Staying in a massive, 20,000 square foot house by ourselves did have its advantages - namely, after our rather lewd shower, Devon and I had enough space to get ready on our own.

I'd finally had an opportunity to wear that black, thigh-high slit Reformation dress I brought on tour, and the irony wasn't lost on me as to why I was wearing it now. When I'd packed for tour back in September, the last possible thing I imagined was packing for a weekend jaunt with Devon a few months later, about to be paraded in front of his whole family as this "normal" girl he brought home.

Despite everything I knew, I wanted them to like me. Maybe if they liked me, they'd see what I saw in him.

"You almost ready?" Devon called from the other side of the closed master bedroom door. Part of me still couldn't believe that this was somebody's summer home, let alone his.

"You know, giving me privacy seems a little counterintuitive now," I called back as I struggled to tighten the crystal-embellished strap on my Jimmy Choo's. The vacuum-sealed tightness of the dress made it damn near impossible to bend over. "You've seen me naked. More than once."

After a beat, Devon came stumbling into the room, fidgeting with the buttons on his suit jacket. All of that drama and turmoil about this god damn suit might have actually been worth it, because he was the single most handsome boy I'd ever laid eyes on. The suit itself was a deep charcoal gray, but the shirt he wore underneath was, in true Devon fashion, the darkest black. Although he'd buttoned it all the way to the top, and I could see the color draining from his cheeks with every breath he took.

"Holy shit," he blurted out. "You're...you're, uh...wow."

Now with my shoe strapped up, I stood up from the bed and smoothed the front of my dress. "You like?" 

He nodded, closing the space between us so he could dip his head down to whisper in my ear. "You look beautiful. So beautiful."

He reached down to gently squeeze my hips, and despite our touchy feely shower earlier, I was still so starved for him. But we had places to be, and I just finished my makeup.

"So do you," I whispered back with a grin, casually running my fingers down the lapels of his suit jacket. "Although...you also look like you're choking. Why is your shirt buttoned all the way up?"

I moved my hands to his chest to undo the top two buttons of his shirt, and I could feel his chest press against mine as he exhaled in relief.

"Because my mother is gonna flip if she sees me with all my tattoos out," he grumbled.

I spread open the fabric of the shirt, tracing the exposed lines of script text at his sternum that I knew all too well now. These violent delights have violent ends. I could only hope that wasn't how tonight was going to go.

"Who cares?" I mused softly, rubbing the fabric of his shirt between my fingers. "Your tattoos are beautiful, they're part of you, and whoever wants to judge you for that is a fuckface."

"A...what?" Devon sputtered out a laugh before looping his arm around my waist. "You're something else, Sienna."

"In a good way, of course," I stated with a grin. 

"Of course." He pressed a quick kiss to my forehead before he led me out of the bedroom and through the massive house.

Sure, it was stunning - I'd never seen a house like this in my life - but it was also intensely unhomely, like nobody actually lived here and it was just staged for a magazine. I thought about my parents' house, where shoes were always piled by the front door and the faded beige leather couches in the living room that still had a soda stain from when my sister was 12. It was all kind of lame and mismatched, but it was so lived in.

My mom was not happy I was skipping out on Thanksgiving this year, even though I insisted to her it was important "for work" (that technically wasn't a lie - Devon was my employer). But being out here in this house reminded me not to take my parents' house for granted, and I made a mental note to call her later and reassure her I was coming home for Christmas, back to that lived-in house.

"At least we match," I beamed at him.

"We're not going to prom." He held onto my arm as I precariously made my way down the slippery marble spiral staircase.

"I know." I took a breath as we reached the base of the stairs. "Actually, it kind of looks like we're going to a very upscale funeral."

"We are," he replied plainly. "For my dignity."

I gave him a reassuring squeeze as we left the house. Golden hour began settling in, painting everything in shades of golds and oranges. It was a good five minute walk to the "main house," where rows of luxury cars were already lined up and down the circular driveway in front of the house and all the way down the main driveway to the gate.

Devon had already given me the rundown of characters we anticipated interacting with. There was Joelle of course, his cancer-curing older sister, and her brain surgeon fiance Peter. Apparently they met at Johns Hopkins when they were just starting med school but had forgone dating until their residencies. Now that they were full-fledged successful doctors, marriage seemed like the appropriate next step.

