A small moan escapes me as Zayd slides his hand back up, stroking my body and making me quiver.

“It really is exquisite, isn’t it?” I ask, and Zayd laughs. The sound is as musical as his songs. I want to listen to them all on repeat, over and over and over again. I giggle, and he grins, leaning in to kiss me on the collarbone, trailing his lips down and along the lacy line of my bra. The pale rise and fall of my breasts belies my outward calm and shows how truly nervous I am underneath.

I lean back a little and my body bumps into Creed’s. He groans, and I glance back to see his hand working furiously at pleasuring himself. As I watch, he finishes with a shudder and his body goes limp in the pillows. Pretty sure he’s asleep in like, a minute.

“The golden rule is: smoke first, drink later. Creed always drinks then smokes then drinks again. That’s his problem.” I glance back at Zayd and find him smirking at me in the darkness. “See, I told him you wouldn’t be coming to him later.”

“He looked like he was having a good time,” I whisper back, realizing in the back of my mind that I’ll probably be mortified to remember this moment in the morning. Right now, it all seems surreal and beyond exciting. I crawl over so that I’m straddling Zayd, putting my palms on his bare, inked chest and then sliding them down. He moans, lifting his hands up to cup my ass. We kiss again, these deep, long, exploratory kisses that feel like they go on for hours.

But in a good way. In a I never want this to end sort of way.

“This edible is amazing,” I breathe, and Zayd laughs, watching me curiously through the moonlight as I move back, putting my lips against the rock-hard lines of his abs. We’re in his bed, in his room, with the window open and a warm So Cal breeze stirring the curtains. I can hear people in the pool, but they’re pretty quiet, far away. They may as well be in another world.

My tongue slides along the edge of Zayd’s jeans, and then my fingers are popping his fly. I look up at him as I take his shaft in my hand.

“Holy fuck,” he whispers, but then he only lets me get so far as a single lick before he grabs me by the wrist and pulls me up toward his face. “Not when you’re high, not for our first time.” Zayd kisses me again and then flips me over, his tongue swirling around mine, his inked fingers sliding between my thighs. He touches one to my heat, and I gasp, curling my fingers around his shoulders. He doesn’t even put them in, just uses my own wetness to tease and stroke me, bringing me to a warm, shuddering orgasm that reminds me very much of Creed.

Immediately, my eyes feel heavy, and I sigh as Zayd grins and kisses me again, his lip rings making my mouth tingle.

“Sleep well, Charity. We’ll see about finishing this up in the morning.”

Zayd relaxes next to me, and the last thing I remember is seeing his inked fingers curl around the base of his cock.

After that, it’s nothing but dreams until the sun comes up.

There’s a stage set up about a half mile from the house, and despite the heat, people start lining up before the party even really ends. There are students draped over couches and lying in piles on the floor, most of them hungover or still a little bit stoned. But if they want a good spot in the crowd, they better get up now because the entry line stretches as far as the eye can see.

“You really are famous, huh?” I ask Zayd, glancing over my shoulder as he slips into a white tank with his band logo on the front. It says Afterglow in scrawling cursive with a half-moon, half-sun behind it, gleaming around the edges with, well, a glow.

He flashes me that cocky smile of his.

“Yeah, well, maybe just a little.” He moves over to stand beside me, and I feel myself blushing when I remember my tongue meeting up with his, uh, well … if I’m not mature enough to say it, then I’m not mature enough to do it: his dick. I almost gave my first blow job last night. “I’m heading over with the band soon to greet some of the headliners, but there’ll be golf carts and some backstage passes waiting for you.” Zayd stands up and splays a palm out on his chest, his sea green hair gleaming in the early morning sunshine. The wicked heat of the day hasn’t quite crept in yet, so it’s still cool enough to be pleasant. “And I’m such a nice guy, I even included extras for your other boyfriends.”

