I was frozen in my spot, staring up at the man who I hadn't seen in god knows how long. Was he always this tall? Did he get a bit taller? Were there a few cuts on his face? Are those... hickies? His face looks relatively the same but more developed with muscles, sharper cheekbones, sharper jaw, manlier face and of course; his arms got more buffer. He had a new lip piercing and smudged eyeliner right below his eyes.

I immediately let go of his arms as he let go of mine, out of startle I stepped back once so there was a good amount of space between us now. My heart was pounding in my chest, but I wasn't scared of him, I was blushing madly.

"Snips." He spoke lazily, I got the scent of cherry when he spoke. He definitely was near someone who had the lip gloss flavor of cherry.

Stepping back I see that he's in a white ripped t-shirt with a leather jacket unzipped over top of it. He had the same spiked bracelets that he wore at the first concert I first ever saw him in. He had that signature smirk on his lips.

I crossed my arms over my stomach as I was not prepared to have run into him. I didn't think I would see him until tomorrow, but even then that was a far stretch on its own. But no, I had to slam into him when I was sucking down my slushy.

"I'm the new stylist." Was the only words that came to mind as I spit them out quickly.

HIs eyebrows remained furrowed, staring at me with great intimidation. I wanted to choke on my nerves, I wanted to give him a piece of my mind for ghosting me without an answer, I wanted to run away, but I was left with my feet being glued to the ground like cement magically appeared.

"I know that." He instead says what I least expected.

I expected something different.

"Well I–"

"Karl runs everything by me and we took a vote on whether or not you should be close to us. To me." He spoke as if I should've known this.

"You voted on me like I'm a toy?"

"Yeah. We all voted." He repeats with a certain strictness and annoyance in his voice like I had the final vote. He bent down and picked up one of my little candy bars on the ground, making me realize the bag I was carrying was ripped at the bottom just slightly.

He stood back up straight and tall, passing the bar back to me with the tip of his fingers.

"I was overruled." He muttered under his breath while doing so, eyes burning right into mine harshly like he was extremely pissed off.

I froze my hand midair at his comments, a chill running down my spine before I felt my cheeks flare. His jaw was sharp in a clench, every part of his face chiseled in a harsh way.

I snatched the candy bar out of his hand and took another step backwards, squinting my eyes at him before turning and ending the conversation right then and there. I didn't want to entertain his time if he was going to be a complete dick.

He didn't vote for me, but I'd be stupid to admit out loud I wish he did.

As I hurried back to the apartment and up the stairs, I held onto my chest with my hand gripping my shirt in a deep sigh. If I was to survive being their stylist, or Hobie's, I just needed to keep out of his way and only talk to him when he wanted to be spoken to. Which made no sense seeing as how he brought me to a special place, bought us an uber, made me feel comfortable and followed me around so no one would bother us that night. What changed? Were the tabloids right about everything? Maybe I was just a silly fool who thought that Hobie would be different.

The apartment was now quiet as a mouse, with Ciera and Ares having been gone for a good while now I decided to go and explore to see the other rooms. I knew certain rooms were designated for the band, but this was to be my home of residence and what if I needed to clean? I had to know whose room was who's incase of something like that. Fashion emergency for Rico? I know exactly what room she stayed in here. Ozzy and Crass? They are down the hall. I was big on knowing where to go, but every room I went into was plain with a few clothes trashed on the floor. Like they come and go.

One room in particular caught my eye. The door was just slightly cracked open and with my hand placed on the center of it, I was now standing in the most beautiful room of them all. I was almost envious of who lived in this room, I knew it wasn't mine because I stay on the bottom level that overlooks the river. But this view overlooks the upper east side. The large cream colored bed was the first thing I noticed.

At the far end there was a huge beautiful window that gave the room so much light, with a fire escape that led down the side of it. I stepped further in and shut the door behind me, in awe of the perfect size space. The walls were painted a mismatched of colors, gold pillars were in the corners of the rooms that were handmade. Next to the bed was a dresser with clothes toppling out of the top of it.

