Page 7 of Just My Type of wrong guy

“I’m happy to hear that. I watched your whole show. I understood a few things because Dani lives to teach me your extra hard language.” I toss my hair back while she laughs. “But even from what I didn’t understand, I really liked it.”

“Brazilian music is really awesome,” she says excitedly while I swirl my drink in the glass and watch the liquid dance under the light.

“It is, but what really enchanted me was the power of your art, of your voice.” I raise my eyes to her. “Not everyone has that.”

“Leaving that girl alone to come over and say those things to me makes me wonder where the clueless jokester who used to hit on me without even knowing me has gone…” Alexandra raises an eyebrow, crossing her arms

“He’s somewhere here, I’m a complex man with layers, you know?” I mock myself, making her laugh. “But where I come from, people are used to promising you the world, handing you crumbs, and still making you feel like you don’t deserve it. That’s why it bothered me to see you insecure.”

“Oh my God, where are you from?”

“From a not-so-great place in the industry,” I comment with a sigh and put my biggest smile on my face. “Anyway, nomore insecurities from now on, okay? I hope our fans get to enjoy you for as long as they can.”

I drink half of the sparkling wine from the glass and lower my foot to step away.

“Talking about it… You're the one whoenjoysthe fans…” She stops me with the comment. “Is this whole kissing thing just to have someone at the end of the night?” she asks, pointing to Suzane sitting on a pouf and fiddling with her phone.

“Not always… and ‘One Last Kiss’ isn’t just about…” I try to speak, but Alex cuts me off.

“About you getting off the stage and fulfilling your fans' teenage wet dreams?”

“Are you jealous of them?”

I tease her, just for the fun of it.

“Jealous?” Alexandra stares at me as if I insulted her mother. “You walk around kissinganyone. Do you really think I want to be them?”

“Yes. But let’s give time a chance…”

“Yes, grandpa, take your medicine.” She brings the glass to my mouth, and I hold back a laugh. “Meanwhile, go enjoy your fan who’s dying to kiss that mouth of yours.”

Alexandra throws her hair in my face, leaves the beer bottle in my hand, and walks to the makeshift dance floor, where she joins a few other girls dancing to very suggestive Brazilian songs. I look away when she works her hips all the way down to the floor because it’s an image I don’t even want to imagine.

I finish the rest of the sparkling wine before setting the glass and her bottle on another tray that floats on the shoulders of a waiter. Walking between dancing bodies, I head toward the shy and lost girl on the other side. But just a few steps before reaching Suzane, visibly irritated with my delay, I’m stopped by a tall, dark-haired guy with glasses who’s part of the team, but I don’t know him yet.

“You’re coming with us,” he warns and pulls me by the arm.

I shrug at Suzane and let myself be taken by him because you can’t say no to men that my best friend would define as an Ali Hazelwood character.

We stop, forming a circle with the redhead from sound, holding a blue drink, and our lighting tech, hands empty and completely awkward.

“I wanted to ask you something,” the tall redhead shoots. “How did your tradition of kissing fans start?” she asks, seductively playing with the straw of her drink.

I shake my head at her before looking back to see Suzane alone over my shoulder.

“Yeah, A.J., how did this tradition start?” The voice behind me, stepping into the circle, keeps me from stifling a laugh. Alexandra stops beside me and takes a sip of another ginger beer.

“I’ve told this story a million times…”

“But I’ve never heard it!” the tall guy protests.

“I’ve never heard it either, A.J.,” Alexandra taps my chest and pouts, mocking the situation.

“As I was saying…” I throw my arm around her waist, teasing, and notice that she wasn’t expecting this. “I’ve told it many times, but I lied in all of them.”

“Didn’t I say so?” The lighting tech, Joanne, glares at the redhead.

“Sorry, what’s your name?” I ask the curious girl, caressing Alexandra ’s back on the dress’s neckline, and she tenses, giving up on teasing.

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