“I can’t believe you’ve never set up a tent before, Jett,” I tease, laughing as he attempts to take the tent pole from me, insisting he can figure it out.

“One of many reasons why I like my pickup. The cab is better than any tent for sleeping.”

Shay, who’s pulling the tent out of the bag, suddenly pauses, her eyes widening. I turn to look at what’s caught her attention, and find Jack Kingston standing behind me, grinning, hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels.

I think my heart stops.

“Hi there, Fireball,” he says smoothly, that smile unwavering.

“Forget my name?” I ask with deliberate sass.

“Nope. Kick Spark. How could I forget a name like that?” He turns to my sister. “You must be Shay. We’ve never actually met.” Jack takes two long strides around me, putting out a hand to Shay.

“Yeah, I’m Kick’s sister. Jett and I met Townie that night on campus,” Shay says, nodding in the direction where Jack stood, and I notice Townie walking toward us, the pink-haired woman behind him. “We didn’t really get a chance to meet you,” Shay says. I can see her trying to assess the situation, feel out the vibes from me, from Jack, as she speaks.

“Jack, hey man,” Jett says, pulling Jack in for a bro hug. “Good to see you.”

“Yeah man, you should’ve let me know you were coming. Glad we ran into you,” Jack says, and it takes me a second to remember that they’ve got mutual friends. Jett’s best friend Keenan went to elementary school with Jack.

“Heard you guys would be here but didn’t think we’d be able to see you, dude. You’re on stage tomorrow, right?” Jett asks. Jack, who’s now moved close beside me, nods.

“Townie, hey man, good to see you.” Jett walks over to him, fist-bumping. “Keenan though about coming with, but he was scared of sharing a tent with Kick here.”

“Wait, who says I’m sleeping in the tent?” I feign confusion. “You lovebirds get the tent. I’m sprawling out in the back of the cab.”

“I don’t think so,” Jett says with a shake of the head. “We need our privacy. The cab is more soundproof.” Jett drops his voice and flashes a cheeky grin.

“Ew.” I scrunch up my nose in mock disgust.

Some more greetings are exchanged – pink-hair girl pretends she doesn’t remember me when she introduces herself as Addy, but I see the recognition. She’s still got it bad for Jack, judging by the way she can’t take her eyes off him, and the cold glares she’s shooting my way.

With Townie, Jett and Shay chatting about the band’s tour, I turn to the tent and start sliding the pole through the slots. Jack takes it from me without a word, his warm hand brushing mine. I let him, too shocked by his presence to speak. I step back, watching him take over, and then jump up on the back of the truck. My fingers itch to grab a beer, preferably something stronger, but I can’t take my eyes off him long enough to turn to the cooler.

I’ve changed so much since our encounter last October. I’m not that brazen girl, invincible and ready to control each situation to bring me exactly what I want. I know better now. And with that knowledge, I’ve got no idea what to do with Jack Kingston. Not that I ever did, but at least I was good at pretending.

Jack’s wearing black athletic shorts, a grey tee shirt, and skater-style sneakers, and I watch his lean muscles flex as he crouches to push the stakes into the ground. As he reaches to pull the tent fly over the top, I catch a glimpse of the band of his boxer briefs, the same brand he had that night. Both nights.

I’d already known that I hadn’t gotten over Jack. That he’d done something to me, made a mark, altered me in some way that I suspected was for the better, but hadn’t had a chance to decide before piano guy twisted it all around. Now, seeing Jack in the flesh, I know that the burn for him was real. If I thought for a second it was only his stage presence, the quick rise to the national scene, or another form of fake love, the truth is right here, in the way my entire body is heated and on fire. I’d tried to convince myself it might have been a situation like my sister had with Julian, the star swimmer on the guy’s team. She’d had this crush on him, an infatuation, until she got to know him better, and then it faded.

No, that isn’t what’s going on here with Jack. When the tent is done, he finally looks up and meets my eyes. His hair is a little shaggier, skin a little tanner, blue eyes just as piercing. He holds my gaze for longer than should be comfortable, looking into me, trying to read me, and the smile that danced on his lips fades. Jack walks over to the cab and doesn’t ask permission before jumping up to sit beside me.

“Thanks for that,” I say, nodding to the tent. “Want a drink? We have beer and lemonade.”

“Beer’s good.”

I twist to the cooler, and when I lean over to pull out two beers, my knee brushes his thigh. He inhales slightly, and relief washes through me. He’s affected by me still.

