Less than thirty minutes after Kennedy called her mum for a lift home, I walk through the door of the Cassidy mansion. After saying hello to Mum and Jesse and fobbing off their questions about how my night was, I climb the stairs to my bedroom. I invited Kennedy to come in with me, but she planned to make the most of the early night by getting stuck into homework. Now, I should do the same, but instead I sit on my bed and revisit the night that started off with so much promise and went downhill so quickly.

Just like my relationship with Luke.

Scrubbing a hand over my face, I drag myself out of my self-pitying thoughts and change into my pyjama pants and top. Then I gather my English homework and sit on my bed, continuing the essay that's due in a few weeks. With so much time spent on my music, I must make the most of these opportunities to work on my other assignments. The text the essay is about isn't particularly interesting, but even if it was, I'm not sure it would be able to hold my attention. My interaction with Luke just keeps repeating in my head.

When we started dating, I knew we didn't have much in common. And with him heading to university and me still at high school, I knew we were going to see each other less, but I still thought there was a chance it could work between us. Even though I was aware of his playboy reputation, I trusted he respected me enough to not make a play for a girl right in front of me. Every time I remember the way he looked at Nicole, my stomach feels like it's trying to burst into flames.

I'm not sure how long I've been staring at my books for, zoning out, when I hear a gentle rap on the door. Asher stands in the doorway of my room when I look up. I've been so zoned out, I never heard him climbing the stairs. He leans against the door jamb, looking more casual than he did at dinner, his shirt is half unbuttoned, showing off a lot of his strong inked chest, and his inky black hair is mussed. Perhaps Maddie has been running her hands through it. Maybe she's also the one responsible for his shirt being half unbuttoned.

Thankfully, before I can follow that thought down the rabbit hole, my gaze catches on his, and I stop breathing as I see something that looks a heck of a lot like concern in his dark eyes.

I have never seen Asher look at me that way before. Never. His gaze is softer.

Warmer.

It also confirms that dinner with Luke must have been every bit as bad as I imagined it to be. The fact that Asher offered to drive me home was proof enough, but now he's studying me as if trying to work out how upset I am.

"Are you okay?" he asks finally.

His voice, it's...different. Almost gentle.

"I'm fine." I look down at my homework and then back up at him. "I'm just making use of the extra time to work on my English essay."

He nods and I expect him to walk away, to go to his room, but he continues to stand there silently, as if he's waiting for me to say more. Feeling awkward, I look at the clock on the wall and see that it has only been an hour since I left Asher at the restaurant.

"Why are you home so early?" I ask.

His meal only came out as Kennedy and I were leaving. And even if he finished quickly, he had Maddie, Ethan and Ainsley with him, ready to spend the night celebrating his birthday. I haven't seen Ethan pass my room, either. Is he home?

"Maddie has an early meeting with her agent, and I wanted to come home and get some work done on our set for the music festival."

"Oh."

From the way the four of them were dressed up at dinner, I assumed they had plans for the rest of the evening. Maddie hadn't seemed impressed when Asher offered me a lift home, but if they only had plans for dinner, it makes sense she didn't want to lose any time with him. I still find it strange he never brings Maddie home. For a moment, I contemplate asking him why that is, but choose not to at the last second. Their relationship is none of my business.

I look past him. "Did Ethan and Ainsley come back with you?" I ask instead.

"No, they wanted to stay out and they're going to Uber back." He crosses his arms as he waits for my reaction.

Maybe he's looking for signs that I'm going to have a meltdown over the fact that Ethan and Ainsley are still out and about, doing God only knows what. But whether Asher believes it or not, I'm over Ethan. Dating Luke helped initially. Having to focus on the showcase, however, probably helped even more. And that's what I need to keep focusing on now. No boyfriend means less distractions. I have bigger things to care about, like school.

Staring down at my work, I can't help thinking, though, that I'm doing a very poor job of focusing on school tonight.

When I look up, Asher still stands in my doorway. After a moment, he clears his throat. "I'm going to grab my guitar and head down to the studio to rehearse and go over some stuff for the festival. Do you want to listen to what I've worked on so far?"

Shocked that he's suggesting I spend time with him doing something other than working on our song, I raise an eyebrow, "I thought only family watch rehearsals."

He raises an eyebrow back at me and smirks. "Aren't you family?"

This conversation is by far one of the strangest I've ever had with my stepbrother. Asher is almost acting...nice. Clearly, he's still feeling sorry for me. That would explain the offer – he wants to distract me from what happened earlier. I don't want his pity, but I'll take him up on his offer. No matter what his reasons are for inviting me down to the studio with him, I'm desperate to hear what he's working on for the upcoming festival. Besides, what's the alternative? Sit here and stare blankly at my English essay?

"I'll come down," I tell him.

He nods, pushing off the door jamb. "Okay, I'm just going to get changed. I'll meet you down there."

Ten minutes later, Asher strolls into the studio, guitar in hand. For the second time tonight, I struggle to tear my eyes from him. Even in just a simple cotton tee and sweatpants, his hair a mess, he has the presence of a rockstar. He smells like one too. I can't tell if he's sprayed on extra Apollo or whether his favourite scent is just clinging to his skin.

He motions to the stool next to him. "Are you waiting for an invitation?"

"Nope, pretty sure you already gave me one of those."

"I did." He strums his guitar, waiting for me to take my seat next to him.

