I lie back and look up at the dusky sky, marveling about the drastic upheaval of my life. Two months ago I never would’ve dreamed I’d be lying on a chaise longue in Oakley Ford’s luxurious backyard, while the pop star I’d once crushed on swims laps in his pool.

Oak’s life isn’t normal, though. The bodyguards, the money, the fans, this house on the beach with its blue tiled pool, his friends—although for someone so famous he doesn’t seem to have very many friends. Or, at least, not good ones.

“You’re thinking so hard I can hear your gears grinding. What’s bothering you?”

I contemplate him for a minute. There are tiny drops of water on his long eyelashes and they sparkle like jewels in the late-afternoon sun. “I don’t know. I just…” I trail off.

He levers himself out of the pool and throws his wet self down next to me.

I toss him a towel so he can cover up his perfect body. It’s way too distracting.

He rubs the towel over his head and swipes it haphazardly down his torso before tossing it behind him. “Come on,” he coaxes. “Tell me what’s twisting you up inside.”

“Are you going to turn this into a song?” I’m beginning to suspect that the music he’s making is all about himself—a confessional of sorts. That kind of bravery is stunning and powerful.

“Maybe.” He tilts his head toward me. “It’s kind of a hazard of dating a songwriter.”

Hmmm. I hadn’t considered that, but weirdly I trust him. As in, I don’t believe he’d write a song that would hurt or humiliate me.

I fix my gaze on the fading light in the sky.

“My parents died two summers ago,” I say softly. “Dad had taken Mom out for date night. They were coming home from the Cheesecake Factory—my mom’s all-time favorite place. She loved the meat loaf there, of all things.” I shake my head over that memory. “Anyway, something happened and Dad lost control of the car. It crashed into the concrete barricade and they both died on impact.” The sharp pain of loss forces me to stop and catch my breath. “I hadn’t planned on taking summer classes. Dad wanted me to. He said if I graduated early, I could take a year off before going to college. He thought I could spend the year backpacking across Europe, getting educated in the school of life.”

“Did you go last summer?”

“No. I ended up graduating early just like he wanted, but that was so I could help out my sister. And after they died, I didn’t want to go to Europe anyway. I was…” I trail off.

“You were what?”

I swallow. “Too scared to go. I think I’m scared of life. That’s why I was dating W for so long even though I think we both ran out of feelings for each other a long time ago. That’s why this fake dating thing I had with you was okay. I’m good at pretending, but not so great at living. Everyone knows what they want out of life. Carrie is going to Berkeley because she wants to be a lawyer like her mom. Justin is going to UCLA to be an accountant. Kiki is going to be a cosmetologist. So I told everyone I wanted to be a teacher like my parents and I figured that if W was going to USC, I might as well, too.”

“None of that sounds like it’s making you happy.”

“My parents lived for the moment. But I want to have a plan, a future. You told me not to settle. You said to find my passion, but I don’t know what that is. I only know what I don’t want.”

“That’s as good a place to start as any.”

“Is it?” I turn my eyes to his. He reaches across the span between our loungers and rubs a thumb along my wet cheek.

“Yes.” His broad palm cups my cheek. “Yes,” he repeats.

The tears slip out of my eyes and pool in his hand. I watch as the salty water runs against the side of his wrist and down his forearm. My messy emotional state isn’t scaring him away. He scoots closer, the metal legs of his lounger scraping against the deck.

“When did you know you wanted to be a singer?”

“Four? Five? I felt like I was born knowing. I think my parents were afraid that I’d want to go into the acting business, like them, but I’ve always loved music and telling stories through songs. I loved hearing my voice form and hold notes. It was all I ever wanted.”

“LA is filled with people with purpose.” I reach up to touch his hand. It’s warm and solid in my grasp. “All these people come here with huge dreams. I don’t want their dreams, but I’d like a dream.”

“Maybe you have one but are afraid of it.”

“Maybe.” I look down at our clasped hands and think about the things that stir me. My family, cooking for them, drawing pictures. Can I make a living out of that? Is that my future?

He reaches over and lifts me off my chair and onto his. “If you had all the money in the world, what would you do?”

“Travel and see the world,” I answer immediately.

“Then you should do that.”

“W thought that was stupid.”

Next to me, Oak’s chest vibrates when he grunts. “We both know what I think of W. You’re better off without him. Good thing you broke up with him.” Oak sounds disgruntled and jealous, which is adorable in so many ways I can’t even count them.

“Um, he broke up with me, remember?”

“He only did that because he knew what was coming.”

“And what was that?” I bend my neck to check if Oak is about to make some smart-ass remark about how he was coming.

“That you were just marking time with him, and eventually you would’ve realized you could do better.” Oakley shrugs. “Besides, he’s probably got a tiny dick and was overcompensating.”

I roll my eyes. It’s all about size with guys. “I wouldn’t know.”

His eyebrows draw together. “You never—” He makes a short punching motion with his fist.

“What is that?” I laugh. “Is that sex? No. I never had sex with W.”

His eyes get comically big. “You never even touched him downstairs?”

“Oakley Ford, do you really want to know all the gory details of what I did with W?”

He actually thinks it over. I slug him in the shoulder.

“So wait, if he never got any downstairs action from you, does that mean you never got any downstairs action from him?” Oak looks horrified now.

“Can we please just drop this?” The pool might be only sixty degrees, but it’s looking more appealing by the minute. If I jump in, maybe this mortifying conversation will end.

“No, no, we can’t.” He sits up and drags me with him. “Did he ever—”

I slap my hand across his mouth. “Oh, my God. Stop talking. Please.”

He hesitates and then nods, but the moment I drop my hand, he’s back with the commentary.

“Damn, what a selfish asshole. Bet he had no problem asking you for attention.”

“I can’t believe you really want to discuss this.” I cover my face.

“Have you ever done it to yourself?”

Where’s a good ol’ California earthquake when you need it?

“Yes, okay, I touch myself. It feels…fine. Good, even.”

“Shivers?”

I sigh. Clearly, if I don’t give him something, he’s going to keep pressing me. “No, not shivers, but it’s good.”

“Come on.” He stands abruptly and holds out his hand.

“Where we going?”

“Inside. I don’t think you’re ready for the outdoor messing around yet.”

I arch an eyebrow. “You think you’re getting some?”

“No. Not me.” His eyes darken. “Come on.”

I push to my feet and slide my hand into his. I’m not entirely certain where this is going, but Oak’s never been one to pressure me. He’s never even brought up sex until now. I allow him to lead me through the living room and down the hall to his media room. He dims the lights, flicks on a movie and then pulls me down on the sofa.

He sticks his finger under my chin and tips my head up so we’re eye to eye. “Do you trust me?”