From Frost to Flame

Part 29- Starstruck-2

Pete's condition had already descended into comedic chaos, but it wasn't about to get any better. As the introductions continued, Kinn, Vegas, Tharn, and Type settled into their easy banter, leaving poor Pete to navigate his own personal nightmare.

"Vegas, you didn't tell me you were still alive," Type teased, leaning back in his chair.
"I thought you were buried under paperwork or hiding from your enemies."

Vegas smirked and sipped his drink. "I've been busy, Type. Unlike you, I actually work for a living."

Tharn laughed, leaning forward. "Still the same old Vegas.
By the way, Kinn, what's with this sudden domestic bliss?
Last I heard, you were allergic to anything that sounded like commitment."

Kinn grinned, placing a hand on Porsche's shoulder. "Let's just say Porsche changed my perspective."

Porsche rolled his eyes but smiled anyway. "Yeah, I'm basically his therapist at this point."

"And your paycheck for dealing with Kinn's tantrums?" Type asked, grinning.

"Delicious meals, luxury trips, and the satisfaction of being irresistible," Porsche quipped, making Tharn and Type laugh.

Meanwhile, Pete was still trying to recover from his earlier faux pas. With his back to the group, he shoved the last bits of food into his mouth, desperately trying to chew without looking like a chipmunk.

But just as he turned back to the table, he caught Tharn's gaze again.

Tharn smiled, clearly amused. "So, Pete, biggest fan, huh?
How long have you been following my music?"

Pete froze, his cheeks stuffed like he was auditioning for Chubby Bunny.
He panicked and nodded furiously, making incoherent sounds that vaguely resembled words.

"...Is he okay?" Type whispered to Kinn, biting back a laugh.

"Oh, he's fine," Kinn replied casually, leaning back with a smirk.
"He just gets... overwhelmed around his idols."

Vegas, who had been watching Pete out of the corner of his eye, finally decided to throw him a lifeline—or maybe it was more of a tease.
"Pete," he said, his voice calm but with a slight edge of amusement, "maybe chew first. Then answer."

Pete's eyes widened as if Vegas had just announced a pop quiz. He turned back around, grabbed a napkin, and dramatically covered his mouth.
Everyone at the table chuckled, and Kinn took the opportunity to pile on.

"You know, Pete," Kinn said with mock seriousness, "Tharn might think you're ignoring him if you don't speak up soon. And we wouldn't want that, would we?"

Pete turned around, still struggling to swallow the massive bite he'd been chewing for what felt like an eternity. His face was bright red, and his doe-like eyes were wide, practically shimmering with excitement.

He could feel his heart racing in his chest as he finally managed to mumble, his voice shaky and soft.

"Hi... I'm Pete," he stammered, his words tumbling out faster than he could process them. "I—uh—I'm a huge fan. Like... really huge. I love your music, I mean, it's... it's surreal. I never thought I'd... I mean... wow."

He stood there, eyes glued to Tharn, his nerves sending a wave of heat through him.
His hands fidgeted awkwardly at his sides as he tried—desperately—to hide the fact that he was practically melting on the inside.
Meeting his favorite singer for the first time had completely thrown him off balance.

Tharn smiled warmly, clearly charmed by Pete's sincerity. "Thank you, Pete. That means a lot."

But before Pete could relax, Porsche couldn't resist chiming in.
 "You forgot to mention how you've been dying to get his autograph and take a picture, Pete.
Go on, tell him!" he whispered.