chapter 4

"I'M SO PROUD OF YOU! You were afraid, and you did it anyway."

I roll my eyes, but a smile tugs on my lips as I plop down onto the couch. "Thanks, Dad. Is Mom around?"

"Uh, I don't think so. Hang on. Elaine!"

I hold the phone away from my ear and wince. A second later, Dad gets back on the line.

"I think she left already. She started playing pickleball at the rec center."

"Pickleball? What's that?"

"It's like tennis, I think. Different ball though."

I laugh and shake my head. "Okay. Can you have her call me later?"

"Of course. Want me to wait for you to tell her the good news?"

"Yeah. Thanks, Dad. Love you."

"Love you too, hon."

We hang up, and I set my phone on the coffee table next to my laptop. Though I know I probably shouldn't, I grab the computer and open it to my browser, then pull up an image search of Dex.

And there he is, hundreds of photos of him looking ridiculously sexy, whether he's performing onstage, drinking a beer, or doing a kickflip on a skateboard. I click on a recent one, and it expands to fit my screen.

He's looking directly at the camera, tousled blond hair hanging around his face, his blue eyes narrowed in focus. And as I look into them, I feel a tingle in my belly, a butterfly that most certainly shouldn't be there.

Dex is a celebrity. A rock star. A sex icon.

And I'm just Nora. A second-chair violinist. A gamer who'd rather talk to her cat than another human being.

If the photos and music videos and news articles are to be trusted, Dex likes wild, rich, promiscuous women who'll drink Jack and chain-smoke cigarettes and dress in skimpy outfits for nights out at the club.

And that's not me. Not by a long shot.

A twinge of self-consciousness crushes that stupid butterfly fluttering aimlessly in my stomach, and I shut my laptop screen with a snap.

I'm not Dex's type, and besides, I don't even know him. I'll play on the track, and then I'll go back to my second-chair spot in the orchestra and dream about the day I'll get promoted to concertmistress. And that's all there is to it.

I'm determined not to think of him again.