His mother (Queen Emma, as Evie not-so-affectionately referred to her as), would undoubtedly be running the show like the tried and true New York Socialite she was - since apparently half of the 100-something people at this party were her friends.

Devon's father was the sorest of subjects, and I didn't dare bring him up unless he did first. I had a feeling Devon wouldn't exactly be going out of his way to find him tonight.

"Wow, this house is even more incredible," I said under my breath. I clutched Devon's arm tighter as he led me underneath a stone archway before a set of wide, marbled stairs. Little lights sat on either side of each step, leading up to a massive set of deep charcoal double doors, as if they were the gates of heaven itself. 

"Told you," he muttered as he held open the door for me. "Welcome to my nightmare."

This house was a lot less classic and a lot more modern than the other one, with everything embellished in black and white and chrome. Two sets of stairs wrapped around the foyer and led up to a second level, where a piece of exotic art that doubled as a chandelier hung from the ceiling, its pale lights dimmed. 

"This one has a wine cellar, a spa, a private movie theater, a basketball court and a bowling alley even though nobody in my family plays basketball or bowls." Devon rattled off the house's amenities as if he was reading off a grocery list. "All more ridiculous and unnecessary than the next."

"That's...wow," was all I could say, still taking in parts of the house I could actually see.

When we actually made our way past the foyer and into the openness of the first floor, the only people that seemed to be buzzing around were staff from what looked like a catering service. To the left was an intensely modern looking kitchen, where a whole manner of food stations had been set up, ready to be brought to where they needed to go at a moment's notice, but directly in front of us were black-paneled floor to ceiling windows, and two glass doors leading out to the most insane courtyard I'd ever seen...and about 100 people enjoying the party.

I gave Devon's arm a reassuring squeeze. "Just remember, I'm here."

"I know," he sighed out. "Just know that whatever happens tonight...I don't take that for granted."

I reached up to put a hand to his cheek, and like he had so many times already, he leaned his head into my hand, as if my palm was the one place he felt comfortable enough to unravel.

He brought his hand to mine, lacing his fingers "Sienna, I..."

"Oh my god, Devon?"

We separated as if we'd been injected with electricity. The sound of stilettos clacking against the floor came first, and with it came the body of a tall brunette in a long, baby pink floral applique dress. She flung her arms around a completely unprepared Devon, who nearly buckled and shot me a wide-eyed, pleading look.

"I hardly recognized you with short hair." She pulled away, keeping her hands on his shoulders. "You look good."

"Hello to you too, Connie," he greeted her, his tone stony and cold like I knew it could be when he was crawling behind his walls. I expected most people to reciprocate that coldness and ostracize him, but not Miss Hamptons over here practically tackling him. I almost wondered if this made him more uncomfortable than ostracizing him would.

She reached up to the open collar of his shirt first, then started pulling his sleeves up. "Oh my god and the tattoos. You're covered. Your mother is gonna flip when she sees you."

"She's seen me, Connie," Devon rolled his eyes. "Thanks for the heads up though."

The brunette blinked at him in confusion before finally reeling back and taking notice of me.

"Oh!" She exclaimed. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize...you..."

She waved her hand around, expecting Devon to step in and finish the obvious.

"Right," Devon cleared his throat. "This is Sienna, my girlfriend."

As satisfying as it was to hear that, the unexpectedness of it made something bright and warm bloom in my stomach, and I couldn't believe that now I had to go through this whole party swallowing the urge to jump his bones.  

But Devon being Devon doubled back, frustratingly endearingly so. "I mean, girl that's a friend. Girl...girl friend."

God I could never be mad at this boy. I reached down and squeezed his hand, and he squeezed right back.

"Right..." the girl Connie continued to look at him with a puzzled expression before turning to assess me fully. "Well, I'm Connie Richardson, and I went to Dalton with Joelle and Devon. I was a grade above Devon's, but Joelle and I had been in ballet together since we were little. I was always at the Kato's penthouse. Right Dev?"

Devon shifted uneasily on his feet. "Sure."

That hit an unusually sour note in me, and suddenly the uncomfortableness really started to make sense. Who introduced themselves like that to a stranger? As if she wanted to make sure I knew that she'd known Devon's family longer. That she belonged here right now, more than I did. 

