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“I thought this place was supposed to be low key!” I shouted towards Liv. She was a few steps behind me, but with the noise in here she would’ve had a hard time hearing me if she’d been on my lap. I pushed my elbow out to the side, connecting with the stomach of a girl who didn’t look old enough to even be in the building.

She scowled at me. I scowled back.

I would have bet money that this bar was currently in violation of about a hundred different fire safety laws. A mostly (very young) twenties crowd, consisting of a majority of females, were crammed into every available inch of floor space. Liv had told me that she heard from a friend of hers that this particular bar was known for its laid back vibe and really good, cheap drinks.
I couldn’t speak for the drinks, as I’d yet to even make it to the bar, but I would call this atmosphere opposite of laid back.

A couple more strategically placed elbows and we finally made it to the bar. Despite the crowd, the amount of people waiting for drinks was minimal. One did have to be 21 to order a drink in America, and I didn’t see too many women who looked over that. Which, after placing my order for two Tom Collins’ (I wasn’t about to fight that group again if I didn’t have to), realization hit me hard. Turning to Liv, I poked her hard in the shoulder a couple of times to get her attention.

“Where are they?!” I yelled.

She used her hands to try to tell me that she couldn’t hear me, but I was calling bullshit.

“Cut the crap, Liv. I’m on to you!” I pointed my finger at her.

The only reason for there to be this many underage girls, all in one place, with only a few guys sprinkled into the mix, this close to the stadium, was for one or more members of a certain pop group to also be in attendance.

Liv pretended to zip her lips closed and throw away the key.

I scanned the audience closely. I knew they couldn’t be in the back right corner; there was a lot of empty space surrounding those tables. Too much space for teeny boppers to give their idols. They wouldn’t be stupid enough to put themselves front and center, in the middle of the main floor, even if they had more than enough security. I’d seen some of those girls and I had no doubt that they would gouge an eye out to get to the boy they’d deemed their soulmate. That only left one other option.

The left corner was elevated slightly, with a few carpeted steps leading up to a small platform. At the edge of the top step stood three men who looked better suited for playing linebackers in the NFL than guarding a couple of boys. I watched silently as a woman, who’d clearly had a bit of liquid courage, tried to squeeze her way between two of the men.

The shorter of the two wrapped his arms around her torso, lifted her feet off the ground, and walked her to the bottom of the steps. He said a few choice words, before resuming his place and whispering to the guy beside him.

I stared at the space behind the guards, seeing a shadow move slightly before stepping into the light. The minute the girls could see his face, they erupted into high pitched squeals and excited chatter.

My hands flew to cover my ears.

Harry flicked his head quickly to the side, offering us the option of joining them upstairs. Turning around to face Liv, she was already nodding. Apparently I was destined to spend two nights in a row in the company of a cheeky pop star.

It was a madhouse trying to get any one of the girls to move enough to let us through. And when the guards scooted out of the way to let us through, there was an obvious uproar behind us.

I’m pretty sure I even saw an older lady stomp her foot and complain that she was all the woman they’d ever need, if the men would just let her through. I rolled my eyes and fought the urge to turn and tell the woman to go find some class.

The second I stood face-to-face with those sparkling emerald eyes, I had a flashback of having to convince myself that kissing him was a very bad idea. Sober me and drunk me were at least on the same page as far as this issue was concerned: sober Harry and drunk Harry were equally delicious.

“You following me, poptart?” I challenged.

“Hardly, cupcake.” He was fighting back a grin. Grabbing his phone out of the back pocket of his skinny black jeans, he turned it towards me, the screen lighting up the top half of my face.



“Liv told you to be here?!” I screeched. I wasn’t surprised to find Liv not behind me at all, but occupied in a corner with one of Harry’s band mates. She’d always had a (not so) secret thing for Liam. I could only hope that he was the one helping take her mind off her sinking ship of a marriage.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming to the show?”

Apparently he was going to answer my question with a question.

“Why did you care if I was going to be here or not?” I shot back.

“Did you wear that low cut tank top on purpose?”

“Is it working?”

“You think you’re clever, don’t you?” With every question Harry fired off, he stepped an inch or two closer.

“Why didn’t you just text me if you wanted to see me again?”

“Why didn’t you leave me your number?” He had moved close enough that the end of his nose would brush against mine every time he breathed in and out. “How was I supposed call you without it?”

“You weren’t.” I answered, calmly. He didn’t move; he didn’t flinch; he just stood there. Every inch of his nearly six foot frame pouring out pure man vibes. Maybe Liv had been right after all. Maybe this boy wasn’t nearly as boyish as I’d hoped.

It sure would be a lot easier to convince myself that I wanted to say no if he was.

“Harold!” A deep voice boomed from behind us, breaking us both out of the trance we’d put on each other. “We’re moving this party back to the hotel. You two coming?”

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Notes

The story between Harry and Logan is about to get more interesting!

As a quick warning, some of the upcoming chapters will contain sexual content. If that's not something you enjoy reading, I'm letting you know now. :)