Instead, there was blood everywhere.

Danica’s nose crunched against my fist, and the scene that followed was like something straight out of a horror movie.

“Oh my God!” I gasped as I dropped to my knees beside her on the sidewalk. She was bawling her eyes out, holding her nose as blood streamed over her fingers. “I’m so sorry!”

“I think you broke her nose,” my shocked brother said as Danica cried hysterically, and my hands shook as I panicked, not knowing how to help her.

“Get Mom and Dad!”

My brother ran back to the house, and I stripped off my favorite hoodie—the Ivy Tech one that Mike rescued for me the first night we met—and used it to try to stop the bleeding. I pushed her hair back from her face, I rubbed her back, I told her over and over again how sorry I was and how it was going to be okay.

We haven’t talked in the months that have passed since that day. Danica dropped out of school even before the semester ended, and I heard she’s dating a doctor now—the one who fixed her broken nose. My mom told me he’s a few years older than her, with a big house and a fancy Porsche, and I guess he was enough to make her forget about rock stars, because Mike hasn’t heard from her either.

I’m watching him beat the drums now, a slow, easy rhythm as the guys do a lazy afternoon sound check. Mayhem is empty save for the band, a few staff members, and me, Rowan, and Dee, but outside, a line is already stretched around the building. It’s The Last Ones to Know’s first big show since their music video for “Ghost” released and the single went platinum, and tonight, one of the few bands bigger than they are is opening for them as part of the celebration, so the show sold out within minutes.

While I spent the night in Mike’s arms, fans slept on the concrete sidewalk outside this building waiting to see him play, and a chill dances up my spine as I watch him. He yawns and plays the drums with one hand, and I smile, remembering that I didn’t exactly let him get much sleep when I came over last night.

I’m living in the dorms now, just like my uncle promised, but I still spend most of my time at Mike’s place with him and Phoenix. We make the nights count, and during the days—when I’m not volunteering at the shelter, volunteering at the college learning center, or frantically scribbling down notes in class—I’m usually hanging out with my new roommate, Macy, who is super nice, if not a little awkward. She’s the total opposite of Danica—quiet and reserved but a great study partner—and I’m extremely thankful I was roomed with someone who complements me so well. Rowan and Dee freaked out when they discovered she’s my roommate, since she was apparently Dee’s roommate freshman year, and I couldn’t help laughing at the thought of poor Macy trying to hold her own with Deandra Dawson. We had even more in common than I thought, and when I found out that she had even met Mike before, she told me how lucky I was to have such a nice boyfriend, and I couldn’t help agreeing.

After walking over and wrapping my arms around my very nice, very tired boyfriend’s neck, I press my chest against his back and tease in his ear, “Tired? Do you need me to take over?”

Mike chuckles before spinning around and catching me by the waist. He tugs me into his lap and spins us back around, slipping his drumsticks into my hands. “Yeah, considering it’s your fault I can hardly keep my eyes open.”

I barely have time to think of a witty reply before Dee and Rowan start cheering from where they’re sitting at the other side of the club, at the bar. Rowan has a mountain of homework spread on the bartop, and Dee is helping herself to a shot of something she probably shouldn’t be drinking considering it’s only two in the afternoon, but she texted me this morning to let me know that the red dress she made me for the music video is going to be the star feature in her school’s fashion show in New York, so the girl has a damn good reason to celebrate.

“Woo!” Rowan shouts, lifting her hands in the air. “Go Hailey!”

“Let’s see what you’ve got!” Dee encourages, toasting me with the shot glass in her hand.

I cast a nervous glance at Mike, but his smile is electric. “Don’t hold back now, Animal.”

My next glance is at Kit, and she smiles at me. “Pick a song.”

“Uh . . .” Over the past few months, Mike has given me a few drumming lessons, and I try to think of an easy one. “How about ‘Rooftops’?” I ask, thinking of the slow song Shawn wrote for Kit. It’s ridiculously complicated on the guitars, but easy on the drums, so Mike has used it as a good practice song, and Kit’s face lights up when I request it.

She smiles at Shawn at the other side of the stage, and he smiles back before nodding at me.

“Are you ready?” Adam shouts at Rowan and Dee, and Rowan finally puts her pencil down, spinning around to give her boyfriend and his band her full attention. Dee screams her enthusiasm, and Joel laughs as he adjusts his guitar strap on his neck. Adam smiles over his shoulder at me, his gray-green eyes up for anything. “Ready when you are, Hailey.”

I swallow hard, and Mike’s pep talk comes in the form of a shoulder rub that helps calm my nerves. I take a deep breath, he drops his hands, and I play the drums with The Last Ones to Know. Kit plays rhythm guitar, Joel plays bass, Shawn plays lead guitar, and Adam steps up to the mic to start singing one of the band’s most haunting, beautiful songs.

I slip the sticks into Mike’s hands for the more complicated parts of the song, and even when my beat is slightly off during the easier parts, the band pretends not to notice. Mike’s chest against my back, his lap beneath my legs—it makes me feel like I can do this, like I can do anything, and when I finish, Rowan and Dee give me a standing ovation.




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