I was in uncharted waters out here, but for Devon's sake, I did what I did best, and I set the people-pleasing gremlin loose.

"Aw, that's sweet," I cooed, making sure to loop my arm around Devon's. "Speaking of, we should really find your sister, right baby?"

I felt him melt into me, and I could have sworn I heard a low moan come from his chest. "Right," he choked out. "Right, we should." 

"Nice meeting you." I gave Connie a soft smile before walking past her. 

The outside of the house was almost more magnificent than the inside of it. The glass double doors opened up to a large courtyard situated between the rest of the house that wrapped around it, where plush white furniture sat around a big fire pit, and the heat it gave off reached us the moment we stepped outside. Long strings of purple Wisteria hung from the trellises of the balconies on either side, swaying gently in the breeze that came from the bay.

A few people who'd gathered around the firepit were immersed in idle chatter and didn't seem to notice our intentionally subtle entrance. Past the courtyard was a long charcoal-colored wooden walkway lined with paper lanterns, leading out to the patio and the heart of the party.

Actually, calling it a patio felt reductionist. It easily fit a large majority of people at the party, skirting along the edge of a pristine, crystal blue pool, where more of those paper lanterns floated on the glass-like surface, along with purple and pink flowers artfully placed throughout the water. Those tall space heaters restaurants usually had were dotted in the corners, keeping everyone comfortable despite the November air. On the far right side was an open cabana, where at least ten to fifteen other people could comfortably congregate by a fully stocked bar - complete with a bartender, which Devon immediately clocked.

"Alcohol first." Devon took my hand and folded us into the crowd seamlessly, switching on whatever Upper East Side socialite tendencies he still had left.

"I'll have whatever you're having," I told him as we approached the cabana.

"I'm about to take six shots of whiskey, so..."

"I'm game."

Our drinks were served almost immediately (whether the bartender noticed who Devon was was unclear), and he handed me a glass of whiskey on the rocks.  

"So girlfriend huh?" I smirked up at him, bringing the glass up to my lips. "At least take me to dinner first."

He heaved out a sigh and shook his head. "I seem to recall you wanting to play house earlier, which...technically would make you my wife, wouldn't it?"

I sipped my drink slowly. "Oh, you're clever when you wanna be."

He pressed his forehead to mine and lowered his voice. "I will take you to dinner, though. After we find a way to escape from my 10th circle of Hell."

"Oh my goodness Devon. I've been looking everywhere for you."

His mother appeared out of what felt like the void, approaching us with the grace of a socialite but the intention of a mother ready to scold her child.

"Speaking of," he grumbled to me before turning his attention to her. "Well, I'm here, aren't I?"

She was just as classically beautiful as I remembered her looking in that photo I saw of his family, even though it had been taken years ago. Her jade gown was draped elegantly on her body, her blonde hair pinned up, revealing cascading yellow diamond earrings to match the massive one she wore on her ring finger.

She gave him a standard double cheek kiss that I was sure was the same way she greeted her friends before stepping back and immediately bringing her hands to his unbuttoned collar.

"If your father sees this..." her voice trailed off as she buttoned his shirt back up, and I had to check myself to make sure I wasn't scowling.

But Devon sat there and let her fuss over him, brushing a few wayward locks of hair off his forehead. He didn't look mad, or frustrated. He looked tired, like he'd already resigned himself to his fate, and I'd become a passenger.

"Mom, this is Sienna." He gently looped his arm around my waist and pulled me closer. "My girlfriend."

He said it with more assurity this time, and it made the smile I tried to give his mother come easier and more genuine. "It's very nice to meet you."

She gave me the same double cheek kiss and settled her hands on my upper arms. "Oh, aren't you sweet. You have a lovely complexion."

"Thank you." I kept smiling at her despite her unusual compliment catching me off guard. A compliment was a compliment, and I didn't doubt she meant it.

She turned her attention back to Devon. "She's beautiful."

As if I suddenly wasn't there.

"Yeah, I know," he huffed out. "Where's Joelle?"

"Actually, I think she's walking over here now. I have to go check on the second round of o'dourves. And Devon please, don't go overboard with the whiskey. I need you to keep it together tonight."

"Yeah, alright," he mumbled and shook his head before taking a long sip.

