Los Angeles, CA

"You're not answering my texts." Jenica plopped down on my bed.

My phone was sitting facedown on my nightstand. "I'm trying to focus." I was standing in front of my closet, with piles of clothes around the room, trying to figure out what I could fit into a single large suitcase that would last me most of the summer.

"I didn't come over just to watch you pack," Jenica said. "The Limitless Showcase emails are supposed to come out today."

Shit. How had I forgotten? I bolted upright. "Have you gotten yours yet?"

She shook her head in response. "Still refreshing my email every sixty seconds."

I grabbed my phone, doing the same. Nothing. The Limitless Showcase was the most renowned soccer showcase of the year. All of the top-ranked Division One soccer coaches come to scout, and the U.S. Women's National Team notoriously chooses recruits from the Showcase. To be invited was an honor in itself.

"It's going to be a long day," Jenica said. "I texted Coach Jefferson and he said he hasn't heard anything yet either."

Before I could answer, there was a knock on my bedroom door.

"I'm packing!" I shouted. "Jenica is helping."

"I don't really care about that," Connor called back through my door. We had stayed away from each other since our sort-of fight after his interview yesterday.

"What do you want?" I called.

"To talk."

"I'm busy!"

There was a clicking noise, and then my door opened. Connor came in, shutting the door behind him.

"I have pizza," he said, holding up the plate for me to see. "It's my peace offering." He placed it on my bed, flashing Jenica a smile. "Hey, Jenny."

"You know I hate that nickname," she said.

"But it's cute," he teased.

"I'm cute," Jenica corrected. "Let's not get that mixed up."

"What do you want?" I asked, interrupting their flirtatious banter. I wasn't in the mood to be a third wheel in my own bedroom.

"To talk," he repeated. "Can we step outside for a sec?"

"I'll start sorting Kate's piles of clothes. You guys go on."

I pushed myself up off my bed with a groan, following Connor over to his room.

"I have more pizza in here, don't worry," he said, shutting the door behind him.

I took a slice as I sat down on the edge of his bed. "What's up, pop star?"

His face soured. "Don't call me that."

"You're famous now."

"Shut up," Connor said. "Are you going to come to rehearsals with me today?"

"Why should I?"

I didn't know anything about the show. I didn't even know the setlist. Dad micromanaged all of that.

"There's a closing number that I want a second pair of eyes on," he said. "It's the encore written for the show, and Mackenzie, Skyline, and I all perform it together. And you're the only one I trust to give an honest review."

"Why?"

Connor hadn't asked for my opinion on anything since his very first live performance, when he wanted to know which song he should go with. Since then, it's always been him, Mom, and Dad. And I've been the bystander to the Connor Jackson show.

"You're my target audience," he said.

Oh. It was all a strategy.

"I've got a lot of stuff to finish before the tour," I said. "Jenica's helping me pack, but I still have a science project to do and—"

"It'll only be one afternoon," Connor interrupted. "Please, Katelyn? I really need your help."

Connor must really be desperate if he was willing to beg.

"Um, okay," I said. "If you think I can help."

"Thanks, Kate. It means a lot."

I stood up as I finished off my slice of pizza. "I've got to get back to it."

"Okay, cool. I'll let you know when we're ready to go. Maybe, like, thirty minutes before?"

"Sounds good."

Silence lapsed between us, and I cleared my throat to break it. "Okay, see you then."

Jenica was sitting on the floor with my clothes when I came back into my room.

"What did he want?" she asked, without glancing up from what she was doing.

"My help, I guess."

That caused her to look up, raising an eyebrow in question. "With what?"

"I'm not really sure. Something about the closing number for the show."

"That's awesome, Kate," she said. "Maybe you'll get to finally meet Zach Matthews."

"Shut up."

"Don't roll your eyes, you never know!" she sang. "Tell me about the Matthews brothers again? Which one would be perfect for me?"

Jenica knew how to get me talking. I was the biggest Skyline fangirl there was.

