I got my caramel latte and a muffin and sat down at my usual table by the window. I pulled out my notes in case there was a pop quiz and took a small sip of my hot beverage. I spent some time people-watching.

It was then that I saw a familiar set of broad shoulders and a head covered in a gray beanie coming into the coffee shop.

I thought hard about slinking down in my seat to avoid being seen, but then I thought better of it. Why should I hide? There was nothing wrong with him seeing me, even if just the sight of him caused me to flush to the tip of my toes at the memory of our encounter in the hallway.

As if sensing me there, Maxx’s eyes met mine. I raised my hand in a halfhearted wave, wiggling my fingers.

He smiled that smile that lit up his face.

He is so coming over here, I thought to myself as I waited on pins and needles for him to get his coffee and make the trek to my table.

“Is this seat taken?” he asked, his eyes dancing at our inside joke. But unlike the time he had asked that question in the library, I offered the chair—not without hesitation, but with a lot less of it. I couldn’t help that I still had misgivings about being seen with him. My lips tingled and my heart smacked against my rib cage, but I felt an undeniable wariness.

Maxx pulled off his beanie and dropped it on the table. He picked up his mug and blew off the steam before taking a sip. I sat there, staring at him, my tongue tied up in knots.

“So, thanks for leaving me stuck with Kristie, by the way,” he joked, taking another sip.

I laughed nervously, cutting my muffin up into small pieces. “Yeah, sorry,” I muttered.

“Sorry? I’ll leave you to talk about ‘solidifying your support systems’ for an hour and see how you feel.” He was being relaxed, teasing me with a twinkle in his eyes.

He looked happy.

It took me aback for a moment. I wasn’t used to seeing him this way. I had grown accustomed to the tortured brokenness hidden behind an overly confident exterior.

But today Maxx was laid-back, as though by acting casual, he was trying to make me forget how he had fallen apart. How he had shown me a side of himself that was scared and unguarded.

This time when I laughed, it was real. “That sucks. She can go on a bit,” I conceded.

“You think?” Maxx scoffed, reaching across the table and snatching a handful of my crumbled muffin.

“What is it with you and stealing my food?” I asked as he chewed.

“It just tastes better when it’s yours.” And there it was. The sexual innuendo I had been waiting for. But it didn’t irritate me the way it once would have. Instead, it set my skin on fire.

Two girls passed by our table, and I noticed the way they glanced down at Maxx and flashed their best flirty eyes at him. But his eyes never left my face.

I squirmed at being the center of his intense attention. “So, about Tuesday,” he began.

I held up my hand, stopping him. “Do we really need to talk about it?” I asked, mildly mortified to be talking about our encounter in the middle of a coffee shop, where anyone could hear us.

Maxx’s face darkened, but then it cleared. “I was just wondering when we could do it again?” he asked, and I jumped at the touch of his hand, reaching under the table to touch my thigh.

“Um . . . ,” I stuttered.

His fingers traced lazy circles on my jeans, inching slowly upward. I covered his hand with my own, pinning his palm to my leg.

Maxx chuckled and removed his hand. “Well, I’m game whenever you are,” he stated breezily, as though talking about the weather. I got the impression that my lack of response had hurt him. And being the person that he was, he covered up the hurt with unaffected seductiveness.

Before I could respond, Maxx got to his feet and pulled his beanie on. His hand briefly touched my shoulder before he gave me a smile and left. The entire exchange had lasted five minutes, and I was left confused and annoyingly turned on.

That boy was bad for the heart.

* * *

I wanted to see him again. Even though I knew I should ignore the urge, I didn’t. Who was this girl with such a lack of impulse control?

I pulled my car into the parking lot of the abandoned department store where Compulsion was happening tonight. My legs wanted to run toward the booming music, but my nerves held me back.

Now that I was here, I wasn’t entirely sure what I had been thinking. The Maxx Demelo who belonged here wasn’t necessarily the man who belonged with me. He scared me. He terrified me. He fascinated me.

I tucked my cell phone into my purse and looped it around my arm, securing it close to my body. My heart thudded in my chest almost in time to the bass, which I could hear bleeding into the night air.