Seeming to part the small crowd, a tall, dark-haired girl in a long, white silk dress that hugged her waifish frame perfectly came over to us. She clutched a glass of champagne in her hand, pressing it to her cheek as she assessed Devon. It was impossible to miss the giant, teardrop diamond ring on her finger as it gleamed even in the dimming sunlight. 

"Is there anywhere you're not tattooed by now?" she asked him.

For people that lived in an extremely diverse city, they seemed to hyper-fixate over something that I was sure half the population of New York had. But none of them were Devon, and I guess whatever Devon was compared to what he is now is what jarred them and their highfalutin opinions.  

But then she hugged him properly, and it seemed like he eased up a little bit in her arms.

"I'm not sure you want an answer to that," he said as they broke their embrace, and she playfully shoved him in the chest.

"Don't be disgusting."

"I'm your little brother, it's my job."

Joelle then turned to me, and she seemed to be the first person genuinely happy to see me. "You know when we were first coming out here during the summers, Devon used to dig around for salamanders and actually put them on my plate if we were eating lunch outside. Our nanny used to get so angry because she'd have to remake my lunch all the time."

"That's horrible," I grinned behind my whiskey glass. "And so not surprising."

Joelle and I shared a laugh as Devon draped an arm over my shoulder. "She's lying. It was usually worms."

"Semantics," Joelle waved her glass of champagne around.

Devon kept his arm around me, but lowered his head to speak softly to Joelle. "Where is he?"

Joelle glanced outward towards the party, her gaze far off as if she wasn't looking for anyone in particular. As if she knew exactly where the he in question was. As if she tried to hide a brief flash of annoyance to crack her perfect exterior. "He took Kobayashi and a few other of his partners down to the cellar. I'm sure he'll be out here at some point."

Devon glanced around, surveying the pockets of people socializing.

"You can't avoid him forever, Dev," Joelle added.

"Watch me." He took another sip of whiskey.

Joelle gave us a tight, red-lipped smile. "Well, I am glad you're here. Both of you."

"Joelle!" A group of women beckoned her over on the other side of the pool.

She gave my arm a friendly squeeze before walking away.

"Actually, I'm going to run to the bathroom, that whiskey went right through me." I handed Devon my mostly empty glass. "You want to get us refills?

"We're sure as shit gonna need them," he mumbled with a faint smirk. "The bathroom is through the kitchen and on the right. Can't miss it."

"Got it. Try not to miss me." I blew him a kiss as I started to back away.

"I will, don't worry," he said with a faint smirk just as I turned to walk away.

I quickly freshened myself up in the bathroom, thankful my hair had stayed as well-behaved as I could have asked for. I swiped a fresh coat of muted pink gloss over my lips before walking out.

When I wandered back onto the patio, I stopped in my tracks when I saw Devon in conversation with that girl Connie again. Something about the distress on Devon's face wanted me to barge right into whatever this conversation was, but when I heard Connie bring me up, I stopped in my tracks and tried to blend in with the crowd. 

"I did not expect that to be the kind of girl you would bring to this party," she said to him. "In fact, I didn't expect you to bring a girl at all."

If I didn't know any better, I'd say that was...jealousy? I felt something vicious begin to simmer in me, ready to jump to Devon's defense, but something else held me back. Maybe faith that he could handle it himself.

"You dumped me, remember?" Devon scowled at her. "Two days after you took my fucking virginity after senior prom."

"I was young and going off to college," Connie shrugged. "And you were...boring."

"So what, you think because now I'm covered in tattoos and everyone here looks at me like I've got seven heads that makes me interesting? That's not..." he groaned. "You're part of the problem."

"You know what Devon? I'm happy for you. Really, I am. Your girlfriend seems cute." Connie paused and took a sip of her champagne. "I just really hope she doesn't have high expectations for you in the bedroom."

That was the final thing that lurched me forward. I walked right up to Devon, took his face in my hands, and planted a hot, hungry, long kiss to his lips.

"Miss me?" I asked as I pulled away, swiping my thumb along the trail of fresh lip gloss I left on his bottom lip.

He smirked. "I told you I would."

I heard Connie scoff before walking away without a word.

Devon pulled me closer and whispered in a low growl, "You're something else, you know that?"

"In a good way, of course," I grinned, echoing our early conversation.

"Of course."

