“Was it that obvious?”

She shrugs. “Give me some credit. I am your best friend.”

“Yeah, well, I’m over him.”

“That was fast.”

“That’s because I’ve been trying to get over him since the minute I met him so I’m one step ahead of myself.”

She pats my knee like she thinks I’m in denial. I am not in denial.

Okay, so I’m totally in denial, but I need her to play along with me until all the feelings I am trying to convince myself I have are actually true.

I’m hoping the studio and Xander aren’t a package deal. Because I’m not ready to face him at the moment. It’s completely possible that he just called the studio and told them the band was coming. It didn’t mean he would be there. At least that’s what I tell myself during the fifteen-minute car ride where all the band members are talking excitedly over one another. We drive through a security checkpoint, past a wrought iron gate and onto a tiled drive. The second I see a huge fountain and a house with more windows than I can easily count I realize the studio and Xander are a package deal—they live in the same place.

Chapter 23

Xander meets us in the circular drive, and I try to stay hidden at the back of the group. I wonder how embarrassed I should be about my behavior over the last couple of months. Had he sensed my racing heart every time he came around? Had I looked at him with those stupid doe eyes? Skye had picked up on it. He probably had, too. And now he’s going to think I asked the band if I could tag along just so I could see him.

“The studio is around the back,” Xander says as the guys start to grab their instruments from the van. The sound of his voice makes my eyes sting again. I curse at myself. He continues, “And it’s totally up to you, but the studio has its own instruments if you don’t want to carry all this.”

“Awesome,” Mason says, putting his guitar back. Henry shuts the back.

“Follow me,” Xander says. It takes him a minute to notice me. I had hidden myself pretty well behind Skye and between the bass player, Mike, and the drummer, Derrick. He furrows his brow. “Hey. I didn’t know you were coming.”

“I didn’t either.” I know that sounds squeaky and wrong because my throat is so tight but I try to pretend like I’m perfectly fine.

He hesitates for a second, almost like he wants to say more but says, “Okay, let’s go.” He gestures for everyone to follow. I realize he expects me to catch up with him, walk next to him. I only know this because he glances over his shoulder a few times as we make the journey through his huge yard, past his built-in pool and basketball court. But I stay where I am, between two almost strangers, listening to them banter back and forth. I’m going to prove to him that I know we’re just friends. That we were always just friends. Not only that, but that I have other friends, too, and he doesn’t have to worry about me throwing myself at him.

“Okay, guys,” he says, opening the door and setting his keys and cell phone on the small table to the left. “Get comfortable with the toys. I’ll fire up the equipment.” The band immediately attacks the instruments while Xander stays on this side of the large glass window and starts messing with slides and buttons. Skye floats onto a couch behind Xander and I join her.

Xander shuts both the door that leads to the outside and the one that leads to where the band members are already playing, effectively shutting out the sound. He smiles at me on the way back to his seat, and I’m mad that my heart hasn’t gotten the update yet about his girlfriend because his smile still sends it racing.

“There are some sodas and things in the fridge if you ladies are thirsty.” He points to a stainless steel fridge in the corner then turns, holds a headset to one ear, pushes a button on the panel in front of him, and says into a microphone, “Go ahead and run through the song a few times, and I’ll let you know when we’re ready to record.”

He lets go of the button and spins in his twisty chair to face us. It would be so much easier if Xander were less . . . less what? Confident? Attractive? Flirty?

Yes, that last one would be nice. No matter what my brain had reminded me, Xander is a flirt. If he were my boyfriend and he was hanging out with a girl like he had been with me, I would be angry.

“What?” Xander asks.

“What?”

“You’re staring at me.”

“I am not,” I say.

“You were. Wasn’t she?” he asks Skye.

“Yeah, you were.”

“Well, I’m trying to decide what you have to live for.”

“Excuse me?”

I gesture around this amazing studio that is sitting in his backyard. “How do you manage to get out of bed every day with such a depressing future?”

“Actually, someone is working with me on that very problem. I hope she can help me figure out what my future holds.” That statement makes me remember why we had started hanging out in the first place. We were in the “same” situation, according to him. Maybe he just thought I understood him better than most. I didn’t. We were complete opposites.

The door to the band room opens, and Mason slingshots himself out and flies across Skye’s and my lap, laying his head in mine. “I think we’re ready,” he says to Xander.

“Okay.” Xander waits for a moment, probably thinking Mason is going to get up, then he nods his head toward Mason’s calf. “Nice tattoo.”

“Thanks. Speaking of.” Mason looks at me, grabbing a strand of my hair and twirling it around his finger. I’m grateful for his attention. It makes me feel less stupid about how I’d been acting with Xander. Like he’ll see I wasn’t just pining away for him. “Was your mom being sarcastic today or do you think she really likes it?”

“My mom isn’t the sarcastic type.”