I flopped back on my bed. "Jesse is the oldest at twenty-two. He has brown hair and these dark, dark chocolate-colored eyes. He's the more serious and broodier one, the bad boy almost. He plays bass. And then there's Aaron, the keyboardist—he's twenty. He has sandy blond hair and light brown eyes. He's the quiet one that I think holds the band together. He's not nearly as serious as Jesse, but not as much of a goofball as Ross. He's a perfect middleman."

"And who's Ross?" Jenica asked.

"Ross is the third oldest, he's eighteen, the drummer. He has dirty-blond hair and bright brown eyes. He's the class-clown type, always cracking jokes and making light of situations."

Jenica leaned in with a teasing smile. "And the fourth brother?"

"You know it's Zach. He's sixteen, nearly seventeen. Lead singer. Songwriter. Lead guitarist. Basically perfect all-around. He has caramel eyes that stare into your soul, and brown hair that is always the perfect amount of messy. He's the lone wolf, always in the background of his brothers. But when he sings . . . it melts your heart."

"And I wonder which one is your favorite."

I turned to glare at her. "Don't call me out!"

Jenica giggled as she held up a pair of lacy underwear. "Oh, you're definitely packing these."

Connor's driver pulled up in front of the house, rolling down his window as I stepped up. Connor was already at the rehearsal space, and he'd sent his driver to pick me up.

"Hey, Richard," I said as I slid into the backseat.

"How was the tournament this weekend?" Leave it to Richard to be the only person to actually care about me and my accomplishments.

"We came in first."

"Of course you did. You're Katelyn Jackson!"

"Thanks, Richard. Thanks for caring."

"Play hard?"

"Win hard." That had been our saying for as long as I could remember. Richard flipped to Bluetooth radio, my phone connecting.

"Are we listening to Skyline today?" Richard asked, with a teasing smile.

"Always."

The ride to the rehearsal space was short, and Connor's bodyguard, Eddie, was waiting outside once we arrived.

"Afternoon," Eddie said, before opening the door for me.

"Thanks, Eddie."

He led me upstairs and I could hear "Shades" before I even went in. Connor and his choreographer, Christopher Kline, were blocking it. Connor smiled and waved at me, and then managed to fall off the chair he was standing on.

"Sorry, Chris," I said.

"Just in time. Can you press play, Kate?"

"Sure." The dance was flawless, Connor actually managing to pull off the choreography. Chris cheered at the end, reaching over to high-five Connor.

"At least we know it'll work," Connor said, hopping down off the chair.

"We need to do that consistently," Chris said.

I helped Chris clean up the studio space while Connor gathered up his stuff.

"See you in twenty for group rehearsal," Chris called out after us.

I followed Connor up to a room with his name taped on the door. Inside the small space was a single chair and a garment bag hanging from the ceiling. Connor sat down in his chair and let his head fall back, closing his eyes. "I'm already taxed."

The door opened and, Lorie, Connor's publicist, stepped inside. She handled everything from assisting in scheduling Connor's interviews to handling his social media accounts.

"Lana wants to speak with you," Lorie said. "Before your Q&A session this evening."

Lana Regas, Connor's ex-girlfriend. Connor and Lana had met at a red carpet event, and the two of them had immediately hit it off. And things had been great between them . . . for a while. And after one drunken night of confessions between the two of them, NDAs were signed and the relationship abruptly ended.

Lana was a Greek goddess. She stood tall, at five foot nine, and often walked the runway for luxury brand names as a lead model. But most of all, she was a massive bitch. And everybody knew it. When she wanted something, she got it. Not always in the right way.

"I have no interest in talking to her today," Connor said. "Tell her whatever it is, we can talk about it next week."

"You know how Lana gets . . ."

"I'm midrehearsal for a tour that starts in two weeks," Connor said. "I don't care what she threatens to do. I don't have time to deal with her bullshit today."

"Noted," Lorie said, writing in her planner. "The rest of today is pretty light media-wise. We'll continue dropping teasers about the music video on your social profiles, and you have the fan Q&A at seven tonight."

Connor nodded.

Lorie glanced toward me. "Hi, Katelyn."

"Hi."

"Can I get you anything?"

I shook my head. "I'm okay for now."

She wrote something else down in her planner before leaving, shutting the door behind her.

"Is this your every day?" I asked.

Connor opened both eyes this time. "What?"

