"No! Absolutely not!" Layea protested, shaking her head. "I've stood here for two hours watching a band I don't even know, I've hugged someone who was essentially a stranger, lent you fifty bucks to buy even more merchandise you don't need, and I'm already going to be driving you home. I am not standing outside in the cold while you meet someone you'll never see again!"

"But it's James Ballyon." Melanie whined. "He's so hot."

"And he's also so taken." Layea reminded her as they pushed their way through the crowds. "You told me yourself he's dating that Jessie chick!"

"A girl can dream!" Melanie exclaimed. "Come on, Lay, please. It's only ten minutes!"

"It's so much more than that," she replied with a roll of her eyes.

"So you do like him!"

"Who?"

"Lewis Gregory!"

"What? No." Layea raised an eyebrow. "Are you seriously telling me he's single, though?"

"Ha! You so like him! Yeah he's single! The management is furious that he doesn't have a better image, dating and all."

"That's pathetic."

"Yeah but who cares? It's not like it's us."

"You're so selfless," Layea rolled her eyes.

"I know, aren't I?" Melanie winked, then nudged her. "Pretty please? They'll be out by the bus soon enough. Lots of people are going, it's just to meet them in person, just to say hi."

"Ugh, fine, okay."

It was cold outside, just as Layea had predicted. Layea, however, knew that even in California, it got cold in December, and she had come prepared with a thin coat, fur trim at the neck. Melanie didn't seem to mind the cold, but then again, she was probably too drunk to care.

Minutes later, at least a dozen girls shrieked as the band came out the back doors, and a couple of boys whistled for Jessie. Evidently this was routine for the band, because they seemed unfazed and immediately chorused 'hi's and 'hello's and started to sign autographs or take photos.

All but one--Lewis. He didn't seem fazed by it, but he didn't seem excited by it. Layea saw his smile was one that was . . . plastered on, sort of fake and one that somebody got after taking a dozen photos and still being told to smile for the camera. His face was pale, and his hands shook a little as he smiled for photos or signed autographs.

Melanie yelped as James got closer, and blurted out, "Hi James! I love you!"

James laughed, again unfazed, and Layea wondered how many times he had heard it before. Probably hundreds from fangirls around the world. But he was friendly to Melanie, as he would be with all the other fans, and he gave her a hug and when she asked--stammering and fumbling with her phone--he took a selfie with her, autographing the case as she requested.

"Hey," a voice said softly from behind her, and Layea jumped a little in surprise before turning to see Lewis. Somehow, he had sidestepped half a dozen squealing girls and snuck behind her.

"Hey," she smiled. He had clearly just showered, his hair damp and swept to the side, a couple stray pieces plastered to his forehead. The clean smell of aftershave met her nose, and she bit back a bigger smile. He was wearing a white t-shirt and and red jacket, reminding her of James Dean from Rebel Without a Cause. The difference between their clothing were the jeans--Lewis's were old and torn, kind of baggy, and his sneakers were a pair of old white Adidas, scuffed and dirty from years of wear.

"Um . . . how'd you like it?" He asked nervously. "The concert. You said you'd never heard us before."

"It was really good," Layea assured him. "You did great."

"Yeah?"

"What, don't believe it?"

"What can I say? It's been . . . a hard day. I wasn't all there I guess, I thought it might have showed."

"I couldn't tell," she shook her head, smiling in what she hoped was a reassuring way.

"Thank you, for what you did. Um . . . what your friend did . . . Whoever." He shoved his hands into his pockets, and when he ducked his head his hair fell across his eye. When he lifted his head back up, he shook it slightly so his hair wound up where it should be.

"Have you ever lost someone before?"

"Yes," he nodded briefly. "But not like this."

"I get it," Layea assured him. "When I lost my dad I was heartbroken. And when--"

He waited for her to continue, but she shook her head.

"Never mind," she smiled. "It was a long time ago."

"You can tell me anyway, I don't mind."

Somehow his words were comforting, and spoken in a way that made her believe him.

"Thanks." She smiled. "You and your dad--were you close?"

"We used to be. When I got older we didn't talk as much. I actually hadn't spoken to him in a couple months."

"I'm sorry,"

"It uh . . . It was kind of an argument, I guess."

Layea winced. "That's awful. I'm sorry."

Lewis sighed, and his face fell. He looked so sad that Layea put her hand on his arm, and he didn't seem to notice for a minute. When he did, he simply looked at it for a few moments, not saying a word.

"It's just hard," he finally shrugged, effectively shifting her hand, so she moved it away from him.

What were you thinking? She thought. You don't even know him!

"I understand," she smiled sadly.

"Well anyway, thank you. You . . . Believe it or not, you kind of saved me."

"How?"

Damn, those eyes . . . Could they be any cuter?

"I didn't want to go out there tonight. Management made me." Lewis explained with another shrug. "It had only been two hours since my sister called, told me about dad. I don't know I could have actually done the show without you."

"You don't even know me."

"Yes I do. Your name is Layea, and you're really sweet." He shrugged. "That's enough for now."

"It meant that much to you?"

"Of course. I usually just meet . . . fake people. Managers. Paparazzi. I can't go anywhere without someone recognizing me. You were different, honest. You didn't expect any of it but you went along with it. You actually . . . cared about me, not the concert. It made me feel better."

He looked down, embarrassed.

"Sorry," he murmured. "I'm babbling."

"It's okay,"

He looked up again, again shifting his hair with just the slightest jerk or his head.

God, how does he do that?

"Well anyway, I'm glad you enjoyed it." He said softly.

At that moment Melanie bumped into her, effective spilling the rest of Melanie's third beer.

"Did you see that, Lay? He actually signed my phone. Pictures for social media!" Melanie singsonged.

"I should get her home." Layea smiled softly. She didn't want to leave, yet she hadn't wanted to go in the first place. "I'm sorry, I--"

"No, it's fine. Just . . . drive safe." His voice was softer than earlier, a quiet tone. His gaze didn't leave her eyes, even though her shirt was a low-cut.

"Goodnight," she smiled, still holding Melanie up as she babbled about James.

"Goodnight,"

Somehow Layea knew he stood watching them until her car turned the corner. And somehow, instead of frightening her, it made her smile.