Chapter 3
There are at least thirty people waiting for the band at the entrance of the venue’s alley. I hope to squeeze in and meet every band member before they are whisked away to their next destination, but if I only speak to Sully then that is still a win in my book.
People around us clutch magazines, posters, and records for them to sign. I dig out the album artwork I carefully put in my purse and hold it along with my new setlist.
Alice chuckles, hitting my shoulder with hers. “Of course you brought something for them to sign.”
“Girl Scouts taught me to always be prepared,” I joke, pulling out a black Sharpie from the back pocket inside my purse. “This isn’t my first meet-and-greet.”
“Most people read or sew as a hobby. Then there’s you and concerts. I hope he’s not a jerk. You know what they say about meeting your idols.”
“What do you mean?” I’m honestly puzzled.
“Sorry to be a downer, but everyone knows Sully usually brushes fans off. He barely signs anything and never smiles for photos.”
“Oh…yeah.” I bite the inside of my cheek.
My brain must have shoved that fact into a box and hid it from me.
But Alice is right. Sully is wonderful on stage, but stiff as a board and cold as ice in person.
People say he’s like a robot, with no moving facial features, and doesn’t like to talk much to fans.
In my concert-going lifetime, I’ve met super sweet musicians who ask you questions and wrap an arm around your shoulders for a photo, and I’ve met the don’t-look-at-me-I’m-only-here-because-I-have-to-be rock stars. You’d think the latter would chase off their fans, but it rarely does.
Fans have a way of turning famous people into gods in their minds. Not me. But it will be a crushing blow to have the man featured in my dreams brush me off as another face in the crowd. Or worse, he drifts by and ignores me altogether.
Fear closes my airway just as I catch the back door of the venue opening. My thoughts die because all four members of Scarlet Failure walk out together.
People swarm each person, thrusting things to sign and smiling for selfies.
Charlotte stands closest to me, and I’m about to hand her my setlist when a girl around my age steals her attention. They take a few pictures, and then the girl gives Charlotte a colorful beaded friendship bracelet she made and explains how their music saved her life and goes into this whole story.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for her, but there are a lot of people wanting to speak to Charlotte, and a woman, who I'm guessing is their manager, is leaning against the building, looking annoyed and sighing as she looks at her watch.
The girl wraps up her story and hugs Charlotte. It’s finally my turn, and I hand Charlotte my album cover and setlist. She signs them, and says, “Thank you so much for coming. I hope you enjoyed the show.”
“It was great. One of the best concerts I’ve seen in a while,” I reply, before raising my phone and snapping a selfie with her.
“That’s wonderful,” she says, smiling at me before shifting her attention to Alice.
I use Charlotte as my buffer to get over my jitters before walking toward Sully and asking for his autograph.
My nerves coil tighter with every step. He’s signing a magazine cover for an older guy, but his gaze keeps darting to the tour bus like he’s ready to escape at any second.
I swallow hard, pushing down the anxiety creeping up my throat, and wait for my chance to step in.
The man thanks Sully and pats his arm. Sully stiffens instantly, his whole body going rigid, as if the touch burned him.
Another girl jumps in to meet Sully as I gather my strength to approach him.
My heart flips seeing her glossy lips mouthing things.
But I can’t make out her words because I’m staring at Sully.
His jaw clenches as he lazily signs her magazine.
As she babbles on, he “hmms” but doesn’t reply with words.
The girl then dares to shrug her band tee down her shoulder and ask Sully to sign her collarbone so she can have his autograph tattooed.
He signs her skin with a quick signature and pays more attention putting the cap on the marker than he did her plunging neckline.
She asks for a selfie. She makes a kissy face and he looks uncomfortable, mouth closed, his eyes unfocused.
I notice she’s touching his back, but he’s not touching her at all.
His hand is open and he is holding it out so anyone can see his palm.
The girl thanks him and wanders off to stand under a street light to take a selfie of her autographed flesh.
Then Sully looks at me and it’s like the entire world stops.
Silly I know. But honestly, did God accidentally hit the pause button?
Because everything is frozen in place when Sully waves me over.
My brain disconnects. I’m on system failure.
My thoughts drift away, and all I can do is lift my arm to hand him my setlist and album artwork.
“Hello,” he says in a husky voice, brushing a loose piece of dark hair from his forehead before taking and signing the setlist and album artwork. His ocean eyes never leave mine.
Thankfully, my five-foot-six height gives me a perfect look at his six-foot-two body, but my eyes lock on his perfectly shaped lips.
What do they taste like? I shake off the thought. This is no place to fangirl.
“Can I have a picture too?” I find my voice. It’s hoarse, almost a whisper.
“How about a hug first?” he says in his seductive, panty-dropping foreign accent.
All I can do is nod before his strong arms wrap around my waist. I was wrong before; this is what heaven feels like.
I inhale his spicy scent of sweat mixed with body spray and peppermint.
It’s now forever my standard of how every guy I hug needs to smell.
