I've never been in a band's dressing room before so I don't know what to expect, but what I find isn't much. The room itself is large, almost the same size as the pressroom. It's all open, but with areas separated by furniture arrangement. Most of the band and a few roadies are sitting in the middle of the room in a circular layout of tan couches and blue leather-studded wingback chairs around a wide, low coffee table, slamming back sandwiches and talking about the show and laughing and looking worn out. Franklin Charles, of all people, is playing from speakers built into the walls. I wonder who chose the music. If it's Luca, I might be in more trouble than I fear.

Beside me, Teagan and Vera are quiet and still as mannequins. This would be so much easier if the room was crowded and people were drinking and partying-which is how I picture backstage after concerts. We'd be so much less conspicuous. Now, instead, we're getting noticed and conversations are dying down. Everyone sitting around is looking at us. At least the room is freezing. The sweat making my dress stick to my skin begins to evaporate.

The drummer, Steve Kinder, tips up his red, bearded chin in greeting. "Who you here for?"

"Uh." I swallow, my eyes traveling past him and to a sleek set of couches at the other end of the long room. The back of Luca's head is visible-and next to him, so Norris's short dark hair-and some basketball video game is playing on a flat-screen TV on the wall across from them; the sounds of the game squeak against Franklin Charles' vocals. Neither guy gives any indication they've heard Steve.

Suddenly, I don't want to interrupt. I don't want to be here, standing so exposed in front of the rest of the band. I've been so wrapped up in Luca, I forgot almost everyone else in this room would be famous, too. Who am I to bust into their place like this? I feel like an idiot. I wish Vera or Teagan would say something-I don't think they're even breathing. I start to take a step backward- "They're here for Luca."

I whip my head to the right, where Polly stands, smiling at me-though I can't tell if it's real or fake. I'm going with the latter, but I flash my teeth tentatively in return. "Hey, Polly."

"Bartender." Her tone could be kinder. But it could also be way worse.

"Cassie, you made it."

I look back to the left so fast I almost tweak my neck, and my throat goes dry. Luca's standing and turned to face me, a real smile lighting his face. He's changed again, in still tight, but this time blue, jeans and a V-necked green shirt. He gestures for me-us, I mean-to join him. Beside him, Norris stands, smiling also. Beside me, Teagan pulls in a loud breath and mutters, "Holy shit."

I...wave, awkwardly. "Hi."

Luca motions us over a second time. "Come on."

Vera grabs my hand. Her palm is sweaty-or maybe it's my own. She takes the first step toward Luca, and after one more second of hesitation I follow. My eyes dart around the room as we pass through, but I can't seem to make myself meet anyone's gaze. Instead, I say to the spot between Steve and a roadie, "Sorry to interrupt."

Steve pops the cap off of a glass Coca-Cola bottle and flicks it behind him, where it hits the wall with a faint clanging sound. "You're not interrupting anything, doll."

"Oh, okay. Good." God. I sound so unsure of myself. I feel so unsure of myself. And when we reach the couch, when we step around it to join Luca and Norris, the feeling doesn't go away. What the hell am I doing here?

I should be with Gage. He's probably wondering where I am. I reach for my phone in the pocket of my dress, but don't bring it out. The weight of it in my hand reassures me a little though. My connection to him. I told him I'd text him after the concert. And I'm going to. Soon.

"I like your dress." Everyone else fades away as Luca's eyes travel slowly down my face, my chest, my stomach, my legs-and then back up at the same leisurely pace.

I should be right here. With Luca James. Who on earth would give up the opportunity to hang out with him?

"I like your tattoos." I let my gaze sweep across his arms.

"You haven't even seen them all...yet."

I bet they travel all the way across his back. My tongue could travel along their path without lifting from his skin.

"This is only a little weird," Norris cuts the tension that's sprung between us-and just like that the rest of the room comes back into focus and I remember Luca and I aren't alone. My face bakes into a furnace. Whoops.

Teagan laughs and sticks out her hand to introduce herself. Norris takes it and says, "Aren't you a pretty one?"

She straight-up glows at the compliment and I wonder if we're going to be in trouble here. Teagan gets who she wants-and I have no doubt she could get Norris if she wanted. But he's got someone already.

I've got someone already, too, I remind myself. I shouldn't judge.

"Hi...Luca." Vera's still as a statue next to me, her fingers tight as a vice around mine.

