Unexpected Love

Copyright © 2016 by Jessica Ashley

Cover Art by: Marilyn Tardif at MT Design

Edited by: Sandra at Onelove Editing

Formatting by Elaine York, Allusion Graphics, LLC/Publishing & Book Formatting

Second edition

ISBN: 978-1-365-09786-7

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Copyright

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Sky and Olli's Playlist

Acknowledgements

Coming Soon

Prologue

Chapter 1

To my mom, the strongest woman I know. Thank for always believing in me and putting up with me. You are my role model, my hero, my everything! Xo

I sit under my beautiful canopy oak tree, which shades me from the sun while hiding me away from the world so that no one will notice me. Not that people notice me anyway.

Today has been a terrible day so far. I just turned eleven, and since then Dad has been drinking more and more. The drinking began three years ago when Mom passed away. It was about that time when he started to have no time for me, and his hurtful words began.

Today was his worst day to date. Usually he yells at me about the dinner I cooked or the cleaning I didn’t do enough of, calling me an idiot and saying I can’t do anything right. Today, however, he woke up even more bitter. As I handed him his eggs, bacon, and toast, the first words he spoke to me were, You are disgusting and useless. No one in their right mind will ever love you. His words burned, and I could feel my heart tearing in two. I tried hard to be strong and to not let him see my tears, but I failed miserably. Once he noticed my tears he began laughing deep from his large beer belly.

Such a weak little girl, he said between laughs. I know I am still young, but I also know this is not how fathers should treat their kids. My mom was my angel, always taking my friends and me out and buying me whatever I asked. That was when I had friends. Once Mom left, so did my friends. At first they all tried to be there, telling me over and over how sorry they were, which just annoyed me. Worse was the pity in their eyes. It just became easier to stop talking to them, to stop going to parties and hanging out, and soon enough I was invisible to all.

My tree is my safe haven; no one bothers me here. I sit under it for hours when it’s nice outside, reading away the days and getting lost in worlds I wish I lived in.

This summer has been my favorite, but that’s only because of him. I don’t know who he is; I’ve never seen him around before, but I know that every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday he will be here playing soccer with his team. My shelter hides me enough so that he can’t see my eyes glued to him.

What’s so special about him, you ask? Well, I’m not sure. Maybe it’s the blond, curly hair or his tall lean body. He’s taller than all the other sixteen-year-old boys. Maybe it’s the way he runs the field with such confidence, knowing he is ten times better than the rest. It’s clear that he has a lot of training, though he’s not stiff like he’s trained too much; he was just born to excel.

I lift my head from my Harry Potter book when I hear all the parents cheering. My boy is running around with his hands in the air as his smile lights up the field. He must have scored again.

I finish my book, but I’m not ready to leave yet. The game is still going, and I refuse to lose any chance to watch him. I know soon enough summer will be over, and my days under my tree watching him and reading are going to end. I know he doesn’t go to the same school as me, unless he’s new, but I know deep down that after this summer I will never see my beautiful boy again. No one beautiful stays around.

Eventually I lose myself in memories of my loving, selfless mom. Then the horrible words my dad said to me this morning flood through my mind. My eyes are closed, blocking the blinding sun, and I can feel the tears trickling down my warm cheeks. I have never been happier for my tree; it hides my weakness so my dad and the world can’t see.

A beautiful gal like you shouldn’t be crying, especially all alone, a boy’s voice says, shocking me out of my memories. I don’t want to open my eyes to find pity staring back at me, but his voice… I’ve never heard anything like it. It’s like a melody calling out for me to listen, urging me to open my eyes to see the beauty in front of me.

Ice-blue eyes are suddenly peering at me. I am enthralled by them and am unable to look away. It’s him—my boy. He’s under my shelter. He found me, and I am crying showing how weak of a little girl I am.

Beautiful gals shouldn’t cry, he says again, this time reaching down and wiping a tear away from my cheek. I jolt back at his touch—it felt like he electrocuted my entire body. I don’t have a lot of room to move around and end up smashing the back of my head on the tree trunk. Ouch, that hurt! I brave bringing my wide-eyed gaze back to him and see him staring at his hand that he touched me with, confused. Did he feel that as well?