"People drop in and tell you what your daily schedule is, and you just have to go with it?"

"Pretty much."

"That sounds awful."

And then, as if on cue, my dad came through the door, iPad in hand. "You need to be dressed and ready."

"Skyline is never here on time," Connor whined. "I'm not getting dressed in that leather suit until the absolute last minute."

Connor had specifically requested Skyline as an opening act, and I'd screamed when I heard they'd accepted. Not only would I get to hear them perform at every tour stop, but I'd actually get to meet them in person. Sometimes being a Jackson had its perks.

"Ten minutes," my dad said icily. "I'll see you in the rehearsal studio." And with that he was gone again. Connor didn't seem bothered by the encounter, instead taking to his phone with an impassive expression. This life wasn't something I envied. My dad and I could hardly have a two-minute conversation. There's no way I could handle having him bark orders at me. My career would've been over before it started.

"You can't fangirl," Connor said without looking up from his phone.

"Fangirl?" I asked.

"Over Skyline, when they get here. You can't fangirl."

"Who says I'm a fan?"

"Are you for real? The giant poster of their lead singer on your wall, for starters. The fact that you basically begged me to help promote them . . . the fact that you play their songs all the time."

All valid points. "I can play it cool," I shrugged. "Watch, I bet I won't even bat an eye."

"Fat. Fucking. Chance."

"I'm cool as a cucumber, you just watch."

We cracked up.

"Who's the kid you have a poster of again?" Connor asked. "Is it Zach?"

"Yes. Are you best friends with him yet?"

"I'm pretty sure they think I'm an egotistical douche," he said.

"Why would they think that?"

Connor was silent a few moments. "I'm not really good with the whole friend thing."

"I guess I'll have to get the scoop," I said.

"I bet you will." He stood up, letting out a yawn. "I've only met Zach once."

They'd been rehearsing for weeks. "Really?"

"He doesn't really come to group rehearsals often; we usually use a stand-in for him."

"What do you mean he doesn't come to group rehearsals?"

If Mackenzie, Skyline, and Connor all came together for the last song, how would Zach know his cues if he didn't show up to rehearsals?

"He's got that condition," Connor said, his eyes flickering shut. "God, I'm so tired. What's it called?"

"Epilepsy," I filled in.

Being a Skyline fangirl meant that I'd fallen into a deep Reddit thread about the ins and outs of Skyline. And an even deeper rabbit hole about epilepsy.

When Skyline began gaining notoriety, they appeared in multiple interviews. But Zach was always noticeably missing. At first he was labeled as a diva by the industry, but eventually he announced that he suffers from epilepsy, and that rehearsals, interviews, and tour would be too much for him when he had a scheduled routine to follow with his doctor. He never did any late-night or early-morning interviews, as he'd said that sleep was a key factor in managing the disorder. Sometimes he'd come around throughout the day, dropping in for a few minutes to say hello. But the other three brothers usually took care of the press releases.

"Yeah, we have a training session on that before the tour starts," Connor said.

"For epilepsy?"

"For what to do in case of a seizure. It was requested by their management . . . which is essentially Jesse."

And it made sense. The last thing Skyline would want to happen was for their lead singer, their brother, to get hurt.

"I'm going to get dressed," Connor said, checking the time. "I'll see you in a sec."

That's my cue to leave. "Same rehearsal room?"

"Yup."

I headed back to the space. "Hello again," Chris said.

I waved in response before taking a seat at the front of the room, my back against the mirror.

Mackenzie arrived next. Everyone in Hollywood knew Mackenzie Lawrence. She was notorious for late-night parties, one-night stands, and subpar pop music.

"Chris," she said, snapping her gum.

"Mack," he said.

Mackenzie's eyes landed on me. "Who is this?"

"Connor's sister," Chris answered. "She's going to watch the closing number."

She gave me a once-over. "If you think that will help." She took a seat in one of the chairs. "This outfit sucks. I can barely move."

She was dressed in a maroon leather jacket with matching pants. She was wearing a tight-fit, white T-shirt underneath and a pair of maroon pumps.

"That's why we'll be rehearsing in them for a week."