I made sure not to leave his side for the rest of the night. Devon seemed to make it a point to avoid his father. He stood out in a crowd, and there was no doubt where Devon got his height and presence from. But as soon as Devon caught sight of him, he'd pivot in the other direction.

This wasn't a conversation for tonight - the last thing I wanted to do was emotionally overwhelm Devon even more. But the more the night lingered, the more I noticed the uncomfortable squirming every time someone would recognize him, or every time his mother would pull him away to have a superficial conversation with a friend of a friend of a friend. The crowd had begun to thin out, but the drinks were poured heavier.

"Oh, you should have heard him play the piano," his mother went on to a group of her canasta friends, as if he hadn't been standing right there beside her. "It was just beautiful, it could bring you to tears. He was so talented."

"I'd like to think I still am," he grumbled, more to himself than anyone else. He leaned down to whisper in my ear. "Fuck this."

"I think it may be time for an Irish goodbye," I leaned up on my toes to whisper in his ear. My feet were killing me after standing on stone in these heels for hours, but I wasn't willing to admit defeat in that category yet.

"I am an expert at a swift exit. Let's get out of here." Devon's words fluttered against my ear as he reached down and took my hand, backing us out of the crowd and leading me around the side of the house instead of going through the foyer and the front door. My heels stuck in the grass, and I decided now was as good of a time as ever to surrender. I held onto his shoulder for support as I unstrapped them, and we laughed and stumbled our way back to the bay house, the whiskey from the night hitting us in full waves.

"God, I have to pee so badly," Devon groaned when we made it inside.

"Oh my god, you haven't gone to the bathroom?" I laughed.

"I didn't wanna break the seal!" He called over his shoulder as he slid down the hallway in his socks. 

The whiskey had really begun to weigh me down, and I quickly skipped over to the kitchen to get a glass of water. Beyond the kitchen was what looked like a library, and beyond the half-open door, I saw a black piano sticking out against the floor-to-ceiling shelves of books. It drew me in, like a bug to a light at night. I could only hope I wouldn't get zapped here as I opened the door to the library fully. It smelled the way a library should smell, like old books and leather. The piano was situated in the corner of the room among some vintage looking leather furniture.

"It's a Steinway," Devon told me as he came up beside me, slinking his arm around my waist. "They were my favorite to play, so of course we have three."

"Can you...I mean...would you?" I looked up into his eyes, and in the swirling darkness there was something wistful in them. "Play something for me, I mean."

He pressed a kiss to my temple and muttered into the top of my head, "Only for you."

He took his suit jacket off and draped it over one of the plush leather armchairs before situating himself at the piano's bench and opening the lid.

"What do you wanna hear?" He scooted himself forward and rolled the sleeves of his shirt up.

I leaned against the side of the piano, admiring its perfect glossy surface. "Anything you want."

He nodded contemplatively while he cracked his knuckles a few times, then put his hands to the keys, and it was instant, spellbinding magic.

After the first few notes, I recognized it as the music from Spirited Away, with maybe a bit of his own finesse thrown in there. As he got more into the song, I could see just how effortless this was for him. He moved with the ebbs and flows of the music with the ease of the waves as they lapped up against a beachy shoreline, and with every note I fell deeper into the spell. There was nothing that could release me from this one. He was everything.

"What do you think?" he asked, smirking up at me as he continued to play. "Live up to the hype?"

"I think you're brilliant," I told him with a smile. "Fuck hype."

He smiled back and motioned for me to sit down on the bench, but when I did, he grabbed my waist to sit me between his thighs. I felt his breath on my neck as he spoke, and it sent a tingling down my spine that settled in my stomach.

"Not a bad end to what could have been a much shittier night," he admitted, going off book and fooling around with a few different melodies. "You know, I never thanked you for saving me from Connie."

"Honestly, I'm surprised I didn't intervene sooner to wring her neck," I chuckled, casually tapping on a few of the piano keys. He took my hand in his and guided me to play something, while he played another part with his other hand. I wasn't even sure it was an actual song or if it was just him messing around, but it was effortlessly beautiful either way. "But I digress, I'm mature."

He chuckled. "Right, because shoving your tongue down my throat in front of her was so much more mature."

I shrugged. "Personally I think it got a point across better than words could have. And don't act like you didn't like it."

