Violet walks through the foyer and takes in the living room with familiarity. Besides the matter of me and Mal—my brother is the lead singer in our band—being several million dollars richer and several million times more famous, things are mostly the same.

We still stay at our parents' place when we're in southern California. They still spend most of their time pursuing research in tropical countries. Piper is nineteen now, but I still don't feel right leaving her alone.

After she washes up in the downstairs bathroom, Violet takes a long look at the couch. "I can sleep here."

"No."

"Tell me what to do again and I'm walking home."

"Take my bed."

She stares back at me.

"I'm gonna insist. You'll save the two of us a lot of arguing if you agree now."

She looks me up and down. It's not an I'm glad we're not together look. It's I want the two of us on that bed, naked.

I lead her to my room anyway.

She closes the door and sits on the bed. Her eyes meet mine. She presses her lips together, taking a deep breath.

I know that look too. I know every expression Violet can make. She's working up her nerve to do something.

She exhales slowly. "Goddammit, Ethan. You know I haven't got any tact." She crosses and uncrosses her legs. Then she's spreading them apart. "You want to help me?"

"Wouldn't put it that way."

"If you really want me to feel better, then fuck me."

What the hell?

I pinch myself to see if I'm dreaming.

I'm not. Violet is in my bed, her legs spread, her lips parting with anticipation.

She's asking me to fuck her.

This is not how this fantasy goes. And I drift to it plenty of nights on the road.

I go to my dresser, grab a t-shirt and boxers for her to wear, and throw them to her. "You're drunk."

"If I was drunk, I'd be numb and I wouldn't have to ask." She slides the leather jacket off her arms and pushes herself off the bed. "Please, Ethan. You have any idea how badly I hate myself for asking you this?"

"That line work on other guys?"

"I don't mean it like that."

"You have more game than this."

"Okay. Let me start over." She plays with the hem of my t-shirt. Then her fingers are on my bare skin, sending heat to all my appendages. "It's not just that I want to feel something else. You were good. The best I've ever had."

"You're fucking with me." I bite my tongue so I won't ask questions about these other guys she's been fucking.

"No. I still think about you. About your calloused fingers between my legs." She moves closer, until her breath is warming my skin. "I think about that night in the lifeguard stand."

Goddammit, that's a fucking fantastic thought. I want to push that dress to her waist and stroke her until she comes.

She looks up at me. Her eyes are on fire with confidence. "I think about the way you screamed my name. About the way you pulled my hair when you came."

Fuck, I want her badly enough I'm considering this.

But I'm nobody's distraction. Especially not Violet's.

She presses her hips against mine. "You're hard."

Harder than I've been in a long time. "You're drunk."

She shakes her head. "I'm not." She brings her lips to my ear. "You were going to fuck the slut in the cheap heels."

"And your heels?"

She takes a step backwards. "These are Aerosoles. Or maybe Naturalizers. I forget, but they're good shit. Nice. Expensive."

I have to laugh. She laughs too. It breaks up the tension, sexual or otherwise. For a second, it's like everything is normal, like before we broke up, before her brother died.

Nobody else makes me feel like this.

I smile at Violet. "Aren't those shoes for soccer moms?"

She folds her arms. "I'm twenty-three."

"Twenty-four in two weeks."

She frowns, taken aback by me remembering her birthday. But that's ridiculous. We were together for three years. I remember way more than her fucking birthday. I remember every inch of her, every groan or moan or scream that fell off her lips.

Goddammit, I want to rip off her clothes and fuck her until she's screaming.

Thank God for self-respect or I'd already have my head between her legs.

Violet teases back. "If I'm twenty-three, then these shoes are obviously for twenty-three year olds. I can't help it that most people my age don't appreciate good arch support."

"I'm not gonna fuck you, Vi."

"I figured that out already."

"It won't help you turn off your brain. Your brain doesn't have an off switch."

She falls back on the bed. "I know."

"There are extra toothbrushes in the bathroom."

She looks up at me. "Okay."

"There's Advil too. Take one and drink a few glasses of water."

She stares back at me. "Good night, Ethan."

"You too."

I leave her in my bed and attempt to relax downstairs. It's not happening. My body and my heart are at war. It's throw the woman on your bed and split her in half vs. throw the woman out of your house before she hurts you again.

Violet may not be able to turn her brain off, but I can.

I go to our practice room and I play until I can't think or feel anything but the strings of my guitar.