The Tour. | +18 | BWWM

𝄞 05 | Here - Part 2

Upstairs at the party, it wasn't what I was expecting. Zoey introduces me to the last member of Team Pop standing next to her teammate, Brenda. The cloning was real because they had a sister quality with Camille. Blonde and somewhat petite builds.

"Robi is fine instead of Roberta," Robi says, cutting into Zoey's introduction with a smile. She has a good smile, warm and inviting, like she's just about to tell the best joke you ever heard. "They found me on twitch." She introduces herself the same way everyone else does. It's like a badge. I've done it so many times myself. Sabali, from YouTube, like it's the last name, not just where I post my song covers. I liked her though and as Zoey drifted away from me. Her dyed black hair disappeared around the corner.

The party atmosphere wasn't bad. Bodies close together, spilling out into the halls of the hotel. Even though there were no show reality TV cameras recording, it felt watched. God knows how many hidden streamer cameras were running. But how much could you see with so many bodies packed in?

A back bumps into me, and I stumble. I couldn't walk three steps without someone pushing me. We were packed into the penthouse, spilling out into the hall. With almost every person making some type of social media post saying they were at the party. That only made things worst and more packed in. I should be mingling. My head didn't hurt at all anymore, but it was so cramped it was hard to breathe.

I felt like a ghost walking through the people. I was an afterthought of their good time. A waiter in a suit and white tie walks by me with a drink tray and one cocktail left on it. A woman snags it. Tracking the waiter back to the bar, I follow him. At the bar go on tip-top watch for the top of Zoey's head. I bump into Kyle. Mid snap chat video. He pulls me into the frame of the iPhone camera for the TikTok.

"It's your boi, Kyle. Vote for me on The Tour.!" He pulls me in tighter to the shot. I sickly smile into the little phone camera. He brings the phone back to me, watching the video before he sends it without taking his hand from around my waist. I try my best not to sigh in frustration. Without an introduction, my guess is on Team Broadway from TikTok.

"Kyle?" I ask him.

"Yes?" He said.

"Hand?" I move my eyes to his hand at my waist. He grins like a little boy with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Oh," he laughs. He couldn't be more than seventeen, but it's not a huge age difference between us, damn he felt young. Twenty-one and seventeen weren't a difference; it was a blink of an eye. At the same time, when looking at his boy band's good looks. Puppy dog blue eyes and latest teenage dream boy hairstyle. He had that epic young about it. Yes, between us, it felt like miles of lived experience. He slips his phone into his back pocket.

"Have you ever been to anything like this before?" He waves at the barkeep. "Beer, and for...?"

"Water, with ice, please." I smile at the bartender as he gets the orders ready. He slides the beer over to Kyle and passes me the water with efficiency. "Thank you," I say to the bartender. Kyle takes his drink. "No, I've not been to too many parties in college. Nothing quite as tightly packed as this. What about you?"

"Yes, I've been to an event like this before. Paulie took me when he signed me to his label." Kyle said, running his hands through his hair. He gives me a little smile. His British accent was one of those schoolboy's British accents.

"I didn't know Paulie signed you." I thought everyone in the event was unsigned talent. That would make Kyle an industry plant.

Kyle gave me a knowing smile. And I knew in that second Kyle must be used to his good looks and accent working very well in the USA. He was the kind of guy that should have been on those 80s teen beat magazines. The kind they show in those famous music artist movies when they become stars. Whatever heartthrob combined with a fake article about how much he liked puppies. It probably worked really well on girls, combined with his British accent in America. I took a sip of my ice water.

"Just water?" He waves at the barkeep again and brings him over.

"Yep, just water. I was never a big fan of alcohol." Kyle attempts to pull off a cool guy mode as he takes a big gulp of his beer. His face scrunched up when he drank it. "Is it a little off?"

"Yeah," he coughs as he follows it with a tiny sip. "It's not my brand. Can I get a jager bomb?" That has to be one of the most obnoxious drinks known to mankind. He drinks it as crappy as his discarded beer from before. Kyle has want-to-be sexy droopy eyes and we exchange more small talk.

I've never been big on drinking. In college, when one of my classmates invited me to a party, I ended up becoming a sober driver. Then that sober driver title turns into wheels. Which turns into something even worse than wheels. They started calling me Wheelz with a Z. Adding a Z on anything makes it worse. The type of never showing your high school yearbook to anyone is kind of the worst. My college friends were busting my ass as friends do, but it was true. I'm just not that cool. The nerd in me is not the somewhat interesting black nerd part, but the true nerd in me is one hundred percent Wheelz.

Kyle leans into me, knocking over his discarded beer, and I move out of the way of the warm beer. The barkeep cleans up on the mess while shaking his head.

Behind him, I notice an Asher sandwich between four women. The little couch they are sitting on is practically overflowing.

A part of me expects a fan to jump out of nowhere to take pictures of him. I shouldn't be one to think that, as I'm the one checking out Asher's full creep mode from the bar. His eyes scan the room and they roll past me without really looking at me. Asher's agent Tucker hoovers off to the side. The two new women join the couch with Asher. It's now a full man hoagie of women encircling Asher. I snort at my joke.

"No, I'm serious." Huh? I totally missed what Kyle's question was.

"Sorry, I missed that," I ask?

"Would you like to go to my room?" He pulls his keycard from his pocket.

"Shit," this kid is going to get me arrested. "Wait, you're 17 right?"

"Yes," he answers sullenly.

How in the hell do I let him down? It's like kicking a puppy. "I'm twenty-one in college. I don't think it would be appropriate for a person my age to..." I'm really fucking this up. "Listen, the issue here isn't you, it's me. I think you're really cool." Kyle walks away from me through the crowd.

I try to catch up to him. I want to fix things but I don't know-how. We're not on the same team, but I'd hate for things to be weird and awkward. I take a turn through the crowd. Through two doors as I attempt to catch up to Kyle, the crowd thins. I try to spot the top of his blonde hair as it goes through another set of doors.

But he's gone, lost him.

I head back to my room. Maybe Zoey is back and she can drive my car back home. This day has been so insane. I don't need a hotel room because I live locally. Maybe I should return it. But it's really close to the arena. If it wasn't night and I didn't promise to drive. I'd go the blocks to the arena and drive my car home. The card slides into the keycard and I go through the door.

My hand presses against the connecting door, pushing it open.

"Hey Zoey, can you drive my car home?"

"Shit, Sabali!" Zoey was kissing a blonde woman. At least that is what it looked like but didn't fully process. I really didn't want to process it. Heat explodes on the back of my neck. I step backward, slam the door shut.

"Shit, sorry, Zo!" I head for the elevator.

A/n: I think my post day is going to be Friday :). ty for sticking with me. Tomorrow is my birthday so that means you totally have to share the story, favorite, tell a friend and all that jazz. Take care, yall are my kinda people :).