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Zoya

A t five-foot-two, most of the world is taller than me. But I've learned that it's a less intimidating place when people think I have my shit together. So my motto has always been to fake it until you make it…and talk a lot of crap if you can't.

But that was before my sister's stupidly hot guitarist, Jareth Grayson, strolled his fine ass into her dressing room. I've never been more acutely aware that my shit is not together than I am with him staring at me from across the room.

The only thing I'm faking now is a yawn while I discreetly check to make sure I'm not actually drooling over him.

Jesus. The man is gorgeous. And imposing. His tight black t-shirt stretches across the muscles in his chest, hinting at the body beneath. His long fingers wrap around his beer bottle in a way that shouldn't be nearly as hot as it is…and yet, it is.

Don't even get me started on his tattoos. They litter his body in devastating lines I want to trace with the tip of my tongue.

I think he knows it, too. Those jade green eyes have been locked on me all night. Every time he catches me staring, he smirks.

Like right now. He's smirking again.

And I'm scowling again.

My sister, Nadia, sees my face and chuckles. One long fingernail jabs me in the ribcage.

"You should talk to him, Zoya," she says, her hazel eyes dancing with amusement.

"What? Who?" I turn to blink at her like I'm oblivious. There's no way she's buying my bullshit, though. I don't even buy it.

"Jareth." She nods in his direction.

"No, thanks." I scrunch my nose up, sending him a disgruntled look. "Dad taught us not to talk to creeps who stare too much."

My older sister's laughter spills across the dressing room, a bright, happy sound. We both know she isn't really happy, though. Like me, she's gotten good at faking it, but I know her as well as I know myself. She hasn't been truly happy since Teo Kirby broke her heart six years ago.

I might not ever want to fall in love myself, but the two of them belong together. They're just too busy being hurt to see what the rest of us know. Some days, I'm not sure they'll ever find their way back to one another after everything they've been through. Other days, I'm certain they will.

Today? Well, today I'm choosing hope.

I mean, they have to figure it out sooner or later, right?

"Jareth is not a creep," she protests through laughter.

"Says you." I scowl at him again. Why is he still staring at me? Better question, why am I still staring at him? "But I stopped trusting your judgment when you told me that Dad wouldn't lose it if I dyed my hair pink my senior year."

Her lips curve into a mischievous grin. "I just wanted to see if you'd actually do it."

Spoiler alert: I did it. It went over like a lead balloon. Dad is dramatic and overprotective every day of the week, but I thought he was going to have an actual heart attack that day.

"It is your body, your choice, but not your beautiful, beautiful hair, zaika !" Nadia mimics his deep baritone. She even manages a pretty spot-on facsimile of his horrified expression. "Make your daughter change it back, kisa ."

That's pretty much exactly how it went down. Except there was more dramatic gesturing and anxious pacing involved. He damn near wore a hole in the carpet. For a week straight.

"Have you ever noticed that we're always mom's daughters when we're stressing him out?" I ask, tucking strands of my curly hair—which is no longer pink, I might add—behind my ears.

"Uh, yes. He swears his daughters are angels. When we misbehave, it's all mom's fault."

"That's because it usually is her fault."

Nadia and I fall into a fit of laughter.

"What's so funny?" Jareth asks.

I jolt in my seat, whipping my head up. My eyes land on his dick. Of course they do. I tell myself to look higher, really, I do. But my gaze is just…stuck. The bulge in his jeans is massive.

No wonder half of Nadia's fans want to sleep with him.

"Talking about our dad, right, Z?" Nadia says, elbowing me in the ribcage.

"Uh…"

Why am I still staring at his dick?

And is that my tongue darting across my bottom lip?

Betrayal of the highest order.

"Ah, Knox," Jareth chuckles. "Good man."

Nadia elbows me again, harder this time.

I finally manage to rip my gaze away from Jareth's cock. My eyes bounce toward his face so fast that it's obvious I was staring at things I shouldn't be.

He notices, dammit. Those jade eyes meet mine, full of amusement. "Nice to see those pretty eyes up here, princess."

"What? I…"

A wickedly deep laugh rumbles from his lips.

"I need to go check on…something," Nadia says, bounding to her feet like her ass is on fire.

I whip my head in her direction, pleading silently for her not to leave me alone with her guitarist.

"See you after the show," she calls, a bright smile plastered across her face as she scurries away, giggling to herself.

Oh, she is evil.

"So…" Jareth says.

"I wasn't staring at your dick."

