A door opens and closes. Footsteps. “He’s such an ass,” she finally says. “I’m sorry he did that.”

“Don’t be.”

“You seem okay.”

“I’m always okay.”

A short pause, and then, “Are you over him now?”

“I was never under him.” Unless last night counts . . . and the dozens of times before that.

“You know what I mean. Are you two done?”

“For now.”

A longer pause, and then, “Are you still coming to Mayhem tomorrow?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” I say, already planning what I’m going to wear to make Joel sorry he ever even considered calling another girl.

Rowan sighs heavily into the phone. “You’re so not done.”

Chapter Six

IN A WAR of social combat, there is one key to victory: Act like you’ve already won. In high school, it worked on bitch cheerleaders who were angry about their jock boyfriends calling me after school. Now, it’s going to work on the one guy who is too stupid to realize he should never try to do better than me because I’m the best there is.

In my shortest skirt and skimpiest top, I walk into Mayhem like a general prepared to accept the surrender of his enemy. I have my armor—the sequins shining on my top and the black boots stretching up to my knees. I have my weapons—the cleavage squeezed into my plunging neckline, the miles of skin shimmering between boots and my skirt, and the smooth black nail polish glimmering under Mayhem’s muted lighting. And I have my war paint—my shadowy eye makeup, my thick black lashes, and my moist pink lips. I’m dressed for the kill, and I’m prepared to draw first blood when I spot Joel at the bar and nearly stop dead in my tracks. Rowan and Leti stop walking to glance back at me, but I only hesitate for half a step before resuming my march.

He’s standing at the end with hot girls under each arm—like seriously hot girls, with big boobs, long legs, and commercial-ready hair. By the way his eyes lift to meet mine and the corner of his mouth quirks up, I can tell this is the equivalent of him taking the first shot.

I ignore him and squeeze into a spot between Shawn and Adam with Leti at my back. Adam gives up his stool so that Rowan can sit there, preferring to stand behind her with his arms draped around her shoulders.

“You’re prettier than them,” Leti assures me in my ear.

Rowan must not have heard, because she leans over to tell me the exact same thing, and the fact that they’re both insisting on it makes me worried that I’m not. Defensive, I open my mouth and throw down the gauntlet. “Did you enjoy your long walk home, Joel?”

When I turn my gaze to him, he’s grinning at me, his sparkling blue eyes welcoming my challenge. “I didn’t need to walk. That girl’s number came in handy.”

I’m trying to prevent hurt from flashing across my face when Shawn shouts, “How are you going to stand there lying like that?”

“I had to come pick your sorry ass up!” Adam adds, and I laugh along with the people around me while Joel bristles.

“You know what I’d like to talk about?” Mike says from the other side of Shawn, and all eyes turn to him. “Literally anything else.”

Mike is the only member of the band who doesn’t constantly have groupies trying to shove their hands down his pants, but that’s only because he has no interest in them. He’s a bit shorter than Joel, Adam, and Shawn, but he’s taller than Cody and has more meat on his bones. His eyes are a warm brown, and he has a thick mop of chestnut hair I wouldn’t mind tugging my fingers through . . . It’s only too bad he’d rather drink beer and play video games than have a good time.

Shawn laughs and clinks his beer bottle to Mike’s. I roll my eyes and flag the bartender, ordering a vodka cranberry and telling him to make it a good one. I down it quickly, listening to the guys’ banter and contemplating separating myself from them completely so I don’t have to buy my next drink. I’m scanning the other side of the bar when I see Cody, the band’s third guitarist, appear in the crowd.

The first time we met was the same night Adam made a public spectacle of asking Rowan to be his girlfriend. I was sitting next to Joel on the bus after the show when Cody slid into the seat next to me.

“Want the grand tour?” he asked. His leer made it clear he was already assuming my answer would be yes, and I knew which room he wanted to show me—the black-satin bedroom Rowan had told me about, which I had no interest in seeing with anyone other than Joel. Or Shawn. Or even Mike. But definitely not fucking Cody. There was just something about the way he looked at me that made me want to knee him in the crotch.

“I was hoping Joel would show me,” I suggested loudly enough for Joel to overhear, and he removed himself from the conversation everyone else was having to turn his head in my direction and give me that smile that made my clothes feel too small and the space between us feel too big. I had just met him the night before, but we’d already had sex all over every inch of my dorm room, trashing it in true rock-star fashion.

Cody’s hand slid across my back and curled around my waist. “I want my turn.”

My eyes snapped back to him. “Excuse me?”

“You look like fun. Joel’s already had his turn.”

“Are you fucking serious right now?” I wasn’t some fucking toy to be passed around, and I also wasn’t going to sit there and let him assume I was.