I have to admit that I was stupid for not returning Cal's jacket the moment we arrived at our house, but my mind was blank at that time, I couldn't remember this simple thing.

Now that I look up at the bar again in front of me, a sigh of frustration leaves my lips.

On this bright Sunday afternoon, the place is opened as well. Going here at night would only mean another trouble, so I've decided to come here at this hour -- I hope that this place is safer during the daytime.

With hesitance, I push through the door and travel my eyes around. Thankfully, the place isn't crowded like the last time I went here. It's rather deserted now.

I approach the bartender carefully, holding Cal's jacket in my arms. "Excuse me," I start. "Is Cal here? I forgot to return something to him."

The bartender stares at me for a while before her eyebrows shoot up. She then throws me a knowing look. "Ah, the girlfriend," her voice sounds mocking somehow. "He's upstairs at the studio. He didn't tell you?" There's a hint of sarcasm.

"Thanks," I say politely nonetheless, but while I'm about to continue my steps, she speaks again.

"You may not like what you'll find in there," she says, and when I stare at her in confusion, there's only a look of pity crossing her expression.

I frown, heading upstairs, just like she told me to. While I'm walking up the stairs, my gaze darts on the photos hanging on the wall showcasing various bands, among which are Nirvana and Guns n Roses.

I reach the second floor and notice how the corridor is dim-lit even though it's daytime. The tinted windows are all shut. The overall atmosphere of this place is still dark even in the middle of broad daylight.

So there's a music studio here above the bar downstairs. I guess that the band practices their songs here regularly.

Just when my legs lead me around the corner, I find a sight that makes my eyes widen in surprise. There before me, I see Cal leaning against the wall with a short-haired girl in his arms, shoving their tongues into each other's mouth.

Uh oh.

My pulse quickens as I abruptly hide behind the wall, placing my palm on my chest. Oh, God, what did I just see?

Come on, Mia. It's just two people making out. Your poor innocent eyes just have to get used to it.

"What are you gonna do later tonight, Cal?" the girl asks softly. "You're supposed to be free, right? There's no schedule for the band tonight."

"I don't know," Cal says. "I plan to work on some new songs. Who knows we may win the next gig."

The girl chuckles. "Come on," she teases, and I can imagine her pushing her body against his even though I'm not seeing it. "You can't possibly think that the band would make it that far with that kind of song. You take it too seriously when it comes to music. It's funny."

Silence creeps in, and I can only stand still against the wall uncomfortably.

"What?" the girl echoes while Cal doesn't say any word. She's talking as if it isn't a big deal.

My eyes drop to the jacket I'm holding. I should have just left it downstairs to the bartender. What am I doing here? It will be awkward if I just appear out of the blue.

But then, just after I walk away, I bump into something hard. My face collides with someone's chest, and I automatically step back. Ouch.

When I look up, my heart thuds. It's the lead guitarist.

His hair is different from the last time I saw him -- he now lets his bangs down, showing how messy it is but still not fully hiding his grey eyes, which darken the moment he sees me.

"Sorry," I say, and the way he gazes at me makes me shudder. His stare is cold, but there's slight interest sparkling in his eyes.

I hear footsteps coming closer to where I am. When I turn, Cal is already behind me, staring at the two of us. Behind him, the girl lets out an irritated scoff, crossing her arms on her chest as she shakes her head in disbelief.

"What are you doing here, Amelia?" His voice is stern, unlike the way he spoke to me yesterday.

Before I can answer him, he shifts his gaze to the guitarist again, who's still eyeing me with a look that makes goosebumps appear on my skin -- it's a mixture of coldness and something else. It makes me fear him even more.

Cal grabs my wrist and drags me away, while I struggle to keep up with his pace. When we land our feet on the ground floor at the bar, he lets go of my hand, facing me.

His jaw tightens. "You shouldn't be here."

Right. He has said that to me plenty of times, but, come on. If he'd reminded me to return his jacket before he left my house last night, I wouldn't have come here in the first place.

"I just want to return your jacket," I say, realizing that my voice isn't as friendly as it was when I talked to him yesterday, especially after he showed me just how much this situation is unpleasant for him.

His eyes drop to his jacket, and I hand it to him, more like pushing it toward his chest. "I'm sorry that I forgot to return it to you last night," I say. "I should go now."

Before Cal can respond to that, a high-pitched voice startles us.

"That's him! I told you. That's my brother!"

Both Cal and I turn our heads toward the source of the voice. The shout comes from a little girl, who stands next to the bar, pointing at Cal. The bartender snaps her head toward us. It seems like the little girl is trying to convince her.

Disbelief skates all over Cal's face. He looks even more shocked at what he just found before that expression is replaced by anger. I can even see his eyes burning.

"Jasmine?"

Cal strides toward the child, while I follow him slowly.

"God, what the hell are you doing here?" He sounds panic and definitely angry. "How did you go here? I told you not to come." He grabs her shoulders.

I study the girl, who looks like she's about to cry. She can't be older than ten. My mind recalls what she just said, that Cal was her brother.

This girl has dark skin, black eyes, and curly hair. She looks adorable, but she is nowhere reflecting Cal.

No one in this world would have thought that she was his sister, and maybe that was why the bartender couldn't believe her either.

"I took a cab and told the driver the name of the bar," she says, looking into his eyes, as if trying to make him understand what she's doing. "I used the money you gave me earlier."

"I told you to never come here, Jasmine. Why can't you understand that?" Cal's voice is laced with frustration as his chest heaves up and down. "This isn't a safe place for you."

"But you never want to show me. I just wanted to know where you work," the little girl insists. Her lips tremble as she speaks. "Why can't I be here if you are?"

Cal clenches his jaw. "We're not doing this," his voice is filled with implacable authority. "Go home, Jasmine."

"Then why can't you just come home with me?" she retorts, now looking just as pissed as he is.

Cal shuts his eyes in frustration and sighs. When he opens them again, sadness fills them. "I can't," he whispers, almost painfully. "I can't do that now, Jasmine. I still have works to do with my band this afternoon. They're upstairs, waiting for me."

"Well, then, why can't I watch what you guys are doing?" she asks desperately. "I promise I'll be good. I won't bother you." When Cal still doesn't approve, she clutches her hands into the front part of his t-shirt, shaking him. "Please. Please."

Cal shakes his head in disagreement. "No," he says firmly. "You can't. Just do what I said now. Go home."

Her eyes become glassy, and I can see how much she's trying to not burst into tears.

"Go home."