“Thought I saw someone,” I called back. I reached the wooden door, which was much like a classroom door with a thin glass panel above the doorknob. I flung it open and stepped out in the hallway. There was no one there, and I exhaled and paced around. Not only was I dreaming about her, but I was seeing her in places where she clearly wasn’t.

I went back in to Kevin.

“Y-you okay?” he asked.

I thought about it. I took in Kevin, seeing how everything I said or did would make an impression. I pushed my melancholy behind me and instead thought of V and how she played like every note was a physical touch. “Music makes everything better, Kevin. Never forget that.”

Spider and I left soon after. We walked out to my Hummer and climbed in. Before I started the car, I paused, needing to share. “Teaching those kids—shit, man—that made me feel good. It’s like they’re teaching me something.”

He sent me a long look and I could see from his face that he too had felt it. “Yeah.”

I cocked an eye. “Better than the The Vampire Dairies?”

He snorted. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, mate. Nothing beats The CW.”

THE NEXT DAY, V opened her door at seven on the dot ready to run, her hair scraped back in a high ponytail.

And I was waiting. Patiently doing leg muscle stretches on her driveway.

She came to a halt, her eyes big as she took in my running shorts and Vital Rejects T-shirt. “What are you doing here?”

Good question. “I’m sick of not seeing you.”

She stood there, a wary expression on her face. It made me ache to soothe her.

I clenched my fists. “I know you’re still mad at me, because I never hear you play anymore, and I’m sorry for it. It kills me to think I hurt you. I was a total douchebag to you at the coffee shop when I told everyone you played naked for me. I was a callous dickhead at Masquerade when I just assumed you wanted to have sex with me. I’ve been full of shit, and I don’t deserve to have a girl like you give me a second chance, but I’m asking. Right here. Right now. You are a hundred times better than me. You’re beautiful and your music makes me fucking happy, and all I did was make an ass of myself. And if you want Geoff—pompous nitwit, sorry—I’ll try hard to be good around him. For some reason that I can’t explain, I need you, V.” I paused and took in some air. “Will you—will you be my friend? I hope so, because I need to bitch about Spider and Mila—who are probably having sex. Not to mention, Harry called today and told me that Hing is vetting new guys for the role I wanted.”

She still stood there. She swallowed.

“Do you want me to go?” I asked.

Had I gone too far with the nitwit remark?

A car went by. A bird called out.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, she spoke. “Douchebag, dickhead, and an ass? Wow, you didn’t hold back. I’m impressed.” She gave me a grin.

Right then a fluttering took up in my gut. Like butterflies. I didn’t try to analyze it or dissect it. I just sucked in a sharp breath and went with it. “Do you forgive me?”

She nodded.

I relaxed, letting go of some of the tension that had ridden me for two weeks.

She frowned. “I’m sad for you about the movie, though. If you hadn’t helped me—”

“No, V, stop. Please don’t feel guilty for that. I wanted to help you. It’s done and over and I’m moving on from it.”

She cocked her head. “You’d take it if Hing offered, though, right?”

“Yeah.” I shrugged. “I’ve been chasing this film for three months—ever since Harry approached me with it before I moved here.”

She smiled. “Spider and Mila, huh? The girl who wears pink and the boy with blue hair?” She snickered. “God, it’s too much. Can I say anything? Can we tease them?”

I snorted. “If I catch them together, he will marry her.”

She laughed. “You really do try to be a hero. You try to hide it, but I see it in you.”

I tingled all over. “I’m no hero.”

But her thinking I was? Shit, that made me giddy.

“You ready to go?” I asked, checking my watch after we’d talked some more, catching up.

She grinned. “You’re really going to go on my run with me?”

I flexed a bicep. “Sweetheart, I’m one lean, mean, running machine. I can outrun a gazelle. I can outrun a Bengal tiger. I can run circles around—hey where are you going?”

She tossed a sassy look back at me as she trotted off down the drive. “I’m doing eight miles today. Try not to poke—or puke.”

Eight? “You training for a marathon?”

“Just keeping the cheese puffs and tequila at bay. You scared?”

I puffed up and ran with exaggerated motions, high-stepping by bringing my knees up to my elbows. Just to make her smile.

She gasped out a laugh. “Alright, stop before you hurt yourself—or someone sees you.”

We ran together that morning, side-by-side, neither of us speaking—just together.

Were we friends? Were we more?

In the end, I decided it was just running.

“Loving means losing.”

—from the journal of Violet St. Lyons

A WEEK AFTER Sebastian and I made up, I got excited when Mila suggested we get out of town on an overnight camping and horseback riding trip with the boys. Sebastian and I had spent almost every day together since our run, but it was either at his house or mine. Reporters were constantly driving by now—wanting to catch a glimpse of Blair or the Mystery Girl. So far no one knew it was me, and I wanted to stay under the radar.

We all piled in the Hummer and drove up to the canyon and rented horses. Ten minutes into the ride, Mila and Spider, who seemed to have a knack for disappearing together, took off ahead of us on their horses.

Sebastian pulled up next to the slow mare I’d ended up with. “Living on the edge there, V. You better slow your roll or you’ll break that pretty neck.” He tugged on my ponytail.

I sent an envious look at his stallion. “Coming from the guy who’s riding Black Beauty. Why did you have to pick out the pokey one for me? Turtle here is ready for the glue factory.”

“Just want you to be safe,” he said, and sent me a lingering look, his eyes pausing longer than necessary on the neck of my blouse. Slightly sheer and low-cut, I’d pulled it out of my closet this morning and shouted with glee. Behold, I did have some sexy clothes. True, it wasn’t practical for a camping trip, but I didn’t seem to care.