“Nice guys don’t say that they’re nice guys,” I tell him, and he smiles, leaning in to pen me against the door with an arm on either side, the cluster of guitar pic necklaces he’s slipped around his neck swinging forward in the space between us.

“Nah, you’re right: I’m a total asshole. Here’s the thing though …” Zayd pauses and presses a kiss to the corner of my mouth. “I like you enough to try. So,” he stands back up and folds his muscular arms over his chest. “Here’s me, trying. Probably failing, but at least the effort’s there.”

“You’re doing great,” I tell him, feeling my cheeks flush. “I mean, as long as you’re being yourself. If you’re an asshole, you’re an asshole. Just don’t be a bully.”

“If I were doing great,” Zayd says, pausing as he notices Creed working his way over to us in low-slung sweats, a towel flung over his wet blond hair. “Your tongue wouldn’t have even touched the tip.”

“Touched the tip of what?” Creed snaps, but then Zayd is just laughing and climbing over the edge of the balcony railing before I can stop him. He quite literally dives into the pool and gives me a heart attack as I race over and curl my fingers around the banister, holding my breath until he pops up and swims over to the edge.

Zayd hauls himself up and then rises to his feet before he shoves another dude in the water and then turns around to wave at me.

“Still an asshole! Just not to you.” He presses kisses to his palms and then flings them my direction, green hair dripping into his face as he makes his way across the courtyard and out a side gate.

“Tip of what?” Creed repeats as I glance over at him, tall and imposing with eyes like chips of ice.

My face heats, and I look up at the blue, blue California sky.

“Erm, would you believe me if I said … lollipop?”

“No.” Creed narrows his eyes and huffs. “Unless by lollipop, you mean Zayd’s dick. Surely you noticed the stupid piercing? He’s such a showboating cocksucker.” Creed pauses, like maybe he’s reconsidering the use of that last term. He glances down at me. “Did you—”

“No!” I choke out, flushing. “We were both high. He stopped me.”

“He stopped you?” Creed asks, and then shakes his head, toweling his gorgeous hair before he tosses it aside, probably for some underpaid maid to clean up. It bothers me, so I pick the towel up and bundle it into a basket that’s already got some dirty clothes in it. “Interesting.”

“How is that interesting?” I ask, and Creed shrugs lazily, slouching his way over to the bed to lie facedown on it. He doesn’t even seem to care that we’re in Zayd’s room. Or that he came in his pants lying right next to me last night. Apparently the pot doesn’t erase memories the way I’ve heard alcohol does.

“Just … I mean, Zayd turning down girls is a new phenomenon.”

“You mean like you being a virgin?” I ask, sitting down next to him. He cracks one heavy-lidded eye and looks up at me.

“I’m not a virgin anymore,” he says, and this cavalier little smile takes over his mouth. “And neither are you. No matter what happens, you’ll probably remember me the rest of your life. I like that.”

“You’re a cocky, arrogant, lazy dickhead,” I say, but Creed just shrugs again.

“No arguing that. Should we take a nap before the concert? I don’t even know why we’re up at the butt crack of dawn anyhow. It’s not our show tonight.”

“We could take a nap …” I start, and there must be something in my voice because Creed suddenly doesn’t look so sleepy anymore. His cavalier smile turns into a satisfied male smirk as he pushes up and crawls over to me.

We just barely finish in time to get dressed for the start of the show.

“Gross, gross, gross,” Miranda murmurs as I flush, sitting in the back of the golf cart with her and Lizzie while Zack drives. “I can’t believe I walked in and saw that gross, wrinkly butt.”

“My butt is not wrinkly,” Creed growls, turning around to give her a look. Zack is so big and muscular that only he and Creed fit in the front seat, while the three of us girls fit easily in the back.

“Looked that way, pumping up and down like that …”

“Miranda!” I shout, putting my hands over my ears. “Please stop.”

Having Miranda walk in on me and her twin for a second time was not pleasant. Guess it serves us right for not checking to see if the door was locked.

“Okay, fine, but it still looked wrinkly to me …”