Page 41 of Even Beneath the Stars

The music suddenly stops.

"What the fuck?" Xavier's words are sharp, laced with both anger and alarm.

I flinch and my body straightens; my cheeks no doubt flushing pink.

"How long have you been standing there?"

I push off the doorframe, more disappointed than I should be that I won't get to hear the rest of the song. "You've got an amazing voice."

Xavier looks surprised by my comment. Or maybe by my lack of reaction to the harshness of his words. "Wasn't actually asking for your opinion."

God. Why does he have to be a dick abouteverythingwith me? Even in response to a freaking compliment.

"The song you were playing—what was it?"

His eyes narrow slightly, then dip to the guitar. He starts strumming again. "Nothing. Just messing around." He plays a few more chords then stops. Looks up at me. "Did you need something?" His words are clipped and annoyed.

"You should start a band or something. Or play at a coffee house." I take a step into the room. "Seriously… You're really good."

He stops suddenly, right palm flattening against the strings to halt the sound. "Did you.Needsomething," he repeats, more pointedly.

I scrounge my emotions to muster up my anger. God knows I had it in spades a few minutes ago.

"Yes," I tell him. "I do. I want to talk about your brother."

His eyebrows lift like a challenge.

"He's downstairs right now, refusing to go to bed because you told him he could stay up." I push my hands in my pockets, worried if I don't, they'll end up on my hips, or crossed against my chest, making me look exactly like the strict, judgmental, bossyshrew he believes me to be.

He sighs, attention straying to the guitar in his lap. "This again?" His long fingers resume their dance across the strings, creating a louder melody that makes it feel like he's trying to dismiss me.

"Yeah," I confirm, speaking up so he'll hear me over the strumming. "This again. Because I'm such an evil witch—trying to get a five-year-old to bed before midnight."

He doesn't deny my words. Just keeps playing and says, "So stop being such a dictator about bedtime. He's having fun. Let him be a kid… When he's tired, he'll fall asleep."

Sure. Because that's abrilliantsleep schedule for a kindergartener.

My eyes dip lower. Bare feet peek out from beneath the frayed hem of his worn jeans. Something about that makes him seem vulnerable again; reminds me of the stripped bare, hauntingly lonely boy I walked in on five minutes ago.

And it makes me lower my voice in an effort to not sound accusing when I say, "He's falling asleep in class, Xavier… You need to start backing me up on the bedtime thing."

"I don'tneedto do anything."

"Obviously you don't need to do anything," I agree, wandering over to a built-in glass cabinet along the curved wall. "Trust me, it's been made pretty clear these past few weeks that there literally isn't a thing youneedto do." I lean in to examine some kind of shiny black rock with indents that look like thumb prints. "I guess I'maskingyou… to back me up on an earlier, more regular bedtime with Finn."

"Pass." He keeps playing, loud enough now that there's no doubt I'm being dismissed.

I turn and face him. "I hate how you do this—with everything. Like your biggest goal in life is to make my job extra difficult." And I know I’m failing big time in my effort to not sound accusing. But I tried. And turns out, I can’t help it—Xavier Rockwell brings out the bristly side of me.

His fingers freeze on the strings. "Your'job,'" he says through a clenched jaw, "is my brother. So forgive me for not being cool with you coming in and suddenly deciding what's best for him."

He is so infuriating.

I wish I could have this conversation with vulnerable, private Xavier. He seems like the kind of guy who would be receptive to logic and reasoning. Instead I'm stuck with "closed-off, hates-my-guts, won't-listen-to-logic Xavier."

"Fine." I sigh. "Don't take my word for it, then. Do some research. Read books. Google it—what are good sleep routines for a five-year-old. And what are detrimental sleeping routines."

"I'll be sure to do that. Thanks." Back to playing his guitar.

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