In my twenty-two years of life, I'd learned a few things about myself. One, I was a rebel. I bleached my hair the day before having my senior yearbook picture taken and got my first tattoo at sixteen at a place called Inkity Ink. Nobody in their right mind would trust those guys with a sharpie, let alone a needle, but waiting till I turned eighteen was a no. The Inkity artist didn't ask for my parents' permission, and I slid a few hundred bucks across the table at his garage, aka his tattoo studio, promising to come back for more later.

Inkity Ink closed way before I was ready to feel more pain, though. It was a shame. I believed in Tuck and his talent more than he did.

Confidence was my other trait. Or maybe it wasn't, but I was a firm believer in faking it until you made it. I wouldn't be where I was if I'd let the annoying high-pitched voice in my head tell me that something was out of my reach just because. Nobody was born ready. We all stumbled around in the dark, trying to figure out the life shit and hopefully surviving in the process.

And finally, persistence. The queen of all traits. The world was full of quitters. It also made the lives of those who kept trying easier. Ironically, I didn't know I was persistent until Mr.Volinsky, my music teacher, told me I sucked.

He slid his glasses to the tip of his nose and said people had lots of talents but it was brave to admit that something wasn't our forte. He also said music wasn't mine.

For a day or two, a ten-year-old Jay Ashford believed his teacher. But then I asked for a guitar for Christmas and proceeded to annoy the shit out of my little sister Romy with my music.

I might have lacked talent then, but my willingness to work for it was stronger than my fear. Sometimes I wished Mr. Volinsky would attend one of our shows just so I could yell, "Take that, asshole" from the stage.

Maybe he secretly did. People liked to stalk those they deemed unworthy.

In a nutshell, those three things I knew about myself were enough to be sure that if I liked a girl, she'd like me back. It'd worked for the last six years, so why the hell did Ivy like the league look at me as if I was a bug under her high-heeled sandal?

She rolled her eyes and sighed, resting her empty beer bottle on the ground. "I'm not sure you heard me back there." She pointed at the entrance of Starlit with her chin. "But I have a boyfriend, Jason."

Respectfully, who cared? He wasn't here, and I doubted he existed. She wouldn't be the first girl to use the boyfriend excuse to make a guy try harder.

"Would your boyfriend get mad that you're having a conversation with another guy?" I asked. My insides buzzed with restless energy. Challenge. This dark-haired girl with crimson lips who rocked a leather jacket over a tight black dress like no other was the most refreshing thing that'd happened to me in a while.

Ivy cocked her head, her expression pensive. "Do I look like someone who'd let a guy tell her who to talk to?"

"No, Ivy like the league. You look like someone who needs convincing."

She pushed off the column she was leaning against. "What I need is another drink, especially if you're going to keep calling me that."

"Sex on the Beach?"

She winked. "With anyone but you. I'll have another beer, thanks."

Ouch. I bit back a grin so she wouldn't think I found her comeback amusing. "Don't go anywhere, okay? I'll be back."

"Let's see if I'm still here when you are," she said.

I shook my head as I headed back into the club. She wasn't going to make it easy, but the night was long, and I had a few aces up my sleeve.

A ticket to the next show of Rebellious Hearts, a date somewhere nice-I was resourceful when someone was worth it.

Nick and Fin, my bandmates, were at the bar.

"Wow." Nick whistled. "You came back alone. Did she run away?"

I flipped him the bird. "Keep dreaming. She asked for a drink."

Fin chuckled into his water. "Asked for a drink so she could leave while you're waiting."

"Careful, Finlay," I said, flagging the bartender. "I'm not in the mood for assholery."

The guys laughed as I ordered two beers. They weren't used to seeing me try to impress a girl, and the truth was that thanks to our fame, girls were already impressed by the time they met me in person.

None of us did it for fame alone, though. We wanted to have fun making music and earn some money. It just turned out that people loved our songs, and we were one of the lucky few who made it big despite the competitive industry.

"Your drinks." The bartender placed two beers on the shiny black bar. I grabbed them and left, ignoring the guys, who chanted "Jay, Jay, Jay" behind my back. Assholes, but whatever. Payback would be a bitch once either of them showed signs of being interested in someone.

I walked past the bouncer and stopped outside, scouring my surroundings. The spot by the column was empty. Fuck. If she'd left-

"Here," Ivy said on my right.

I let out a relieved exhale, strolling toward her. Once I was by her side, I handed her the drink. "Want to sit somewhere?"

"Thanks." She curled her fingers around the bottle. "We could."

I led the way to the benches nearby. Whoever put them there wasn't smart; not everyone left the club sober, and a bench under a tree wasn't the worst place for a drunken nap.

We sat side by side, and I took a sip from the bottle. "So, my name's Jay, I'm twenty-two, and I live in Emerport. What about you?"

Ivy's lips twitched as if she was fighting a smile. "My name is Ivy, I'm twenty, and I'm from Emerport too."

"We have lots in common."

She snorted. "We have nothing in common other than the city, Jay. And you're wasting your time because-"

"Because of your imaginary boyfriend."

"He's very much real." Ivy rolled the bottle between her palms. "I'm not that kind of person. Talking to you is okay, but if you're expecting more, I'm sorry to disappoint you. It's not gonna happen."

"It's okay, Ivy like the league," I said. "We're just having a beer and chatting. I figured we'd see each other often because of Jim and his girl."

Of course, it wasn't okay. I had the guys if I wanted to chat with somebody. But although persistence was one of my traits, I could read the room. Boyfriend or not, Ivy wasn't interested...

...which didn't mean I wasn't planning to stick around and see if she changed her mind.