"Want to talk about it?"
I shake my head. "No. I… I'm just glad I can trust you. You're the only person in my life I can really trust."
"I'm not so sure we have the same definition of the word trust," she says. "Look at me and swear on your love of, um, what's that character called again? The hard-drinking robot?"
"Bender."
"Swear on your love of Bender that you're okay."
Do I really look that miserable? I do feel unsettled. Why is Miles suddenly pulling back? We're supposed to have terms. No lies. No secrets.
I can't do this if he's going to whisper secrets with his bandmate.
Maybe he'll tell me. I'll ask again, give him another chance to tell me.
Kara slides onto the counter.
"I don't love Bender that much." I slide onto the counter next to her. "Something up with Drew?"
"You're not going to distract me unless you swear."
"I swear that I'll be okay." Eventually. "You know, Miles told me that Drew hasn't slept with anyone in a while."
"Really. That's interesting." She clears her throat, fighting her blush. "He invited me to dinner after the set. But I got the feeling everyone's invited."
"I doubt anyone is going to jump on that train. Including me. I'll say no and hang out here."
"You sure?"
"Yeah. Well, I might take a cab. But I'll be fine."
"You know, Miles wrote a song about you. Heard through the grapevine that he's playing it tonight."
"Oh."
Kara is my best friend, and I trust her with almost anything. Just not how I feel about Miles. I can't even say it out loud. It would be admitting to giving in to the temptation that destroyed my sister.
I clear my throat. "So we're both totally inept with men."
"That appears to be the case, yes."
Kara fixes her makeup and mine and drags me back to the upstairs VIP section. The band is no longer here. The manager, Aiden, assures us that Sinful Serenade is getting ready to go on stage.
I get comfortable on one of the black cubes posing as a normal seat. Kara sits next to me. It's too loud for meaningful conversation, so we trade gossip about Professor Rivers, our poetry professor.
The stage lights go dark. Almost show time. The crowd starts screaming. This is a small space. After all, the band is working on their new material. Miles is singing a song about me. They can't show that off to a large audience. Not when it isn't finished.
How can he be writing a song about me?
The lights go on. The song starts.
It's In Pieces.
I can't bring myself to look at the stage. Certainly not to look at Miles. I press my eyelids together.
His voice seeps into my veins.
Three weeks now.