I hand him a can. “How’s your sister?” I ask as I pop mine open.

“My sister?” He quirks an eyebrow at me as he pops open his beer.

“Yeah, it must be hard for her with you being on tour.” I shrug, taking a sip. It’s the first question that comes to mind that I actually feel like asking. I’m not about to ask the other ones dancing in my mind – have you thought of me at all since that night? Why did you walk over here? He could have passed by, pretending not to have seen or recognized me, and I would have been none the wiser. Maybe Townie spotted us first, but I don’t think so. Jack was the one who approached.

He shakes his head, a small smile playing on his lips. “Gracie’s good. I was just home for a couple days before heading up here. She’s doin’ gymnastics and dance camps all summer while Mom’s at work.”

“Oh yeah? My mom put me in gymnastic and dance camps. Ballet was the worst. I was the kid hanging upside down from the barre in the back while everyone was doing pliés.” I take a sip of beer, smiling at the memory.

Jack chuckles, and it’s a low, masculine sound that makes my skin tingle. “Gracie’s totally into it. She’s been wearing a tutu and leotard nonstop since she could walk. When they told her she couldn’t wear tutus to school anymore it didn’t go over well.”

“So is that why you have the minivan? Please tell me you use it to run a carpool for a bunch of seven-year-old girls in leotards.”

He bites his lips and gives me a sheepish look. “You can’t tell anyone. It will kill my image.”

“Yes!” I punch the air in delighted satisfaction at this revelation. Why do I find it so damn appealing? I would pay good money to see Jack sitting there in the driver’s seat, little girls jumping in as he waves them along. It’s like twisted porn for my obsession with the guy.

“I like having the space in the van for the band’s equipment too,” he adds in defense of his rocker image, though he continues, “except I have to keep all the seats in for the carpools, which takes priority.”

“Gracie ever come to your concerts?”

“She and Mom have been to a few, yeah. It’s loud and a bit much for a little kid, but she loves seeing me on stage. Gracie thought I was famous way before anyone had heard of us.”

He takes a sip of beer and I open my mouth to comment on how much his level of fame has changed since October, but stop myself. I don’t want to bring that time up, not now. Sitting here, legs swinging, it feels innocent, sweet. We can almost forget that I tried to seduce him in a locker room or that I let him throw me on my bed for an angry fuck.

“I heard you have your second album coming out soon. How’d you pull that off while touring?” I’ve let on that I keep track of him, know what’s going on with the band, but whatever. I like his music, and there’s no point pretending otherwise.

Besides, judging by the way he leans back on his elbows with another easy smile, he likes that I’m up on the latest news with Kings of Sound. “We’ve been working hard, but it’s all good, you know? It’s what we want. Sure, it’d be cool to actually spend some time hanging out in the cities we play in, but we’ve finally made it, and I want to keep the momentum going. The songs are flowing. We’re in a groove. Got to ride it out.”

I nod, feeling this bizarre sense of pride, happy for him. But the emotions don’t fit with how little I know this guy. These are the kinds of feelings I get for Shay or Beatrice when things are going right for them, maybe Jett, but not a guy I haven’t spoken to or seen in nine months, aside from internet stalking. Not a guy I shared a few hours with, nothing more.

“Tell me about the album.” I want to hear him describe his music. Hear the words he uses, if he gives me anything with it or acts detached. I’ve spoken with a lot of musicians about their music. Some of them act like it’s this separate thing they can’t even talk to normal people about, like it’s too private or above me. I don’t really get that. Music’s meant to be shared.

Jack pauses, looking up at the clouds like he’s trying to decide what to say. He opens his mouth, about to speak, but is interrupted by Addy. “Jack, we should go find Carson and Cassie. And then get back to the tour bus. Check on Will, get something to eat, talk about the setlist for tomorrow.”

Addy’s got her hands on her hips, acting all business, but I know better. She’s asserting herself, her position, in Jack’s life. She’s got a role in the band, whatever it is, and she’s conveying that to me now by rattling off the agenda.

Jack sits up, and I watch closely as his face shifts to something harder. “You can find Carson and Cassie and check on Will without me, Addy. I’ll get food on my own. We can talk the setlist later. It’s not like Carson’s in any shape to have a meeting.”

