Molly checked her phone as she waited in the lobby of The Line LA hotel. Andrew told her to meet him there and they'd have lunch at the hotel restaurant. The hotel itself was not a place she'd have pegged him at. It was all industrial concrete and stone with very little greenery. But then she reminded herself that he was technically still on tour and the organizers probably booked it for him. It was just up the street from The Wiltern in Koreatown. Besides, the Andrew she knew five years ago was just that: five years ago. For all she knew, he could have changed. She had.

A group of people walked past her having a raucous conversation. Her phone vibrated and she checked the message, hoping Andrew was canceling so she could go back to work. But it was just a reminder for a meeting the next morning.

"Hey, sorry," his voice met her ears as he rushed into the lobby. "I had an interview that ran over. I hope you weren't waiting long."

He stood in front of her looking much more like the Andrew she knew with his goofy glasses, wild hair, and well-worn boots. There were subtle differences though; his jeans were designer, his t-shirt actually looked washed and pressed, and his teeth were bright and even.

"No, it's fine. I had to cancel my afternoon appointments anyway," she said standing. She smoothed her dress down as she gathered her things.

"You didn't cancel for me, did you?" he asked, eyes going slightly wide, concern etched on his diamond shaped face.

Molly smiled politely. "No. My witness got sent to the infirmary after he was jumped by several gang members. He's unconscious, so not much help right now."

"Fuck, I hope he's okay," Andrew said, sliding his hands into his pockets, eyes still wide in surprise.

"Me too," she replied with a sigh.

She could feel him looking her over as she walked next to him and was glad she put a little bit more effort into her outfit choice that morning. She'd chosen a simple black sleeveless bodycon dress and paired it with bright red pumps. Her hair was gently curled and hung over her shoulders.

"Thanks for meeting me here," he said, holding the door to the restaurant open. "I have sound check in a couple hours and this was way easier than trying to navigate the city."

"No problem," she answered, forcing another smile.

Her heart was racing, and not because she was excited to see him. She had spent the entire night beforehand running through different scenarios for their lunch. Most of them included him pulling some sort of trick on her, trying to get back at her for leaving him like she did. And no matter how many times she told herself that Andrew was about as aggressive as a guinea pig and he would never do anything that badly to her - at least not in public - she also reminded herself that it had been five years and people changed.

The restaurant was a converted greenhouse, and felt much more like the Andrew she knew. The bright sunshine filled the room, coming in from all sides. A long bar filled one wall of the room and tables filled the rest of the space with greenery draping down everywhere. Exposed vents and air ducts pumped air conditioning in, which Molly was grateful for. She could already feel the nervous sweats starting.

The hostess took his name and took them to a table in the corner, partially hidden by a large shrub. Nobody took notice of them, but then in Los Angeles you couldn't walk more than five feet before running into a famous person. Andrew slid her chair out for her and she caught a whiff of aftershave from him, a new addition to his appearance that he never seemed to care about before. When he was settled across from her and the hostess had left their menus, he spoke again.

"I honestly didn't expect you to reach out," he admitted with a shy grin as he flipped through his menu.

"When Michelle told me how generous you were, I thought it was only fair to meet up with you," she replied, trying to keep her tone professional. "To thank you, obviously. But also to catch up. It seems like you've been doing really well," she rushed out.

Breathe, she told herself as he smiled back. Keep it focused on work. Order a salad. You'll be out of here soon.

"I do alright," he replied. "After everything that happened last year, it seemed like a good idea to donate to a worthy cause."

Molly nodded, remembering the extreme violence and protests the year beforehand, all across the country, but specifically in Los Angeles where the problem arose. She also remembered the high work load she'd dealt with for months while working cases for protestors who had been arrested.

"Well, it certainly helps," she said, taking a sip from her water glass. "We were able to hire a new lawyer last year."

"That's good. You seem to be doing pretty well for yourself," he said. "You're finally a lawyer, just like you wanted."

