Unpredictable

2

There's no way. But there he is, Luke Hemmings, in a gray hoodie, tight black skinny jeans, black Converse, and a hat pushed over his messy hair. Wow. I realize I'm staring and whip my head back around just as he looks up from his feet. I imagine the last thing he wants right now is some crazy girl drooling on the ground he walks on. But hell, I'm about to. He looks HOT.

The man in front of me finishes his order and I step up to the counter. I quietly ask for a large black coffee, suddenly feeling awkward. I'm super aware of his presence behind me, and he has absolutely no clue who I am. The barista hands me my drink and I quickly walk over to a table. I hear footsteps approaching behind while I'm taking my backpack off. I turn around and he's right there. Oh my god. I mentally tell myself not to be ridiculous. I've never had a problem talking to guys, and now is definitely not the time to start.

He's standing three feet away with one hand wrapped around a coffee cup and one hand adjusting his hat. "Hey," he smiles. "You were at the show last night, right?"

Wait what? I'm shocked, literally. I'm pretty sure my heart has stopped beating for a solid 10 seconds. "Uhhh yeah." Jesus. I hate myself. I actually hate myself.

He smiles a goofy grin and I internally cringe. I hate myself. "You looked like you were having fun. Your moves were great," he smirks, his accent incredibly thick.

I blush, flashing back to my awful dancing at the concert last night. It seemed fun then, but now I'm just embarrassed. I'm totally shocked that he actually saw me surrounded by all the other gorgeous, screaming girls. I just stand there looking like an absolute idiot while he gives me a funny look, eyebrows scrunched together.

"I'm Luke," he says, extending his hand.

I stare at the gesture for a second before mentally kicking myself. After a few extremely long moments, I extend my hand. A shock of electricity runs up my arm and I jerk my hand away. "I...I'm Sailer," I stutter.

"I'm sorry, I missed that," he says, giving me a friendly smile. Of course he didn't hear me. I, in all my glorious star-struck splendor, am practically whispering. I take a deep breath and tell myself to get it together. He's just a normal guy and I need to chill.

I gather some courage and meet his eyes. "I'm Sailer," I repeat.

"Nice to meet you, Sailer," he smiles. "If you don't mind me asking, what the hell are you doing at this place on a Saturday night.

"Just trying to get some work done. I skipped the party," I say.

"Me too, actually. The other guys are all out at some club, but I'm just not feeling it. We're here in LA for awhile and one of the managers recommended this place. It's perfect to get away from the crazy," he says, looking out the window.

"Well don't let me bother you," I say, pulling my chair out.

"Trust me, you're not. You're the first fan in 11 months who hasn't asked me for a picture. I love the fans, but damn, it's stressful," he sighs. "Actually, I was going to suggest sharing a table. We can have our own party," he smiles.

All of the little confidence I gained just went out the window. He wants to share a table?! There is no way I can possibly focus with him sitting across from me. "Sure," I say, sitting down in my chair. Dammit Sailer.

He walks around the table and sets down a notebook I failed to notice and his coffee before pulling out a chair of his own. "So Sailer, what are you working on?" he questions, taking in the textbook I laid on the table.

"Studying for a test," I say.

"Where do you attend university?" he asks.

I smile at his use of the word "university." "I'm a freshman," I tell him. "Pre-med. I want to be a pediatrician, work with kids."