Anderson, let’s go, a man yells. We both turn to see the coach staring at us, waiting for the boy to return. I hadn’t even realized the game ended. Anderson… my boy’s name is Anderson.

Later, honey. Anderson smiles a dazzling smile at me and then turns, running back to the coach. Honey? What teenage boy calls someone honey? It takes me a while to realize he called me that because of the one trait my mom gave me, her honey-colored eyes.

Bye, I whisper to the air, finally able to find my voice. That voice, that accent… I will never forget and I will do anything to hear it again.

Sometimes in life you need to move on, forget the past, and make a new future for yourself. This is exactly what I intend to do. It’s been a hellish month, and I need change. Some may say I’m running away, and maybe I am. I deserve happiness for once in my life, and this town, this entire country, is just not doing it anymore. Don’t get me wrong, I have people I love here in Toronto, like my three best friends, my family, and a guy who has no idea what love is. My family and friends were all upset when I told them my plans to pack up and move to another country, but once I explained to them that I need to find myself again they all understood, with one condition: I would go for a month to see if I like it first. So now here I am, twenty years old, on a flight to my dream city. If you had asked me a year ago where I would be today, on a flight to a new life wouldn’t have been my answer. I would have said I’d be in Toronto with my best friend in the whole world, Nicole, and my two other best friends, Trish and Morgan. I also would have said I’d be with the love of my life, Liam.

I met Liam two years ago, and the moment I saw him I knew he was the one for me. You know, butterflies in the stomach, heart racing, and sweaty palms—instant attraction! Liam is tall, about six two, very muscular but not in a bad way. He has beautiful dirty-blond hair and baby blue eyes, as well as tattoos of all colors covering his neck, arms, and chest. He’s also two years older than me. He looks like this big tough scary guy, but in reality Liam is a giant teddy bear who would do anything for the people he loves and cares about. He’s also the biggest cuddler I know.

But with all good there also comes the bad. Liam’s the town heartthrob, and all the girls have either been with him or want to be with him. We have been on and off for the last year, and when we were off he’d be with a new girl and I would disappear out of his life. But the second he dumped them he would come right back to me.

After finally breaking up with Liam once and for all, I finally decided to move on from him in the fall. The new guy I started seeing was incredible; he was every girl’s dream. He had a good job, lived on his own, and had his life together. But unfortunately he just wasn’t for me, and almost as soon as the relationship started it fizzled. Of course, I ended up falling apart in Liam’s arms, telling him everything, only to have him tell me he loved me as well and had always wanted to be with me. So why would a girl put up with all the crap? Well, because Liam had a way of making me feel special. He looked at me like I was the only person he could see, and when he wanted he could say the sweetest things. You’re all I think about… I think I’m falling in love with you was one of my favorites. He turned me into mush.

Everything was going wonderfully. Liam and I were inseparable, all my friends adored him, and even Nicole’s family loved him. Liam and I had been together again for five months; we even talked about marriage and children. I know that to some people that may seem fast, but after two years of both of us wanting each other and pushing each other away we were ready.

Well, until last month that is. Liam had never once pushed me for anything, not even sex. I wasn’t waiting for marriage or anything, but with my past I just wasn’t ready to lose my virginity yet. I might have some confidence issues. Liam understood and was more than patient; we made out a lot and even fooled around, but we just hadn’t gone all the way yet. Last month he surprisingly ended things. He told me he couldn’t do this anymore, that he was too young to have a serious relationship. He wanted to go out and have fun and sleep with different girls before finally settling down, but he still wanted to be friends. My girls were about ready to go and kill him. Even more so they wanted to kill me for agreeing to be his friend. Crazy? Maybe, but I know deep within his heart he still cares about me, and how can I completely cut someone out of my life who means so much to me?

A month of being his friend went by, seeing him happy with a different girl every night and acting like it didn’t bother me, but in reality it made me feel sick. And after a year of working in a salon that I loath night and day, all this is what has brought me here, sitting on this plane headed to a new country. I gave myself a month to see if I fall in love with the city like I have always dreamed about. I can almost guarantee I will love it, and that I’ll go back to Toronto in a month just to pack all my stuff and officially move. The girls wanted to come with me; the three of them pleaded with me, but I asked if it would be all right if I went alone to find out for myself if this is what I truly want. If it is, then when I stay for good they can come visit me once I settle in.

