Sunlight streamed through the parted curtains. The light hitting my closed eyelids was enough to stir me from sleep. I shifted, grunting, trying to avoid the sun. Mornings. Ugh.

I was stopped by a pair of strong arms around my waist, and a firm chest pressed against my back.

Memories of the night before flicked across my mind, like a movie reel. An R-rated movie.

I stretched, like a satisfied cat basking in the sun, arms reaching high above my head, feet arching with pointed toes. I enjoyed the small aches of overworked muscles.

Those arms tightened around me, a quick squeeze before relaxing. I rolled, switching sides.

August was staring at me, blue eyes intent on my face.

"That's creepy," I said.

"I'll pretend to be asleep, then." He went limp, flopping into his back, eyes closed.

I laughed.

He peeked one eye open.

"You're staring at me. Now who's the creepy one?"

I hit him with a pillow, still giggling.

I'd never felt so… content. Like everything in the world was okay. Like nothing could bring me down.

I snuggled back down into his arms, burying my face in his chest, tangling our bare legs together. Somehow during the night he'd taken off his shirt and jeans, leaving him only in his boxers. I breathed in that warm scent, even stronger now after a night's sleep. I couldn't get enough of it.

I couldn't remember falling asleep. I must have passed out sometime after my third or fourth orgasm. My sleep shorts were back on. August must have dressed me to make sure I didn't get cold.

I was glad he'd stayed. I wouldn't have wanted to wake up alone.

"You were amazing last night," I whispered.

"That was you." A slightly wicked smirk crossed his lips. "I love watching you squirm as I fuck you with my tongue."

A full body flush warmed me, from my pinked cheeks, to my quivering belly, to my clenching thighs.

August had never used words like that around me before. No one had, not even my previous boyfriends.

I liked it.

Really liked it.

"I didn't know it was possible for something to feel that good," I said. "No one's ever…"

I trailed off, knowing it was bad manners to bring up previous lovers while in the arms of your current one.

August pressed a kiss to my hair.

"You can tell me. If you want."

I took in a heavy breath.

"You were right, what you guessed about my first boyfriend. And my second boyfriend. And the one after that. I never felt anything like that with them. Even when—" I faltered.

August nodded, encouraging me, letting me know he understood without me needing to say it.

"It wasn't like they were bad at it. I just never felt anything. Emotional or physical. For anyone. I tried. I tried to force myself to feel. To like it. To like them. But I never did."

I took a deep, shuddering breath.

"For a long time, I thought there was something wrong with me," I murmured against his bare skin. "I thought I was broken. Then you came along."

I lifted my head to meet his eyes. They were kind, patient.

"At first you were just another random guy. Someone interested in my art. I was nervous about what you thought."

"I could tell."

"Then you told me you saw passion in my work. You said it called to you. You saw something in me I didn't even see in myself. Even though we'd just met, things felt… intimate between us. And I didn't realize how badly I'd been craving that. Intimacy. Understanding. Acceptance. Like that's what I'd been missing this whole time. And I felt like for once, maybe, I wasn't broken after all."

August placed a slow, sensual kiss on my lips.

"You were never broken."

"I don't know why it was you," I said softly. "Why you and not anyone else. But ever since you said those words, something inside me started to come to life. Like I finally woke up. And I started to feel something. It was scary. And exciting. You made my head spin. I didn't know what to make of you. But you always seemed to know what I was thinking."

"You're not hard to read."

"You're the first person to say that."

August tilted my chin up, making me look in him the eyes.

"I don't want you thinking that I 'fixed' you or anything like that. There was never anything wrong with you in the first place. Some people just don't feel sexual attraction until there's an emotional connection. Some people don't feel sexual attraction at all." He gave a wry smile. "And some people feel sexual attraction to anything on two legs."

"Damon," we both said at the same time, sharing a grin.

August sat up, stretching. I enjoyed the sight of his muscles shifting under smooth skin.

"How about some breakfast?" he said. "I can order room service. We don't have to get moving until this afternoon."

It only took a quick call before a tray of bacon, eggs, pancakes, and orange juice was wheeled to our door. August tipped the young attendant with a wad of cash. The kid's eyes widened at the sum as August closed the door on him.

He brought the food to me, so I didn't have to get up. Breakfast in bed. My heart thumped sweetly in my chest at how romantic that sounded.

"Not bad for hotel food," I said after taking my last bite of delicious, fluffy scrambled eggs.

"We only stay at the best. We're Darkest Days, after all."

I laughed at him, almost snorting juice up my nose.

"You should tone down on the ego or someone might end up smacking you someday."

"Why do I have a feeling that person is going to be you?"

"Nah." I scooted closer until I was sitting in his lap, my legs on either side of his hips. I wrapped my arms around his neck. "I think you're perfect."

"I know." There wasn't a hint of modesty in his voice, but the smile playing on his lips told me he was half-teasing. He pulled back. "I want to take you somewhere."

My heart quickened.

"Like a date?" I asked.

"Sure. Let's call it a date. But bring your camera."

August snuck out of my room for a shower and change of clothes before the other guys got up. Rock stars tended to sleep until noon.

The concert wasn't until that evening so we had the whole day to ourselves.

August wouldn't tell me where we were going the entire taxi ride out of the city. We drove until we reached the outskirts of town.

The taxi pulled up to a rusted gate. August opened the car door and let me go first, holding my camera for me.

