I take a deep breath, shrug my shoulders, and attempt to get through the song again.

Fucking Drew. His shit is complicated. But then I knew that when I agreed to fill in for the Sinful Serenade guitarist.

Sinful Serenade is headlining our current tour. I'm a convenient choice. But Drew is too much of a perfectionist to go with convenience. He's trusting me with a lot.

Can't fuck that up.

I agreed in a heartbeat. The man had just found out his fiancée was pregnant. Just from our brief phone call, I could tell he was going to choose her over anything else. Someone had to step in. I'm more than capable. It made sense.

I didn't consider how hard it is to master his songs. Certainly didn't consider what a big deal it is filling in for the Drew Denton.

But then there's nothing that could have convinced me to decline the offer.

I don't back down from a challenge. Whether it's filling in for Drew or hanging out around Violet without falling in love with her, I don't give in when shit is hard.

I take a few minutes to stretch my hands, get water, shake off all the doubt creeping into my head. Not sure if it's about playing or about Violet. Doesn't matter. Neither challenge is defeating me.

First, I play the Sinful Serenade song I know the best. Then the next. By song four, I'm lost in the music.

This is where the world makes sense, when it's me and my guitar and nothing else.

The door opens and Mal steps inside the room. He nods keep going.

I'm not his monkey, but, dammit, even at twenty-four, I still get giddy over my big brother's approval.

I finish the song.

"I'm going to have to watch out or you'll become Drew's full-time replacement." Mal hooks his mic up to his amp. "Mind if I join?"

"You gonna sing with moans every other word like Miles does?"

I'm not sure which is more disturbing—Mal moaning every other word the way Miles Webb, the Sinful Serenade singer does, or Mal's usual breathy style. Either way, he sounds like he's in the middle of a vigorous fuck.

Mal shrugs, playing coy.

I go on to the next song on the setlist. It's tough, with a killer guitar solo. Mal does his usual breathy thing. As much as I hate to think of the implications of his overly sensual voice, it sounds fucking good with the music.

I get lost in the feel of the song. Then we're playing another. Then we're finishing the entire setlist.

We play for an hour before we break.

Mal nods his approval. "Vi agreed to take the gig."

"Great. Proud of yourself?"

He shrugs. "Not everything is about you, Ethan. Sometimes you gotta think about other people."

As if Mal thinks about anything besides staying king of the Strong family and king of Dangerous Noise.

Fuck, we even call him The King behind his back.

Mal's bright eyes get intense. "If you can't handle being around Violet, I get it. Hard to resist a woman that fine."

He's baiting me but he's right.

Not many guys would resist Violet.

My blood goes cold at the thought of her coming screaming some other guy's name.

She isn't mine anymore. I can't do anything about her moving on unless I'm ready to make her mine again.

I swallow hard.

Mal shakes his head. I can hear his thoughts. You're hopeless, little bro.

"You're such a fucking know-it-all." I flip him off as playfully as I can.

"No. I just happen to know everything." He laughs and steps out the door.

* * *

My bed still smells like Violet. It's driving me out of my mind.

This—thinking about her naked, under me, screaming my name—is not productive. Opening for Sinful Serenade is the opportunity of a lifetime. Already, our album sales are skyrocketing. Already, we're getting offers for all sorts of commercial deals.

The only thing I've ever wanted, aside from Violet, is to make music that matters to people. Can't let my feelings for Violet fuck with that.

I should text her a manifesto about how the two of us are never getting back together.

My fingers refuse to cooperate. My fingers want her soft skin. They want her cunt pulsing around them as she comes.

My fingers are awfully cooperative most of the time. If they refuse to tell Violet to fuck off, fine. Violet and I can be friends.

Ethan: You okay at home?

Violet: I'll be away soon enough.

Ethan: You talk to your parents?

Violet: A little. I should pack. Anything I need to keep in mind?

Ethan: It will be cold in Portland, Seattle, and Chicago. Rainy too.

Violet: Thanks. I'm not planning on doing much sightseeing.

Ethan: Fuck that. I'll show you around.

Violet: Maybe.

Ethan: It's been a long time. I'm not holding shit against you. The two of us can be friends.

Violet: We can?

Ethan: If you stop undressing me with your eyes.

Violet: Stop wearing tight t-shirts and jeans and we'll talk. And eyeliner—don't even think about wearing eyeliner.

Ethan: You described my stage getup.

Violet: Did I?

Ethan: You know you did.

Violet: I described your old stage getup. How should I know what you wear now? A lot of other things have changed. You could have grown out of eyeliner.

Ethan: Grown out of it?

Violet: Yeah.

Ethan: Cause it's for kids or some shit?

Violet: That's not what I meant.

Ethan: You always jumped me when I was wearing eyeliner.

Violet: Maybe.

Ethan: You really think you can sell this story about how it's something I'd grow out of?

Violet: I looked hot when I wore a hot pink bra under my seethrough top. It was still a phase I grew out of.

Ethan: Sorry I missed that.

Violet: I was 15, you perv!

Ethan: We're the same age.

Violet: Technicalities.

Ethan: You think I look hot in eyeliner.

Violet: Maybe.

Ethan: You afraid to admit it?

Violet: Okay, you look hot in eyeliner. You look hot in everything, Ethan. You're a very attractive man.

Ethan: Why does that sound like an accusation?

Violet: Maybe I wish I could pull off that just-rolled-out-of-bed hairstyle.

Ethan: You always looked good when you rolled out of my bed.

Violet: With all of last night's makeup perfectly in place?

Ethan: I preferred when I got you sweaty enough your makeup smudged.

Violet: Are you flirting with me?

Ethan: Maybe.

Violet: Are you?

Ethan: You know I am. It's friendly. We'll be friends.

Violet: Just friends?

Ethan: Just friends.

Violet: You honestly believe we can do that?

Ethan: I can. Can you?

Violet: Remember that bit about you being an attractive man?

Ethan: You're still hot as fuck, Violet. Doesn't mean I can't be your friend.

Violet: Yeah. I guess you're right. I'll see you tomorrow.

Ethan: Sweet dreams.

Violet: You too.