A small wave of pride washed over her at his compliment. "Yeah," she tucked some hair behind her ear and picked up her menu, flipping immediately to the salad section. "I'm doing what I love. I wish the pay was better, but I enjoy what I do."

Another thing had been eating at her since she accepted his invitation. Had he purposefully chosen the charity she worked for to donate to? Was this some plan on his part to try to get back together with her? It sounded ridiculous and self centered, she knew. But her mind kept going there and she couldn't let it go until she got an answer.

Fuck it, just do it, she thought.

"I actually wanted to ask you something," she said, closing her menu and folding her manicured hands on top. He looked up at her expectantly, some of his hair falling across his face in a boyish fashion. "And please don't take this the wrong way - I just have to ask: did you donate to Bright Horizons because I work there?" she asked nervously.

The second the question was out of her mouth, Molly felt embarrassment rise on her cheeks and she wanted to take it all back. A smile spread across his face and he chewed on his tongue before answering.

"Ehm, no," he answered, closing his menu. "It was actually suggested by a friend of mine who lives in Los Angeles. I didn't know you worked there until I saw you the other night."

Molly relaxed. So it wasn't some ulterior motive. Just coincidence. But she had embarrassed herself in front of him with her enormous ego. Fantastic.

"But I have to admit I have wondered over the years if you actually wound up doing what you planned," he added. "I am not at all surprised that you did."

His eyes met hers for a brief moment and she was transported to the first time they met in the coffee shop in Bray, his hands grabbing her cup in the mad rush of morning chaos. The idea that he had thought about her over the years started a tiny fire in her steeled soul.

"So what exactly do you do with Bright Horizons?" he asked.

Before she could respond, the waitress appeared and took their orders. Sticking to her plan, Molly ordered a salad. Andrew ordered a sandwich, obviously not in any great rush.

"I'm a defense attorney," she said when the waitress left. "Bright Horizons decides which cases are worthy of our time and funds and then we get assigned to them. The whole purpose is to provide counsel to the less fortunate who have been let down by the system. We process a lot of immigration cases. Some appeals. A lot of times its teenagers who come from low income areas and its their first offense. The state loves to give harsh sentences for first offenses by certain groups."

She felt herself relax slightly as she described her work. Andrew listened intently, chin on his knuckles, eyes trained on her.

"How did you end up at Bright Horizons?" he asked, lifting his water glass.

"I did an internship with Michelle during my last semester of school," she explained. "When I graduated, she offered me a full time position. There aren't that many lawyers fresh out of law school that want to work for a non-profit exclusively. The competition wasn't much," she chuckled.

They passed the next twenty minutes talking about her work with Bright Horizons and different cases she had worked. By the time the waitress arrived with their order, Molly felt like at least one wall had come down between them. She was left vulnerable and ached to control the conversation again.

"How are things going for you?" she asked, stabbing several lettuce leaves.

"They're going well," he said, swallowing. "The new album came out late last year."

"I heard about the Grammys," she said, smiling. "Oscar told me."

He nodded. "Thank you. It was a surprise, but a welcome one. I didn't even think the album qualified," he laughed.

"I told you that you were talented," she smiled at him, softening without realizing it.

She could see his blush from a mile away. They shared a brief moment of connection, him staring at her and her looking straight back, and it almost seemed like Molly was right back in Bray, walking alongside him down the road off for another adventure. Then she remembered what she had done to him and the softness fell. The wall went back up.

Get through lunch and you never have to see him again, she reminded herself.

"I'm sorry to say that I haven't actually heard a lot of your music," she admitted.

"That's okay," he answered, picking up the last bite of his sandwich. "If you're, ehm, free, I'd love for you to come to one of the concerts while I'm here. Bring your boyfriend."

"Oh, I'm not seeing anyone right now," she said, realizing that she used the phrase so often it had become automatic for her. That was an issue for another time, though.

