I kneel up on the bed in front of him. “It’s William Stephington.”

His face squishes in disgust. “Ew, that jock, steroid freak?”

“Hey.” I swat his arm. “He’s not a steroid freak.”

“That’s not what I heard.” He frowns, staring at me undecidedly. “Lyric, I know you might not want to hear this, but I think you should stay away from that guy. And I really think you should talk to him for more than ten minutes before you decide you’re in love with him.”

“I’ve talked to him quite a few times at school. And besides, I agreed to go out with him tonight.”

His frown deepens. “Lyric, the guy’s got a reputation for being a …” He deliberates his word choice while staring at a Pink Floyd poster on the ceiling that I gave him for his birthday. “A manwhore douche.”

“Manwhore douche? Wow, those are some colorful words.”

“Well, he is.”

I scrape at my blue fingernail polish, choosing my next words carefully. “Even if he is, it doesn’t matter, because I’m not a douche or a whore. I haven’t even kissed a guy yet.” I hop off the bed. “But that’s going to change tonight.”

He pulls a face, clearly irritated, which isn’t typical for him. Usually, Ayden is the most agreeable person in the world, always trying to please everyone. “Don’t waste your first kiss on that asshole.”

“Hey, I’ve been saving my first kiss for over seventeen years now, so trust me when I say that when it happens, it’s not going to be something I do with an asshole.”

“He’s not the guy who’s going to change your soul, Lyric. Or make you write any better. He’s not the life experience you’re searching for.”

I sternly point a finger at him. “Hey, I told you all that stuff in confidence.”

His gaze scans the vacant room with his hands spread out. “Am I telling anyone else? No, I’m just reminding you what you told me—that this isn’t what you want. You’re saving your first kiss for a guy that will make you be able to pour your soul out onto paper, give you something to write about. And I don’t believe that that’s going to be William Stephington.” His face twists with disgust again.

I fold my arms across my chest, and his gaze flicks to the papers in my hand. “Well, even if he isn’t, maybe it’s time to get this whole kissing thing over with. I mean, I’m seventeen years old, for God’s sake. No one is a virgin kisser at that age. Jesus, Maggie kissed her first guy when she was like fourteen. I had my chance, too, but no, I had to hold on to this crazy idea that kisses were supposed to be all romantic and planned.”

“It’s not that bad of a concept.”

“Yes it is. And it’s time for me to grow up.” I pause. “And why are you even lecturing me? I know you kissed a ton of girls before you came here.”

It’s just a guess, but when he doesn’t deny it, I assume I’m right.

Grief engraves into his face. “Don’t do that—change your dreams over some guy or belief based on other people. That’s not the Lyric I know and love. Besides, you hardly even know the guy. You’re way too trusting sometimes.”

I sigh, because he’s got me on that one. “Fine, I’ll reconsider the kiss, but I’m still trusting him enough to go out on the date, because that’s what I do.” I back up for the door, knowing that’s not true. I’ve passed up chance after chance of getting kissed, because my expectations are too high. “You know, if it really bothers you, you could always come with us.”

“On your date with you?” he says dryly. “Yeah, that sounds like a lot of fun.”

“No, to the party we’re going to.”

I know he won’t. He made a commitment to do family movie night tonight, and Ayden hardly goes back on his commitments to the Gregorys, like he thinks he owes them for adopting him or something. Honestly, sometimes I believe that’s exactly what he thinks, which is sad.

“I have band practice tonight.” He drops the guitar pick onto the pillow and sits up, swinging his feet over the edge of the bed as he stretches his arms over his head. “And then movie night afterward.”

I try not to stare when his shirt rides up, but it’s always difficult. On top of having a beautiful face, Ayden’s body is ridiculously amazing. Not super muscly or anything, just lean and toned.

One of my friends, Maggie, asked me how I can stand being friends with him without wanting to “get some of that.” I tell her it’s simple, because I don’t look at him that way. Just as a friend. She looked at me as if I’d grown a third eye, which I had shrugged off. Yeah, Ayden is hot. That’s a huge obvious given. And he’s the best friend I could ever ask for. But I haven’t felt the butterflies around him or the desire to kiss him. I haven’t felt that with anyone yet. Maybe it’s because I set the bar too high, but I’m contemplating lowering it tonight.

“So what.” I sigh when Ayden finally adjusts his shirt back over his stomach. “Blow off movie night and come after practice is over. Sage and Nolan will probably be there anyway.”

He pauses. “Where is it at?”

“Up at Maggie’s house.” I grip the doorknob, feeling upbeat at the idea that he might go. “Are you seriously considering going?”

He stands up and winds around his bed and over to me. “Yeah, maybe. If Sage and Nolan go there, I might catch a ride with them.”