"Vera. It's good to see you again." Luca greets her by name and I could kiss him for it. Wait. Not kiss him. I mean, I could hug him for it. No. Not even that, either. Touching's not a good idea... Thank him. Yes. I could thank him for it. And I will when Vera's not around. Not that Vera's not going to be around. That's why we're here. So she can hang out with him and I can make it up to her for flirting with him first.

Right.

Okay.

Oh shit. Luca's staring at me funny-and so are Norris and Teagan. Vera's still watching Luca, her expression all dreamy and puppy dog. I'd laugh-but who knows what my own expression gives away. I must've missed whatever they've said. God. "Sorry-what?"

"Norris asked if we wanted to sit down," Teagan tells me, a big old annoyingly knowing smirk across her face.

"Oh, yeah. Okay, let's." I take a step to weave around Luca-and bang my shin into the coffee table in front of the couch. "Mother fucker!"

There's the briefest of pauses as I realize what I just shouted-and then Luca cracks up. So does the rest of the room. I glare at Luca and drop down to rub my leg, but it only makes him laugh harder. A second later, he kneels with me, his eyes still laughing. "You okay?"

His touch is firm on my arm, his fingers wrapping around me with just enough pressure to get my blood going a little faster through my veins. Even with my shin smarting like a bitch. Even with embarrassment shooting through me.

"I'm going to have the ugliest bruise." It takes everything I have not to place my hand over his, to trace the feel of his skin with my fingers.

"Nothing on you could ever be ugly." He gives a gentle squeeze before releasing my arm.

Ignoring him, and the way his words make me blush, I reach for Vera's hand and let her pull me up. Luca rises next to me, but I keep my hand in Vera's.

"Okay, now that that's out of the way," I say, to the rest of the room, waiting for something witty to come to me to finish out the sentence...but I catch eyes with Polly, over Steve's shoulder, and my mind blanks. Great. She's just standing there, staring me down, amusement in the quirk of her brow.

"The fun can really begin," Luca finishes for me. I nod, grateful, especially as everyone goes back to their own conversations. And then I drop to the couch, pulling Vera down beside me, so that Luca will be next to her instead of me. He shoots me a perceptive smile, but sits next to Vera and asks her how long she's worked at BackBar. She turns away from me to answer him, and I'm left out of the conversation. Teagan's in the love seat next to Norris. She's telling him about the time two years ago when she saw him perform at the beach.

I have nobody to talk to. And I'm relieved. It's better this way. I have time to remind myself to be good. Except I can't stop staring at Luca's hands, draped casually together across his lap. And his wrists, licked by the tips of his tattoos. And his arms. Covered in ink.

Oh God. Get it together.

Maybe I should leave.

I should definitely leave. Yes. Go to Gage. I got Teagan and Vera in-they don't need me anymore.

And I don't need the temptation of Luca.

He leans back against the couch, draping an ankle over his knee and even this slow, catlike motion is sensual. Yep. Got to get out of here.

I slowly stand, trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible.

"Where ya headed?" Luca interrupts Vera to ask me.

"I...uh." Come on, Cassidy. Tell him you're leaving. "I...I'm thirsty. Mind if I grab a drink?" I'm such a chicken. But when Luca's staring at me the way he is, all smoldery in the eyes with the faux innocent expression I can see through all too well... I don't want to go.

"What do you want?" He starts to stand, but I hold up a hand to stop him.

"No-stay. I got it." I nudge Vera's foot with my own and sneak a wink at her when she looks up. "No need to interrupt your conversation. Can I get you guys anything?"

They both say no. Teagan's so wrapped in whatever Norris is saying, I don't bother asking them.

Steve nods at me as I pass him, but nobody else pays me much attention as I walk through them, back to the other side of the dressing room where there's a refrigerator and a table with chairs. Everyone's either talking or relaxing, unwinding. This is so not what I thought hanging out backstage would be like.

Polly's leaning against the door, looking at her phone. She turns her attention to me as I approach. "Soda or water?"

Guess she was listening to us. "Any beer?"

"Nope." She tilts her head, indicating for me to follow her to the tall metal fridge in the corner. She walks to it with swagger in her gait; her long, thin legs seem to come up to my stomach-even now that she's ditched the heels she wore on stage in favor of flip-flops-and I fight a wave of envy. I've always wanted to be taller.

"I feel like it's very un-rock band not to have alcohol back here," I say, following her.

"Luca insists." She glances back at me to roll her eyes.

"Why?"

"He doesn't want to ruin his ever-precious anti-drug image." She snorts, shaking her head, the blue tips of her hair swishing against the back of her shoulders.

