“Yeah, I kind of panicked!”
“Um, okay?”
The seconds ticked by awkwardly.
“Zoey, can I get your number?” I blurted out suddenly, thrusting my phone at her.
“Um. Okay.” She typed in her number quickly and handed it back to me, watching me read what she’d typed.
“Why Z not Zoey?” I clicked dial and she picked up.
“You’re clearly gonna be a huge rock star, it won’t be good for your stud reputation to have a bunch of girl’s names in your contacts. Better to be stealth.” She sank back in the seat and saved my number into her own contacts.
“I’m not that way, I don’t ask for numbers. I can promise you that.” She blinked, her long lashes, dark against her gorgeous hazel eyes. I was overwhelmed by how beautiful this girl was. “God, you’re so fucking gorgeous. Your eyes are amazing.”
“Wow, thank you. You’re fucking gorgeous too.” The sides of her lips quirked up.
“Oh, what’s your Instagram? My band’s really into social.” I handed my phone back to her.
She grasped it in her tiny, perfect hand, nails painted shiny black, and pulled up her Instagram and clicked follow. “Why me? You could have anyone you wanted, you are—”
“Into you. Big time. I’m pretty sure you’ve ruined me for anyone else,” I cut her off with another cheesy line.
God I’m so bad at this.
Trying to recover, I took my phone back and glanced at her Instagram account, which had a fresh post of her with the rock horns.
“Zoey Pearson, huh? Cute video.” I smiled and reached over to gently tuck a piece of wild blonde hair behind her ear. “How old are you anyway, Zoey Pearson?”
“Seventeen,” she sighed, sucking on her lower lip, which sent electric currents straight to my groin. “I’ll be eighteen in two weeks. How old are you?”
“Twenty-one,” I sighed back and inwardly groaned. Damn. She was too young. We sat in silence for a minute.
“Hmm, that scared look on your face says everything,” she sort of questioned, one eyebrow raised. “You think I’m too young.”
“Maybe. A little bit. I mean, you’re a lot younger than me. I wouldn’t ever take advantage of you, so I guess we could be friends. I’m not a creeper.”
Fuck.
“You want to be friends? Or FWB?” Zoey’s sweet, melodic voice teased. “Seriously, I don’t think you’re a creeper, Ty. My folks will probably be cool, it’s only a couple of weeks and I’m going to college in a couple of months.” She smiled and tentatively reached down and traced the top of my hand. “I’d really like to hang out with you. Do you genuinely want to hang out with me?”
“I really do.” Staring at where she was tracing, I turned my hand over and marveled at how little she was compared to me, her fingers only reached the first digit of mine. Clasping our fingers together, I held her hand tightly as I sank farther into the seat and grinned like an idiot. As scared as I was earlier, the thing between us was easy and comfortable, yet crackling with electricity. I felt like I had known her for a long time, not just for an hour. “Hopefully once you get to know me, you won’t find me too boring.”
“Oh my God, are you kidding me? You’re already the least boring person I’ve ever met. I can’t even believe you’re here with me right now. LTZ has thousands of fans because your music is so badass. Exceedingly badass.” She looked at me with that one eyebrow raised again, so adorable. “But, in case I wasn’t clear at the club, I’m not a band groupie type, so if this is some sort of conquest game you’re playing, I’m not your girl.”
Watching her as she was animatedly speaking, I saw myself through her eyes and I liked being that man for her. Plus, the groupie comment was music to my ears.
“Zoey, I’m going to confess something to you.” I took a deep breath. “I know I was just on stage, but it’s probably pretty apparent that I’m, well, socially awkward when I’m not singing and playing music.”
“No way. C’mon, you had so many women waiting for you after the show, you could have had anyone.” Zoey cocked her head, looking at me intently, which should have made me even more nervous, but instead it felt very playful and flirty.
“Lovely Zoey, I sang to you the entire show, and you barely even looked at me. You were dancing and into the music, and my God—look at you—I had to meet you, even if I was petrified,” I explained as honestly as I could, hoping I didn’t sound pathetic while she considered what I was saying. “Music is the one thing I can do really well. I’m shit at talking to pretty girls.”
My mind felt like a rapid-fire machine gun of competing thoughts as I looked at her, my eyes searching hers. Did she feel what I felt? Should I kiss her or abort the mission? God, she smelled amazing.
I squeezed my eyes closed and took a deep breath. My life depended on being in the recording studio all summer and touring during the fall and winter to build up our fan base. It was the worst timing ever to start something up with Zoey. A friggin’ high school girl. Despite what my head was saying, the unexplained deep gut feeling that I could see into her soul and she could see into mine was so overwhelming and powerful, the next thing I knew my lips were firmly pressed against hers.
She hummed against my mouth and kissed me back. Holy shit, did she kiss me back. Encouraged, I deepened our kiss and our tongues touched tentatively. I buried my hands in her mane of hair and held her face, my thumbs stroked her cheeks. She opened her mouth farther and we explored, stroked, and tasted each other. Kissing her was everything, and it was like nothing I’d ever experienced. She mewled like a kitten stretching
