Meet Me Backstage

12. Unwritten

A/N: This is #2 of a two-part update today, so be sure to read Chapter 11 first!

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JACKS

I find myself preening in front of the mirror for the umpteenth time. When I'm alone in my hotel room, I usually just wear sweats or, honestly, nothing but my boxers, but I tried to wear something nice tonight for Skye. I opted for a navy blue henley and casual jeans, plus a beanie over my hair that's still drying from a shower.

I'm just glad I had a chance to wash up so I no longer have that toxic post-concert odor.

I bet that's something the groupies never consider until they get backstage.

I look at the time on my phone—Skye should be here any minute.

Why am I so nervous?

I just performed to a crowd of over 15,000 people, but being alone in a hotel room with Skye is the most terrifying thing I've done in ages. Plus, I told her she could pick the activity, so I have no idea what I'm in for.

My phone vibrates in my hand with a text from André.

André: Good luck Romeo ;)

I cock an eyebrow looking at the phone. I didn't even tell him she was coming over, so how did he find out?

The thought is interrupted by a soft knock at the door. As I walk over, I instinctively give my outfit a once-over and take a deep breath, then turn the handle.

The door opens to Skye in an oversized Rolling Stones t-shirt, black skinny jeans, and tennis shoes. She's smiling and holding a six-pack of beer.

This girl is perfect.

Deep down, I was kind of hoping that I'd get to know her and find out that the fantasy was better than the reality. But everything I learn about Skye makes me like her even more.

"Hey," I say, feeling a smile stretching across my face. "Come in. Make yourself at home."

She says hello and I step back and gesture into the suite. It's made of several rooms, but the main one is a living space with a long white sofa and a big-screen television. She sets the six pack, which oddly seems to be missing a bottle, on the coffee table and sits down.

"If your plan involves beer I'm liking it so far," I say with a laugh.

"How do you feel about a little beer and bad fanfiction?" She raises an eyebrow and smiles, pulling her phone out of her pocket and waving it in the air.

I can't help but laugh.

"You got me. Let's do it."

I grab a bottle opener from the wet bar and sit down on the armchair next to her. I pop open a bottle and pass it to her then open one for myself and take a sip.

"Okay, I found this list," she says, looking at her phone. "It says '10 Best Jackson Ford Fanfics' with about a million heart emojis next to it. Seems like a good place to start. I figure we read some descriptions, maybe dive into some random chapters if we're feeling bold."

"You've gotta start."

Her eyes widen.

"Heck no! Reading fanfiction to the person it's written about? No way, you at least have to go first and I need to finish this bottle before I even consider it."