The answer clearly didn't satisfy her, but she didn't press the issue any further. "Who all is coming today? Connor?"

Chris nodded.

"And the Jonas Brothers?"

I couldn't help but laugh, Chris joining in.

"All four of them," Chris confirmed.

I pressed my lips together to keep from outwardly fangirling.

"Impressive," she said, with an arched eyebrow. "What's the little one's name again?"

"He's a hell of a lot taller than us."

She frowned, once again displeased with Chris's response. "Name."

"Zachary, but I think he told me he goes by Zach."

She waved her hand dismissively. "There are way too many of them for me to remember."

"Jesse, Aaron, Ross, and Zach," I said, more loudly than I thought.

"Cute," she commented, her face impassive.

I had no idea what to take from that. "Thanks?"

The door flew open, Connor coming into the rehearsal room.

"Whose idea was it for all-leather?" Connor asked, his hands immediately going to cover his crotch. "My dick is way too exposed."

"Wear a cup," Chris said. "You'll survive." He stood back to survey him. "And where's your jacket?"

"Still waiting," Connor said, with a slight frown. "From my meeting with Dad yesterday, I guess they ordered it in red instead of black. The right one should be in ASAP."

Connor took a seat in one of the folding chairs, next to Mackenzie. "Did I miss anything?"

"Other than me complaining about the leather monkey suits too?" Mackenzie asked. "Not much."

As Chris and Connor took to chatting, another ten minutes clicked by.

"They're always late," Mackenzie said, her gaze still focused on her phone. "How do they expect to go on a national tour if they can't even show up to rehearsals on time?"

"Relax," Chris said, with a slight laugh. "Everyone has their flaws. I can deal with them being late."

"We're lucky if you show up on time, so no shocker there," Mackenzie scoffed.

"I am surprised, actually, that you were here before all of us today," Connor said, leaning over to Chris.

Chris pointed to his head. "Beanie, sweats, and a T-shirt—I was out the door in less than five."

The door clicked open again. Two members of Skyline walked in. My eyes widened to see Ross and Aaron Matthews also dressed in leather.

"Look who finally decided to show up," Mackenzie snapped.

"I'd say this is record time for us," Aaron said, taking one of the seats.

Ross immediately glanced toward me. "Who's the newbie?"

As soon as his eyes landed on me, my cheeks immediately burned. It was all I could do to stare at him, trying to process the fact that Ross. Matthews. was actually talking to me.

"That's my sister," Connor said, answering for me. "Katelyn."

"Cool," Aaron said, flashing me a smile. "Are you coming on tour?"

I nodded. Not like I was really given a choice.

"Had to hunt down Zach's leather suit," Ross said. "He and Jess should be here momentarily."

"Do we need a lesson in how to tell time?" Mackenzie asked, sarcasm dripping from her voice.

"The first two numbers are the seconds, right?" Ross asked, flashing her a pearly white smile.

Mackenzie flipped him off in return as the door clicked open again. My heart felt like it was doing somersaults in my chest as Jesse walked in, followed closely by Zach. I stared at Zach in his white T-shirt, black leather jacket, and pants. His brown hair was swept off to the side in the messy style he usually wore. And his brown eyes looked unusually dark. His jacket was tight against his biceps, and I could see the ripple of muscles underneath the thin, white T-shirt. I couldn't take my eyes off the perfection that was Zach Matthews.

"Found your leather gear?" Chris asked.

Zach tugged on the jacket. "Is it supposed to be this tight?"

"Unfortunately," Connor said.

"This is Katelyn," Chris said, gesturing toward me. "She's going to be watching today, because Connor doesn't trust my opinion."

Heat pooled in my cheeks as all eyes turned toward me.

"Not true," Connor said. "I'd like a second pair of eyes before we actually go live in our skin-tight leather."

Ross flashed me a smile, and my heart pounded even harder in my chest. "If you want to suggest a costume change, I'd be all ears," he said.

"Music in five!" Chris called out. "Positions now."

Everyone shifted around the room, moving chairs and taking their places for the start of the song. My eyes immediately focused on Zach, although I tried to convince myself it was solely for research purposes and not because he's Zach. Matthews.