I headed toward the line of people who waited just as they waited every single time Compulsion came alive—wanting their chance, hoping they were enough to be given it.

I approached the front of the line and watched as more and more people were turned away. I never understood why some were allowed inside and others were told to leave. There didn’t seem to be any rationale to it. Randy, the scary doorman, always seemed to relish the tiny bit of power he had as the gatekeeper.

But after that first night, when Brooks and I had been turned away, I hadn’t had a problem. I know I would never look the part. I still didn’t fit in with the people who came here, but it was as though I had a magic pass that I wasn’t aware of.

Again, I stood in front of Randy and the other bouncer. He gave me a cursory once-over and then held out his hand for my money, which I put in his outstretched palm. He grabbed my wrist and roughly turned my hand over, pressing the stamp on my skin.

Just as I moved toward the door, I noticed another group being told to go home. The girls, dressed to the nines and way more clubbed-out than I was, started throwing a fit.

One girl wearing a dress cut so low that her boobs were in serious danger of flopping out pointed at me while curling her lip. “Why does that bitch get in and we don’t? She’s a total waste!”

I flushed in embarrassment at the unwanted attention I was receiving from the people in line. They all seemed to be judging me. And clearly I was coming up short. Pardon me if I didn’t dress for the goth and metal crowd.

Randy gave the girl and her friends a nasty glare. “Get the fuck out of here. Some people belong here. Others don’t. You don’t,” he growled. I knew the look he was giving them. It was the same one Brooks and I had received that first night. I shuddered, almost feeling sorry for them.

Boobs girl huffed and puffed in indignation, pushing her obviously surgically enhanced chest out for optimum effect before stomping off with her friends in tow.

The other bouncer, whom I had never bothered to pay attention to before, turned to look at me. I was still lingering just in front of the door, and he gave me a pointed look to get moving.

“The fun’s in there, baby. Though I’m sure I can find something for you to do out here if you’re interested.” He grinned and then licked his lips. He was cute in a rough-and-tumble sort of way, with a buzzed head and a face full of metal. I knew, without a doubt, that I couldn’t handle this guy’s idea of fun.

I hurried inside the club, followed by the bouncer’s laughter. The club was as it always was—dark and oppressive, but with an energy that couldn’t be described.

I wanted to dance. I wanted to get wild. It’s what people came here for. How easy it was to forget who I was and why I was there. The appeal of it was never lost on me. But I wanted to find Maxx. I had to talk to him here, on his turf.

I started pushing through the crowd, trying to search the shadowed faces for the one I recognized. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack. I remembered how hard it had been for me to find Renee, and I had been able to do so only with Maxx’s help.

Maybe if I stood by the bar, he’d find me. He always had before. I ordered a beer and leaned against the wall, watching, waiting. I was nervous. Actually, I was a mess. I hadn’t thought this search-and-rescue mission through.

What did I hope to accomplish by tracking Maxx down at the club? I really had some unrealistic, no-way-in-hell ideas when it came to Maxx Demelo. I could admit that I was already succumbing to the daydream in which I was that girl, the one he would change for.

But I blamed him entirely for making me feel that way. Because he made me think that I was that girl, that he was counting on me to pull him out of the chaos he found himself in.

I didn’t even begin to understand exactly what demons he was facing, the struggles he dealt with on a daily basis. I was given glimpses of a tortured soul barely treading water.

Or was that my overly dramatic mind looking for the person who needed me to save him?

Who fucking knew? Maxx had screwed royally with my head.

I wasn’t even trying to be subtle as I perused the room, seeking him out. I inadvertently caught the attention of a few less than savory individuals, but I straightened my spine and quickly turned away, hoping the obvious rebuff would be enough to dissuade them.

And then I found the person I didn’t want to find.

Brooks was out on the dance floor with a girl I vaguely recognized. Brooks was a really bad dancer, as in shouldn’t-be-out-in-public-with-moves-like-that bad. But this was a place where style and technique didn’t matter, which was lucky for him, because he looked like he was in the throes of a full-on body spasm.