Kennedy's hands are on her hips as she looks around my new room. "Well, I love it, Lilah."

Pulling the covers up on the bed I've just finished making, I move so that I'm standing next to her. "What is it you love the most?" I ask, trying to see things through her eyes. "The grey-ish walls, the neutral coloured carpet, or the fact that Asher is down the end of the hallway?"

Because those things are negatives in my book.

"Lilah, your room is freaking fantastic. You've got a walk-in closet the size of your old bedroom, plus your own bathroom. Seriously, stop complaining. Do you know what I'd do for my own ensuite with a spa bath?"

"Not having to share a bathroom with my stepbrothers is a plus, and the room is big." I sigh and plop down on the unmade bed. "It's just different to what I'm used to, I guess."

Kennedy joins me on the bed. "That's not a bad thing, Lil. Your last place was a shoebox, no offence. This, on the other hand," she waves her hand around. "You're living in a mansion with rock 'n' roll royalty. You have tennis courts, a pool, a sauna, a gym. You're a minute's walk from the beach. More importantly, there's a music studio in the basement and M.O.D practice there."

I bump her shoulder playfully with mine. "That's why you're really here, isn't it? You don't want to help me unpack at all, you just want to watch the band play."

"I did come to help you unpack, and that's what I'm going to do. That being said, if we happen to run into Declan, I won't pretend to be unhappy."

Kennedy's dreamy-eyed expression makes me snicker. As a pianist and a violinist, Kennedy loves classical music, but rock stars turn her on like nothing else. Specifically, Declan Banks, who graduated from the Academy a couple of years back and joined with the Cassidy brothers and Jamie Garfield to make Masters of Destruction.

"Didn't Kai ask you out?"

"He asked me if I wanted to hang out, but that doesn't mean I can't perve on Declan."

"Well, they'll probably be rehearsing after dinner."

"Can I stay for dinner?" she asks quickly, her eyes gleaming with hope.

At home – my old house – the answer would have been yes automatically since Kennedy was always welcome. I'm not sure if that's the case now. Mum and Jesse are currently downstairs preparing salads and meat for a family barbecue to celebrate us moving in. It might just be a family thing. Then again, Kennedy is my family.

"I'll ask, now give me some help unpacking."

"Yes, master."

Kennedy moves to my chest of drawers where my laptop is currently stationed. She opens it, types the password in – there are no secrets between us – and clicks on my favourite playlist, starting the music playing through the speakers which I hooked up the moment I could.

With music on, our attention turns to the piles of boxes sitting in the corner. "Let's do your vision board first," she suggests.

"My posters are in box number one."

"I know. I helped you pack them, remember? Where are the scissors?"

I hand them to her, and she cuts the tape across the top, taking out the first poster – a picture of Ebony Dalesford, my favourite Australian singer-songwriter.

"I'll hand them to you, you put them up," Kennedy instructs.

Picking up the Blu Tack I've brought in my bag of essential supplies, I tear off a ball and look around my room, looking for the best spot for it to go. The wall the door opened against is the biggest and the best. I'll see it while I'm lying in bed, which will inspire me as I work on my songs.

I hope.

This year I need to earn one of the coveted spots in the Academy showcase that takes place at the end of the year if I want to receive an offer from the Australian University of Music. The only way to guarantee I receive an offer is to play in the showcase.

Eyeing my heavy wooden desk, I climb onto my chair and then onto the desk before holding my hand out to Kennedy and taking the poster from her.

Jesse told me earlier that I should treat this house as my home, so I'm going to take him at his word.

"Is it straight?" I ask Kennedy, sticking the first poster to the surface.

With the desk being only a few feet deep, I can't step back far enough to tell.

"Perfect," she confirms, going back to the box. "Who's next? Kale Winters?"

"Yes."

"Her name reminds me of a vegetable."

"And a superfood."

Kennedy continues handing me posters and I work from one side of my desk to the other side to cover as much of the wall as I can, both of us commenting on the latest gossip concerning all the singers until I run out of space.

"Your goal list, where are you going to put that?" Kennedy asks.

"I bought a frame for it. I'm going to put it on my bedside table."

"You're the only person I know who keeps their goal list on their bedside table instead of their boyfriend's picture."

"I used to keep my boyfriend's picture there," I remind her.

She sighs. "Ethan just had to go and ruin everything."

"I don't blame just him."

"He didn't have to listen to Asher."

I step down from the desk. "They're brothers. They do everything together. They play together, live together. Asher convinced him."

"Because Ethan is supposed to be focused on their band and on music. And yet now Ethan's dating Ainsley."

But that's okay, apparently, because Asher approves of Ainsley for some dumb reason. It's too easy to go down the path of wondering why Asher hates me and not Ainsley – of why he thinks I'm not good enough for Ethan when Ainsley is, but I'm not going to do that to myself. I've spent enough time in the past trying to work out why Asher thinks what he does about me. There are no answers. None that make sense, anyway.

