"Wow," Jules commented, as she grabbed my elbow and pulled me through the crowd, toward the bar across the room.
"You can say that again." I answered, giggling nervously. I'd never in my life, been in a room with a famous person, but there must have been hundreds of them there. Not just musicians, but models, actors¸ and reality stars. "Is that Adam Levine?" My mouth dropped open, when I saw him walk through the crowd and head toward the bar on the far side of the room.
"Where?"
"There." I pointed across the room, where I could only see the back of his head now.
"Come on. Let's go say hello. Maybe I can get another signature. I still have room on my right boob!"
"Jules! Have a little respect and class. This is a label party, not some sleazy bar," I told her.
"Peyton, You know I love you, right?"
"Yes, and I love you too, but . . ."
"No buts! You may choose to live under a rock, but not me. You can either walk over there with me or stay here and blend into the ugly wallpaper."
I took a seat at the bar. "I'll wait here. Knock yourself out, but when he slaps a restraining order on your ass and you need bail money, I'm going to pretend that I don't even know you." She rolled her eyes at me, hurried across the room, and disappeared into the crowd.
"What can I get for you, sweetheart?" The guy behind the bar asked, flashing his bright smile, which revealed two adorable dimples. I gave him a warm smile of my own.
"I’d like a Jack and Coke, please."
"Make that two. Hold the Coke on one of those." My whole body flushed with heat and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up, at the sound of his husky voice near my ear. A tattooed arm pressed against the bar, before he lowered himself onto the vacant stool next to me.
"How'd you like the show?" His blue eyes danced with amusement. Damn. He just screamed sex!
"It was okay." I said, trying to hide my smile. There's no way in hell that I'd ever admit that I’d just become a huge fan.
"I see, you're just here for your friend, right?" He looked at the surrounding area and people around us. "Your invisible friend? Let me guess, you had imaginary friends when you were a child and it followed you into adult hood." He laughed. "You know, there are therapist for that sort of thing. I'm sure it's some kind of disorder, I just can't think of what it is at the moment." He grinned and I couldn't help but laugh.
"I really am here with my friend and she just happens to have your name written on a very intimate area of her body," I responded with a smirk.
"Well now, that could be any number of women in this room. You'd be surprised at the areas on the body we're asked to sign," he admitted, with no shame and a devilish smile on his too handsome face.
"Why didn't you tell me who you were in the hallway earlier? I feel so stupid for not recognizing you. I thought you were just a fan about to enter the pits of hell in that room." I laughed and he scrunched up his nose.
"It's kind of nice sometimes, to meet someone who doesn't recognize me. I could have stood in that crowded dark hallway and talked to you for hours about nothing. Don't get me wrong, I love . . . we love our fans, but sometimes they can get a bit crazy. Don’t even get me started on trying to walk down the street. I swear to God, that if I picked my nose right now, it'd be on social media within seconds!"
"Ewe! I did not need that image in my brain. But, wait, let me get out my phone just in case," I laughed, and pointed my phone in his direction.
"Peyton! That was not Adam Levine, but guess who it . . ." Jules froze mid-sentence when she recognized the sexy, tattooed man sitting next to me at the bar.
"You're Levi Cross!" She stated, only in a high pitch voice, before placing her hand on his bicep. His blue eyes moved to her hand and then back up to her excited green ones. He smiled.
"Yes, I am, and you are the friend, I take it." He looked at me and winked. I mouthed the word ‘sorry.’
"Yes, I'm Peyton's friend, Jules. Not Julie, just Jules."
"Well, just Jules. It's been awesome meeting you." He looked at her hand on his bicep again and she took the hint, dropping her hand to her side.
"So . . . if that wasn't Adam Levine, who was it?" I asked, trying to pull her attention from Levi.
"That's what I came over here to tell you. It was Marcus Little from 'Satan's Fire! And look . . ." She pulled down the neck of her shirt to reveal, sure enough, another name scrawled onto her right breast. Levi snorted from beside me, but Jules was too wasted to notice. "Anyway, he asked me to hang out with him, so I'm gonna do that. I just didn't want you to worry."
"Are you sure that's such a good idea? You don't know these people, or the kinds of things they're into." I leaned in close, so that only she could hear. "Do you really want to hang out with Marcus, when Levi Cross is sitting right here? Isn't he the whole reason you wanted to be here?" She looked over to where Levi was twisting his glass of Jack on the bar top. "Nah . . . you can have him. Marcus is way more fun!" And, with that, she disappeared into the crowd.
"Well, I can honestly say that I've never heard that one before," he responded, and quirked a brow.
"What?" I asked.
"That I'm no fun. That hurts you know? Right here." He placed a tattooed hand over his heart.
"Don't pay any attention to my friend. She's drunk and besides, the whole reason she wanted to come tonight was you. After she won those tickets, she hasn't stopped talking about you for days. I'm sure she'll be back around shortly, so don't say I didn't warn you," I explained.
"I’m not interested in your friend," he responded, and I flushed when he pinned me with those deep pools of blue.
"Well . . . just tell her that you've got a girlfriend and she'll leave you alone. That's one thing about . . ." He placed his finger over my lips to silence me, and leaned a little closer into my space.
"I'm interested in you, Peyton." A slow smile curled his lips, as he continued pin me with his gaze.
I swallowed hard and said, "I don't date rock stars. Been there, and done that; didn’t work out well." I still had the scars to prove it.
"You can't really compare us all to whoever the douche bag was that you dated. Some of us are good guys, you know." Something like hurt flashed in his eyes, and for a moment, I almost felt sorry for him.
"Like I said, I don't date people in the music industry." He watched me intently, as if he was rolling something over in his mind, and then he smiled, those blue eyes sparkling.
"What about friends? Is there anything in your little rule book that says you can't be my friend?" A lock of blond hair fell onto his forehead and my fingers itched to reach out and brush it away.
"What exactly would being your friend consist of? Because, if we were to do things as friends, I have a few rules of my own."
"I see." He lifted two fingers to the bartender, a signal for two more drinks. When they were delivered, he said . . .
"Why don't we go sit outside on the patio, so we can discuss the friend rules." He winked at me, and a tingle traveled down my spine.
I didn't know if I was capable of being just a friend, but then I reminded myself of what happened in my last relationship. My stomach bunched into a painful knot. I definitely had to keep him in the friend zone.