A Night on Fire (An Olli Herman Fanfiction) #Wattys2016

Chapter Five

Soft footsteps muffled from behind the door, increasing in loudness with each step taken. My stomach rumbled not because of hunger, and my fingers became numb not because blood circulation cut off. My anxiety had ahold of me, strongly effecting my body and mind. Control of my own self was then lost. The silver door handle tilted downward, and the door opened away from me.

I found myself yet again staring into those grayish-blue eyes, so beautiful, so friendly, and so intimidating, bordered with dramatic, black eyeliner. His messy bangs partially covered the eye on his left. I stood one more time face-to-face with the man of my dreams, the center of my universe. He hadn't changed out of his performance outfit, but that did not bother me. Olli welcomed my arrival with his famous, warm smile as I remained awkwardly motionless.

"Hello, birthday girl," that stuffy voice flowed.

"Hi," I breathed.

"Please come on in." He politely stepped aside, and I forced my sleeping legs to walk.

The hotel room gave a good amount of space with a queen-sized bed, a dark wooden dresser with a flat-screen TV on top, a small computer desk, a mini fridge, and a beige couch. The lighting illuminated the walls showing the light peach paint color. On the sides of the entrance were a spacious closet and a bathroom. Sliding glass doors across the hotel room led out to a balcony overlooking Pittsburgh. Its stunning city lights shined into the room.

I hung my purse on one of the closet hooks and turned to face him as he shut the door.

"Have a seat." He beckoned to the couch. "I bought some beer for us."

I took him up on his generous gesture. Though the cushions looked firm, they felt surprisingly soft and comfy. The air condition vent behind the couch blew a chilling draft, making me shudder a bit. Olli fetched two brown bottles from the small fridge and opened each one with a nearby bottle opener. I gazed up at him as he handed one to me and sat down right beside me. My gaze reverted to the beer cupped in my hand. My cheeks reddened as I felt his eyes focused on me.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, each word spoken in the slight nasally tone of his foreign accent.

Shyly, I kept my head down and answered his question. "I just never in my life thought I would be in this position....Everything that already happened today feels like a dream. I'm afraid I'll wake up any moment now, and none of this would've happened."

"I'll take that as a compliment!" he said happily.

It caught on to me that his cheerfulness was not only charming but quite contagious; I couldn't help but grin.

"Let's drink to celebrate your twenty-first birthday."

He held his bottle to me, so I clinked mine with his. I then brought the bottle to my mouth. The beer's bubbles tickled my lips, and the alcohol tingled my tongue. I winced at its God-awful bitterness surrounding my taste buds. My puckered mouth tore away from the beverage as I groaned in displeasure.

"You'll need to get used to it," he laughed. He chugged a large gulp of his beer to show off. "Take another sip, Sasha. It won't be as bad as the first."

I did as he requested, and to my surprise, it became easier to drink.

We chatted for a good forty minutes while drinking our beers. Olli educated me on the life of being a young hair metal musician in the modern time of pop and auto-tuned music. I understood how it wouldn't be easy, but Reckless Love kept their success climbing. He explained that the band would sometimes add a twist of modern pop to their work to intrigue beginner fans. After going on about his life, he asked what I did for a living and what I'm all about. He listened intently to every word I said from my full name to working at an animal shelter to save up money for college. It flabbergasted me that a popular musician would be curious to know the life of a diehard fan. I realized he was much more of a person than who I saw in music videos, interviews, and social media. He wasn't just a famous singer; he was an actual human being. During the time we talked, I developed a deeper love for the man who my imagination perceived to be a mythical creature. Knowing he was a real life person having a conversation with me increased my attraction to him.

The last drop of beer landed in the back of my throat. The drink lost its coldness long ago, and I fell immune to its horrible taste.

"I'm truly honored to be sharing this moment with you, Olli."

"Well, I'm honored to be sharing it with such a beautiful, American lady."

He scooted closer to me and placed a hand on my knee. My heart leapt. I flushed, and my ears burned. Was he flirting with me? Was the Olli Herman coming onto me? It all appeared too great to be real. I turned my head away to hide the embarrassment of my flattery. Suddenly, I felt my hair being brushed behind my left ear. His fingers moved down along my jawline ever so lightly. I remained still, unsure of how to respond. Is this really happening? His thigh grazed against mine, its leather cool to the touch, and I felt his breath upon my neck. Chills shot down my spine, and the hair on my arms stood on end. He pecked my skin with his lips, giving sweet, tender kisses. My breathing became rapid and loud. I wanted him. I needed him. Right then and there. I wanted him to take me. To make love to me. I turned my face toward his and directed my gaze upon his eyes. I swam in their grayish-blue sea of passion. I could feel his heated energy. He needed it just as bad as I did. The sexual tension between us was bound to explode. Then it happened....Olli fell into me, pressing his lips into mine using one of his hands to guide my face toward his. My heart felt like it stopped beating; it only ached with beautiful pain. Time seemed to halt. I shut my eyes to savor the feel of his soft, moist kiss. His blond, feathery hair tickled my cheeks, something I longed to feel just like any other fan in love. He pulled away, leaving me breathless. My lids opened to be welcomed by the gorgeous features of the Finnish man in front of me with my pink, sparkly gloss smeared on his lips.

"Herranjumala," he sighed.

I couldn't translate his native language, but it made him sound so much sexier. My desire for him swelled.

No! my conscious screamed. What are you doing? He's a married man!

The pit of my stomach cramped in remembrance of the fact. I jumped to my feet, angry at my selfishness for kissing a man belonging to another woman. Though I pleaded God to let me have Olli for one night, and I was a moment away from that wish being granted, I put myself in his wife's shoes picturing how it would feel to be betrayed. I'm a whore!

"Sasha, what's the matter?" Olli reached out to grab my wrist, but I twisted it away.

"What are we doing?" I irately asked, looking down at him with watery eyes and a lump caught in my throat. "It's not right. You're married! How would your wife feel knowing you're doing this with another girl?"

"Uhhh..." he grumbled, burying his head into the palms of his hands. His long hair draped over his muscular arms. "I caught her fucking another man last week. Turns out I'd been oblivious to it for a whole month. She was seeing him all the while I worked at the studio to write new material with the guys. I left my phone at home and went back to get it....They did it on my fucking couch!" He let his hands fall over his knees and peered up at me. "Do you know how I felt? My marriage was a lie. She didn't love me. I wasted my time."

"I'm so sorry, Olli," I faintly apologized with honesty.

His tone eased. "When I met you backstage, you were the first female guest there, and you're so very beautiful. It's your birthday, and I thought I'd take the shot with you, especially since your friend told me you're into me. I figured you'd meet me here at this hotel if I invited you. Lately, I haven't been as happy as I present myself to be ever since I caught her..." He trailed off, sucking in his lips and sighing through his nose. He took a few seconds to settle his emotions before continuing. "I need to feel loved again. Just this one night." He stood up, approaching me. His eyes shimmered with passion, imploring me to be his. "Please, Sasha."

I knew if I gave in that I would be used to his advantage. I would be nothing more than a one-night stand thrown off to the side after giving him a release. It occurred to me that I really didn't care. Everything about him seduced me. He had lured me into his trap, and I took the bait willingly, not concerned once about the consequences. If I was left to be brokenhearted the next morning, then so be it.