We're sitting almost exactly as Ainsley and Ethan do when they're rehearsing for the showcase. That's the last thought I have before Asher starts playing. It takes effort not to gape at him as he sings a rendition of Linkin Park's Paper Cut. Asher's talent has never been more obvious to me than it is right now, which is saying something. As much time as I've invested in hating Asher, I have never denied that he has the sort of talent achieved from hard work and dedication. More than that, he has star power. He has talent that has been honed and refined, yes, but he's gifted. That's the word.

There is just something so magnetic about him when he sings. Some people have a natural star quality. It's easy to look at Asher and see a musician. I have always seen him that way. I know that he is an incredible songwriter, and I've seen him perform before, but there is something about the way he loses himself in the darkness of the song that sends shivers down my spine in the best way, raising the hair on the back of my neck and on my arms. It's a feeling that I've had many times when listening to my favourite artists live or even on my phone. This song isn't even Asher's, but it is still, well, Asher has taken my advice and the band has made it their own. I can't wait to hear all of them play it. MOD are going to knock it out of the park at the music festival in a few weeks.

"What do you think?" Asher asks.

Has Asher ever directly asked for my opinion before? "It's brilliant."

He grins, looking pleased, and I shift uncomfortably on the wooden stool I'm sitting on, feeling like perhaps I shouldn't have been so bluntly complimentary. But he seemed to genuinely be interested in my opinion, and I'm not going to lie to him.

"You think I should include that one in the set?"

"Yes. It is similar to the original, but you've added something to it."

I'm not even trying to hold back how impressed I am. That song deserves to be in their set.

He runs through another couple of songs and then says to me, "I've been thinking about a cover of Michael Jackson's They Don't Care About Us, but the guys aren't sure. What do you think?"

Again, I'm sort of blown away that Asher seems to be genuinely interested in my point of view on the songs that he should include in their set.

"Did they specify what kind of covers you need to do?" I ask him.

"We have to submit the list to them and get approval in a week's time, so we need to make some decisions soon. If they don't like what we're proposing we'll have to tweak our set list, but we've gone for a combination of popular songs and songs that are different that people wouldn't expect us to do, songs that we can put our own stamp on because they're so vastly different from the originals."

I nod. The songs that I heard him play so far this evening definitely have the MOD stamp on them.

"Did you want to play the cover version that you were dabbling with?" I ask.

He nods, strumming his guitar a few times and then launching into the song. Once again, as he plays, chills spill down my back and the hair on my arms rises. I've heard the original many times, but Asher has once again taken a song and put his own stamp on it.

"I definitely think you should put that one in."

"It's a good fit for our sound, isn't it?" he asks.

"It really is."

He stares at me for a moment, the same softness and warmth that was there earlier there now. "Thanks for being my sounding board. Would you mind listening to the other songs I'm thinking of putting in?"

"Not at all."

Asher stands up. "I'm just going to go and get some water first. Do you want some?"

"Thanks."

After Asher leaves the studio to get water for the two of us, I reach into the back pocket of the jeans I threw on before I came down here and pull out the phone that's currently on silent. I had no intention of stalking Luke on social media, but as I open Instagram, I have the strongest urge to go to his account and see whether he's posted anything. Sure enough, Luke has posted a photo of him inside the nightclub, and even though he isn't kissing Nicole in it, his arm is around her, and she's kissing his cheek while he leans into it to take the selfie. They look like a happy-in-love-couple, and I feel sick to the pit of my stomach.

Asher walks back into the studio, takes one look at my face and the phone in my hand and asks, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." I slide my phone back in my pocket, aware that my voice is a little shaky.

Asher hands me my glass of water. "Bullshit. Tell me what's wrong."

I swallow, feeling that familiar sense of humiliation that I felt at dinner. I don't want to add to it by telling Asher about the photo, but I don't want to fight with him, either. We've been having a pretty good evening together up until now.

Sighing, I look away. "There's a photo of Luke and Nicole on his Instagram. They're..."

I trail off, unable to finish the sentence. I'm sure that Asher can figure out the rest anyway. Even if they weren't kissing in the photo, I'm willing to bet that they will have kissed before leaving the club or after leaving the club.

Asher's expression is dark and stormy, but all that blackness is not directed at me for once. I think he's actually experiencing rage on my behalf. "Dump his arse, Lilah. The guy's a fuck-knuckle. You said you wanted to concentrate on music this year, so do it."

I stare at him, unsure how to respond. First, he came home almost appearing concerned about me. Then he offered me to listen to him perform and asked for my opinion. And now he seems furious on my behalf over the way Luke is acting.

Again, I wonder if maybe Kennedy was right about Asher. I don't know that we're friends. I don't know if he still believes all the horrible insults he's hurled at my mum and me over the years, but I do know he seems to be embracing a new sort of dynamic between us. And when Asher isn't acting like a complete dick, when his anger is aimed at people who hurt me instead of at me? Well, I don't hate him at all.

"Thanks," I tell him softly.

"For what?"

"The advice."

He watches me carefully, probably checking to see whether I'm being genuine. "We can finish up now if you'd rather head to bed," he offers, surprising me.

"No." I shake my head. "I really want to hear the rest of the set."

My night went downhill at dinner unexpectedly, but just as unexpectedly, Asher has turned this night around, and I'm not ready for it to end yet.