My arms wrap around his torso, and the heat of his body against mine sends shivers dancing along my spine. The touch of his muscles moving under my fingertips, his hard chest pressed against my breasts, it’s all too overwhelming.
What’s going on? He never hugs people. At least I’ve never heard about it, and I’m in a lot of fan groups online.
“I was staring at you all night. You had such a lovely smile when I gave you that pick,” he says into my hair as he releases his hold on me.
“Oh?” I say, losing my balance, and he saves me from falling backward and breaking my tailbone on the asphalt.
“Careful,” he says, a small grin flashing across his face. One blink, and it’s gone. “What’s your name?”
Every word I have ever known falls out of my head, leaving me dumbstruck. Starstruck.
My mouth goes bone-dry, and my tongue feels like a useless weight, heavy and uncooperative. Alice comes to my rescue, standing behind me. “She’s Veronica, and I’m Alice.”
Sully doesn’t look at her. His eyes stay only on me. The fear of something on my face crosses my mind. Do I have a zit between my eyebrows? Is my makeup messed up? Why is he staring at me like that?
I don’t know what to say or do. Honestly, I want to run away so I can scream my lungs out and do a little happy dance. Sully Graham hugged me! I saw him smile!
Then my dark thoughts flood in and ruin my joy. He probably says that to all the girls he wants to screw. A few words to make the fans blush and giggle. To keep them happy and coming back for more.
And yet…what if he doesn’t? What if he means it? After all, Sully wasn’t interested in the fangirl he met before me. And he’s never seen with anyone…publicly.
Sully’s warm hand on my arm pulls me back to reality. I can’t believe this is actually happening. “Veronica, what a gorgeous name. It suits you.” His voice is rich and velvety, its quiet warmth brushing over me like a soft caress.
Heat creeps up my neck and floods my cheeks. I lower my head, letting my hair fall like a shield. “Thanks,” I manage to say, my throat tight and uncooperative. I try to swallow my nerves, but they sit heavy in my chest, making it hard to breathe.
He reaches forward, tipping my chin with his long, slender fingers. “Don’t hide your pretty face from me. I want to see those dazzling green eyes. Let’s take that picture now.”
A spark ignites beneath my skin the moment he touches me, a heat that lingers even as his hand pulls away too soon. The loss of his touch carves deeper into the emptiness inside me, widening the hollow ache in my chest.
“Yes.” I thrust my phone at Alice, the sudden movement catching her off guard. She flinches, barely managing to catch it before it slips from her hands.
Sully drapes his arm over my shoulders, and it takes everything in me to keep from slipping back into the out-of-body experience like before during the show.
I don’t want to push this feeling off as a dream.
I want to remember every damn second. How the weight of his arm feels around my shoulders.
The way he smells and his warmth seeps into my bloodstream.
The way my heart summersaults. The way that his dimples deepen with his heart-stopping smile.
Yes, another smile! Did I win the lottery?
My usual celebrity crushes aren’t this intense. But my usual crushes don’t wrap their strong arms around me and say sweet things.
Alice snaps some pictures and hands the phone back to me. My bubble of perfect pops.
“Alright. We need to get out of here,” the stern woman who was leaning against the wall says. A black limo pulls up. Charlotte, Ben, and Lars wave their goodbyes to the remaining fans and climb into the car.
Sully steals my phone and types something into it before giving it back. “We’re staying local tonight. Text me. I’ll be up. I never sleep after a show.” He jogs to the limo before that woman snaps again.
Alice grabs my wrist and pulls my phone closer to her face. “Holy shit. Did you get a rock star’s number without trying?”
I glance at my phone and see his name and number. “Looks like it.” I shove my phone into my bra and bite my lip to keep myself from shrieking in joy. “Let’s go home.”
My best friend hooks her arm with mine as we walk toward our car. “And to think all this happened because of me.” She bumps her hip with mine. “The universe told me we had to be here. My Tarot cards are never wrong.”
“Yeah,” I say. Honestly, I’m still in shock. I open my photos and stare at Sully and me smiling on the screen. Alice’s voice and the radio turn into a low hum as I zoom in on Sully’s face. He’s leaning into me, and it’s like we’re friends or maybe something more.
Part of me wants to share the picture everywhere, to prove Sully can smile, and he did so for me. But then I want to keep it hidden. A secret treasure for my eyes only.
Do I have the nerve to speak to him? To say more words than, “Can I have a photo?” I have no idea.
Sure, I’ve met famous people before, but it’s always in a quick blur.
The problem is, whenever someone I’m crushing on gets too close, my nerves go haywire, and my tongue feels like a heavy, useless lump in my mouth.
And yet…I’d do almost anything for Sully to flash his grin at me one more time, to hear him say my name in that sexy German accent, to inhale his spicy scent again, just to make sure my brain remembers it correctly.
Maybe earn another hug. But the memories of my messy, very public breakup still linger like an unwanted shadow, holding me back.
I’m not ready to let anyone in—not yet. Still, how many times does your crush want to see you again before it becomes impossible to ignore?
I bite my lip, staring at his number. The possibilities are endless, if only I could force myself to hit the message button.