"I want to toss my panties at him. Oh, I'm such a cliché, but he's so hot! I'm Penny Lane, I'm Plaster Caster!" Gabrielle jumped up and down, beckoning me to look closer at Louis XIV's lead singer, as if I wasn't already as mesmerized by his handsomeness – actually, beauty would be a better word – as the rest of the women in this concert hall. I laughed. All around us tonight I'd heard girls yelling and calling out for attention and, I hadn't failed to notice, multiple girls had actually thrown their panties or bra. I couldn't deny it: Luca Chevalier was probably the hottest guy in existence. He was better live than in recordings in every single way – musically, lyrically, physically.
Gabrielle let out a deep sigh. "He's my future husband. I wish they weren't almost done… let's try to sneak backstage!" She pulled on my arm while smiling wickedly at me. "Aw, please?"
Just as I started to tell Gabrielle we'd have to get her some water, the first notes of Wreath – Louis XIV's biggest hit – sounded and the crowd prepared to sing along. I swung my arm around Gabrielle's shoulder and pulled her close. We'd been looking forward to this night for so long that I still couldn't totally believe we were finally here.
"That. Was. Amazing." I plopped down on the faded velvet barstool and rested my head on my hand. "Can you pinch me?" Gabrielle poked my side. I jerked and giggled. "Okay, it was real."
The bartender set two glasses of water in front of us and we thirstily gulped it down. We'd been singing, no, shouting along the whole night without drinking anything other than cheap wine. I'd probably be feeling that tomorrow and would barely be able to speak. Good thing I'd only planned a long Netflix session in bed.
"Oh, Emma." Gabrielle put her head on my shoulder. "What do you think Luca is doing right now?" she asked dreamily.
I snorted while waving the bartender over. "Do you really have to ask what a rock star does in his dressing room after a show? Two Woo Woos, please."
"Aww, but he doesn't seem like that type of rock star! I'm sure he's just sitting there, eating only brown M&Ms or whatever his ridiculous dressing room demands are, and… Oh, thank you."
The bartender shook his head, smiling, when I reached for my handbag. "They're already paid for. Thank Mr. Muscle over there."
I followed his nod to a guy who barely did that nickname justice. He was somehow the biggest, tallest and most muscular man I had ever seen, yet in no way looked like the pumped-up bodybuilders I often saw at my cheap gym – he was much leaner, as if he was just naturally that jacked. He looked intimidating and arrogant and completely disconnected from the crowd around him – mostly women wrestling themselves closer to this man who was terrifyingly imposing but also so incredibly, fiercely attractive. His wavy brown hair was cut short, drawing attention to his sharp cheekbones and angular jaw. His shoulders were so broad that his blue shirt seemed to strain at the seams as he moved to lift his glass of whisky, as if to say cheers.
I hadn't realized I had been staring and felt heat rising to my face. Quickly, I tried to hide the blush by raising my own glass, but he had clearly already seen it – the corner of his mouth tugged upwards, bringing a strange sense of accessibility to that commanding face.
"Just so you know," I heard the bartender say softly, "he'd been looking at you since the moment you sat down. Looked like he was struck by lightning, really. But don't tell him I told you that." He chuckled, then went to serve another customer.
Gabrielle was elbowing my ribs, clearly trying to be subtle about it but failing miserably. She really didn't need that cocktail, come to think of it. "Emmaaaaa. Look at that guy."
"I am looking. Stop it!" I hissed. "He totally saw that. He knows we're talking about him." I quickly turned my back to the giant and took a sip from my Woo Woo. It was pretty strong – the vodka taste burned my throat.
Gabrielle, meanwhile, was looking at something behind me, then over my shoulder, then… "Oh, Emma, I'm going to find the restroom. Bye!" In a second, she was gone.
I looked up and nearly spit out my drink. The man was next to me now and he was so tall that, sitting down, I actually had to strain my neck to get a good look at his face.
"So. Emma."
I looked away. I'd met alpha dogs before, but this guy was in a whole other league. "Yyyep. Emma."
"I'm Noah." He held his hand, and I tried not to give him a limp hand back – although, strangely, his hold wasn't as strong as I expected. "Here for the show or the cocktails?"
"The show. But thanks for this." I looked back at him – he'd sat down on Gabrielle's barstool – and gestured to the drink.
A smile. An actual, happy, dazzling smile. His eyes were a warm brown, almost chestnut, that didn't fit the rest of him. "It's my pleasure. I couldn't help it… You looked so out of place with your water. Unless it wasn't water you were downing?" He raised an eyebrow.
I chuckled. "It was time for my friend, and me too honestly, to switch it up a little. But I see you want to get us drunk."
He lifted a hand, protesting with a smile, "Hey, it was you who ordered those drinks. I'm just making sure you don't go home broke."
"Fine, you got me." I smiled. At a little distance I spotted Gabrielle, talking to some guy but looking over every once in a while.
"Do you have a last name, Emma?" I looked back to find Noah looking at me intently, as if my answer to that question would make or break this night.
"Depends on what you're going to do with that information," I joked and took a sip from my cocktail.
His stare broke with a chuckle. "I don't know. It just seems appropriate to know a lady by her full name."
"A lady, hmm?" I leaned ever so slightly closer to him. "It's Sawyer."
"Emma Sawyer." He appeared to be processing this, to be storing my name safely into his memory. So serious.
"What about you, though? Or are you just Noah?"
A grin spread across his face. He took a tiny break for dramatic effect before answering. "Chevalier."
"That name sounds fami…. Holy shit!" I set my glass on the bar so hard I almost broke it. "You're kidding! That's… that's a coincidence, right?"
"What is?" he asked innocently. That tone didn't match his deep voice. None of his behavior matched the way he came across, really.
"You're… No, you can't be related. You don't even really look alike." I tilted my head to get a good look at him. I didn't mind doing that – I realized I was being envied by a lot of girls around this bar just for talking to him.
"I know. Luca's my older half-brother." He was speaking just loud enough for me to hear now. Clearly, he didn't want people to know he was basically with the band.
"Why aren't you backstage?" I asked at a similar volume.
He shrugged. "Been there so many times. Besides…" He held up his drink. "I'm having a pretty good time here."
I blushed despite myself and was about to mirror his cheers, when I saw Gabrielle frantically signaling at me with wide eyes over the guy's shoulder. "Oh, shit," I muttered and jumped off the barstool. Time to save my best friend from an overeager flirt.
The crowd parted in front of me and it wasn't until I looked back over my shoulder that I realized why. Noah had followed me. And good thing he had – the guy wasn't just flirting with Gabrielle; he was grabbing her butt and pulling her closer when she tried to get away. Noah marched forward and grasped the guy's shoulder. The guy swung around, ready to throw a punch, when with a shock he saw Noah's size and seemed to shrink even more in comparison. In no time, however, the guy's friends were around us. Noah was outnumbered six to one.
He turned to us, still holding the guy's shoulder. "Ladies, time to go," he said brusquely, all the niceness of just two minutes earlier having left his voice and face.
I looked at the threatening men around him, then back into those warm eyes. He nodded, and we turned around to leave the bar. It wasn't until we were safely in a taxi that I realized I never got Noah's number.