"Oh I..." he cleared his throat. "I liked it more than I should have."

He continued on casually playing, guiding both of my hands along the keys.

"I can't believe that girl took your virginity," I grumbled.

"Oh god it was awful," Devon groaned. "It was in a limo and I'm pretty sure we were in the middle of driving through Times Square. I lasted probably 20 seconds, and I ruined my tux. Imagine 17-year-old me having to explain that to my mother when she sent it out to get dry-cleaned."

"Oh that's very Gossip Girl of you," I half-heartedly chuckled, but I stopped playing. "She was wrong, you know. About you being bad in bed and whatever other ass backwards things she said about you."

"Oh yeah?" As if my skin could sense him, the hairs on the back of my neck began to stand up expectantly, waiting for him to brush his mouth across to my neck.

I spun around on the bench to face him, scooting up into his lap and draping my legs around his waist. "Yeah. I mean, best sex I've ever had. But you know...there's no harm in getting some more proof."

Devon rolled his head back and moaned. "I'm not-"

I put my finger to his lips. "Yes you are. And you're going to show me right now."

A few discordant notes sounded as he slid me back against the piano, gripping my waist with his hands. "God damn it, what am I gonna do with you, Sienna?"

"Whatever you want," I spoke softly against the silence. "I'm yours."

His eyes darkened, and in an effortless motion he hoisted me up onto the piano, striking more dissonant keys and notes as he lifted the hem of my dress up to my waist.

"Touch me," he demanded in a low voice. I hurriedly unfastened his belt and his pants, letting them drop to the floor in a puddle of fabric. He let out a deep groan as I slipped my hand down the front of his boxers.

"God you're so hard already," I cooed with a faint smirk before reaching down to cup his balls.

He groaned and rolled his head back again. "Yeah well, you talk to me like that, what do you think is gonna happen?"

"I think you're gonna fuck me on this piano, Devon."

He gulped and nodded, sliding his boxers off first. After fussing with my underwear for just a second longer than he wanted to, I heard the fabric rip.

"Fuck this, I'll buy you new ones." He discarded the torn black lace off to the side.

"Atta boy," I smirked up at him.

When he thrust himself inside of me, the piano sang out in a chorus of heavy notes, and every thrust produced a cacophony of jarring melodies. He leaned me back further onto the piano, dragging his hand down the front of my chest slowly, relishing the feeling of my heady breaths. Then he leaned down and buried his face in my neck, biting and sucking at my skin in the way he knew I liked it.

I threw my head back in ecstasy, feeling myself clench around him in a needy, desperate way. I wasn't lying to him before - sex with him was the best sex I'd ever had, because when you wanted someone the way I wanted him, every single intimate moment we spent together was music I'd never make with anyone else.

"Oh Devon," I sighed out, reaching up to squeeze my arms around his shoulders to steady myself. No matter how close we were, it wasn't close enough, and I shook underneath him as my whole body begged for him. "Harder baby."

Loud notes sprang from the piano as our bodies slammed against it, and he pulled away just enough to look down at me, sweat beading on his forehead and his eyes a deep abyss of lust. "I want you to look at me when you come."

"You're so sexy when you're like this," I breathed out. "Demanding and needy."

"I'm so needy," he moaned out, slowing his motion so he could bury himself deeper into me with every thrust. He raked his hand through my hair, gripping a fistful of it at the back of my head.

"Fuck Devon," I cried out as he hit the exact spot that tilted my entire world off its axis. "Don't stop."

"Say my name again." He pulled me in closer, desperate to feel me as I shuddered underneath him, so close to the edge I could feel the heat of the fuse about to blow.

"Oh Devon," I cried out again. "Oh god."

He moaned into my neck as we finished together, jarring more piano keys as we tried to slowly untangle ourselves from each other, both of us breathless and heady.

I reached up to brush a sweaty lock of hair off of his forehead, and I smiled at him. "Confirmed. Best sex I've ever had."

⋆ ★

if you want the full immersion experience for this chapter, please listen to 'how to exit a room' by the maine immediately followed by the full piano cover of 'the name of life' from spirited away.

anyway, it's absolutely crazy that there's only 6-ish chapters left and clearly i don't want it to end because if you can believe it, this chapter was supposed to be way longer and i had to split it. any final predictions before we hit the home stretch?