Mackenzie opened the song. Her voice was smooth, but her music wasn't for me. I enjoyed songs with a deeper meaning behind the lyrics. And she was nothing more than bubblegum pop music. The choreography was intricate, and involved a lot of balancing on chairs, which, by the looks of it, was really hard for Connor. And as predicted, Connor fell off the chair during his solo, which had Chris cackling.

Ross was the only one from Skyline who seemed to have any sort of rhythm. I could see Aaron glancing at Ross, trying to follow along. Jesse didn't even bother trying. And Zach gave up about a quarter of the way through the song, taking to tipping his chair back and forth as he sang. The ending was perfect though, with everybody hitting their marks.

"So?" Chris asked.

"I thought the ending was really good," I said.

The room busted out laughing, even Mackenzie.

"I think Mackenzie has the choreography down really well," I said. The look she gave me said she clearly agreed.

"Connor has no balance." I ignored the look he gave me. "Overall, I didn't think it was bad. It's just obviously not show-ready."

Ross raised his hand from where he was seated in one of the plastic folding chairs. "We don't get a rating?"

The heat rose in my cheeks again. "Ross has enough rhythm to follow along in the choreography."

Ross fist-pumped. "Let the record show that I'm the best dancer in Skyline."

"As if he didn't have a big enough head already," Aaron muttered.

"I don't need a rating," Zach said. "I know I sucked."

"Zach doesn't have dance skills," Ross said, reaching over to ruffle his hair.

His brother ducked away from him, "Leave me alone."

"Should we scrap it?" Chris asked.

"No," I said.

"Katelyn, I thought you were on our side," Ross whined.

I was trying really hard not to let my inner fangirl out, but I could feel the heat spread down the back of my neck as Ross said my name. Ross Matthews knows my name. It was hard not to be starstruck.

"Can we at least scrap the chairs?" Jesse asked.

"I like the chairs," Mackenzie argued.

"We have a little over a week to nail down the choreography," Chris said. "If we scrap the chairs, we have to reblock. And if we don't, then we have to learn to balance in that time."

Jesse let out a short laugh. "Both sound impossible."

Clearly choreography wasn't Skyline's thing.

Mackenzie groaned. "God, Negative Nancy, can you cool it?"

I could tell Jesse wanted to snap back, but Aaron gave him a quick shake of the head. They seemed to have a silent conversation.

"Let's run it again then?" Chris questioned.

"Great," Zach said, in a listless voice. "Can't wait."

The words slipped out before I could stop them. "I can tell."

His eyes slid toward mine, his lips pressed together and turned up into a smile. And now I was sure I was the color of an actual tomato.

"Okay, Katelyn, game plan," Chris said. "I'll be watching Connor, Aaron, and Ross. You've got eyes on Zach and Jesse."

Oh God. Connor looked up at the ceiling, clearly concealing his laughter from the rest of the group.

"Do I have to run the choreo again?" Mackenzie asked.

"Practice makes perfect," Chris quipped.

"Perfect?" Mackenzie panned. "I'll settle for mediocre."

My eyes zeroed in on Zach as he took his place. I'm not concentrating on how Zach's shirt rides up when he reaches up. I'm not concentrating on the blush in his cheeks whenever he missteps. I'm not concentrating on how his head turns to look at Jesse whenever he forgets the choreography. I'm only watching him under Chris's instruction.

And maybe if I keep telling myself that, I'll eventually believe it.

After the second run-through, it was determined that a choreography refresher was needed.

"I'm going to run through the choreography, top to bottom, just with Skyline, since dancing isn't really their thing," Chris said to Connor. "You don't need to stay for this. And, yes, Mack, I was getting to you next—you don't need to make that face. You definitely don't need to stay for this. But you're essential to this number, and I do need you both back here in two hours."

She flashed a peace sign in the air as she walked out of the room. I followed Connor out, glancing over my shoulder one last time at the Skyline boys. What I wouldn't give to be a fly on the wall in that room.

"Want to grab dinner?" Connor asked, causing my attention to snap back to him.

"Sure, where?"

"Olive Garden?"

Olive Garden breadsticks were the surefire way to my heart.

