Oh sweet baby Jesus it's bright. How can it be this bright this early in the morning?

There's a loud noise downstairs. A pot clanging. My parents don't cook. Not on weekdays. And there's no way I drove myself home last night. I never drink and drive. Ever.

I take a deep breath and stretch my arms over my head. This isn't my bed. In my just-woke-up fog, I'm not sure who's bed it is. My thighs aren't sore. It's been long enough that I'd be sore if I spent the night screwing someone.

I catch sight of myself in the full length mirror. It's strategically placed above the bed. For watching yourself have sex.

I know that mirror. I know this bed. I really, really know the smell of this t-shirt. It smells like Ethan.

God damn, it smells good.

As if the smell of him and the sight of his incredibly hot sex mirror weren't enough to remind me of everything I miss about Ethan, the t-shirt is plastered with his band's name: Dangerous Noise.

Fuck…

I practically begged him to sleep with me. It's not that I don't get hot all over at the thought of Ethan driving his cock inside me, his hands digging into my hair as he groans my name—

Damn, it's getting hard to concentrate.

I drag myself to the bathroom, brush my teeth, shower, and try to ignore the memories of last night.

The man is with a different woman in every tabloid picture—I have Ethan Strong and Dangerous Noise Google alerts, sue me. He gives cocky interviews where he plays cool the entire time. He gets caught trashing hotel rooms and telling other musicians to go fuck themselves.

He's not the Ethan who taught me to play the Hole song Doll Parts. He's not the Ethan who showed me monster movies then squeezed me when I spent the entire film hiding behind my hands.

He's not the Ethan I fell in love with.

Hell, he was about to screw a strange woman when I ran into him—I should have known better than to go to our old hangout spot.

The woman meant so little to him that he abandoned her the second he saw me.

Maybe that should flatter me, but instead it screams Ethan Strong is not the sweet boy I loved. He's not even the asshole who broke my heart. He's a playboy rock star. Just another famous asshole who thinks women exist to get him off.

After I dry off and take a few more Advil, I change into last night's clothes and do what I can with the makeup I keep in my purse.

Out of excuses, I slink downstairs.

Ethan's older brother Mal is making eggs in the kitchen. He and Ethan have the same piercing blue eyes but Ethan's hair is nearly black while Mal's is more of a medium brown.

Joel, the Dangerous Noise drummer, is with him. Joel runs a hand through his sandy blond hair and laughs.

He launches into a slow clap. "Damn, Violet, way to backslide."

Mal's eyes go wide. Damn, he must be surprised. Usually, Mal wears the world's best poker face.

He nudges Joel and shoots him a shut the fuck up look.

Joel laughs. "Was it good, at least?"

Mal frowns. "If they'd fucked Ethan wouldn't have been in such a shit mood."

There’s a rainbow of canvas sneakers by the door. I recognize the shoes Ethan was wearing last night. Either he's here or—

"He's at the gym." Mal shakes his head. "You want to tell me how you ended up in Ethan's bed?"

"With as many details as you can spare, preferably." Joel's smile lights up his grey-green eyes. "I was wondering why Ethan brought a girl home."

Huh?

Joel stares at me. "Damn, can't believe that's really you, Violet. I thought you ate Ethan's heart for breakfast and used it as fuel to get your ass to New York."

God damn, is Ethan really selling our breakup as me destroying him? He's the one who chose his dreams over mine.

It doesn't matter now. It's over. As much as I like seeing Mal (hell, it's nice seeing Joel, even with his I'm gonna start shit attitude turned up to eleven), it's time for me to go.

"It's spring break," I say.

Joel nods. "You find a new boy in New York?"

"Not at the moment. I'm more focused on school. How's the band?" I ask.

"Good. Our tour bus is a hell of a lot nicer. And you know Ethan." Joel shrugs.

Mal clears his throat. "Did you come all the way to Orange County to fuck with Ethan's ex or did you come here to practice?"

"Mostly came to fuck with you and Ethan but Violet being here is a bonus," Joel says.

Mal frowns.

"Okay, I got it. I should practice." Joel shoots me a knowing look. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"Does that leave anything?" I ask.

"Certainly wouldn't sleep with my ex," Joel says.

"You don't have any exes." Mal crosses his arms, adopting his papa bear stance.

"Okay, I got it. Tell Piper I said hi if I miss her." Joel shakes his head. He nods goodbye to me on the way to the practice room.

The room feels quieter without Joel in it. Mal has that same protective stance but I'm not sure who he's trying to protect—me or Ethan.

"I'd offer coffee but I gave it up. Bad for the vocal chords." He nods to a pot of tea on the counter. "You want tea?"

"Yes please. Where is Piper?"

"Class. She's at UCI now." He pours me a cup and places it on the kitchen island. "You want eggs too?"

"I should take a cab home."

"Stay for breakfast." He turns back to the pan on the stove and scrambles the eggs. "Don't make me restrain you."

I'm not sure whether or not I should laugh. I'm not good with people, not even with a guy who is practically my big brother.

Or was practically my big brother.

