Page 8 of The Heartbreakers
There were four boys. On the far right sat a broad boy in a muscle shirt and with close-cropped dark hair. On his upper left bicep was an armband tattoo with black spirals that twisted together. Next to him was a tall, lanky guy with messy strawberry-blond hair and thick glasses. The third boy was blond as well, but his hair was styled to a T and drenched with gel to keep every strand in place. A pair of headphones hung around his neck, and he kept fiddling with the earbuds.
The final boy was the one that made my eyes pop. He had a familiar mop of wavy hair and a killer smile: the boy from Starbucks. I felt my face go red as I stared at him. He was talking with a fan as he signed a poster, and then he reached across the table to give her a hug. When she walked away, I could see the tears streaming down her face. My mind was on hyperdrive. I had been flirting with one of the boys from my sister’s favorite boy band? Someone famous?
The line moved forward, and I realized I would have to talk to him again. What would he do when he saw me? Would he remember?Ofcoursehewould, I told myself. We’d flirted for a good five minutes and he paid for my drink! But then again, he’d probably flirted with a million girls. My palms were sweaty, and I quickly wiped them on the back of my shirt.
Ididn’t want him to remember me, I realized. I’d told him that I was in Chicago to see an art gallery, not to meet the Heartbreakers. When he saw me standing in front of him asking for an autograph, he would probably laugh and think I was just another crazy fan.
“They look like little kids,” Drew said, startling me from my thoughts. I tore my eyes from the boy.
“What?” I responded, my heart thumping.
“The band.” Drew looked at me funny. “You okay, Stella? You’re kinda pale.”
“What?” I said, forcing a laugh. “I’m totally fine. And yeah, you’re right—little boys.” My brother was still staring at me like he knew something wasn’t quite right, so I continued the joke. “I mean look at the scrawny guy on the left. Can’t be older than twelve.”
Drew looked up at the boy I’d met this morning and cracked a smile. “I don’t know, looks thirteen to me.”
The girl from before turned back around again, but this time she had a sneer on her face. “Oliver is eighteen. Stop making fun of him. It’s not nice.”
Oliver, I thought, churning the name over in my mind. Suddenly I knew why he had seemed so familiar. He was the guy from the magazine article Cara had been reading, the one that called him a heartbreaker.
“You’re kidding, right?” Drew responded, his mouth hanging slack.
She put a hand on her hip. “Does it look like I’m kidding?” When my brother didn’t answer, she continued. “The Heartbreakers are the most talented band ever, and Oliver is amazing. Keep your stupid thoughts to yourself.”
After a few moments of staring with his mouth open, Drew finally recovered and surprised me by apologizing to the girl. “Well, Mrs. Perry,” he started, looking down at her shirt. It read: Future Mrs. Oliver Perry. “I profusely apologize for insulting you. It won’t happen again.”
“Don’t apologize to me,” she snapped and pointed at Oliver. “Apologize to him.”
“Next!” one of the bodyguards called. The girl spun around, and her sneer transformed into a smile that must have bordered on painful. I blinked in surprise. During the argument, I hadn’t noticed how close we had gotten to the front of the line. My empty stomach flipped over.
“Drew, I think you were right,” I told him, shoving my sister’s stuff into his arms. “I feel sick. I need to go to the bathroom.”
“No way, Stella.” My brother reached out and grabbed my shirt as I tried to run away. “You’re not getting out of this one. You can puke on the band for all I care, but I refuse to go up there by myself.”
I felt my arms start to shake, dread setting in. There was no way I could face Oliver. “But, Drew…” I whined.
He looked at me with hard eyes. “We are doing this for Cara.”
I bit my lip. Drew was right. My sister was a billion times more important than my pride. Sighing, I hung my head. The bratty girl and her group of friends moved away from the table, and I held my breath. Hopefully the lack of oxygen would calm my nerves.
Suddenly the band stood up and headed off the stage. “Wait, where are they going?” Drew demanded.
“Sorry,” a husky security guard answered. “The boys are done for today. They have to rest for their concert tomorrow.”
Forgetting my embarrassment, I snapped at the man. “We’ve been waiting in line for hours.”
“Yes, and so has everyone behind you,” he pointed out. “The boys can’t get to everyone. There are just too many fans. Better luck next time.”
“But I’m not here for me. This is for my sister’s birthday present. She—” But it didn’t matter what I had to say. The Heartbreakers were already gone.
Chapter 3
I was spread out on my bed in the hotel, staring up at the ceiling. It was sweltering in our room, and the heat was tiresome in a way that made it impossible to move. If I did, I could feel sweat drops trickling down my neck, and every time I took a breath, my skin stuck to the fabric of my shirt. I let my head roll to the side to look at my brother, who was on his own bed.
“Could it get any hotter?” I asked.
After a silent walk back to our hotel, Drew and I had been glad to finally check in and crash for the night. Our luck, however, was still in a downward spiral, and we ended up receiving a room with a broken air-conditioning unit. Lying on the bed, I couldn’t help but think that this trip hadn’t been worth it. It had been fun to see Bianca’s gallery, but at the moment, all I could think about was how frustrating the rest of the day had been. More than anything, I had wanted to see Cara’s eyes light up when we presented her with an autograph from the Heartbreakers, and now that wouldn’t happen.
