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A gaggle of teenage girls bustles into the Starbucks, startling us out of which is better, chocolate or strawberry milk.
"Ooooo, I just hope the guys don't get bumped back," one of them gushes, blowing a breath into her mitten-clad hands. "I want a good spot right by the stage. I want to be able to touch Jasper Whitlock."
"I know, right?" another replied. "He's so hot. I totally, like, wrote him a letter. When he gets near, I'm gonna throw it up on stage."
They all giggle and Edward and I glance at each other.
"Oh, to be young and stupid again," I whisper-giggle to him and he snorts. "Jasper Whitlock… Isn't he that singer guy?"