"There's no point; we both know you like your ladies with more facial hair than I have," I snickered.

The imp shrugged and winked at his self-proclaimed soul mate, the man sitting next to me. "True."

The gentle movement of the bus as it slowed to a stop made us shift slightly. There was loud talking from the front before the familiar sounds of the door opening and the guys piling out let me know we'd made it to the mall. Slapping my twin's thigh, I told him I'd see him later before walking out. My idiots and some of the TCC guys had been planning on going to some bar that carried over three hundred different types of beer, and I wasn't in the mood to sit through that experience. Hanging out with Sacha just seemed like a bonus. A very pleasant bonus. A very pleasant, platonic bonus, like spending time with Carter would be.

Right.

I'd barely jumped off the bus's steps, slipping the strap of my purse across my shoulder, when I spotted Sacha and Isaiah outside waiting.

"Is it only us going?" I asked, walking up to them.

Sacha's eyes slanted over in my direction, his mouth already opening in a certain way that let me know a smart-ass comment was going to be coming out of it in a moment, but nothing actually came out. He looked at me-my face, the bare skin of my chest above the purple cotton of the sundress, and then down the length of my body slowly. It made me self-conscious and I fidgeted. It was second nature to want to pull the front of my dress up but it wasn't like it was low to begin with.

"It's only us," Isaiah's low drawl answered. He looked at me evenly. "I like your hair."

Unfortunately I was one of those people that never knew how to handle a compliment well from people I wasn't close to, or even know what to say afterward. My face got a little warm and I smiled at him. "Thank you."

I smiled at him once more before looking back at Sacha who was busy inspecting my face again. He smiled but it was a distracted, distant sort of look. The entire walk through the parking lot and the mall was surprisingly quiet. Isaiah hadn't really spoken more than two handfuls of words to me in the nearly three weeks we'd been on tour, and Sacha was strangely silent. After buying our movie tickets, I nudged my gray-eyed friend when Isaiah said he was going to the restroom. We got in line at the concession stand.

"Is he usually really quiet around everyone?" I asked, gesturing with my head in Isaiah's retreating direction.

"Isaiah?"

I nodded. "Yes."

Sacha nodded his head, keeping his eyes locked on the menu mounted from the ceiling. "Yeah. He doesn't talk much."

I wasn't much of a talker unless I felt comfortable around someone, and it just so happened that I was surrounded by three of the people that already knew the best and the worst parts of me. If I couldn't be myself around them, who could I be myself around? For some reason, something about Sacha put me at ease and he happened to be an exception.

He didn't say anything else as the line ahead of us shortened, and it was really beginning to weird me out. Why was he being so quiet? It wasn't like I needed to talk all the time, but still. Everything had been fine before I'd showered, so the change in his attitude was pretty confusing.

"Are you okay?" I finally tapped into my imaginary balls to ask, turning just slightly at the shoulders to glance at him.

He frowned, still keeping his gaze on the menu. "Yes, why?"

"You're being really quiet," I said.

Sacha finally looked down at me. He hadn't put on any hair products and his hair was loose and shiny, the longer length falling to the side over the shorter side of his scalp. "My mind is somewhere else," he said apologetically. His light eyes glanced at the neckline of my dress so briefly I almost missed it.

What I didn't miss was his fingers going up to touch the braid draped over my shoulder.

"You look really nice," he commented.

I would have preferred "pretty" but beggars can't be choosers. "Nice" was polite and not at all creepy or aggressive. I smiled at my friend, one of the best-looking friends I'd ever had in my life. "Thanks."

He blinked at me, smiling that distant smile one more time, making me wonder where exactly his mind was. "Want to share a popcorn?"

"Are you asking if I'll get some so you can eat it?" I stared at him suspiciously.

He shrugged the same way he always did. "Yeah, pretty much."

Well, I always did appreciate people who were honest.

"I'll buy a drink if you get the popcorn," he offered.

I snuck another glance at him. He was wearing the same thing he usually had on when he wasn't onstage: running shorts, a T-shirt and his good pair of green-and-black tennis shoes. "Done."

He curled his lips behind his teeth, giving me a hopeful look. "Butter?"

"Butter."

A few minutes later, we settled into our seats in the theater with our concession-stand purchases. He gestured toward the extra-large water bottle he'd bought. "Want some?"

"Sure," I said, already taking it out of the cup holder. I twisted the lid off, held it up a couple inches above my mouth and was about to pour it when he groaned.

"Drink from the bottle. I don't have cooties."

"You never know," I mumbled, putting the opening to my mouth. He plucked the medium-sized bag of popcorn from my lap while I took a sip.

Handsome, perfect Sacha, with a voice that gave me goosebumps every night, grabbed a handful of popcorn and shoved half the fistful directly into his mouth. "So good," he moaned through an overflowing mouthful.

Isaiah hadn't reappeared since he'd left for the restroom. Sacha had sent him a text message telling him we'd wait for him inside the theater. Nearly at the same time, we both kicked up our legs to rest our feet on the back of the seats in front of us.

My new friend grabbed more popcorn and shoved it into his mouth.

I ate a small amount at a time, too busy watching him ingest handful after handful. It was amazing. It was seriously amazing watching him eat so much so quickly. "Are you planning on eating it all, fatty?"

He gasped in the middle of grabbing more. "You think I'm fat?"

