There's furniture in the house. When we left, it was empty. Now it's furnished.

I rub my eyes to make sure I'm not seeing things. It's still furnished. It's not a lot—a couch, a TV, a table and chairs—but it's still shit that appeared magically during a three-hour absence.

"I took care of it." Drew nods to the rooms upstairs. "I figured you'd want a queen bed, a dresser, and a desk."

"How the hell did you make that happen?"

"Trade secret." He drops takeout sushi bags on the table and digs out the plastic silverware. "You better stake a claim on this before Meg gets here and eats all the sashimi."

Pete and Tom walk in the open door. Pete is still hiding in his hoodie, his gaze on the floor.

He plops down on the couch and pulls his phone from his pocket. He stares at it with this strange mix of anger and fascination.

Tom grabs my arm. "Give him space."

Drew glares at Tom like he's going to hit the guy. Tom smirks as he releases his grip.

"Either of you fuck with Pete and you're dead." Tom frowns, empathy in his eyes. "He and Cindy were up all night screaming. He said some bad shit. Kind of shit you can't take back. I couldn't hear quite as much from her side, but it didn't sound good." He shakes his head and returns to a demanding look. "Stay out of it."

"You don't stay out of shit," Drew says.

"Because I know what I'm doing."

Tom tries to shrug it off but there's worry all over his face. He and Pete are foster brothers. It's easy to forget since they look nothing alike, but they fight like brothers and they care about each other in that I love you enough to tell you I hate you because we're family way.

Was Drew right? Do the guys talk about each other because they like to gossip? It sure seems like Tom likes to gossip.

But there's something in his eyes, and in Drew's eyes too.

They really do care.

* * *

"I haven't seen you in a million years." Meg throws her arms around me and squeezes tight.

"More like five days."

"It sucks we don't have any classes together." She bites a piece of salmon sashimi in half.

"It was bound to happen eventually." I glance at the guys in the band. They're all sitting at the table together—even Pete—and whispering about something.

Meg follows my gaze to the guys. She leans in close and lowers her voice. "Are you really going to be okay living with Drew?"

"Better than Nadeen."

Apprehension flares in her expression. "What if he brings another girl home?"

I clear my throat. "That crush is ancient history."

"I'll do you a favor and not call you on that today."

My cheeks flush. "Thank you." An immediate change of subject is the best way to avoid any further discussion of my feelings for Drew. "How's everything with Miles?"

A dreamy look spreads over Meg's face. "It's like paradise spending the day with him up in Malibu." The dreamy look fades. "Of course, it means I have to spend all day Sunday studying."

"Small price to pay for paradise."

Someone clears his throat. Sure enough, it's Tom, calling our attention.

Okay, fine. Meg and I join the discussion at the table.

Tom nods to the bottles of liquor. "We're going to play a game: truth, dare, or drink. Except for Miles. He's stuck with truth or dare."

Meg looks at me as if to ask okay? I nod. Yeah. Fine. I'm not fourteen. Truth or dare doesn't scare me.

Drew looks at me the way Meg did. Like he's concerned about me. I turn on the bubbly. I am not about to be some kind of pity homing beacon.

Meg slides into Miles's lap. She kisses him on the cheek. "I'm not drinking either."

"I'll start." Tom turns to Pete. "Truth or dare."

Pete mumbles his answer. "Dare."

"Call Cindy and tell her what you really think about—"

Pete grabs the bottle of whiskey, pours a shot, and slams it. "That's the drink part of the game." He turns back to Tom. "Truth or dare, Tom?"

"Truth."

Pete shakes his head. "Pussy choice." He rubs his chin like he's thinking. "Is the reason you've never had a girlfriend that women can't tolerate your personality, or is it that you're so bad in bed no woman dares let you touch her twice?"

Tom raises a brow. "I've fucked plenty of women three or four nights in a row."

"Must be the former then," Pete says. "Your turn."

Tom holds Pete's stare for a moment. He shakes it off and turns to me. "Kara, truth or dare."

"Truth." I hesitate. Dare is a better choice. Dare can't open me up or make me reveal anything personal.

I shake my head. This is a stupid game. It won't open me up. Worst case scenario, I can take a shot.

"Do you regret moving in with Drew yet?" he asks.

My neck relaxes. An easy question. "Not yet. But there's always time." I clear my throat. I have to smile. I'm supposed to be the fun friend. "Meg."

"Truth," she says.

I throw her a bone. "Is Miles as good as he says he is?"

She turns back to Miles and plants a kiss on his lips. "Don't know. Miles has a big mouth."

"Pretty sure you like it." He sucks on her neck.She giggles. "So cocky. So smug. Why do I put up with you anyway?" She leans into his kiss with a slight groan.

He grabs her and holds her against him. Okay. Now they're making out. She turns away with a little giggle and a "Miles" that seems to mean oh my goodness, not in front of our friends.

"You're not doing that in my place." Drew glares.

Meg pushes off Miles. She turns back to the table with a shy look on her face. "I'll have to take him to the bedroom to verify. I can't be sure I until I test out that mouth—"

"One more word and I'm dragging you to the car, babe." He grabs her thigh.

Tom clears his throat.

They keep making out.

Pete looks up, then his eyes go back to the table. "We can call that a yes."

Meg pushes off of Miles with a desperate sigh. She makes a circle with her finger like she's deciding who to pick. It stops on Pete. "Pete, truth or dare."

He pulls his hoodie up over his head with a sigh. "You pick."

Meg frowns. "Uh, I guess truth. Why do you choose to live with Tom? I don't think I've ever seen you doing anything but fighting." She slaps her hand on the table. "And don't say it's because you're brothers, because I had a sister, and I know how that relationship actually goes."

Pete sits back in his chair. "He's a better friend than he seems."