Addy’s nostrils flare and I can’t tell if it’s from Jack’s tone, his refusal to go along with her, or the mention of Carson. She shoots me a pointed look before returning her eyes to Jack. “This is the biggest show on the tour calendar, Jack. Are you sure it’s not a better idea to head back to VIP, get some rest on the tour bus, out of the sun and off your feet?”

“I don’t pay you to be my babysitter, Addy. And if there’s anyone you should be worried about being ready for tomorrow, it’s your brother.”

The tension radiating off him is unmistakable, but Addy stands there in front of us for an uncomfortable minute before she finally turns away. I notice she doesn’t give the same speech to Townie, just brushes past him. Townie looks over at us and rolls his eyes.

“Sorry about her,” Jack says. “She’s trying to make herself part of the band, or part of the team or whatever. We let her do some of our administrative shit, but only because she’s Carson’s sister and tags along to all the shows anyway. I didn’t ask for a babysitter.”

“And what’s up with Carson?” I know it might be overstepping, but he did bring it up in front of me, so it’s a natural question.

“He’s trippin’.”

“Mushrooms?”

“Maybe. Or acid. Could be Molly or E. I think he likes the hallucinogens, from what I can tell. He doesn’t really talk about it with me ‘cause he knows I’m not cool with it. So far, he’s only been high when he’s watching others on stage or after we perform.”

I’m surprised he’s so open about it, but then again, the drugs he mentioned are everywhere at these festivals. It’s part of this world. For some, it’s the reason they even come to these festivals. The main attraction, with the music just a bonus.

“You guys are playing great though, have a new album coming out, so he’s not fucking that up, at least.” It sounds like it’s more of an annoyance than a real problem, for now.

“Yeah, he’s not getting high for the shows or anything. I know a lot of musicians do, but that’s not us.”

“And Addy? She seems a little,” I tilt my head to the side, wondering how to phrase it, and go with honesty, “possessive.”

Jack shakes his head, taking a sip of beer. “Yeah, there’s that too. She has no right. We’re not anything. I guess I’d call her a friend, but only because of Carson really, and her helping out with the band.”

The amount of relief I have at his words is entirely inappropriate.

“Hey, you guys wanna get some food?” Jett calls over to us.

“Sure,” I say easily, sliding off.

Jett walks over to grab the camping chairs from the bed of the pickup, while I hesitate about my next move. The old me would turn to Jack, maybe take his hand, and tell him he’s coming with us. Now, I just glance over my shoulder. “You in?”

“Yeah, I’m in.”

“Cool,” I say all casual, like my heart’s not racing at the idea that Jack wants to hang out more. I walk over to the side door, rummage around in the back for my purse, and when I pull back, bump into someone. Jack’s standing right there, arm on the door window, biting his lower lip. “Were you staring at my ass, Jack Kingston?” I tease, the flirt still in there somewhere.

“You have an incredible ass,” he says with a shrug, no remorse. A similar exchange on the high dive flashes before me, but I don’t say anything about it.

I start to duck past him, but he stops me. “Hold up, I just –” He shuffles on his feet, the sudden shyness making me warm to him even more, if that’s possible. “I wanted to say something.”

“Okay.” I try again for that cool casual tone, but I’m uneasy.

Jack shoves his hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry I ran out, left in such a hurry.” He sounds so uncomfortable, I wish I could put him out of his misery. But I’m too curious to say anything. Why is he doing this? “It wasn’t right. That’s not me. I wanted to give you what you wanted, take what you were offering, and I didn’t know how. So, I acted like an asshole. I’m sorry.”

Tilting my head, I try to figure out if he’s sorry for everything, or just for the way he made it so damn impersonal. I guess it doesn’t matter. He’s here. And he’s back to being the sensitive Jack, which I like just as much as the cool rocker Jack.

“It’s fine. I’m not mad. It’s good to see you.” That’s the truth. I could have been a bitch about it. Worse, I could have been a fangirl about seeing him again. But I’m just here, wanting to get more of Jack Kingston, see both sides of him, peel back the layers. I don’t know if I’ll get five more minutes or five more hours, so no point in hashing it all out.

“Yeah,” he says with a grin. “You’re not mad. And it’s good to see you too, Kick Spark,” he says my full name with a wink. “Your name, though. It’s you. All you. But I’m gonna call you Fireball.”

Biting my lip to stop from grinning like the fangirl I’m trying so hard not to be, I finally duck out from under his arm. Now those are some words I’ll probably analyze for days. But not yet. Now, I’m just going to stay in the moment.