Leah sat at the bar. She watched her friends as they danced with each other and ground on random guys. She sighed. Why was it that she was the only one of her friends who was incapable of getting drunk? She liked to drink and all, she just couldn't stand to get drunk. It was for that reason that she never touched whiskey. That shit fucked her up.

"Anyway, it's not as though I'd be any more attractive to a guy drunk than sober." She laughed to herself. It was comical, really, being 22 and never having been on a 'real' date, let alone kissing anyone.

She turned around to talk to the bartender, as had been her habit since she had turned 21, as she was often the only person sober enough for him or her to talk to. As she began to say something, though, a dark-haired boy sat down next to her and said, "If a thousand painters worked for a thousand years, they could never create a work of art as beautiful as you."

She turned around - he couldn't be talking to her, could he? "Are you talking to me?" She asked as she turned back to him.

"Well, yeah. There aren't very many girls at this bar."

She looked up and down the bar. It was true, she was the only girl at the bar, not counting the trannie at the other end.

Leah looked at the stranger. He was cute, dark hair, dark eyes, and pale skin. But there was one thing. "Your logic is flawed."

He nearly spit out his drink at that. "What?"

"Yeah. First, if a thousand painters painted a portrait, it would never get finished. They would never decide on how to portray their subject and would be constantly changing each others' work. Second, if it took a thousand years... Well, do you understand how much the concept of beauty has changed over time? Even just in the past few centuries. In the 1800s, even, the image of perfection was plump, pale, curly-haired girls. Now, it's nearly anorexic, almost orange, flat-haired girls. So, yeah. I'd say your logic is flawed."

He stared at her. "You know, I've been using that pick-up line for almost a year now waiting for someone to realize that. But apparently I've been going for stupid girls."

"Apparently." She turned back to face the wall across from the bar, trying to read labels on bottles. Now that he realized that she wasn't stupid, he would probably just go away and talk to one of her scantily-clad friends.

He didn't leave, though. In fact, he tried to talk to her.

"So what's your name?"

She looked at him quizzically. "You're still talking to me?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, if the logic in that line wasn't flawed, it would be the truest statement I've ever said."

Leah looked herself over. She didn't look like other girls in the bar. Wearing jeans and a sad-looking t-shirt, she was probably the most frumpy girl in the club tonight. Her chubby stomach and frizzy hair didn't help much, either.

"Well, I'm Leah. And you're either drunk or desperate. I mean, look at me."

The boy looked puzzled. "I'm definitely not drunk, I just walked in. And I could get any girl in this club if I wanted. Do you not recognize me or something?"

Now that she thought about it, he looked vaguely familiar. She'd never be able to place him, though. She took a stab in the dark. "Jimmy Schwartz? From eighth grade? I never thought you'd talk to me then, and I never thought I'd see you now. Not after you moved away."

The boy laughed. No, he cackled. "Jimmy Schwartz? So you really don't know who I am? That's refreshing. I'm Logan. Logan Mitchell. I'm kind of famous."

Now it was Leah's turn to laugh. "Famous? Right. I am the famous queen. I know every big name in music, television, and movies. The name 'Logan Mitchell' does not ring a bell of any kind. So what is it you do, Logan Mitchell?"

He balked. She really didn't know who he was. He had thought that she was just pretending to be oblivious to keep his attention. Not that she wouldn't, she had that effortless beauty that he hadn't seen in years.

"Well, I'm kind of in this world-famous band. Maybe you've heard of that. It's called Big Time Rush?"

"Oh, that stupid boy band from Minnesota?" She realized her mistake just as the word slipped from her mouth. "Not that you're stupid or anything... I mean, I don't even know you. How could I call you stupid? I really don't judge people, I just, you know, my baby sister listens to them. You should say something now."

Logan laughed. "Who's your sister's favorite?"

"What? How many of you are there?"

"Just four. But everyone who listens to our music has a favorite. Which one of us is your sister's?"

Leah had no idea. She tried to think back to when her sister would run through the house yelling celebrities' names. Usually, she had ignored the annoying brat. "Uh... Well, he definitely has an L in his name, if that is any help."

"Well, it isn't James, then. His spirit will be so crushed!" He chuckled. "Any other clues?"

"Maybe it was slightly latino? Like Pablo or Jose or something."

"Ahh. Carlos. That's odd, he usually doesn't get the attention."

"My sister is into anything and everything mexican. You can't even begin to fathom her obsession with nachos."

Logan laughed again. Did he think she was funny, too? This boy was seriously deluded.

"Hey, why don't we get out of here. It's kind of hard to hear."

Leah looked at him incredulously. He wanted her to go with him? "Uhm... Okay. Let me just tell my friends. I'm kind of the designated driver." She hopped off the bar stool and walked over to her friends.

"Hey guys!" She yelled.

They whooped when they saw her. "Leah! You've finally come to dance with us!" Her best friend, Annie yelled.

"Actually, that guy over there wants to leave. With me. So, uh, call a cab to get back to the hotel or something. I'm taking the keys. None of you can be trusted to not drink."

Annie stopped dancing immediately. Her jaw dropped and her mouth hung open. "You're leaving with a guy? OH LEAH I'M SO PROUD OF YOU!" She shrieked and hugged the girl opposite her. "I must meet this fellow!"

Leah smacked her palm to her forehead. "Is that really necessary?"

"Yes! I have to tell him to take care of my baby!"

"Fine. Come on." Leah dragged Annie over to where Logan was sitting. She tapped him cordially on the shoulder. "Logan, this is Annie. Annie, Logan. Are you satisfied now? Can I leave?"

But Annie hadn't paid any attention to Leah after Logan had turned around. "Logan Mitchell? THE Logan Mitchell? NO WAY! Leah, I always knew your first boyfriend would be amazing! Didn't I tell you!" Logan smirked.

"Wait, you know who he is?" Leah asked.

"Of course! You didn't? With the level of obsession your sister has for Big Time Rush? You've got to be kidding! His face is plastered all over her walls! Of course, there's more pictures of Carlos than of you, sorry Logan." She giggled.

"Oh, you know. I'm used to it." He smiled a winning smile that got Annie to punch Leah playfully in the arm and tell her to get out of there.

"What are you two lovebirds waiting for? The night is young! Go! Fly!" She took that as her cue to flap her arms like a bird and run back to the rest of their friends.

"Wow, she's strange." Logan said to Leah.

"Yeah, but I love her to death." She looked at Annie one last time before turning to the door. Glancing at Logan she took a breath and asked, "What are we waiting for? Let's go."