Toxic Dolls

Chapter 2

The show ends and my anxiety in meeting the boys increases. I rush to the bathroom nearby, nausea causing me to retch. After the feeling passes, I run a hand though my fringe, platinum strands twirling around my icy fingers. My ears ring from the loss of sound.

I sigh, fix a smear under my eye, and walk out; the door squeaking behind me. I follow signs leading backstage to the ready rooms, the man from before standing nearby. He looks up from the book he is reading and smiles.

"Hello again, pass?" He asks.

I hand it over, my hand shaking as his punches a hole in the corner. Without a moments notice, he opens the door, pushing me inside.

"Have fun," he says, the door slamming in my face. I stare at the wood grain in shock. There is a small cough and I slowly turn around. I blink slowly as Andy's face lights up in recognition.

"Hey! It's you again, fancy that," he smiles. He then picks up a plastic bottle of water, drinking slowly. I cab barely speak as I stare in awe.

"Hi," I squeak. "I'm Jaynie Price."

"Well, I'm Andy," he replies before pointing to the other members.

"Jordy Halt, " says Jordy, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his pants, cockney flair even burried into the pronunciation of his name.

"Dæmon Deamon," he says, a little harshly, dropping his dreadlocked head back down to looking at his phone. Andy coughs and flashes him a look of disdain.

Marx flips his hair and winks at me like earlier, "Marx Off."

Andy then turns, grabbing a bag from under a table, handing it to me. On the flap is their logo, the content within making my eyes widen. A signed poster, a t-shirt and the latest album lay inside.

My vision begins to blacken, my line of sight wobbling.

Andy, seeming to notice, lays a hand on my shoulder, concern spreading across his soft features.

"Are you alright?" he asks, leading me to a nearby stool.

I nod, embarrassed, a deep blush rising to my cheeks. "I'm fine, just excited...and, truthfully, a little star struck." He laughs, the tone more amazing in person than in any of their vlogs or interviews.

"Andy, you don't wanna kill the girl! Geez, cut down on the charm, you womanizer," says Marx.

I giggle slightly and pop up, feeling much better. I'm surprised when Andy hugs me, his chest warm against my cheek. He smells like apple's. Before he pulls away, I feel a slip of paper slide into my pocket.

He smiles sweetly just as there is a mock on the door.

"Well, I guess time is up. I hope to see you again!" He says, waving. Just before I turn, Marx speaks up.

"Think fast," he calls, throwing a paper ball at me. I catch it and smile.

I wave and walk out the door, my pulse pounding, Andy's scent still clinging. The man outside the door smiles one more time, wishing me a good night and to be safe. No one is left in the building when I walk out, my breath fogging in the chilled air.

Dropping down on the curb, I pull the slip of paper from my pocket. I unfold it slowly, revealing tight, neat lettering.

Your voice is beautiful. If you would like to talk, feel free to call or text the number and name below.

xxAndy

Following the note is a Skype user and cellphone number. I sit in shock, wondering at what point he wrote it. Suddenly, I remember the paper thrown at me by Marx. I hurriedly open it, the paper ripping on a mangled line on the side. My eyes widened.