Andrew's eyebrows shot up. "Oh," he remarked, looking down. "I kind of assumed you'd be with someone."

"I don't really have time," she smiled weakly. "Oscar is the closest thing I have to a boyfriend these days."

"Okay, so bring him," he chuckled. "Consider it a thank you for all the great work you two do." She looked at him apprehensively. "Come on," he needled. "I can get you great seats. I know a guy," he added with a smile.

She considered him for a moment. All she wanted to do was get through lunch so she never had to see him again. But here he was, inviting her to yet another thing. Was it possible he didn't care about how things ended last time? Was she beating herself up over nothing? What harm could it do to go to the concert? So she relented, against her better judgement. A free concert was a free concert.

"Sure, why not," she said finally.

A broad smile spread across Andrew's face. "Great," he said. "You've got my number, so just let me know when you can come and I'll set aside the tickets at the box office."

You can still get out of it later, she thought. You can always say you had something come up.

"Cool," she nodded. "I'll definitely let you know."

The waitress appeared again. "Will this be one check or two?" she asked.

"One," Andrew said at the same time Molly said "Two".

He looked at her. "I've got it. I invited you, its only fair."

"I can pay for my own things, Andrew," Molly said in a level tone, reaching for her wallet. "Two checks, please," she said with a polite smile to the waitress.

After paying, they walked back through the lobby. She could tell he really wanted to say something to her, but didn't know where to start.

Just a few more feet, she thought as her heart soared at the prospect of freedom. A few more feet and you can move on and go back to life like normal.

"Thanks for coming," Andrew said with a soft smile as they stood near the hotel's front doors.

Molly had forgotten how he would drop the h sound in some words and how endearing she found it. "Of course. Thank you for inviting me. And for the donation," she said.

He was fidgeting with his hair, running his long fingers through it the way he used to whenever he was nervous. She waited another second before he spoke.

"I hope you come," he said quickly. "Ehm - to the concert," he chuckled and blushed. "It would be great to see you again before I go."

He leaned in for a hug and Molly allowed it, realizing a handshake would be rude at that point. He smelled of nature - woodsy and musky, but still crisp and clean. Like a late fall morning frost that hadn't burnt off yet. A memory of laying under stars in a shared sleeping bag flashed across her mind's eye as he hugged her. The same electric shock that passed between them when he touched her at the benefit was there again. Aware that people could be watching them, she broke away and crossed her arms over her chest, closing herself off, creating distance.

"I'll let you know about the tickets," she said, moving toward the door. "It was good seeing you again."

With that, she walked out the door and didn't look back.

***

Molly sat at the kitchen island, staring at her phone. Open files covered the counter around her but she couldn't focus on any of them. Her foot jiggled against the wooden barstool leg as she chewed her bottom lip.

"Fuck it. I'll accept the tickets," she muttered.

"What tickets?" Oscar asked, coming out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist. His hair hung in dark blond ringlets around his ears.

"Andrew invited us to one of his concerts," she explained, taking a sip from her coffee mug.

"I thought this was just supposed to be a quick lunch to thank him for the donation and then you were done?" he asked, walking behind her.

"It was. Then he invited me and my boyfriend," she intoned. "When I told him I don't have a boyfriend he invited you."

Oscar's face lit up. "Oooh free concert. I'm down."

"I'm not even sure if I want to go," Molly said. "I could just say something came up and then I'd never have to see him again."

"But now he knows where you work. He's a donor. He could just as easily come back for a visit or something," he replied, breaking open a banana. "If he wanted to, obviously. Did you apologize to him or whatever?"

She sighed heavily. "No. It didn't seem like the right place. And he didn't seem to be hung up on it. Heck, he invited me to do something else, so he obviously doesn't care."

"Or," Oscar started, putting his head over her shoulder from behind. "He's trying his luck a second time now that he's found you."

"You make him sound like a crazy serial killer that's been hunting me for years," she brushed him away and stood up, gathering the files into a neater pile.