"Can we not talk about it?"

"Fine."

She walks over to the box and pulls out the last poster in the box – my latest one, and I love the lyrics that are included on it, but sadly Maddison is not going to make the final cut here.

"You can put that one back in the box."

Kennedy smirks. "Her being demoted from your wall wouldn't have anything to do with the fact she and Asher left the wedding together on Saturday night, would it?"

"Of course it would. She has a great voice, and I like her songs. But every time I see her, I'm going to think of Asher. Meaning, I'll get a headache every time I look at her picture. Plus, I'll also feel sorry for her every time I think about her having no taste in men."

"Then you could lump every girl at school in the same boat. I can't think of anyone off the top of my head who doesn't think Asher's the epitome of the dark and sexy rock god."

I snort before pointing out, "You don't."

"I did before he was a grade-A jerk to you. He's always had that intense rock god vibe about him. The tats, the intense brown eyes, the cheekbones, the dark hair kept long enough to run your-"

"That's enough," I tell her, hating the visuals her words create and the way she makes him sound as if he is desirable.

"If I'm totally honest, I may or may not have a few really hot dreams about him over the years."

My jaw hits the floor. At least it feels like my mouth is wide open and ready to catch flies. "That's just...eww. I can't even."

She laughs. "When you started dating Ethan, I thought there was a chance Asher would take a time out from fucking his way through the school so that we could double date. But he acted like such an arse to you that I lost all interest."

"And thank God for that."

"What are we thanking God for?"

Ethan walks into my room as if he owns the place – which is something he might well argue he does if I mention it.

When I dated Ethan, the room that's now mine used to be a guest room. I even stayed in it once or twice while I dated him. Now it's like we're still dating because he waltzes right in and makes himself at home by jumping onto my bed and lying in the middle of it.

"I just made that, Ethan."

"Mmm, I know. But your bed has always been my favourite bed."

My neck snaps up so fast, the movement nearly gives me whiplash. Damn it, he doesn't get to say shit like that to me. Not after dumping me and moving onto Ainsley within months.

I give him a pointed stare. "Shouldn't Ainsley's bed be your favourite?"

Instead of looking like he should – suitably chastised by my glare, Ethan just stares back at me, his eyes taking on the same heavy-lidded stare as they had so many times while we dated.

We did everything but the deed while we were together. Ethan had been ready for more, but I kept holding back. After we split up, I told myself it was a good thing that I didn't sleep with him. Seeing him on my bed, looking at me like is now, though? It's a reminder of how close I came, and of how much I wanted to go all the way with him at times.

Will I love the next guy who comes along as much as I love Ethan? Yes, I have to believe I will. I won't always love Ethan. There will be other guys. There is a whole sea full of fish out there. It is just going to take time for my heart to heal.

And this crap he's pulling today isn't helping any.

"We're going to need boundaries now that we're living together," I tell him.

"Why do we need those?" he asks, looking put out.

"Because you aren't going out anymore." Kennedy rolls her eyes. "Duh."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"It means you can't just stroll in here and throw yourself on my bed. Or...or say that you like my bed is better than Ainsley's."

I want to sound pissed off, but I think I must sound a teensy bit hurt because Ethan stops looking cocky and regret flashes in his eyes, making me look away. He might regret the fact we're not together anymore, but that was his choice. Not. Mine.

Ethan sits up. "I didn't mean to upset you, Lilah."

He hadn't meant to break my heart either. But he had.

Silence descends over the three of us. Kennedy shoots me a worried look before busying herself with something. I'm just trying to work out how I should respond to Ethan when I feel Asher's dark and moody presence drawing near in the same way Harry Potter senses the dementors that want to suck the soul out of his body. A moment later, the dark lord himself appears is in my doorway.

I motion to Asher while keeping my gaze on Ethan. "See, this is why we need boundaries. Your presence attracts his."

Without knocking on the open door or asking my permission to enter, Asher walks in, sucking all the joy and air out of my room and making the space feel much smaller than it did a moment ago. Upon seeing Ethan on the bed, Asher shoots his brother a look of disgust before turning to glare at me. Knowing Asher, he probably thinks I've lured Ethan in here and forced him onto my bed.

"Dinner is ready," Asher announces stonily.

"Mmm, and it smells good," Kennedy says. "I'm going to ask your dad if I can stay for dinner."

"You can't," Asher tell her.

"Why not?"

"Because you're the devil, that's why."

I roll my eyes. "Pot meet kettle."

"You just want to stay so you can hit on Declan afterwards," Asher says to Kennedy.

"I'd argue with you," Kennedy tells him, flipping her blonde waves over her shoulder. "But I can't deny he's a truly delectable male specimen."

The way Asher shudders, appearing horrified, makes me laugh, but I quickly stop when he reaches out and picks up my acoustic guitar.