"Yes," I lied, eyeing the flat slope of his stomach like I hadn't seen him shirtless nearly every night. If I were ever honest with myself, I would admit I could draw his six-pack from memory. "Do you only run?" I couldn't remember ever seeing him work out. On the other hand, he was usually always eating.

He mumbled something between a mouthful of popcorn that sounded like "I lift weights too."

"When?"

"Usually during the opening band," he explained. "We have dumbbells and a bench in the back of the trailer." The timing made perfect sense. I rarely saw any of the guys after doors in the venue opened.

"You?"

"Just cardio." I held up my arm and slapped the bottom of my upper arm. "See? No muscle."

He licked his salty lips, looking at me intently. "Where do you live?" he asked out of the blue.

"In Dallas. You?"

"San Francisco."

"That's cool," I thought for a second. "Aren't we stopping there next week?"

The quick, enthusiastic nod he gave me in response made me smile. Excitement radiated through his pores. "Yeah. You can meet my friends."

"Okay." I smiled and nodded, remembering a prior conversation. "What about your family? They don't live there?"

"Not anymore. My mom lives in Australia now; my dad is back in Russia-"

"Are you Russian?" I finally asked. I mean, I'd been wondering where he got his name from and I'm surprised I held off asking for so long.

Sacha nodded. "My parents are. My two older sisters were born there but the rest of us were born here."

I set my elbow on the armrest and looked at his face. "Huh. That's really neat. What's your last name?"

"Malykhin."

"Spell it."

He did.

"And your sisters?" I asked.

"They're everywhere. One is in Africa, one is in the UK, one in Alaska, and another in Hong Kong." He raised his eyebrows. "I don't get to see them much anymore unless I go visit or we meet up somewhere for the holidays."

"Do you miss them?" I was well aware of the fact I had no right to ask, but I did anyway.

Surprisingly, he answered without even thinking about it. One single shoulder going up in a fraction of a shrug. "A lot, but I'll get to see my mom soon."

"That's nice." I nudged his elbow with mine. "If you ever want a brother, feel free to borrow Eli. You can keep him too."

His lips fluttered with a raspberry before he laughed. "That's very generous of you."

"Just saying. If you're craving being terrorized, made fun of and farted on, he's yours."

Sacha slid me a look out of the corner of his eye. "I already get two of those three."

He did? I tried to think about the way he was with the TCC guys but they all seemed to get along really well, if a little distantly, and they were more mature than GO's morons were. "From who?"

He nudged me again. "You make fun of me on a daily basis... I fear for my safety when I'm around you..."

"Oh, shut your trap!" I started laughing.

"All I need is for you to start farting on me-"

"I would never do that!"

He made a face that made me laugh harder.

"I would never do it on purpose, at least!"

Sacha gave me this huge grin, his straight white teeth on display. "That sounds more like it."

Oh God. I shouldn't think it was funny that he would think I'd fart on him- because I wouldn't-but I did. Especially when he started nudging me with his elbow. I just nudged him right back.

The next thing I knew, we were both elbowing the other, each of us trying to aim for the other person's thigh until he hit his target and I squealed like a pig, making him laugh so loud the people in the rows in front of us turned to see what the ruckus was about.

I smacked his shoulder with my open palm. "You ass."

With another big grin, he grabbed my hand with both of his much larger ones. His fingers were cold. "Do you think I'm mean to you?"

"Yes," I said it but I really had my attention focused on the fact that he was holding my hand between his. Did I try to pull away? No, as stupid as it was.

"I'm not joking. Do you think I am?" he asked, his husky voice lowering in what I could assume was an attempt to be serious.

I smiled at him. "No. Why would you think that? I like the way we play around," I told him because it was the truth. Sure, I played around with Eli and Mason but that was different. Even my ex didn't like to joke around with me a quarter of as much as Sacha did.

"Are you sure? Carter is still mad at me for the whole penalty kick incident." His thumb grazed over the knuckles of my hand gently once and only once. His gaze strayed to my still-bruised jaw.

"Yes. I mean, you're an asshole for kicking the ball at my face but it's fine," I told him, watching his pale eyes drift to my chest quickly. "But you bruise my money-maker again, and I'll kick you in the nuts."

We both laughed at the same time that the lights in the theater began dimming. Isaiah appeared at the bottom of the stairs, walking up with his hands full of treats. I pulled my hand out of Sacha's grasp to grab some popcorn from the bag that at some point had ended up on his lap.

He raised an eyebrow at me when I stuffed my mouth just like he had, but before he could pipe in, I hissed, "If you call me fat, I'll make sure Eli farts on you." The words slipped out of my mouth before I could stop them.

Sacha shrugged before leaning toward me. "If it goes to your ass, I won't say a thing."

I couldn't...

I was...

Pleased. A little too pleased.

Chapter Ten.

Once upon a time, I had nothing against San Francisco.

I'd been there before a handful of times with Ghost Orchid, and I liked it as much as anyone could possibly like a city that they didn't spend a lot of time in. After the day I'd had, exactly six shows after jabbing my ex in the throat, the city would forever be tarnished by the memory of all the shitty things that happened. I wouldn't go as far as to say that it was the worst day of my life, but it sure as hell wasn't the best.

When I woke up to cramps that rivaled giving birth-at least I imagined so-I hopped out of my bunk as fast as I could.

Only it wasn't fast enough.

My brother of all people had just been getting out of bed at the same time and happened to see the huge red stain I'd been worried about.