Even the headlines weren’t bad. Some of them were a bit snarky, commenting about how the ice queen had thawed out. But on the whole, the press was positive. The only negative thing was Mom, who had about ten missed calls on my phone with matching voicemails. I hadn’t listened to any of them.

The photo came out after I left the pack’s house, so I hadn’t had a chance to talk to any of them about it yet. But I was walking up the stairs, Wes retreating behind me. No press was waiting today, and there hadn’t been. It was too much to hope they heeded Ben’s warning. Tomorrow things would surely be back to normal.

“Hey, beautiful.” Rylan was waiting for me on the stairs. Casually dressed in a t-shirt and sweats. He put his phone away. “You okay?”

“Surprisingly, yes. It’s actually a really good picture.”

“It is. I think we should get a high-res copy and print it. Put it in your bedroom or Ben’s. Maybe downstairs in the game room.”

I laughed. “You want a picture of us making out at a club in the game room?”

“Hell yes. It’s fucking hot. Come to think of it, we should do a series. One with each of us.”

It was a statement which assumed this would work out. Why not? The idea of a photoshoot like that? On purpose? It lifted heat under my skin in a way I wasn’t prepared for. Rylan knew it, the smirk on his face sliding into place like he could read my thoughts.

“Where is everyone?”

“They all had late appointments, so I claimed my night with you.”

“Oh,” I grinned. “We’re all alone?”

He laughed. “Scared?”

“No. I’m not scared of any of you.”

“Good.” Holding out a hand, he stood. “I have something to show you.”

His room was next to Ben’s, and he went straight to the portion of his room crowded with musical instruments. His room felt like him. Light and bright and playful with an understated elegance running beneath it. Rylan was a jokester, and it was fine with me, but he was so much more than that.

Picking up a guitar, he sat with it. “Someday I want this to have words. But I wrote this the night you first came over to the house. When you fell asleep on me.” His grin was shameless.

“You wrote me a song?”

“It just came into my head, and I couldn’t stop until I got it down.”

He started to play, and I sat on the floor in front of him, listening. It started with a simple strumming melody, and Rylan hummed over top of it, showing the path the lyrics eventually take.