Tom beams, proud of the compliment. He shifts back into mayhem mode. "The game is only fun if people pick dare."

"The game is only fun if you're fourteen," Drew says.

Tom holds his gaze. "Okay, Drew, I have a dare for you. Kiss Kara."

Is this Tom's idea of helping? If the angry look in Drew's eyes is any indication, it's only making things worse.

I guess subtlety and drumming don't get along too well.

"You can't just dare someone to do something," Drew says. "Those aren't the rules."

"Okay, fine. Truth or dare," Tom says.

"It's not your turn," Drew says.

Pete shrugs. "He can have my turn."

Drew shakes his head. "Truth."

"Pussy." Tom smirks.

"Fuck you," Drew says.

Tom's eyes narrow. "Okay, I have a question. Why didn't you pick dare?"

Drew's gaze fixes on the table. It's almost like he's nervous. He mutters under his breath, pours a shot, and slams it. "You're so fucking immature."

Gee, great. I'm that appealing.

Attention is divided. Half on me. Half on Drew. I maintain my happy face. No way I'm going to allow all the pity in the room to land on me.

Drew presses his palm against the table. "Tom. Truth or dare."

"Truth."

"Why are you such a miserable piece of shit?" Drew asks.

"I was born that way." Tom turns to me. "Kara. Your turn."

No sense fanning the flames here. If I act like this is cool, everyone will calm down. This will all be okay. "Truth."

Tom lowers his voice. "Were you hoping Drew would pick dare?"

My lips feel heavy. No way to pry them apart. I push myself out of my chair. "Drew should do whatever makes him happy."

Drew is staring at me, this strange mix of anger and concern.

"You know, I just remembered. I have a paper due Monday and I haven't even started. I should get to that." I take another step toward the stairs. "It was great to see you guys. Have fun."

Drew's eyes find mine. Something passes between us, but I haven't got a fucking clue what it is, why we're both dodging these questions.

I turn and rush up the stairs with as much calm as I can muster.

The tension in my neck relaxes once I'm alone in my bedroom. Hurt bubbles up in my chest, the same hurt I felt when I was listening to Drew play. I push it away, lock myself in the bathroom, and run the shower.

* * *

I turn the water as hot and heavy as it will go. It pounds the porcelain with a loud tap tap tap. The tiny white room fills with steam. It turns everything into this bright blurry haze.

The band is still downstairs. No signs anyone is on their way out. I throw my head back and rinse my hair in the water. I didn't exactly play that cool, but I didn't throw a fit.

I shampoo, condition, and soap. My fingers trail over the scars on my inner thighs. They're still raised well above my skin, thick and red and ugly. But no one can see them.

No one will ever see them again.

"Kara."

It's Drew. Outside my bedroom door. He must be yelling pretty loud to make it all the way to me.

I pretend like I can't hear.

"Kara." The bedroom door opens. He's inside my bedroom now. His footsteps move toward the shower. He knocks lightly. "How is the paper going in there?"

"Great," I yell over the shower.

"You want to come downstairs? I made Tom promise to shut the fuck up."

"No thank you." I turn the water off. "I really do have to finish my homework."

"Do it after everyone leaves." He taps the door lightly. "Things are falling apart without you. Pete is sulking on the couch. Meg and Miles are necking on the table."

I pull my towel—one of my few belongings—from the rack and pat myself dry. I'm naked and Drew is on the other side of the door.

"Give me a minute," I say.

He taps the door with his fingers. Okay. He's not leaving. I pull the towel around my chest and check my reflection to make sure I'm covered. It's acceptable.

Drew's eyes pass over me as I move to the closet, from my eyes all the way down to my toes and back up again. His gaze lingers at my chest. For a split second, his pupils dilate. His lips part.

He wants me. Some part of him, at least. Even if it's subconscious, it's something.

“Why does it make you so angry?” I ask.

“What?”

“When Tom teases that we’re together. Dares you to kiss me. Whatever.”

“I asked Tom a million times to leave it alone.” He runs his hand through his hair. “He knows I swore off relationships after Vivian.”

“Oh.”

He shifts. “Are you okay?”

"Great."

His eyes fix on mine. "Were you?"

I pull the towel a little tighter. "What?"

"Hoping I'd pick dare?"

My heart races. So not going there. So, so not going there. "I'm not a teenager. If I want a guy to kiss me, I make it happen."

He stares at me, studying my expression. His fingers brush my shoulders. His lips part, but he doesn't say anything. He just stares.

I press my knees together. "Why didn't you?"

He shakes his head. "I'm not a teenager. If I want to kiss a girl, I'm not going to do it because of a dare."

He sits on the bed, his back to me. He can't think I'm changing with him here.

I grab a dress and underwear and change in the bathroom. My makeup is smudged from the shower. I wipe it clean with a sheet of toilet paper.

In my room, Drew is lying on my bed, arms stretched over his head. A thin sliver of his stomach is exposed.

It's enough to make me pant. God, he's cut. He looks damn yummy.

I dare you to kiss Kara.

My head is swimming. The suggestion made him angry. And every time anyone hints there's something between us...

But he flirts with me and he runs his fingertips over my shoulders and he looks at me like he wants me.

Drew turns toward me. This time, he's obvious about his double take. Of course, I'm wearing a tight dress and no bra. Not that I wore it so his gaze would be drawn to my chest or anything.

He pushes himself off the bed and leads me to the hallway.

Downstairs, someone is clapping. Tom, of course.

He yells in our general direction. "That was fast, Drew. Kind of embarrassing."

Drew glances at me for a second. No telling what's going on in that head of his. He brushes a wet strand of hair behind my ears and leans in close.

Then he pulls back and he makes his way down the stairs like nothing has changed.