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Which brings back the image of her beneath me this morning, legs around my waist, hair spread across the pillow.

My fingers miss a chord.

Luca notices.

Of course, he fucking notices.

“Again from the bridge,” I say.

Drew groans. “You’ve played it twelve times.”

“That’s how rehearsing works.”

“I’ve got a better idea.” He leans forward. “We should go see the girls.”

Luca stops tuning immediately. “What girls?”

I lower my guitar.

“Cal’s tutor’s house,” Drew says. “They throw the best parties. There are four of them, and they’re all⁠—”

He makes a gesture apparently meant to convey extreme attractiveness.

“One of them, Sydney, is obsessed with the band. We became friends at her birthday party. She was upset about some asshole, and we’ve been texting since.”

I look at him. “You’ve been texting Sydney?”

“Yup.”

Luca turns slowly toward me.

He knows exactly who my tutor is and exactly where I spent last night. I warned him in the car that Drew doesn’t know and cannot be trusted with information requiring discretion.

For once, Luca keeps his mouth shut.

“Sounds like we should visit,” he says. “This apartment has become very male. Not quite the full college experience I expected.”

“We’re not turning up uninvited,” I say.

Luca points at Drew. “Invite us.”

“Nobody is doing anything until we finish the bridge.”

Both of them stare at me.

“One more clean run,” I say. “Then Drew can ask Sydney whether they actually want company.”

Luca immediately lifts his bass. “You heard the man.”

Drew groans.

“Count us in.”

We play it once more. It’s the best pass yet.

When the last note dies, I nod toward Drew’s phone. “Alright, ask.”

He starts typing.