Sometimes, thought Kira, life is pretty good.

All right, so the massive crowd had probably been more for Kylee than her—but at least there had been a crowd! And maybe now they’d seen her singing with somebody ‘famous’, they’d start to take her a little more seriously. People—most people—were shallow like that. Having your face on a million magazines counted for more than having good music.

But she wasn’t going to let that ruin her mood.

"Hey, what’s up? You look happy."

"Just thinking about the concert," she replied, grinning up at Trent. He’d taken her seriously before seeing her sing with Kylee. Well, so had Ethan, but she’d have beaten him up if he didn’t. And Dr. O had, but he was too old to count. "I think you were my first proper fan, you know."

"I’m honored. But I think Conner probably ties for that. He seems pretty into your music."

Conner. She scowled just thinking about him. "He didn’t believe that I’d ever been in a band with Kylee. He avoided saying exactly why, but I have the feeling I’d have needed to slap him if he did."

Trent gave that grin again, the one that made Kira’s stomach feel a little dizzy. "Well, you know Conner. He probably didn’t mean to offend you."

"Yeah." She frowned, as she realized she’d never seen Conner and Trent speak before. "How do you know Conner?"

"I sit next to him in math. I think the teacher hopes I’ll be a good influence."

"Are you good at math?" She might ask for some help if he was. Time alone with a cute guy, and help in her least-favorite subject.

He shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. My dad thinks it’s useful to know. For business and stuff, you know."

"Uh huh." She didn’t know, but she didn’t really want to either. It sounded deadly boring. "Thank you again for that picture. It’s really sweet." It also hit a little too close to her secret-identity for her to completely love it—Dr. O had done a definite double-take when he’d seen it—but no one had ever drawn a picture of her before.

"It’s okay. I like drawing people. I’m just glad you don’t mind. Some people get funny about it."

"No, of course I don’t." She nodded to the chair across from her. "Sit down. It’s almost empty, anyway."

He did, resting his elbows on the table. She took a moment to admire the play of muscles in his arms—he hadn’t got those drawing—before asking, "So how are you liking Reefside?"

"A lot. I love it here," he gestured round the café. "Hayley’s a really great boss, and I think I’m making friends."

"You’ve made me." Which didn’t sound exactly right, but . . . "And Ethan."

"But not Conner?"

"Conner’s weird. Also, not always someone you want to be friends with." She felt like a bit of a bitch saying it, but she needed someone to rant to. Conner didn’t think she was good enough to play with Kylee Styles, did he? "Most of the time he lives in his own little Conner-world, where soccer’s the only thing that matters and everyone loves him ‘cause he’s brilliant at everything."

"Except math?"

"Everything he thinks is ‘cool’. Which, no, probably doesn’t include math."

"I was surprised to see him hanging around with you and Ethan—no offence." When she shook her head, he continued, "I asked him, but he got kind of snappy."

He’d probably over-reacted and started thinking Trent had worked out who they were. "Ignore him."

Trent shook his head, blushing a little, and looking down at the table with an expression Kira knew she recognized. "Oh my god!" she exclaimed. "You like him."

He blushed even darker, looking around the café for anyone in hearing distance. "Shh!" he hissed, but didn't deny it.

"Oh my god," she repeated, more softly. "I never guessed. Well, till now. And seriously, why Conner? I mean, ew?"

"Shut up." He still looked embarrassed. "And how did you guess?"

"I’m a songwriter. I have to notice feelings, or how can I sing about them properly?" she said. "Besides, it was totally obvious. And then you just confirmed it."

"Shut up," he said again. Then he paused. "You really don’t care?"

He thought she would? "Of course not! My drummer’s gay, I don’t care at all." She grinned, remembering other conversations similar to this one. "He’s got a crush on my guitarist. I have like, a sixth sense for working these things out. I’ve never told anyone about it, though. I’m good at keeping secrets."

"You’ve just told me."

"Well, you won’t tell anyone. My point is, I keep lots of secrets." And wasn’t that the understatement of the century. He still looked awkward and embarrassed, so she asked, "You want to talk about it?"

He shook his head, laughing slightly. "It’s just, when I saw Conner . . . It’s not serious."

Kira knew what he meant. She remembered the first time she’d seen Trent . . . but becoming his friend was just as good as becoming his girlfriend. Maybe this was why she’d never let herself make a move on him. She’d sensed what he’d say. "That’s good, because seriously, I really doubt Conner has the slightest interest in guys. Cheerleaders yes, guys no. I mean . . . he’s just your stereotypical jock."

"Really?"

Kira sighed, feeling like she had to be fair to Conner. "No, well, he’s got some depth. Not much, but some. And . . . he’s a total airhead, but he’s a good guy. He tries." Sometimes not very successfully, but he did try. He had apologized for not believing her, though he’d managed to insult her in the process. He did turn up to all her shows, and listen.

Trent gave her a half-smile. "Thanks. I guess I’ll have to be content with watching from a distance, then," he said, arching an eyebrow that invited her to laugh.

She did, thinking all the while of what this could mean. Conner and Trent . . . of course, it wouldn’t come to that. Conner was clueless with a capital C—unless someone told him, he’d never guess how Trent felt. And Trent wouldn’t, because god knew what Conner would do. Freak out, most likely. Kira couldn’t imagine Conner sitting down and having a calm and enlightened talk about it.

She couldn’t imagine Conner having a calm and enlightened talk about anything.

But especially not this. She didn’t think Conner would be homophobic—she hoped he wouldn’t be, and she’d have words with him if he was—but that didn’t mean he’d react sensibly. Boys could be funny like that.

And with the way Conner had been acting recently, who knew?

"Thanks for talking to me," said Trent. "And really, promise you won’t say anything."

"I promise," she said, already planning how to sound Conner out.

--