Who Even Knew? (Taylor Momsen Fanfiction)(GXG)(lesbian)

Chapter 1

ｔａｙｌｏｒ＇ｓ ＰＯＶ

"Hey, Momsen! How was the party last night?!" Ben, my bandmate, asked loudly, not helping my pounding head.

"God, it was great while it lasted, but I'm not great right now," I muttered, downing a couple of headache relievers.

Plus, the fan I kissed last night at the backstage meet and greet haven't left my head. I couldn't get the electrifying kiss out of my mind.

It was so short, but I wanted to feel her lips again.

"Eh, I'm getting breakfast, do you want anything?"

"No, get me coffee though," I said as my eyes slowly start to close.

"Okay, I'll leave you to your thoughts now," said Ben.

The girl had long brown hair, and she was wearing a white shirt, black pants and a leather jacket. Which is probably the outfit of half the crowd.

Ugh. This is infuriating.

And besides, I can't tweet, "Hey, can the girl who I kissed last night tweet me?" Because it will do no good to my already bad reputation. I'm just being myself, and I get satanist, devil's advocate, illuminati and prostitute as everyday adjectives.

Hm, people of this world.

Well, it is indeed a fucked up world.

Wait... There is something unique on her face. And no- not her beauty- I mean something different, like piercings.

I can't pinpoint it.

I dialled my manager's number.

"Hey."

"Momsen, hey, what d'ya need?!"

"I need the list of the people who got the backstage passes last night. Immediately."

"Hey, what's the rush?! Someone snatched you off or somethin'?!" He drawled, sounding drunk.

"God, when I say immediately, I need immediately! No questions asked," I snapped, "If I don't receive an email within this hour, we'd have a repeat of last time."

"Okay, okay, don't twist your panties now hun', you'll get it soon," He spoke mockingly, not quite sensing my irritation.

"Fuck you."

I hung up before he can speak, and logged on to my Mac.

I tapped my fingers consecutively on the table, waiting for the beep signalling the email.

It finally did, and I scrambled to click the small letter symbol on the bottom of the laptop.

The names of the people who got the backstage pass was typed up in a line, with pictures and descriptions on each left side.

I felt like a detective.

There was Ashley Brooke, a blonde last night who must've been uncomfortable- with her sky high heels and short, tight dress- but then, I'm not one to judge because I've done it a million times.

Then Chad Bolton, a Hispanic dude with curly hair and caramel skin. He was quite rather short actually, and he had a hat on.

Then there was Lyndsey Gunnulfsen. What a weird surname. And she had long hair an- wait, holy shit.

She was the girl that has been bothering my aching head.

She has long brown hair, small eyes, long lashes, a straight nose, small lips and a serious expression on her face. And the remarkable thing about her is how she shaved two lines on her left eyebrow.

She is really hot.

And there is a description of them, but no number or email.

Seriously?

I angrily punched my manager's number again.

"WHERE ARE THEIR CONTACT INFORMATION?!"

"I-I didn't think you'd need it.."

"What do you think I needed to know?! How often they eat ramen?! For Pete's sake, use your brain!"

"O-o-okay, i-is there o-one person in p-particular that you want t-to r-reach?" He stuttered, and I almost laughed out loud. I can imagine him in my brain, red-faced, clutching his belly and scratching his bald head while the phone is tucked between his ear and shoulder.

"Lyndsey Gunnulfsen. And hurry up."

I ended the phone call with one click.