Page 79 of Just My Type of wrong guy

“What’s it like being here with us, all groupie-like, instead of being on stage, the star?” Daniele asks excitedly. I turn to her and Beatriz, remembering the first time A.J. told me about this house.

Besides telling me about the warmth from Carlos, the meals around the table, the huge backyard, and the homey smell of the place, he smiled when he remembered how easy it was to get close to Daniele and her funny little ways. However, what made A.J. look at me with a glowing expression was talking about the rehearsals in this basement — rehearsals that cemented Vicious Bonds not just as a band, but as something close to family.

The word slipped out of his lips with a sense of shyness, like admitting belonging was a betrayal to his parents. I leaned in, brushed the hair off his face, and tied it up in a bun, before looking deep into his eyes and assuring him that I wanted to meet his second family — because I will be a part of it until February.

But being here is really special.

It’s been just me and Thalia for so long. Sitting with other girls to watch our boys — I mean,theboys — play? It’s such a nice change.

“I see them doing shows every weekend, Dani, nothing new,” I lie.

It’s nice to be here, feeling the band’s energy, the friendship between them — and not the audience’s. But, looking at the ripped jeans and the worn-out shirt that says “I’m with the band,” I still want her to remember:

I sing like them, I’m not living the life of a professional groupie.

“But today is different, come on,” Beatriz suggests, and I look at her with a furrowed brow. “Ah, you know…” she gestures to A.J. with her head, and I laugh because it’s impossible.

“You are clueless or just dumb?” Daniele looks at me with tired eyes. “Pay attention to the way A.J. looks at you, honey.”

“Stop it. We’re just friends,” I say it, but it comes out like a playful defense — and it makes both of them laugh., and I get up from between them.

The song People Like U.S. — a really good song, but nobody cares because it criticizes the “American way of life” — ends, and the guys ask us to pick the next one.

“Bia and Gui singingI Still Love You,” I shout, and everyone gets excited, including that traitor, who runs into the arms of her lover.

“Be careful,” Daniele whispers in my ear, crossing her arms beside me while Richard plays the drums with his eyes on her the whole time.

“Did something happen?”

She rests her hand on my shoulder and looks at me like I’m a lost cause.

“No… I just think it’s bold of you to throw a stone when you live in a glass house.”

“Go to hell, Daniele.” I push her lightly, and we both start laughing...

When I compose myself and look back at the boys, however, A.J.’s eyes on me could burn every inch of my skin.

And deep in my mind, a voice whispers,“What if...?”while Bia and Guilherme sing, overflowing with love.

But unlike her and Dani, I’m not a muse — I’m not anyone’s inspiration.

For them, it’s wonderful. Bia and Guilherme are solid, unshakable. Not even the gossip bothers these two since they got back together. Daniele can hardly hide her excitement about the idea of hitting the road with Richard.

But me? I can’t see myself in that place. I grew up watching amazing women in my family drop everything for someone else. And even the ones who stayed were swallowed by their husbands’ successful careers. The last thing I want is to repeat that story.

Even though giving up my career for someone is out of the question, just being here—having put my own projects on hold to tour the world with Vicious and now serve as their backup singer—already puts me in a delicate position.

None of this came easy—it was all earned through hard work. And I refuse to let anyone suggest I only got here because I slept with one of them. So, when A.J. winks at me, biting his lower lip, and my heart skips a beat while my mind screams “What if?”again, I stand up, saying I’m going to the bathroom.

But it’s a lie, I’m just going to find a way to silence that voice.

***

In the division of rooms, Richard and A.J. get the guest room; Thomas, who snores, is assigned to a single one, and I end up with Daniele.

We say goodbye under the watchful eyes of our friends’ parents, promising to wake up before ten and A.J. walks me tothe door of the room, I kiss his cheek, he kisses my forehead, just like we do at home every day.

But there’s something strange between us. Or maybe it’s just my lust-clouded mind.

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