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knew she and Dillon had something. Music, for sure. Maybe something else, too. It was the “something else” that made her nervous. She was attracted to him, she couldn’t lie to herself about it. But she didn’t want him like this, like that girl in his dressing room had him, and not if it wasn’t going to matter to him.
    When she raised her head to look at him again, he was still standing there, waiting patiently. She had to give him credit for that much. He’d spent half an hour chatting to her in a bar one night. He didn’t necessarily owe her anything. He seemed genuine, in his way. So when he said he wanted to talk to her and not just sleep with her, she wanted to believe him, in spite of her better instincts.
    “Alright,” she sighed, already wondering if she was making a huge mistake. She could almost hear Emily’s voice in her head.
    “Come over to my place tomorrow? We’ll hang out, listen to music—”
    “Dillon, look. I want to, I do. But I’m not…” She waved a hand back over his shoulder to indicate the back stage party they’d left behind. “Let’s be clear. I have no interest in becoming that for you.”
    He nodded, looking much more serious. “I don’t expect you to. I’m sorry you walked in on it. We’ve been working so hard for so long and now we’re back home in LA and we’re playing the Greek. It’s like a dream. Everybody is really pumped up. Things are blowing up and I guess we’re getting a little carried away.”
    “I know how it is. Well, I can imagine.”
    “It’s not… it’s just shit that goes down after a show. But it’s not what this is about, okay?”
    “Okay.”
    He exhaled and smiled again. That smile was enough to make her doubt every resolution she’d just made. Was she really contemplating becoming friends with this man? Could she?
    “Give me your number. I’ll text you my address. Come over tomorrow afternoon and we’ll talk. Just talk.” He cocked an eyebrow at her, making her laugh, and the awful tension and anger finally began to dissipate. She took his phone from him and typed in her number, then pressed send. Her own vibrated in her pocket.
    “There. Now you know how to find me.”
    “I guess I do. I’m sorry again about tonight.”
    “Forget it, okay?” Justine wanted more than anything to do just that.
    “Sounds good. Are you okay getting home?”
    She laughed. “Very funny coming from you. I’m the sober one here.”
    He gave a rueful chuckle. “Yeah, I guess. Okay, tomorrow, then?”
    She took a deep breath and nodded, still unsure if she was doing the right thing. “Yeah, tomorrow.”
     
    Dillon took his time making his way back to his dressing room. Partly because he wanted to be sure Ash was done when he got there and partly because he needed a minute to clear his head. The rush from his earlier hit had ebbed, leaving him feeling worn out and tired. An hour ago he’d welcomed all these people and noise backstage. He’d felt triumphant after such a great show back in their home town. Now he just wanted to be alone so he could drink himself to sleep.
    He saw the girl who’d been all over him when Justine walked in on them—he couldn’t remember her name, if he’d ever known it—but he kept his eyes averted. He was done with that for the night.
    Rocky was standing just inside the green room door as he passed.
    “Hey, you seen Ash?” Dillon asked.
    “A while ago. Some girl came in with more blow and they went down there.” Rocky nodded his head down the hall.
    Dillon groaned. “Fuck, he was already a mess.”
    “You’re welcome to go drag him out of there if you want.”
    “I can’t deal with it yet.”
    “Where’d your hot friend go?”
    Dillon rubbed a hand over his eyes. When did tonight stop being fun? And when did he get so tired? “She went home. And it’s not like that.”
    “You mean you don’t find her hot? Because I gotta say—”
    “Don’t. Don’t say anything. Yes, of course I do. But you saw