"He'd never date you, Ken," Asher says absently, strumming my guitar. "He dates women, not Academy girls who have no taste in friends."

The look he shoots me is filled with its usual amount of animosity.

Walking over to Asher, I say. "Kennedy is a woman. Now put Grayson down."

His lip curls in response to the name I've given my guitar. "Grayson?"

"What? I know you name your guitars," I say, lunging for my guitar.

He doesn't move like I expect him to, so I nearly crash into him. The sound of his laughter fills my ears as I reach out and take my precious instrument out of his hands. If I didn't love my guitar so much, I would be tempted to break it over the top of his head. After placing my guitar back on the floor, I stand in front of it protectively.

"Have you read the articles they've written about us yet?" Asher asks me.

The grin on his face is nothing short of evil - a promise of misery - and my stomach sinks as I imagine how bad the articles must be if he's gloating.

"Not yet," I mutter.

"Perfection," he says. "You're going to love them."

In other words, I'm going to hate them.

"Are you going to hang around afterwards?" Ethan asks Kennedy, oblivious to the sudden dread Asher's words have drummed up in my veins. "Watch us rehearse?"

"Only family watches," Asher says sternly.

"You're forgetting about the millions of views you've got on your YouTube channel, or don't you count those?" I ask.

"Those are our professional music videos, not our rehearsals," Asher says, looking at me as if I'm a complete dumbass.

When Ethan and I dated, I watched a few rehearsals but nowhere near as many as I would have liked. So much of my relationship with Ethan was spent fighting Asher for time with my boyfriend. Now that I'm living with the brothers, I'm going to have to fight Asher again for anything related to Ethan. But this isn't about me, this is about Kennedy.

"Kennedy is my family," I tell him.

"And Lilah is our family," Ethan says. "So..."

"I'd love to watch you guys perform," Kennedy says. "Though Lilah won't be around."

"You're working tonight?" Ethan asks me.

I nod, and Ethan is about to say something else when Asher interjects. "Your music blows chunks."

I snort. "Like I care what you think."

Kennedy marches over to him, pushing her index finger into his chest. "Lilah has excellent taste in music, dipshit. And considering how chummy you were with Maddison at the wedding, I'd say you have a similar taste in singers."

He looks at the wall where I've tacked my posters. "I don't see her up here."

"That's because-"

"I haven't put up the poster yet," I cut Kennedy off before she accidentally or purposefully repeats any of our conversation from earlier.

"Whatever." He walks over to my dresser where my computer sits. "I actually meant this crap you're playing now."

"Touch my computer and you'll die," I threaten.

He looks over at Ethan while pointing at me. "I told you she's dangerous and violent. See what I saved you from?"

I want to hit him. Violent I'm not, typically, but Asher Cassidy...

"You'd drive anyone to violence, Asher."

His eyes narrow, and I swallow hard as his dark expression grows even darker. He keeps staring at me, but it's almost like he is staring through me. Violence vibrates from him in waves – in the way he stands, and in his eyes.

Frankly, it's terrifying. I take a step back from him, but I don't think he's going to put his hands on me. It's as if his body is still here but his mind is somewhere else. Like he's imagining something so terrible that he's lost in the memory – stuck in some sort of emotional black hole that is keeping him prisoner.

"Asher." Ethan slides off my bed with speed and walks over to his brother, putting his hand on Asher's shoulder and shaking him gently. "Dinner's ready, so c'mon. What are we waiting for?"

Asher stares at me, holding me captive a moment longer before he shrugs off Ethan's hand and walks out of my room.

Ethan bolts for the door. "I'd better go and see if Dad needs a hand."

Kennedy raises an eyebrow at me. "What was that about?"

"Your guess is as good as mine. I've never understood Asher, you know that."

I gave up trying to figure out Asher Cassidy a long time ago. Still, I can't stop replaying Asher's reaction to my words. Both Jesse and Ethan have been tight-lipped about Asher's home life before he moved in with them. Is it possible Asher was subjected to violence while he lived with his mum?

What I said clearly hit a nerve. Normally, that would be a plus, but there's a knot in my gut. I've never seen Asher react like that. I crossed a line that I didn't even know about and now I feel like I played a dirty hand and cheated my way to scoring points in our war. And no matter how much I hate Asher, I hate that feeling even more.

"We need to head down for dinner," I tell Kennedy, who is scrolling through her phone.

"Yeah, hold on, I'm looking for something." Kennedy bites the tip of her tongue in concentration. Then, a second later. "Okay, I've got it." And a few more seconds later... "Shit, Lilah. Okay, maybe you shouldn't read this."

I take the phone she's offering me, despite her warning. "What is it?"

My breath catches and anxiety makes my blood pump harder as I start reading through the story that has been published by a popular online music magazine.

Well, now I know exactly whyAsher was so smug about the articles written.