One dark brow lifts, his lips curving into a smirk. "That's what they all say, princess."

Ugh. I just bet they do. He probably has a whole host of women ready to fall into his bed every single time he crooks his ridiculously long, talented finger.

I am not that girl. For one thing, my dad would lose his mind. For another, I've always had more important things to worry about, like school. I have plans for my life, and they do not include hopping into bed with a hot guitarist.

Casual sex just isn't for me, and I am never, ever falling in love. The heart is a liar, and I've seen exactly what a devastating fiasco that can be. It almost killed Nadia when she and Teo broke up. Literally. It took a major car accident and two stints in rehab to get her where she is now.

That will not be me. No way.

And that isn't jealousy I feel thinking about Jareth with other women.

Hell no, it isn't. Jareth Grayson can sleep with as many groupies as he wants.

I have more important things to worry about—like finishing my final year of college.

Hopefully without getting expelled or ending up in jail.

With me, both are real possibilities. I make terrible decisions.

Jareth Grayson will not be one of them.

The way he makes my stomach flutter is a problem best avoided.

"Well, good luck with that," I say sarcastically, slipping from my chair. "Make sure you wrap it up. I hear it's good for your health."

"What the fuck? That's not what I…"

I attempt to step around him, not interested in hearing what he has to say, but he grabs my arm, throwing me off balance.

I topple into him. Naturally.

"Fuck." He wraps an arm around my waist to steady me, sloshing beer over both of us in the process. "Sorry. Shit, sorry."

"Stop moving!" I cry as he basically hauls me up against his chest, still splashing us with beer.

"You stop moving first."

I tip my head back to scowl up at him when I hear the laughter in his voice. The smile on his face only confirms my suspicions. He finds this whole situation hilarious.

"You're getting me all wet," I complain.

Humor dances in his eyes when they meet mine. "Am I supposed to apologize or thank God?"

Oh. Ugh!

I shove him away from me with a glower, ignoring the heat in my cheeks. "That is not what I meant."

"You said it."

"I was talking about the beer you spilled on me.

" I grab the hem of his T-shirt, using it to wipe down my arms while he watches with a cocky smirk stretched across his face.

I try like hell not to peek at the tantalizing strip of golden skin peeking at me from beneath his shirt, but it's impossible to miss it.

There's no way he got that body from playing the guitar.

"Seriously?" he asks when I'm done.

I just shrug, tossing my hair over my shoulder. "You got me wet. I returned the favor. Now, we're even."

"You want to get me wet, princess?" His eyes darken, and he takes a step toward me, a predatory growl rumbling in his chest.

My fight or flight kicks in as soon as I hear that sound. It's way too damn hot. He is way too damn hot. My whole body is singing for him. I cannot handle any of that.

"Enjoy wearing your beer," I practically squeak, bolting toward the door like the good little coward I am.

T wo hours later, I meet Nadia at the side of the stage as the whole bar claps and cheers for her and the band. She sounded amazing up there. And dammit all, but Jareth looked amazing.

Hot and talented? God is not playing fair tonight.

"You did amazing!" I cry, shoving a bottle of water into my sister's hands. "They love the new stuff."

"Thank God." She pauses to inhale half the bottle, her cheeks flushed with exertion. "It'll be a bad tour if they don't."

"Please." I roll my eyes. "You've never written a bad song a day in your life."

Nadia grins at me as the rest of the band troops down the steps to meet us. Jareth's eyes immediately lock on me. I pretend not to notice, but it's impossible not to notice him staring when he's not even trying to be subtle about it.

He spent half the damn show staring at me. At one point, he winked at me, and the girls at tables on either side of me practically swooned. It was ridiculous!

"You were on fire tonight, Nadia," Lemmy, her drummer, says, holding out his fist for her to bump. "They fucking loved you, kid."

"Thanks." She pops the cap back on the water bottle, her gaze shifting to a group of women dressed in tiny shorts and crop tops witing a few feet away. "You guys did great tonight." She nods at the group. "Pretty sure they aren't here to meet me."

Lemmy grins, waggling his brows.

Surprisingly, Jareth doesn't even glance in their direction. He just shakes his head at Lemmy, his lip curled like he tasted something bitter.

"You need help breaking everything down?" Nadia asks him.

"Nah." He waves her off. "We've got Samson and Ace to help. You go visit with your sister." His gaze comes back to me, that damn sexy smirk plastered on his face again. The way his lips curl up on the right side is just…argh!