Ladies and gentlemen, as we start our descent please make sure your seat backs and tray tables are in their full upright position. Make sure your seat belt is securely fastened and all carry-on luggage is stowed underneath the seat in front of you or in the overhead bins. Please turn off all electronic devices until we are safely parked at the gate. Thank you.

This is it. In a short while I will finally be in London, England.

Everyone has always asked why I’m fascinated with London. I tell people that I don’t know, that ever since I was a little girl I have just wanted to go. This, however, is a lie. I know exactly why I have a fascination with London, but I am far too embarrassed to tell anyone the real reason. Well, anyone except for Nicole.

Once the plane lands at Heathrow Airport and I make my way through customs and baggage claim, I walk out to find an older gentleman in a black suit holding a sign saying Parker.

Good afternoon, Miss Parker. May I take your bags? he asks me in his charming British accent. Oh, I am going to be drooling over everyone talking. It doesn’t matter what someone looks like—add a British accent and they are instantly hot.

Please call me Sky, and thank you. I smile sweetly at him as he takes my bags and walks me to the black car that will take me to my new home for a month. Lucky for me the hotel I am staying at is only fifteen kilometers away from the airport, so I’m guessing I should be there in just under an hour.

My grandparents passed a year after my mom died, leaving a small fortune to me—a whopping five hundred thousand dollars—in a high-interest savings account, an inheritance I couldn’t touch until I turned eighteen. After I graduated from high school, I moved out and went to school for hair, which barely put a dent in my bank account.

I decided to finally use the money for my trip, dropping close to fifteen thousand dollars to stay in the Soho Hotel for a month. I’m very frugal and not one to spend money, but this is a once-in-a-lifetime experience, and it’s time for me to finally start living.

Have a wonderful stay, Sky, the driver with the nametag Jim says to me after taking my luggage out of the trunk. I was hoping to look at all the scenery on our drive to the hotel, but my eyes had other plans, and once the smooth car started moving they closed in peace.

Thank you, Jim. I intend to, I say, passing him a ten-pound tip for driving me. Grabbing my bags, I make my way inside my new living space. The hotel is exquisite. Walking into the lobby, the first thing I notice is the massive cat statue and the floors, which are all light hardwood. The walls are painted a burnt red, and even the large front desk is made out of hardwood.

Good afternoon, miss. Welcome to the Soho Hotel. How may I help you? A very sweet young lady addresses me; she has to be around my age.

Hello, I’m here to check in—Sky Parker. I wonder if it is unusual for them to have a young woman come in alone, especially one staying as long as I am.

Hello, Miss Parker, your room is ready if you will just sign here. Your bags will be taken up for you. If you need anything at all, please call down.

After signing the paperwork, I head up to my room. I open the door and gasp—the room takes my breath away. It’s painted a dark gray, with white and purple accents. The room is large, with a giant waiting room and big TV room. Two doors are on one wall which must lead to the bathroom and bedroom. It’s girly and stunning—it’s perfect for me. For a girl who was raised by a single dad, sometimes I like things to be extremely girly.

My bags arrive and I tip the young man, then quickly wash myself in a lavish shower that has multiple spray heads and a bench to sit on. So this is how the rich live…

Finally feeling clean and relaxed after my long travels, I make a quick call home to let everyone know I arrived safely and decide to get ready to explore.

I didn’t want to be just your average hairdresser. I wanted to be behind the scenes in fashion and film; I have dreams and they are huge, and what better place to begin those dreams than in my dream city? Up until I met Nicole, I had the same boring, blonde, straight hair. I always loved fun and different hair, and that’s why I wanted to become a hairdresser—I was just always too scared to actually do those styles on myself. Now, having a tad bit more confidence, I’m not scared to try new looks, and my hair has literally been every color of the rainbow in the last few years. For the last little while, though, it has been my natural blonde color, with a little baby pink going through it. It isn’t crazy or daring; it’s subtle, which fits me just right.

