Chapter 8

"What's got you two in stitches?" the lead singer, Kai, asked.

I looked his way to find the camera on us, and immediately, the laughter seemed to dry up.

"Kai, meet Juno. She's a writer. Was at the interview, too, and has an extremely brilliant mind. The darling loved our lyrics." As Jack said "darling," he elongated the r and emphasized the first syllable in an exaggerated way an English person did, making everyone chuckle again.

At the same time, Kai took my hand and kissed the back of it.

"How do you do, my lady?" he asked, also attempting to speak with the same exaggerated accent.

I tried to stifle my own laughter so I could reply.

"I'm having a capital time, darling," I said, trying to imitate the accent I'd heard from both of them.

This created more amused outbursts as the rest of the band appeared. Although I was a stranger to most of them, they seemed to welcome me with open arms. They included me in their conversations, all of us drinking a variety of soft drinks and eating the snacks that had somehow appeared.

Jack quickly told our tale about O'Sullivan trying to pretend he hadn't double-booked us and how Jack had made sure we were both interviewed, and the indignation spread through the whole band. It made me feel at home until the talk turned to food.

Once again, Jack took my hand as the band and various other people, including some other women who appeared to be partners of band members, all made their way back toward the front of the studio.

When we got there, several cars were waiting. Jack led me over to one, his bodyguards coming with us and parting the smallish crowd. One of the bodyguards opened the doors, and Jack motioned for me to get inside.

The leather interior had a warm, inviting scent that I couldn't place in any other way than to say it was clean, and some kind of polish or air fragrance had been used on it.

The passenger space was also generous and contained a small fridge and yet more snacks of different varieties. I was looking around at it all when I realized Jack hadn't followed right away. He stood by the door, talking in hushed voices to the bodyguard.

In the background, I could hear more fans calling his name and shouting various bits of praise or their desires. Some of it was less than appropriate, but Jack barely seemed to react, as if it was a normal backdrop to his life. Before he got into the car, however, he waved, and this made the fans squeal all the more.

It had me wondering what they must all be thinking of me. This random woman they probably didn't recognize, now in the back of Jack's car with him. Would they wish they were me?

"Sorry about that," Jack said. "There's always some sort of decision to make or things to plan. Our schedule is crazy right now."

"I can imagine," I replied. "I don't know how you manage to make so many films each year and do albums and tours at the same time."

"Careful planning and a lot of staff," he replied, still smiling. "But I don't know how you write so many books each year. You have a lot."

"It's like therapy. I sit in my little study, and I just let the voices in my head tell me their stories. It keeps me sane. Mostly," I said, seeing his eyes light up at the humor.

"The songs are similar for me. I feel like I'm just getting something out there that someone else gave me. It's a relief to have it out."

"Does the acting feel the same?" I said before wondering if I'd asked something he was bored of responding to.

It had come out several years earlier that he preferred to be in a band but thought the movies both paid better and were easier to do.

"The acting is more about having fun and paying the bills. I have amazing fans, and I get paid a lot to do it. I get to live a life where I have all the money I need, and I get to tell people not to be asshats to others. It makes sense, but it doesn't make me feel alive in the same way."

I nodded as he spoke, his voice mesmerizingly gentle but equally expressive. When he finished speaking, neither of us moved for a moment, our eyes locked but the moment somehow not awkward.

Eventually, I looked down, wanting to pinch myself again. He was stunning, and I was that girl who had written a few books and got lucky with them. Not to mention, I'd written smut fan fiction about him. I didn't deserve to be sitting in the back of a fancy car with one of the sweetest and most gorgeous rock stars on the planet.

Thankfully, Jack didn't seem to mind the silence either, but he shifted to look out the window.

"Shouldn't be too much longer before we're there. Then we can get some decent food and wait for the fallout of this interview. It's going to cause quite a fuss, I think."

"Sorry," I replied, pretty sure he meant my fan fiction.

"I told you, don't be ashamed of it. You did it for good reasons. If I need to, I'll tell someone that in one of the next few interviews I do. But if it bothers you, you might want to steer clear of social media for a few days."

"Oh, I don't mind what others think, really. But…" I trailed off as he looked at me again, giving me his attention and distracting me.

He had changed since the interview, now wearing a flannel shirt with the top few buttons undone and open. Several necklaces hung in the gap, but it still gave me a good view of his sculpted chest.

"But?" he asked, and I was pretty sure the corner of his mouth twitched up.

"I don't want to embarrass you or make you think I'm only interested in…well…"

"Getting into my pants," he finished.

"Yeah, that." I looked away again, trying hard not to be embarrassed myself.

"So you're not interested in getting into my pants?" he asked.

Immediately, I looked up, about to protest, before I saw the twinkle in his eyes and the sly grin on his face. I'd almost walked into one of those moments where I'd have dug a very big hole.

"I'm not embarrassed. I feel flattered, as I said. But let's talk about something else before your beautiful cheeks go even darker red. I think they look better with your natural pale color."

I nodded and looked down again. A moment later, he reached out and lifted my chin, so I had to look right into his eyes, his face closer again.

"Blue. I thought so," he said before letting go.

I blinked, not sure how to respond. His eyes were a dark brown and expressed a great deal of emotion. Or at least appeared to.

Of course, he was a famous actor. Who knew what was really going on inside his head? I'd spent about an hour in total with him so far, most of it reeling from one surprise to another.

It didn't take much longer for us to reach our destination, and the car pulled over to the side of the road again. The bodyguard appeared incredibly quickly to open the door and let Jack and me out.

The rest of the group soon joined us as well, some of them in cars ahead and others in the cars behind. It was a little strange, and I was pretty sure we annoyed some of the other drivers in the area, a few beeping to express their annoyance.

The whole time, Jack kept his fingers wrapped around mine and led me into the restaurant. Immediately, the head waiter was there to show us to our seats and hand us menus, even managing to accommodate my awkward diet. I was sort of a celiac, but not. Instead, I had some kind of unexplained auto-immune disease that made me react like a celiac.