just didn’t know it yet.
“Let me introduce you to Liz—” I said, turning a bit so I could get her attention, but he stopped me. His hand was still holding mine as well—snug but not tight.
“No, I wanted to meet you .” If this guy hadn’t been so disarmingly hot, I might have found his insistent attention a bit creepy.
I swallowed. Part of me was quite intrigued and titillated while part of me was a bit uneasy, but I ignored that part. I blame that on my youth— and beer . “Okay.” I smiled, wondering why he was so fascinated by me .
“I’d love to talk to you alone—where it’s not so loud.” I cocked an eyebrow. “Just you and me.”
“Okay.”
“I’m one of the managers here, so I’ll be able to find just the spot.”
I considered it for another second. It was flattering for someone to be fixated on me instead of the band as a whole…or Barbie as the frontwoman…or Liz as the songwriter. I didn’t mind attention for the whole band; it was important and I was a part of it, but it did all kinds of things for my ego to have that attention on me and me alone. I nodded and, when he held out his arm, elbow out (very gentlemanly), I placed my arm in his and let him lead me out of the room through the bodies sandwiched inside. It was probably a fire hazard to have all those people in there, but I wasn’t going to say a word. I was looking around for a place to set my beer, but he said, “You can bring that with you.”
I smiled and nodded. Okay, so this guy was all right. When we left the room and moved into the large corridor, I let out a long sigh. I hadn’t realized how stuffy it had been in there until we left. It was noisier in the large hallway, though, because the music from Fluidity onstage wasn’t being filtered by an additional door. They sounded great.
But we walked clear down the hall until we got near an exit. The door was open, blowing in cool October air, and I saw several guys out there smoking. Seeing them, I wondered how we’d managed to get away with smoking in that little room where we’d been, or maybe those guys just wanted an excuse for fresh air.
Eddie turned and unlocked a door to the left. The door had a nameplate that indicated he was the “Events Manager.” His office was much like the room we’d been in—no windows, white walls that didn’t quite look colorless under the fluorescent lights, and small, but there weren’t thirty people crammed in here, so that helped. He had a desk with a computer and a small bookshelf behind it. There were two chairs across from his desk and then, up against the other wall, was a weight machine—Soloflex or Bowflex or something like that. It was then that I realized he did seem to have a pretty solid body. Hmm.
“We can sit down if you want.”
I nodded. I was feeling pretty light after all the beer I’d consumed, and sitting would help me stay upright. Mostly.
I couldn’t remember how the conversation had started, but he asked, “How long you been playin’ like that?”
“What? The guitar?”
“Yeah.”
I shrugged. I probably didn’t do modest very well, but I felt like it was important to try. Hell, yeah, I was proud of my accomplishments thus far and I definitely felt like I had a right to be, but that was no reason to come off as egotistical or full of myself. That certainly wouldn’t endear me to anyone, and I knew it because I was put off by big egos myself. Let your work speak for itself—don’t be a jackass full of hot air.
Still…yes. That was a hard thing to do at the tender age of seventeen, but I tried.
“Since I was twelve. Well…I’m sure my playing wasn’t that great then , but learning to play opened up a whole new world to me. I didn’t know it was a passion until I did it, but—the whole world just kind of floats away when I’m playing that thing.”
He brought his hand up to my face, pushing the hair