“I still think you should send the video of you on the riverboat,” Dave says. “Your voice was amazing.”

“Seriously,” Xander says, nodding.

I shake my head. “This audition is about me and me only. I don’t want any special favors because I sang once with Jesse Scott.”

I’m doing this on my own.

• • •

A few days later, a weird sound wakes me up. Th-dump.

I sit up straight and look around my room. Shimmering moonlight flows through the window and bathes the room in a soft white glow. Th-dump. Th-dump. That noise again.

Something’s in the yard. Maybe I should get Dad? I push my covers away and pad toward the window, then pause when a rock hits it. I look out into the yard and place a hand to my chest.

“Jesse,” I whisper.

When he sees my face, his hand falls to his side, and a few rocks tumble from his fingers. I stare into the caramel eyes I never thought I’d see again in real life. Not breaking eye contact, he walks closer. I struggle with the latch, then yank up the window up and lean out toward him.

“Hi,” I say breathily.

“Hi.” He smiles that wicked smile, and then he does the worst possible thing. He sings, “I’m a tiny swatch of quilllllllllt, and I want to be sewn into your hearrrrrrrrt.”

I cover my face and start laughing my ass off.

That’s when my bedroom door slams open. “Who are you talking to?” my dad demands.

“Nobody.”

He stalks over and looks out into the night. As my heart gallops away from me, I gaze into the yard. I see nothing but trees and grass. Where did Jesse go?

“I was looking at the stars,” I lie.

“Riiiight,” Dad says with a yawn. “Go to bed, My, and tell whoever’s outside to beat it. Now.”

He shuts the door behind him.

I whisper-yell, “Jesse!”

He pops straight up. I yelp and stumble back.

“Can you come out?” he asks quietly.

I shake my head. “I can’t walk through the house—Dad’ll hear me.”

He holds his arms out. “C’mere, then.”

For the first time in my life, I’m happy with my super-short, nonathletic body. Jesse lifts me out the window and drops me to the ground in front of him. He smoothes my bleached hair behind my ears and gazes down at me. I cross my arms over my chest. I don’t want to give him a show: I’m not wearing a bra. My tank top is thin, and it’s a chilly night.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

“You weren’t answering my texts, so I came to serenade you.”

“With the worst song I ever wrote.”

“I got stage fright. I sang the first thing that came to mind.”

“Jesse Scott got stage fright,” I say in a monotone voice.

“That’s right.” His eyes twinkle at me.

“For real though,” I whisper. “Why are you here?”

A cricket chirps a few times, filling the silence. Then he replies, “I missed you.”

I have no response to that. I missed him too, but he’ll never hear that from my mouth. I hug myself harder, to protect my heart.

“I’m sorry about the way I acted that night.”

“Yeah, me too,” I say snarkily.

He takes a deep breath. “The way I was feeling…about you…it was all new to me, and I didn’t know what to do.”

I just stand here, because I have nothing to apologize for and too many things I want to say but shouldn’t.

“I was thinking,” he says quietly. “I don’t have a show on Friday. Do you want to hang out?”

I glance up. “What?”

“Friday night?”

I thought he said things couldn’t work out between us, and now he shows up at my bedroom window after midnight to serenade me with terrible lyrics and ask me to hang out? I swear.

“Like as a date?” I ask.

“I was thinking as friends… I’m not sure I’m ready for something more yet, but let’s see where this goes.”

It’s like with Nate all over again. He said we couldn’t officially be together because of the band, but he had no problem with hooking up on the side. And now Jesse Scott is saying we can hang out and “see where this goes,” but he isn’t offering any assurances beyond that. I don’t want to place my trust in a guy who doesn’t know what he wants.

“Jess, this is a bad idea. You freaked out because you thought I’d treat you like your ex-girlfriend did.”