in which Brian, try as he might, can't stop himself from emotionally tying himself to women he meets on tour--he knows it's wrong but can't seem to stop himself
in which Katie, an unintentional groupie, becomes hopelessly entangled in the life of a...
Katie snapped upright and turned to see the owner of the voice that had just scared the living shit out of her. She sucked in a slow breath––it was him. The man seemed even more beautiful up close––his unkempt curls spilled onto his neck and onto the exposed bit of shoulder that couldn't be contained by his billowy, oversized tunic. She was surprised to notice the heavy-looking silver necklace that splayed across his collarbones, a detail she missed earlier. In one hand he gripped his guitar case firmly, holding it almost protectively against his side. As she watched his free hand reach up to rub his chest just underneath the collar of his shirt, she couldn't help but to imagine what it might feel like on her body instead. "Umm, uh, yeah, sure!" she responded, barely concealing the short-circuiting occurring in her brain as she attempted to reconcile the fact that the man she had been lusting over for the past few hours was now standing right in front of her. "I'm able to take almost all of these, there's just those mic stands that need carrying."
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He nodded. "Ah." Reaching to grab the three metal poles with his free hand, he flashed her with a pensive look. "I'm assuming you're one of Pete's girls then?"
Blushing slightly at his assumption, she corrected him: "Oh! No, I'm actually here with one of my friends––Stacy? She knows Ian, and she wanted to catch up with him after the show."
That drew a chuckle from him. "'Catch up', huh. So that means you've been nominated to do all the heavy lifting, does it?" His hazel eyes glittered with amusement. "I'm Brian May, by the way. I'd shake your hand but–" he looked down at his full hands. Finally, a name to put to the face.
Katie positively beamed back at him. "I'm Katherine Parker, but my friends call me Katie. I really enjoyed your show," she started, trying her best not to sound like a crazed, teenage fan. "I haven't seen anything like it. The way you incorporated the smoke and lights to create the atmosphere for your songs was genius."
"Katherine." Hearing her birth name spoken in his warm British accent, each syllable enunciated as if he were committing it to memory, was something she hoped she'd never forget. "Well, thank you! The finished product you saw back there is the result of countless arguments, so I'm glad someone's appreciating it," he replied bashfully. She watched as his eyes flickered up and down her body, as if he was finally taking her all in. She couldn't quite read the expression on his face, but the mere thought of his gaze analyzing every line and curve of her body sent a small shudder of exhilaration down her spine. "I can't tell you how many venues are resistant to the setup we've painstakingly curated over the past few years, it's quite an ordeal, really. So––you're with Stacy? Does that mean you're from Waterbury as well?"
Before Katie could respond, an unfamiliar voice interrupted from the end of the hallway. "Brian! Whose ears are you talking off now?" A feathery-blonde head popped out from one of the doors down the hall, soon followed by its slim body clothed in an outrageously-styled flowy outfit. Katie likened the man to a pixie or a wood sprite. "By this rate we won't make it to the bar until bloody two in the morn–oh, what's this?" He reached them and spotted Katie, previously hidden behind Brian's substantial stature.
