I catch a ride with Kara and hang out on the couch while she sets up for her party. Tom tries to make conversation. Then Pete. I send them both away, claiming a pressing desire to read, and hide out on the upstairs terrace.

Really, I'm trying to build up the confidence to change into my costume. It's in my bag, in Kara's car. I know it will affect Miles. I know exactly the reaction it will cause—his jaw will drop and his teeth will sink into his lower lip—but I'm concerned about the reaction it inspires in others.

It's not as if reminding Miles he wants me will help matters. He knows he wants me. The problem is that he won't offer himself to me. I need to accept that. It's just sex. Just pleasure. Just feeling good. Him locking me out of his heart—that doesn't feel good. That stings worse than anything has since Rosie died.

My heart needs to get over how much it wants his. That's not happening.

The sunset casts an orange glow over the hills. The view here is gorgeous—the Hollywood sign, the downtown L.A. skyline, the gridlocked streets all the way to the coast.

Rock stars get all the breaks.

"How come every time I see you, you look like you're waiting to be mounted?" Miles positions his body next to mine.

Instantly, my senses are overwhelmed. I remind myself that emotional intimacy is off the table, but my damn heart refuses to comprehend.

I stare into his gorgeous blue eyes. He's still defensive. I can't take it.

I push myself to my feet. "Excuse me."

"Talk to me."

"You were gone this morning. No note, no goodbye, nothing."

"I had to take care of something."

"What?"

"Band shit. It's not interesting." He rubs my shoulder. "I don't get to say I miss you. I don't get to say I love your laugh. Sounds like you shouldn't expect me to leave you notes telling you where I'm going to be."

He's making a compelling point. I hate that he's making a compelling point. I hate how reasonable he is. The acid churning in my stomach feels entirely unreasonable.

I am the one who demanded we dial back the feelings. Why can't my heart get on board with that?

I clear my throat. "You're right. As usual. Does it ever get tiring being right?" It's half teasing, half aggressive.

"Sometimes."

"Why did you come over last night?" I ask. "Why did you hold me and ask about my sister?"

"You called me." Miles looks up at me. "I'm respecting your terms, Meg."

"Is that what you want—for this to be all benefits, no friendship included?"

"It's what we agreed to." His expression shifts, back to cool and unflappable.

My heartbeat picks up. I still can't cause the reaction I want. But I can take my power back. I can be in the one in control of this.

"Excuse me. I need to change for the party." I nod goodbye. "I'll see you later."

His eyes stay on me, but, still, he says nothing.

* * *

Downstairs, the party is filling up. I plow through two dozen people to find Kara. She's already tipsy. Verging on drunk, even.

She slurs her words. "Sweetie, where have you been? Do you want a drink? You should have a drink."

Okay. Past verging and all the way into drunk. It's her birthday. Not the time for a lecture.

"Maybe later. Right now, I need my costume," I say.

"Right!" She bounces to her purse, digs through it, and hands me her car keys. "Knock 'em dead."

I change in the backseat of her car, stuff my clothes into a backpack, and dump it on the patio furniture. No matter how many times I adjust the costume, I feel uncomfortable. This thing is tiny. Gold bikini Princess Leia seemed like a good idea this morning. At the moment, I'm stuck on how many inches of skin I'm exposing.

I take a deep breath and check my reflection in the window. I look good. Nerdy but sexy.

I'm in control. I'm going to affect Miles.

After three more deep breaths, I make my way inside. The party isn't quite as crowded as the last one was. It's more college students than beautiful people. Nice of the band to let Kara invite all her friends to their place.

I fight my desire to hide from the action. Big smile, shoulders back, I'm confident. I may not love parties but I love having Miles under my thumb.

Tonight, I'm the casual, cool, effortless one.

Drew spots me and waves. I wave back, my best nice to see you, but please God leave me here on this couch alone wave.

It doesn't work. He strolls over and plops down next to me. He's dressed as a police officer. It suits him.

His tone is serious. "Can I ask you something personal?"

My heart thuds against my chest. Please don't let it involve Miles. "Sure."

"You miserable because you hate parties or because of Miles?"

Dammit. No luck today. "I'm not miserable."

"I barely know you and I still know that's bullshit."

"I'm not. I'm not happy but I'm… It's hard to explain."

He raises a brow. "Don't think you have to explain your intentions in that outfit."

I shrug like I wear this every Halloween.

He scans the crowd. I can’t make out the expression on his face. Drew is unreadable.

"I meant what I said about Miles—I'll kick his ass if he hurts you."

"That seems extreme."

"I've been around extreme too long to notice."

"Can I ask you something?"

He nods. "Fair is fair."

"Do you want to be with Kara? As her boyfriend?"

He holds a poker face. "Kara's amazing. She smart, funny, sweet. I'd have to be blind not to realize she's fucking gorgeous. But I'm not about to throw away what I have with Kara for a relationship that's doomed to fail."

"What if it's not doomed to fail?"

"Not worth the risk."

A month ago, I'd have nodded in agreement. Relationships suck. They always fail. Look at Rosie and Jared.

But right now I'm not sure I agree. Miles and I share something special, an understanding, an intimacy. I've never felt that way with anyone before.

It's tearing me up inside, how much I want him. But it feels good when I have him. Being with him feels better than anything else ever has.