"If you don't want to go, don't go," he said, chewing. "Why are you so hung up on it?"

"Because I feel guilty," she answered. "And I think I should apologize to him. Face to face. That's what mature adults do, right? Apologize for shit?"

"So I'm told," Oscar grinned. "What's the worst that could happen? Accept the tickets, talk to him after the show, then say goodbye and move on. He's a big boy; if he's still upset about it he needs to build a bridge and get over it already."

He threw his banana peel away and marched off to his bedroom upstairs. Molly stared at her phone for another second, listening as the sounds of Oscar getting dressed filled the two-story space. She picked up her phone and abandoned her files on the granite counter, moving across concrete floors to sit on the foot of her bed. The long curtain dividing her "room" from the rest of the loft fluttered.

Her room was more of a sleeping area in one corner of the living room. A tall wardrobe and metal bookshelf acted as one wall, holding a 20-foot long blood red curtain back from her queen sized bed. The curtain hung on a rod suspended from the ceiling and gave the whole room a splash of color.

I'm free tomorrow night, she texted the number Andrew had given her. Oscar would like to join me.

She hadn't bothered to store his number in her phone because she didn't plan on needing it long. She checked the time and nearly cried. It was 2AM and she had to be in court at 8. She still had three files to go through. Her phone buzzed. He was calling her.

"Hello?" she asked quietly, aware of how sound carried in the cavernous space.

"I got your text," Andrew said on the other end of the call.

"I'm so sorry, did I wake you up?" she asked, suddenly aware of how inappropriate it was, texting at that time of night.

"No, no," he laughed. "Just heading back to the hotel." She heard several car horns and other traffic noise on his end. "I'll put the tickets under your name at the box office."

"G-great," she stammered. "Thanks." They sat in silence for a second. "Do you think you'll have time after the show to chat? I kind of wanted to talk to you about something."

"Yeah, sure," he exclaimed. The road noise died down and he lowered his voice. "I'll be busy with the band and a little meet and greet for about an hour. But I've got time after that. Is it anything serious?" he asked.

"N-no. Not really," she replied.

"Okay. Uh - listen, I've got to go. But text me tomorrow when you arrive. I'll send someone out to meet you when the show is over," he said quickly. "Chat soon."

Molly blinked and looked at her phone in surprise when the call ended. He seemed distracted and busy, even for two in the morning. She shrugged and stood up, crossing the living room again to return to her files.

Oscar peeked his head around the edge of the 3/4 wall that separated his room. "Do we have concert tickets?" He asked, coming down the stairs tying a drawstring at his waist.

"Yes. Tomorrow night. 8 at the Wiltern," she said without looking up. "Apparently I'm supposed to text him when we get there and someone will come out to meet us when the show's over."

"So what, you're going to tell him after the show and then that's it?" he asked.

"That's the plan, yeah," she scribbled something down on a witness statement and highlighted a sentence in a police report.

She was almost finished. Now all she needed to do was get through the concert and apologize to him. Then her conscience would be cleared and she could move on with her life.

***

The next day flew by without Molly even realizing. After court at 8, she had three witness interviews to conduct for two separate cases. It was noon before she ate for the first time that day. She was grateful that Oscar had reminded her that morning to pack for the concert that evening because it meant she didn't have to rush back to the loft to change. By the time the day was over, she was exhausted and going to a concert was the last thing on her mind. But she still got ready in the office bathroom, applying a darker shade of lipstick and adding a heavier eyeliner.

"Damn, you sure you're not trying to get him to fuck you?" Oscar asked as he spun around in his chair, munching on a bag of Funyuns.

"What? Its just jeans and a t-shirt," she said, looking down.

"No," he caught his foot on a desk leg and stopped himself. "Those are your make-my-ass-look-fantastic-jeans. You only wear those on dates. Or when you're trying to get Harold to come to the apartment to fix something," he explained, pulling in the name of their landlord. "And that is definitely a push up bra." He poked her left breast several times. "Hmm. More padding than I expected."