I dry my hair and style it in big loose curls. Then I put on minimal makeup, just enough to enhance my honey eyes—the only feature I got from my mom—and get dressed in my go-to ripped boyfriend jeans, a white ribbed tank, and my favorite pink Converse. Nicole always yells at me, telling me I need to start dressing more feminine and show off the killer body I apparently have. In the last two years I have bought and worn more dresses and skirts than I ever imagined I would, and I do love wearing them, but sometimes a girl just needs her comfy clothes. Living all those years with my dad putting me down did a number on my confidence. It has been living with Cole and her parents that has helped me slowly gain some back. They have done so much for me other than just give me a place to live.

Since I literally just arrived here and it is already three in the afternoon, I think I should just walk around, get my bearings, and do the sightseeing thing starting tomorrow. The first thing I am going to need is my soy chai latte from Starbucks. I look up where the closest one is and head off on my journey.

It’s a partially sunny day and also fairly warm—brilliant for walking. If only reading directions was easy for me. From just my short walk from my hotel, I can already tell this city is magical—except trying to cross a road here, especially at a roundabout, is petrifying.

I seriously cannot find Starbucks; I’ve walked in a circle twice now. I’m absolutely hopeless when it comes to directions.

Excuse me, can you— I start to ask a young guy walking by, but am cut off immediately.

Sorry, I don’t have time for a picture, the jackass of a man states as he keeps walking. Why would I want his picture? Yeah, okay, he’s ridiculously good-looking, but really, that doesn’t make me want a picture. Is this a normal thing in England? Girls asking random guys for pictures? Seems odd to me, but what do I know.

Umm, I don’t want a picture… just want to know where Starbucks is, but thanks, I yell at him as he continues to walk away. How rude can people be? I really hope not everyone in London is like this, or I’ll be staying in Toronto without a doubt.

Ah, sorry darling. I’m headed there now, actually. Follow me, he says, stopping to turn around and face me. I’m finally able to see his face in full, and oh my goodness, did I seriously just stop the most beautiful guy I have ever seen? I’m sure he doesn’t want to be called beautiful, and I’ve never thought of a guy in that way before, but that’s the only word to describe him. He is a good seven inches taller than my five foot four self; he’s skinny but not in a sick sort of way. You can tell by his physique he looks after himself. He has on tight black skinny jeans with rips at the knees, a black V-neck T-shirt, and black Converse. Apparently this guy really likes black.

When my gaze reaches his face, my breath catches in my throat and I think my knees actually go weak. He has the bluest eyes I have ever seen, framed by the blackest, longest, thickest lashes that girls would pay good money for. I could definitely get lost looking into his ice-blue, penetrating eyes. His hair is the shiniest natural blond and sits just above his shoulders in a sexy, messy disaster of waves that I just want to run my fingers through. His lips are perfect and pouty—I bet he’s an amazing kisser. And if life isn’t unfair enough, he also has a chiseled smooth jawline and outstanding cheekbones. I wonder if he models?

He starts to laugh a deep throaty laugh—is there anything this guy does that isn’t hot? His laugh alone is enough to send tingles of desire racing through me.

I really am in a rush, darling—you going to follow?

I feel my face heat instantly, because he definitely just caught me checking him out. No, not checking him out, but eye-fucking him. Get yourself together, Sky. He is a cocky guy, just like Liam. Forget it!

Oh, umm, yes—thank you, I stutter. What’s come over me? Maybe it’s the accent… yes, that makes sense. Hopefully not everyone affects me this way.

He starts walking again. I don’t mind him walking in front of me at all; it gives me a chance to check out his ass, and my, it is just as gorgeous as the rest of him. It’s small and lifted, looking glorious in his tight jeans. It would fit in my hands perfectly. I can imagine digging my feet into it, pushing him closer against me. Oh my God, I need to stop. Who thinks that about a stranger? I’m not usually one for skinny jeans on a guy, but my Lord this guy can pull them off. He has a few tattoos running up both arms, but I can’t pinpoint what any of them are. He looks like your typical band boy—I have no doubt that he is. I think this may just be my new favorite look on a guy.