Okay. My heart refuses to accept that this is casual. At least I'm aware of its failings.

Something catches Drew's eye. It's Kara. She's dressed as a mermaid. Her teal figure-hugging dress has a scale pattern. Sequins adorn the sweetheart neckline, emphasizing her large breasts. The dress flares at the knee, creating a proper mermaid tail. With her long, dark hair hanging over her shoulders, she has the whole mermaid sex goddess thing on lock.

Drew pants like a dog. It takes him a full minute to catch his breath.

He nods a goodbye, all cool like he isn't thinking about throwing Kara on his bed and using the handcuffs attached to his belt to keep her there.

"Let me know if you need a ride." He lowers his voice. "There are condoms in all the bathrooms. Just don't fuck in my room."

"I'm not going to—"

He raises a brow, incredulous. "I'll keep this conversation between us."

"Thank you."

"None of my business." He makes his way to Kara.

Who does the guy think he's kidding? His reaction is exactly the one I'm trying to inspire in Miles. There's no way Drew and Kara are going to be able to resist each other for long. Not with the way they keep teasing each other.

I hang out by the beverage table, nursing a tall glass of grapefruit juice.

Tom interrupts my peace. "All the couples in like costumes have to dance together."

"What are you talking about?"

Tom isn't wearing a costume. Unless his costume is guy who doesn't keep secrets. Maybe Miles took that one.

Tom drags me to the suddenly empty dance floor. Everyone has made room for the poor suckers in couples' costumes, apparently. There are two superheroes, a Buttercup and a Dread Pirate Roberts, and there's Miles, dressed as Han freaking Solo.

His pupils dilate. His tongue slides over his lips. He wants me. Badly. I'm affecting him.

I have him under my thumb.

His lips curl into a smile. He offers his hand. "Princess."

I can't help but smile. There's no doubt in my mind—he's wearing that costume for me. He's letting other people see the nerdiness he usually keeps secret for me.

I take his hand. My smile spreads ear to ear. "Scoundrel."

He slides his arms around my waist and pulls me close. A few people cheer. Tom scurries around, forcing more people together. I'm sure he's doing this at Kara's request, but I still don't like being this close to the spotlight.

The music is fast—a pop song I don't recognize. I can't keep up. But I don't have to.

Miles moves slow. I wrap my arms around his neck and bring my body closer to his. Whatever the circumstance, his arms feel nice. Better than nice. His arms make me feel better than anything ever has.

I'm fucked. There's no resisting the pull he has over my heart.

We dance for the entire song. Then it's over, and his arms are at his side. I mumble an excuse me and disappear into the crowd. Everyone around me is dancing or screaming or chanting shots! It's worse in the kitchen. A dozen people are crowded around a table, playing Kings Cup. I know some of them from school. But worse, they know me as that buzzkill girl who never drinks and never has any fun.

One of my classmates—I think her name is Sally—waves me over. "Hey, Meg, wanna play?"

"No thanks. I have uh…" I try to think up an excuse that won't end with someone asking why I'm not drinking.

"There you are." Miles slides his arms around my waist. He nods to my fellow students. "Sorry to drag Meg away from you, but I need her desperately."

Sally's face lights up with joy. Hell, the girl looks like she's about to wet herself. I nod, yes, obviously, I can't play your drinking game because I'm needed desperately by the hot rock star. See, I'm fun. I'm cool. I'm not a buzzkill.

Miles leads me outside. It's dark and cool, and he looks damn beautiful under the light of the moon.

He brushes my hair from my eyes.

I can see his breath, that bit of heat escaping his body. Hell, I can see right into his eyes. It doesn't tell me enough. I don't know what he's thinking.

"You're sober, aren't you?" I ask.

He nods.

"I think we're the only two sober people at this party."

"You looking for a ride home?" he asks.

"No." I move to the patio furniture. My backpack is still on the table. I sit next to it. "I don't know. Were you looking to get out of here?"

He sits next to me. "Soon. What about your friend?"

"She's fine. Drew cleared his room for her."

"His room or his bed?"

"You can't tell by his mood?"

Miles laughs. "I can, actually. He's not fucking her."

"Is he that obvious?"

Miles nods. "Is she?"

"Sort of. We haven't talked about guys in a while. I've been trying hard not to think about anything but midterms and medical school."

"Have you made any decisions about where you're applying?"

"Not yet." I pull my gaze back to Miles's eyes. There's so much in them, so much I'm never going to figure out. "But I don't want to think about it tonight."

"Princess, I think you might be taking advantage of me."

My lips curl into a smile.

"Just because you're royalty, that doesn't mean you can use me for my body. Even if I am a scoundrel."

"No?" I take his hand and place it over the curve of my hip, so his fingers graze my bare skin. "You're not desperate for me to take this off?"

He shakes his head.

"So you're desperate for me to leave it on?" I press my body against his. "You have a fantasy of screwing the princess?"

"You sure this is what you want?"

I nod.

"Then let's go."

"Where?"

"My place in Malibu."

"Now?"

He stands and offers his hand. "Hey, Princess, I've got the fastest ship in the galaxy. I can get you wherever you want to go in the blink of an eye."

"You mean the death bike, don't you?"

He smirks. "You'll hurt her feelings."