Mason laughs. “Really? Then how did you master the art so well? Is your dad super sarcastic?”

As if sensing the worst topic anybody could ever bring up has been introduced, the entire band joins us in the room that already feels sweltering. My chest tightens with a longing to say, “I have no idea if my dad is sarcastic because I’ve never met the man.”

“She wouldn’t know,” Skye says, not helping matters at all.

“Really?” Mason asks. “You don’t know your dad? What’s the story there?”

I shift, wondering how I can joke my way out of this topic.

Xander looks at his watch. “Guys, I’m on a schedule here. Let’s get this thing pounded out.” He catches my eye for a split second, proving he did that just for me.

Mason rolls off the couch seeming to forget my dad as easily as he brought him up. I wish I could forget him that easily.

The band plays in front of us, like a silent movie, Xander wearing the headphones and making adjustments on the knobs and slides. I’m not sure what those adjustments do, but he obviously knows. Skye stands and helps herself to a soda from the fridge. “Want one?” she asks.

“I’m good.”

She rejoins me on the couch. “How’re you doing?”

“Fine.”

“I get it, by the way.”

“Get what?”

“Him. I get why you like him. There’s something about him.” She points at Xander’s back. Even though we’re not talking very loud and Xander has the headphones on I want to shush her.

“I told you. It’s over. His girlfriend is an actress, Skye.”

She rolls her eyes. “Actresses are overrated. Fight for him.”

I stand, needing to work off some nervous energy. “It’s not a competition when one person has already won.”

Xander’s phone rings from where it sits on the table next to the door. He obviously doesn’t hear it because he doesn’t react at all. I’m standing less than five feet from his phone, so I give in to my curiosity and look at the glowing screen. The picture is what I see first: a dark-haired girl laughing. I don’t need to see the name at the bottom to know what it will say, but I look anyway. Sadie. “See . . . ?” I say, raising one eyebrow at Skye.

“Seriously?” she says.

I nod and then, while looking at Xander’s back and the band still going strong behind the glass, I act on the strangest impulse ever, scoop up his phone, and answer it. “Hello?”

Skye’s mouth opens so wide that I fear her jaw might come unhinged.

“Hello? . . . Xander? . . . I can’t hear you very well. I’m in the car.” Her voice sounds so normal. I had seen Sadie Newel in a few movies, and this version didn’t sound like the sophisticated version from the theater.

I don’t know what to say now that I’ve done it. “This isn’t Xander. Let me get him for you.”

“I can’t hear you. What? Ugh. Listen, my connection is bad, but I need you to work your magic. I’ll call you back when I get to the hotel.” The phone goes dead, and I push it back onto the table as though it’s about to explode.

Skye giggles. “You’re crazy.”

“She didn’t know it was me. She’s calling back later.”

Xander spins in his chair, making me gasp. “Does anyone want to listen?” he asks, taking off the headphones and holding them out.

“Yes.” Skye jumps up and moves forward. When she’s settled into the chair next to Xander’s listening to the band he spins around to face me.

“So why not this?” I ask, sitting on the couch again.

“What?”

“Why wouldn’t you produce music for a living? It seems like a passion of yours.”

He rolls the chair forward until our knees bump. “My father would never front the money for something like that.”

I stare at our knees, wondering if I should use the wheels on his chair to my advantage and shove him away. I ignore the urge. “But he built this studio?”

“My older brother is a classical guitarist. This was to provide a creative outlet. A hobby. I spent a lot of time in here with him learning this stuff. But this is not a career in my father’s opinion.”

“I thought you didn’t care what your father thought,” I say.

He narrows his eyes as if considering the question. “I guess I care what my father’s money thinks.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Without it I can’t be free of him. It’s like a double-edged sword.”

I get what he’s saying: that he needs money to go to college, get his own career, so he can make his own money. But I wonder if Xander really only cares about the money. He seems to put a lot of effort into making his father angry. I’m guessing he cares a lot about what his father thinks.

On the other side of the glass Mason sings with his eyes closed. He looks ridiculous.

Xander taps my knee with a closed fist, bringing my attention back to him. “I’m glad you’re here. I didn’t think . . .”

I tilt my head, waiting for him to finish.

“After last Saturday . . . and you returned my camera without a word. . . .” His eyes bore into mine.

“What?” I ask, dying to know why he’s not finishing his thoughts. What he’s leaving unsaid. Did how we left things bother him as much as they did me?

“I’m out of town this weekend but next Saturday? Are we still on?”

I blink once. That’s what he wants? More career days?

Skye lets out a yelp, startling me. “That was so awesome.” She stands.

Xander stands as well, walks over, and pushes the Mic button. “That’s a wrap. Good job, guys.” He goes to the table and pockets his keys and cell then looks at me apologetically. “I didn’t know you were coming. I really am on a tight schedule.” He checks his watch. “I’m supposed to be at the airport in twenty minutes.”