“He loved you,” I say when I answer my ringing phone at 12:02 a.m. I expected that we were all going to bed, but then Sexy as Fuck Drummer showed up on my phone and my heart skipped into my throat.

“I’m going to see if I can get the Deadzone people to let him beta Five,” Mike says, and my eyes widen.

“You don’t have to . . .”

“I want to.”

“Why?”

“Because your brother’s cool,” Mike says, and I snicker.

“He’s twelve.”

“He’s the coolest twelve-year-old I’ve ever met.”

“I’ll have to tell him that,” I say with a genuine smile in my voice. “Oh! And he doesn’t even know you’re a rock star. He’s going to die.”

“Rock star.” Mike laughs.

“What’s funny?”

“Adam is the rock star.”

In the dark, I wonder, Is that what he actually thinks? Does he really not know what a star he is? And I suddenly feel a deep-seated need to correct him.

Maybe it’s the big sister in me. Or maybe it’s the indebted hoodie owner. Or maybe it’s just the girl who knows deep down that Mike deserves to understand how special he is.

“You should’ve heard these two girls outside the club talking about you last Saturday,” I say.

“Oh yeah? What were they saying?”

“They were talking about how hot you are.” I try to sound as casual as possible in spite of the fierce red blush creeping across my cheeks.

“Go on,” Mike says, his amused tone making even the tip of my nose glow red.

“Something about drummers really knowing how to bang.”

Oh God, my entire face is on fire. I flip the pillow over and bury my flaming cheeks in it as Mike laughs.

“They said you never hook up with fans though,” I rush to add, and Mike’s laughter slowly quiets.

“Yeah, I don’t.”

“Why not? Isn’t that one of the perks of being a rock star?”

A long, long moment of silence passes, and then Mike says, “Can I be honest with you?”

“Of course.”

He takes a deep breath, and I hold mine.

“I don’t think I ever really got over your cousin.”

“Oh.” I pull the covers over my head to hide from the heavy awkwardness that just swallowed this conversation whole. It’s like I forgot that he’s Danica’s boyfriend.

Danica’s. Boyfriend.

“I’m supposed to take her out this Saturday . . .” he says while I continue hiding in the pitch-black.

“Sounds like fun.”

“Yeah.”

“Hey, Mike?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to head to bed, okay?”

The line is silent for a while, and then he says, “Okay. Thanks for letting me play with you and your brother tonight, Hailey.”

I thank him again for my hoodie, and we eventually end the call. But not before he wishes me sweet dreams.

I fall asleep thinking of the way his deep, quiet voice sounded when he said it.

Have sweet dreams, Hailey.

I sigh against my pillow.

Goodnight, Mike.

Chapter 7

“You should go out with Mike,” my brother informs me on Saturday afternoon as I shoulder my phone against my ear and pick up dog poop while simultaneously trying to untangle three dog leashes from my legs. Apparently, walking a poodle, a dachshund, and a wolfhound all at one time was a terrible freaking idea.

“He’s dating Danica,” I reply as I try to kick my foot out of a dog-leash noose.

“So?” Luke counters.

“NO!” I shout at the world’s horniest poodle when he gets excited and tries to hump my leg. I push him down, but the wolfhound thinks I’m playing and tackles me to the grass. Again.

“Geez, sorry,” Luke says while I get my face licked by three dogs at once.

“Not you.” I make spitting sounds as I writhe on the ground trying to keep dog tongue out of my mouth. In the distance, I hear someone laughing, and I guess the shelter director, Barb, is getting a kick out of me being assaulted by a horny fluff ball, an overweight hot dog, and a shaggy horse-mutt all at once. No amount of college internship credits could possibly be worth this. It’s taking all of my concentration to not roll onto the bag of poop that fell somewhere on the grass nearby. “Hold on a second, Luke.”

Approximately five hundred NOs later, I’m finally on my feet again with three very sorry-looking dogs sitting on the grass in front of me. “These dogs are going to be the death of me,” I huff as the wolfhound hangs his head.

“They can’t be worse than Teacup.”

“Teacup is an angel!” I protest in defense of the adorable potbelly pig I had to leave back home. Sure, she had a thing for eating people’s shoes. But who needs shoes anyway?

“She ate Dad’s slipper yesterday.”

“Oh no.”

“He threatened to eat her.”

“He always threatens to eat her.”

“Do you think Mike likes pigs?”

He must, since he’s dating one. I grin to myself as I walk the dogs back toward the kennels. “Why are you so hung up on Mike, bud?”

I’m guessing it has something to do with the fact that Mike came through and got Luke a code to beta test Deadzone Five. My brother had been so excited, he could barely form a complete sentence on the phone—just lots of “oh my God”s and “this can’t be real life”s.