Mal and I aren't anything anymore. This isn't my life anymore and lingering in it makes me feel like I'm stuck in some weird, slutty rock star version of A Christmas Carol.

But the eggs smell good and I'm starving. I nod an okay.

Mal makes small talk. He has an entire plate of eggs, a dozen pieces of toast, and several halved avocados ready by the time I finish my second cup of tea.

"Ethan hasn't been the same since you left." Mal slides a plate with eggs, toast, and two halves of an avocado to me.

That's nice. Ethan had every chance to apologize. He clearly prefers fucking strangers to what we had. Ethan isn't the same, Mal and I can agree on that point. He's an obnoxious manwhore now.

"People change." I take a bite of my eggs and chew until they're mush. Anything to keep from having to make conversation.

"He said you were too drunk to drive." He shakes his head, that signature Mal this isn't good head shake.

That much is true. "Last night was two years since Asher…"

Mal nods. His eyes fill with sympathy. Or maybe pity. I'm not sure. It's hard to tell sometimes, especially with Mal.

"I'm sorry about that. He was a great guy. And to find him like that-"

"Thanks." I interrupt him before he can properly remind me of the gory details. This is far too much talking. I'm not good at talking.

I shove half a slice of toast in my mouth. Then I get to work on scooping avocado over my eggs, adding sriracha, stirring until it's just right.

"Thanks Mal. Tastes great." I shove another bite of food in my mouth and offer him a thumbs up.

He nods and we eat in silence. It's comfortable, familiar, like it's only been a few days and not two years.

The front door opens. There are footsteps, shoes coming off, bare feet on tile.

"Hey, Ethan. You want eggs, come sit." Mal ignores the tension. He turns back to me. "How is school? Math, right? You getting a master’s or a PhD?"

"A master’s. It's great. Can't wait to be back in—" I do the calculation in my head. "Twelve days."

Ethan does not sit. He stays standing as he fills a plate for himself.

His eyes bore into me. It's like my existence is causing him pain.

Mal continues to ignore his little brother. "You're good with numbers?"

I nod.

"And you don't want to be home?" Mal asks.

"Is it that obvious?"

Mal nods. "I have a proposition for you." He turns to Ethan, then his eyes are back on mine. "You go to NYU, right?"

I nod.

"We're leaving in two days. We stop by New York City in about eleven days. We're playing Madison Square Garden." Mal smiles.

"Congrats," I say.

"Thanks." He passes the hot sauce to Ethan, then his eyes are on me. "I'm sure Ethan agrees that we need somebody smart taking a second look at our numbers. Our old manager was a fuckup and I don't trust his math."

"Okay…" This seems like the perfect time to scarf down another piece of toast. Anything so I don't have to respond.

The look Ethan shoots Mal would kill a weaker man.

Mal doesn't blink. "Join us on tour. You can sightsee when we're stopped and take a second look at our numbers while we're on the road. I'm not sure how much this kind of thing runs, but I promise whatever we pay will be fair."

I clear my throat. "That's not really what I do. You'd be better off finding a CPA."

"I don't like bringing new people into the band." Mal's voice is impossible to read. "I'd rather it be you."

Ethan's blue eyes are fierce, determined. "Great idea."

What?

His eyes meet mine. It's like he's daring me to take the gig. You don't affect me at all, Vi. I don't give a fuck if you're around or not, but we both know you can't survive being around me for a week and a half.

Fuck, I practically begged him to fuck me last night.

I'm not that girl. I don't beg guys for sex. I don't beg anyone for anything.

Clearly, I can't handle being around Ethan.

My body has other ideas. It's already humming from the proximity of his body. It's already begging me to take him up on his offer.

He's sweaty from his workout. His dark, wavy hair is sticking to his head. His tattooed arms are slick. He only had one sleeve, the left, when things ended. Now he has a right sleeve too. It's as bright and vibrant as his eyes.

He takes a deep breath, stretching his arms over his head. I can see inches of his taught stomach. I can see that flash of pubic hair. The happy trail. God, that was a happy place.

My body screams Ethan, please give me Ethan.

It's not a good idea being around him. Even if it will get me out of my parents' house. Even if I need the cash.

Even if I miss him as much as I miss Asher.

I shake my head. "Thanks, Mal, but—"

"Think about it," Mal says.

I slide off my seat and take a step towards the door. "I'm going to call a cab." And wait for it far, far away.

"I'll drive you home, Vi," Ethan says. "We need to talk."

Talk? Uh-uh. I don't have anything to say to Ethan besides fuck you for making me feel like my dreams were worthless, or maybe fuck me in the backseat of your car.

"Just need ten minutes to shower." Ethan nods to the kitchen island. "Have another cup of tea."

I wouldn't mind another cup of tea.

I certainly don't mind the vivid mental images of pounding water dripping off Ethan's naked body.

Still, I should say no.

When I open my mouth to speak, words refuse to fall. I don't say no, that's okay. Or, actually, I'm going somewhere out of the way.

Instead, I press my lips together, and I nod yes.