I blinked behind my glasses as I looked through the wide-spaced metal bars blocking the entrance to…

"Is this an amusement park?"

"An abandoned amusement park," August replied. "Not exactly dinner and a movie, but I thought it might be fun."

A sense of glee filled my chest, not only at the chance to take cool photos in a new setting, but at August's thoughtfulness for taking me here on a date. He was right. It wasn't dinner and a movie. It was so much better than that.

"I'm sure the rides don't work anymore," I pointed out.

"Roller coasters are overrated."

August took my hand and led me around the fenced-off perimeter. About a quarter of the way around there was a gap in the fence. I examined it. It looked like someone had taken bolt-cutters to it.

"Did you come here early and break in just for me?"

"I found this place on one of those urban explorer websites you talked about."

He'd done his research. This place was deserted and decrepit and absolutely amazing. The emptiness was creepy in a childish sort of way, like how clowns are creepy when you're young.

I ran up to a motionless, moss-covered carousel. Some of the wooden horses had fallen to the ground, cracked and chipped. A few still stood tall.

I jostled one vigorously to test how sturdy it was and hopped on. Wrapping my arms around the horse's neck and kicking its ribs with my heels, I laughed out loud. It was like being a little kid again.

A bright flash surprised me. August was lowering the camera in his hands. His eyes sparkled.

"I should be taking your picture," I said. "You're the one who's supposed to be in front of the camera, not me."

"You're too cute not to capture this moment."

I flushed at the endearment.

"Come over and ride with me."

Instead of getting on his own horse, he climbed up on mine, settling behind me, his arms around my waist and his hips tucked firmly against my backside.

"Giddy-up," he said, amused.

"You'd make a good cowboy."

"Is that what you're into?" he said, before faking a western drawl. "You want a good ol' fashioned cowboy to make you his little lady?"

"It used to be," I teased. "But now I'm starting to see the appeal of the rock star type."

"And who is this rock star who's caught your eye? Do I need to fight someone for your affections?"

"You don't need to fight anyone. All my affection belongs to you."

Embarrassed at how sappy I'd sounded, I scrambled off the horse before August could reply.

"I bet there's a ferris wheel," I deflected. "I've always wanted to climb one."

"Have you got a death wish?" He hopped off the horse easily. He would have made a good cowboy. "First rickety, rusting fire escapes, and now this. I don't want to see you fall and crack your head open."

"Look who's talking," I replied without thinking.

August went silent.

"I'm sorry," I said immediately. "I didn't mean to bring it up."

"No. You're right. I'm lucky I didn't hurt myself worse than I did when I fell."

When he overdosed was more accurate, but I didn't say it out loud.

Some of the anger I'd felt before began to resurface. I pushed it back. Getting mad wouldn't help anyone.

I went to August and brought my arms up around his neck.

"I know how hard this must be," I said. "Trying to stay clean—"

"I'm not an addict." He repeated the words he'd said in the hospital.

That was exactly what an addict would say. Again, I kept my tongue.

"Still. I know that playing every night must aggravate your shoulder. I'm proud of you for sticking to your promise."

He pressed a kiss to my lips.

"You want to check out the ferris wheel?" he asked. "It looks like there's one over there."

We held hands as we made our way through the park, exploring nooks and crannies, taking photos of both the run-down rides and each other.

When we reached the ferris wheel I immediately slung the camera around my neck and climbed into the bottom most carriage.

"Hop in," I said.

August looked doubtful.

"It's not going to fall apart on us," I added.

"You sure?" he muttered, but followed me into the carriage, taking a seat next to me.

I took shots from every direction, focusing on the criss-crossing metal bars of the ferris wheel's structure above my head. It had a wonderful sort of geometry to it.

I turned the camera to August. He was rotating his shoulder slightly, as if working out a pulled muscle.

"Does it still hurt?" I asked, concerned.

"Not all the time."

"Does it hurt now?"

"A little."

"You should rest more." I hesitated, not sure whether to bring up the subject, but powered on, knowing someone had to. "Do you think you should speak to the guys about getting someone to fill in for you?"

August's eyes went wide.

"Just for a few shows," I said hurriedly. "Maybe every other city or so. Just to give you some time to rest."

"No."

"If you push yourself too hard—"

"No," he cut in. "I'm fine."

"But you're not fine. You're not even playing and your shoulder is bothering you. How bad does it get on stage?"

"I can handle it."

"But you don't have to just handle it. There's nothing wrong with taking a step back—"

"I can't!" He snapped his mouth shut, looking away.

"Can't take a step back?" I asked softly. "Can't take a break?"

He pressed his lips together.

"I know you think you have to be perfect all the time," I said.

He tensed.

And that was it, wasn't it? Talented, genius, perfect August Summers suddenly wasn't so perfect anymore. And he didn't know how to handle it.

Except to ignore it and keep pushing on as if everything was fine.

I scooted closer and pulled August in my arms. He resisted. I pressed a kiss to his hair.

"You're perfect to me," I said.

Slowly, he relaxed and settled against me.

"I don't need a replacement," he said.

"No one can replace you," I corrected him.

"I want to continue getting on stage as a member of Darkest Days. I don't want anyone else—" he swallowed hard. "I can keep playing."

With a heavy heart, I nodded. If his own bandmates hadn't been able to convince him, I doubted I'd be able to.

I just hoped perfect August Summers was right when he said he could keep playing.

I didn't want this to be the first time he proved himself wrong.