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“Creepy,” I say, but really it excites me.

His mouth twitches. “So, you play?”

“I used to.” I shrug.

“Any good?”

“Better than you’d expect.”

He waits another second, clearly curious, but I keep my attention on my glass.

“It’s not something I really talk about. It’s…painful.”

“That’s alright. Although now I’m going to assume you were some kind of child prodigy.”

I itch to change the subject. I think about the way Luca keeps glancing between us.

“So he knows,” I say.

Cal’s eyes slide to mine. “Knows what?”

I give him a look.

His mouth twitches.

“Wonderful.”

“He won’t say anything.”

“I hope not.”

“He won’t,” Cal repeats. “The boys know when to keep their mouths shut.”

Something about the way he says it reminds me of what Luca mentioned earlier.

LA.

The band.

Next year.

I turn my glass between my hands.

“So you’re going back to Los Angeles after this year?”

Cal goes still.

“Yeah,” he says.

“Oh.”

He scratches the back of his neck, suddenly looking almost sheepish.

“It’s complicated.”

“Is it?”

“Not really.” He lets out a breath. “Basically, I’m only doing one year here.”