"Deal. Let me just peel off this leather number first."

As I waited for Connor, I quickly refreshed my email to see if I'd heard anything from Limitless. No email. No text from Jenica. No text from Coach Jefferson.

We met Eddie out by the entrance, where he was standing with his back to the door, arms folded across his chest.

"Paps," Eddie said, with a nod toward the door. "We'll have to wait."

Paparazzi. Great. Connor let out a groan. "I'm starving."

"You'll survive."

Connor glanced toward me, raising an eyebrow in question.

"What?" I asked.

"Do you care about the paps?" Connor asked.

I'd never had to deal with a group of people shoving cameras and microphones into my face. "I don't know."

"Good enough for me. Come on, Eddie. We're going to Olive Garden."

"You don't want to wait and go out the back?" Eddie said.

"Nope."

"Of course not," he muttered.

"Keep your head low and don't make eye contact. Stick behind Eddie and you'll be fine." Connor said to me.

We followed Eddie out to the car, the paparazzi snapping pictures and shouting things left and right. I kept my head ducked low. Next time, I was definitely voting to go out the back. I hated the flashing of cameras coming at me from what felt like every angle, although, in reality, there were probably only four cameras in total.

Connor opened the door to Richard's car for me, letting me slide in first before plopping down next to me. Eddie wedged his giant body into the front seat.

"Why didn't you use the stage today?" I asked, as Richard began to back out of the parking space, trying not to hit any of the paparazzi.

"Scheduling conflicts. Getting Skyline, Mack, and myself there all with the sound and light crew was a scheduling disaster."

That didn't bode well for the upcoming tour.

"But we'll be rehearsing on stage for the next three days," Connor continued. "Clear schedules."

Richard came to a stop at a red light, and Connor rolled down his window for the teenagers in the car next to us trying to peek inside. He waved and flashed a smile for them.

"How long is the show expected to be?" I asked.

The light turned green and he rolled his window back up, before turning his attention back to me.

"Roughly about three hours—three and a half if need be."

We pulled into the Olive Garden, as it was less than a mile from the rehearsal studio.

"Dad texted and said we have a private area inside," he said, checking his work phone as he stepped out of the car.

The table was ready, and the hostess tried not to stare as she grabbed the menus. We were led to a back room, usually used for birthday parties, with a door that closed for extra privacy.

"Does that ever get old?" I asked, once she left.

"What?" he said, without looking up from the menu. It was no surprise that Connor didn't notice the fumbling hostess. He'd always been humble about his rising fame, stopping to take a picture with a fan, or to make a video with them, or whatever he could do to say thank you.

"The hostess obviously knew who you were."

Connor leaned back in his seat. "I know. I come here often."

The smell of pasta and breadsticks wafted through the air as we opened our menus.

"Did I mention I'm starving?" Connor asked after the waitress took our orders.

"Once or twice."

"All I had for lunch was McDonald's, if you count that as food."

"I don't."

The waiter brought over the first basket of breadsticks, which I immediately dug into.

Connor reached over, taking a sip of his water. "I'm impressed."

"With what?"

"That you didn't outwardly fangirl over Skyline."

"Told you I'd be cool as a cucumber."

"I saw you checking out Zach Matthews for the entirety of the rehearsal."

"That's not true! Chris asked me to keep an eye on him."

"And you did just that."

"You're the worst," I said.

Back before Connor had blown up on the Billboard charts, we spent a lot of time together. We didn't have a close extended family, and it'd always been the two of us growing up. We'd spend late nights gossiping about the one day. One day when Connor was famous. One day when I played soccer professionally. One day when we would get to do all of these things together.

Between our busy schedules, we hadn't had much time to sit down and talk like we used to. And being here in this secluded corner of Olive Garden felt like old times.

"I have to get back to choreography," Connor said as we finished eating. "Richard will drop me off and take you home, if that's okay?"

Exhaustion had started to creep through me, and I could feel my eyes growing heavy.

"Sure." A yawn escaped. "I don't know how you keep all this up."

"You get used to it. Not that there's much of a choice."

That answer didn't sound happy. "Are you okay, Connor?"

"Of course. Let's get out of here."

If you say so.