naked on his bed. His fist closing around his cock.

I inhaled sharply, my hips rising up off the bed. The sound that escaped my mouth was half frustrated growl, half anguished moan. I flopped to my side, feeling heat spread through my body, burning me up so that I leaped to my feet, confused as fuck about what was happening to me.

My head was buzzing. I needed to sleep. But there was no way I could go to sleep with Jules still lodged in my head like this. I needed to dislodge him. Think about something, anything, else.

As I padded over to the dresser, I told myself that this was just to alleviate frustration. Just so I could sleep.

Then I opened the drawer and took out my vibrator.

The second I brushed it between my legs it was like a bomb went off inside of me. I arched up, gasping in shock at how fast I was coming...and how hard. It seemed to go on and on, my whole body stiff like an electric current was coursing through me until it finally fell away by degrees and I was left with only a pleasant spreading warmth. I closed my eyes, finally relaxed enough to let sleep take me, and let my arm drop down the side of the bed to let the vibrator fall to the floor to pick up later. But as I did, my fingers brushed something soft on the hard floor.

I opened my eyes and leaned over. On the floor, as bright red as a stop sign and just as accusatory, puddled a pair of well-cut boxers. It had tumbled out from the pile under the bed.

Jules had been going commando all day today because of me. He knew. He knew I had them.

"Shit," I hissed.

And just like that, I was wide awake again.