My Rockstar's World

Chapter 2

Stumbling out of our Uber, we both thank our driver before breaking back out into laughter as we make our way to the line. I always wonder if Uber drivers judge us or listen in to our conversations at all. Honestly, they're probably so used to overhearing random drunk shit that it doesn't even phase them at this point.

Although, I'd be worried I'd start laughing way too easily at the things people talk about if I was the one driving. A huge shout out to our driver Brandon for being way more put together than me.

At least we've been to this venue, Crimson Core, before, so we're not completely helpless finding the entrance. I've been to other places that make it like a whole maze to find the entrance. They're out here sending us on a whole side quest to locate the door and the line. You'd think hundreds of people arriving to the same location would be easy to spot, but I have literally no sense of direction.

Thankfully, we don't have to worry about that tonight. And, we don't even have to wait in the longer line, since we splurged on our VIP meet-and-greet tickets. I'm still in absolute shock that we're going to meet Bawdy tonight.

I want the night to go by fast so I can get to meeting him, but I also want this night to last forever. Fuck, I just want him.

Kennedy pulls me out of my spiraling train of thoughts, and I pull up my ticket on my phone. Security pats us down and puts on our wristbands, and we're good to go.

After getting a drink and some more shots throughout the openers, I'm more than ready for Bawdy to start performing. Luckily, the VIP section is barricaded off to easily fit a few rows of people in front of the left half of the stage. We're able to move around and don't have to fight for our lives to be right by the rail.

All of a sudden, the lights dim, and the sound of a guitar starts playing. The crowd erupts into a roar as a spotlight shoots onto the stage revealing the one and only, Bawdy.

Will Bawdler. Bawdy. The world doesn't deserve someone so perfect.

I swear every time I see him, he gets hotter. Finally being so close to the stage, I can really take in all of him.

Standing well over six feet tall, he fills the stage not only with his size but also with his talent. It feels wrong that someone with such perfect looks also is one of the most talent musicians I've ever heard.

"LA! What the fuck is up!" He shouts as he reaches the microphone stand in the middle of the stage.

His dark brown hair almost looks black in the stage lighting. As he looks around the cheering crowd, bits of his shaggy hair fall onto his face, and he brushes it back with a smooth swoop of his right hand, drawing attention to his muscular arm filled with intricate black tattoos.

I'm not typically a tattoo person, but his look good. They look so good. It's not a huge blaring sleeve, but instead he has many tiny tattoos spread along his arm.

As he begins to play his first song, I start to wonder if his tattoos continue onto other parts of his body. I want to trace them with my fingers, examining each one and see if they lead elsewhere.

In a tight black v-neck t-shirt, I'm able to easily make out the outline of his abs, especially when he moves his guitar around to his back to just sing. My weakness in life truly is a man with abs. He could tell me to get down on my hands and knees and bark like a dog and I would. No hesitation.

Looking to my right, girls are screeching, practically throwing themselves towards him. I don't know why I can never get myself to be like them in crowds. I'm always a bit more reserved but truly am enjoying the show.

I look over at Kennedy, and her blonde hair is swaying back and forth as she dancing to the music. I love going out with her, because we both just vibe along to the music in our own little worlds.