"Are we going to go or not?" she asked, her annoyance level rising.

He offered her the Funyun bag and she swatted it away, glaring at him. They locked up the office and got a car to the Wiltern. Traffic was murder, and by the time they arrived at the theater, there was already a long line waiting to get in. They meandered their way to the box office and Molly gave the clerk her name.

"Pit admission, nice," Oscar said, examining their tickets. "We'll be right up front."

Just picked up the tickets. Thanks for the great seats, she texted Andrew. Again, her phone vibrated a second later.

"Hey, I've only got a few minutes. What are you wearing?" he asked.

Molly's eyes went wide and her face got red. "Excuse me?"

He laughed. "Sorry. What are you wearing so my stage manager knows what you look like," he clarified.

"Oh, uh..." she looked down at her outfit. "Jeans and a black t-shirt? Its an old Ramones concert tee."

"Cool. She'll come up to you before the show with something. You'll need it to get backstage," he explained. "I've got a couple things to take care of after the show, but then I'm all yours."

Molly wasn't sure how to take his 'all yours' comment, so she just agreed and wished him a good show. They navigated their way to the pit, directly in front of the stage. A crowd had already formed and the theater was buzzing in anticipation. It was mostly teen girls and college students in the pit and she felt significantly out of place.

About ten minutes after they got there, a woman in dark clothes wearing a headset came out to the edge of the stage. She looked through the crowd for several seconds before she made eye contact with Molly and beckoned her over.

"Molly Stanley?" she asked, pushing the microphone down so she could talk. Molly nodded. The woman produced an envelope and held it out to Molly. "Andy asked me to give this to you. Head to the stage door off the lobby and show these to security. They'll call to have someone escort you."

Molly took the envelope. "Thanks."

The stage manager walked away and Molly could feel the eyes of every other person around her staring, wondering who this random girl was to be getting something special from the stage manager and an invitation backstage.

"They probably think you're fucking him," Oscar said, a bit too loud.

Molly glared at him and put the envelope in her pocket as quickly as she could. "Could you be any louder?"

He shrugged and pulled out his phone. Molly took the sights in. Despite being remodeled recently, the Wiltern still retained most of its iconic art deco charm. Intricate plaster carvings were painted in browns and muddy reds along the edge of the ceiling and jade green along the top of the stage. Seats were set up for every other section on the floor except the pit in front of the stage. There was also a balcony area that was steadily filling with people.

The opening act was a husband/wife duo that had a funky acoustic vibe and great harmonies. Molly felt a little bad for them because people continued to stream in during their set, having conversations and not really paying attention to them. When they were done, the excitement level in the theater increased tenfold. The girls next to her dissolved into a fit of giggles and high pitched, fast-paced exchanges. The instruments on the stage were rearranged and new ones were brought out and centered. Techs worked quickly, running wires and moving microphones. Molly could see Andrew's stage name emblazoned on the skin of the bass drum in the drum kit, and she felt a small wave of excitement in spite of herself.

And then the lights went dark and several backing musicians came on stage to loud cheers and applause. Then she saw him moving through the dark and mist pouring across the floor. From this extreme angle, he towered over everyone. He walked over to a microphone set almost directly in front of her and picked up an acoustic guitar just as the drummer started a steady beat. He launched into a lilting guitar riff that ignited the audience and the stage lights came up. He looked up briefly and did a double take when he saw her. A smirk tweaked the corners of his mouth just before he opened it to sing.

"Oooh he smiled at me!" Oscar shrilled next to her.

"Seriously?" Molly asked, annoyed.

The audience was electric, singing along. Molly briefly wished she had thought to listen to some of his music before coming; she would have felt a lot less out of place. Oscar seemed to be a bit more at ease but she couldn't tell if that was from the edible he'd popped in the car over or if he really was relaxed.