"Guess you don't feel the same?" Don't think of Jason. Don't think of Jason. Don't think of Jason.

I hate the correlation that's formed in my mind between my brother and any mention of drugs. I don't want this to be how I remember him. But his face swims behind my eyes anyway, and I clutch a fist into my stomach to stem the grief that swirls through it.

I turn my gaze back to Luca, to the back of his head as he's speaking animatedly with Vera... It makes me feel better, knowing how strongly he's against drugs. It makes me want to know him just a little bit more.

"Nope." Polly snaps the word out like a popped bubble of gum, bringing my attention back to her. "But what Luca says goes. He makes way too much money from that whole no-drug sponsorship for lil old me to mess it up with a backstage beer."

"How come you can drink at the bar before the concert?"

"It's in public, so nobody can speculate that maybe we're doing more than drinking. It's different behind closed doors."

It makes sense, in a somewhat paranoid sort of way. And it tells me Luca's campaign is really important to him-which chips away at another little piece of the shield I'm trying so hard to keep up against him.

Polly opens the door to reveal the refrigerator filled to the brim with glass soda bottles. The inside of the door is lined with fancy sparkling waters. I pull out a water. "Think you have enough soda?"

"It's part of my contract." She grabs a bottle for herself.

"You could give a drink to an entire row of your audience." Maybe two. "Seems a little extreme."

"Honey, I could make a venue fill this entire room with soda bottles if I wanted. Trust me. This is not extreme."

"But...soda?" I study her. Hair still wet from a shower. Lip piercing, glinting under the light of the room. Hard look in her eyes. "Soda seems a little tame for you."

She snorts. "It's less about the soda and more about the glass bottles. They remind me of growing up. Lazy summer days, sitting on our old wooden front porch with my grandfather when I was younger."

"That's sweet." And sounds strange coming from her. What an odd, contradictory girl.

"Whatever. It helps put me in the mood to perform."

When she closes the door, I point to a huge bouquet of flowers on the table. "You request those, too?"

She pops the cap off her soda with a bottle opener and shakes her head. "Steve, if you can believe it. He's got a soft spot for pretty things."

"What else do you require with your contract?" These things seem so...small.

"Not much." She drops into a chair at the table. "I like a little F. Charles to relax to. But that's about as high maintenance as I get."

"You chose the music?" I pull out a chair to join her, but hesitate. I want to like this girl. I do. Partially because of the fact that, you know, she's Polly Arcadia, badass rock star. But also because she was nice the first time I served her whiskey. And she ordered whiskey, which gives her points. Plus, she likes Franklin Charles.

But then she says, "Anyway. As I'm sure you'll see when he takes you back there to do the thing you came here to do, Luca always gets the nicest dressing room."

"To do the thing I came here to do?" What a bitch. Instead of joining her, I shove the chair back under the table. "I didn't come here to do anything other than hang out after the show."

She glances up at me, a cool expression across her face. "Oh. Smart. You're holding out for a hotel invitation."

"Excuse me?"

"You'll definitely get the full experience that way. Party it up, rock style. I get it, honey. Just don't be scared if he asks someone else to join the two of you." A smarmy double eyebrow raise and then she lowers her voice into a faux-whisper. "He's into that. You'll get brownie points if you are, too."

I look out across the room, sure we've been overheard, but nobody's watching us. The only person focused on me right now is Polly, and I refuse to give her the satisfaction of the embarrassed response she's expecting. So I shrug. "Sounds fun."

Her eyes widen a fraction in the most satisfactory way. I cock my head like it's no big deal-except on the inside my stomach is in knots. Hotel invite? Threesomes?

Not my thing.

Oh, God.

So not my thing.

"Anyway," I say, coolly. "Thanks for the soda. And the heads-up."

"Anytime." Amusement dances across her features, softening them a bit. She's reevaluating whatever it is she thinks about me. But I no longer care about whether or not she likes me-or whether I like her, either. I'm a little too freaked out for that. I can't stop thinking about Luca wanting to have a threesome. How would that even work?

And then it hits me.

I shouldn't be freaked out at all.

It's not like I'm going to Luca's hotel room. He's never mentioned it-and even if he did, I wouldn't go.

I wouldn't.

In fact, I'm actually going to leave right now. I'm going home to Gage.

Right now.

On the couches at the other side of the room, Luca, Vera, Norris and Teagan are all still talking. I don't want to interrupt.

Well. Let's be honest. I'm too chicken to interrupt.

So instead I walk away from Polly, without sparing her even another glance. And I walk right out the door.