I walked deeper into the beautiful room, looking out the window to see the beautiful city from such heights. This was so surreal, I wasn't used to such luxury of any kind.

I turn around and look at the other end of the room where there was a mini fridge, a counter of snacks and an enormous closet.

"Sick." I murmur to myself while walking over.

Immediately I noticed the glass table that was hidden on the side of the bed where multiple guitar picks lay scattered on the top of it. To the left of them were expensive full bottles, two to be exact. Lifting one of the bottles up to the light, I read the label stating it was whisky and grimaced. Memories flooding back to the night of the party.

"Who the hell lives in this room.." I ask myself, placing it back down to swipe one of the guitar picks up in my hands before turning to the closet to take a peek inside. So far the only two options were Opium and Hobie, but Hobie seemed to not be this fancy and Opium seems to be the one to drink the most while also being clean.

I gripped the handlebars of the closet door and slowly peeked inside to stare down at the floor. Many combat shoes with spikes around them littered the floor before I stopped thinking and moving altogether, freezing in my place. I slowly turned my head to look at the glass table where the guitar picks laid, the mismatched colored walls and tucked behind the curtains of the window laid a signature guitar that I only saw once but it left a lasting impression.

I know exactly whose room this is and I was not going to be stuck in here any longer.

Staring back at the closet wall right before I shut it, a glimmer of a spike caught my attention hidden behind leather jackets and ripped shirts. I made a mental note that we would be changing his style the first chance I got. With an extended hand towards the item that caught my eye, I felt the wind get taken out of me and the door slamming shut all in the same motion.

He stood there broad with one of his hands gripping the closet handle and the other on my forearm. His chest was puffed naturally as he towered over me. Those chocolate eyes held mine completely like I couldn't look away if I wanted to.

"You're off to a magnificent start aren't you." He muttered coldly, shaking his head with frigidity. He flushed his back against the closet with one ankle crossed over the other and his arms doing the same.

I swallowed the lump in my throat.

"There were no names on the doors and I wanted to make sure I knew whose room wa–"

"Did you have fun snooping through all my shit?" He cut me off, now I was just offended that he assumed that was my plan all along. Did he really think I was some random person and not the same girl he placed his number in practically begging me to see him.

"News flash, Hobie Brown. I also live here and have a right to know whose room belongs to who." I snapped back.

He said nothing, gripping my forearm again before dragging me out of the room and turning me around to face down the hallway before it all made sense.

On top of each room had a position for each member written out in red paint. Lead guitarist, drummer, bass guitarist, lead singer and rhythm guitarist.

"You ain't bothered to look around your surroundings more to realize we tagged our rooms?" He speaks to me like I am a child.

"How would I have known to look up? This is an apartment building, not a school campus where I need to look up to see what classroom number this is." I shook my head annoyed, swallowing the lump in my throat from how sick I was feeling at how he was acting.

His eyes narrowed down to my hand, making me realize I still had one of his guitar picks in my grasp. His eyes flick back up to mine silently for a moment as I stopped inhaling and exhaling.

He stared at me hard in the eyes like he was trying to communicate to me without words, I white knuckled the pick in my fingers, watching him as he watched me. His eyes went back to my finger tips before he reached his hand out and gripped the plastic pick with his pointer and middle finger.

"You know..." He started in a quiet voice, holding onto the pick that was clenched between my fingertips.

All it took was a light tug and I ungripped with the tips of my fingers, letting him slide the isosceles triangle item out between my fingers. It felt foreign to not be holding it in my hand anymore, but rather up in between us.

He looked at the guitar pick for a second, then back at me.

"You should forget that night we spent together." He leaned closer so there was a smaller proximity between us, I was frozen while my eyes fluttered down to his lips as my own slightly parted.

"I'm not good for you and I can tell you are longing to be wrong." He suddenly takes the guitar pick and places it in between my two front and lower teeth. His tongue pushes to the side of his inner cheek as he holds up the hard eye contact.

"I could get you killed." He whispers, the scent of cherry no longer being there but of honesty... and deadly.