She tried to listen to the lyrics of the song and actually be present but her mind kept drifting to what she wanted to say to Andrew after the show. She'd rehearsed it several times during the afternoon, running it over and over in her head.

Andrew, I'm sorry that I didn't say goodbye when I left. It was a shitty thing to do and I didn't think about what you needed.

Or something like that.

She intended to be firm but polite and make sure that was the end of it. His last show was tomorrow night. He'd leave the city shortly after. And as long as she never attended another donor's benefit event, she'd probably never see him again. Easy.

The song ended and the audience cheered. Andrew leaned over and picked up a water bottle and she was close enough to see the mole over his right eyebrow. His eyes met hers again and she caught a small hint of mirth in them. He launched straight into another song, this one with a catchy beat.

Molly watched as his backup band began a playful snap-clap rhythm and the rest of the theater joined in. Oscar was half a beat behind.

"Fucking fuck. Why is this so hard?" he asked, trying to keep up in his slightly-addled state as his fingers refused to cooperate.

Molly couldn't help but smile. As the song continued, she felt herself relax into the music. She found herself watching Andrew intently, remembering the only other time she had seen him perform in that pub the night before she left. Though it had been years ago, small bits were coming back to her.

He had little nervous tics when he was in front of the crowd back then, running his fingers through his hair, stuttering when he spoke, and biting his lips in a closed mouth. But now, it was as if he had transformed. He was the leader of the pack in an all-black ensemble, well worn boots and black trousers paired with a black top and sport coat. His hair was free and the stubble on his face had spouted into a scruffy but well-shaped beard. Even through the dusky mood lighting, he shone.

Andrew seemed to feed off the crowd more and more, a confidence Molly didn't recognize had taken up residence in him. He was a completely different person onstage., transforming from a quiet geeky bookworm to a titan, drawing all eyes to him like moths to a flame. And when he started in on a third song, one with a dark and sensual guitar lead and purposeful beat, he looked directly at her again, smiling slightly. The girls behind her let out a shriek, thinking he was looking to them. As he sang, he looked around the theater, taking in the audience.

"So I'll try to talk refined, for fear that you find out how I'm imaginin' you," he sang looking at her for a third time.

Holy shit, he's flirting with you, she realized.

Molly forced herself to look away as heat rose up her face and a tiny fire formed in her body.

"Holy fuck he's like...feral up there," Oscar said to her over the beat of the bass.

She had to agree. He was oozing raw sexuality in such a way that she barely recognized him. And when the song ended even she was cheering for him.

"Los Angeles!" he exclaimed, stepping up to the microphone. The audience erupted. He bent over to pick up his water bottle again, slinging his guitar down to his side. "You've been grand this week. It's been so lovely to be in your beautiful city."

"Beautiful? Clearly he's never been to Skid Row," Oscar said next to her ear over the sound of cheering.

Molly fought a smile but brushed him away.

"You know, last year was rough for most of the country with protests and really hard situations for many people," Andrew continued. "And I watched from Ireland and I was trying to find a way I could support the people protesting in your fair city. A good friend of mine told me about an organization called Bright Horizons."

Molly's eyes widened and she exchanged a glance with Oscar. She couldn't bring herself to look to the stage.

"Bright Horizons are a wonderful organization that provides free legal counseling and aide to those in need," Andrew continued. "They do a lot of great work for the immigrant and low income communities and have some incredible people on their staff." Molly did look up then and found him looking at her.

"I would like to urge every single one of you out there tonight to make a donation if you are able," he said. "They are such a deserving organization and every little bit helps. I will have links to them on all of my social media accounts so you can check them out." He picked up his guitar again and settled it against his body. "And in the spirit of what they represent, this is Jackboot Jump."

Molly mouthed Thank you to him. This would likely mean a jump in donations and she knew he was doing it for her benefit. He winked at her as he started the song.

"Alright, if you don't fuck him tonight, I will," Oscar said, resting his chin on her shoulder.