Where are you from? he asks, turning around and slowing his pace to give me a panty-dropping crooked grin which causes me to trip. Ugh, I really hope he didn’t see that.

Oh, umm Toronto, Canada. Oh my gosh, I need to get my self under control. It’s like I’ve never had a conversation with a guy before.

A Canadian girl… I love Timbits. What brings you to London? he says, now walking beside me. I refuse to look at him. I know the instant I do I will stumble yet again, making even more of an idiot out of myself.

I’m on vacation, deciding if I want to move here or not. Why did I tell him this? He doesn’t need to know.

Marvellous idea, darling. Well, here we are.

We’re standing right in front of Starbucks. How had I missed it? Putting his head down, he walks in and orders a grande black coffee since there is shockingly no lineup.

What do you fancy? He turns, looking at me with that crooked smile again. It is panty melting. Literally, I think my panties have melted off.

It’s okay, I got it, I stutter out. Seriously, this whole stuttering thing needs to stop. He probably thinks I have a disability because I can’t even have a normal conversation without falling over my words.

Let me be a gentleman and welcome you to London by buying you a coffee. I was very rude earlier, and I’d like to make it up to you. Fine, if this arrogant asshole wants to buy my drink who am I to say no?

Grande soy chai latte… thank you.

We wait to receive our drinks, and I can’t help but notice that this mouthwatering specimen has a hoop nose ring and another hoop in one ear. I even notice one of his tattoos on his left forearm is an old stopwatch. I can’t take my eyes away from him; I just want to discover more of him. What else is he hiding?

Here you are, darling, he says in his intoxicating accent that gives me butterflies and makes my heart flutter every time he speaks.

Thank you. I manage to smile.

Giving me that crooked grin again, he winks. Cheers, he says and leaves Starbucks and me in the dust.

My heart is racing and my knees feel weak as I stare off at the door he just left through. Really, what’s come over me? Maybe it’s jet lag.

I hear a lady sigh beside me. I look to where she’s staring at the door as well. Well, wasn’t he dreamy, she says all breathy. Nope, definitely not the jet lag—that man was walking sex. I’m glad it’s not just me who was affected by him.

Deciding I’m ready to go back to the hotel for the evening, I leave Starbucks still thinking of the dreamy man I just met. If all men in London are like him, I am definitely moving here. Mind you, I’m sure he’s one of a kind. Minus the rocker look and arrogant attitude he would be the perfect guy, since isn’t that what I had just left back home? He’s like Liam but more beautiful, if that’s possible, and a bit more edgy and rocker than Liam’s plain jeans and T-shirts. I can’t seem to get this guy out of my head as I walk back to the hotel in the rain.

Everyone always says that the weather in London is crazy, and they’re right. It was semi-sunny when I decided to walk. Now it’s gray and raining, and I’m a dumbass tourist in a white tank with no umbrella. Smart choice, Sky!

Here, gorgeous, come check us out tonight, a young guy around my age says. He’s covered in tattoos and hands me a flyer while winking suggestively at me. The flyer is for a band named the Hooligans, and they’re playing at some bar named Dolly’s tonight. I take the flyer from the young guy just to be polite and continue on my walk back to the hotel. By the looks of him they are probably a rock band, and going to a rock concert alone is a little out of my comfort zone.

I toss the flyer in my purse until I can get back to the hotel to throw it out. I will need to buy myself an umbrella. Who comes to England without an umbrella? I’ll never wear a white shirt without having something to cover myself with again either, unless I want all of London to see my bra choice for the day.

By the time I arrive back from my short walk to the hotel, the rain has already stopped but I’m still drenched and freezing. I take a long hot bath in the giant Jacuzzi-style tub, then start to unpack my suitcase. My phone starts ringing Nicole’s ringtone, "Talk Dirty to Me." It’s five in the evening here, which means it’s around noon back in Toronto. The girl is probably just waking up; she’s not exactly a morning person, to say the least.

Cole, hey! I say excitedly. It’s good to hear her voice after the day I’ve had.

I miss you already, you bitch, she says. I can tell by her voice that she’s pouting. I imagine her falling back on her bed, being all dramatic.

It’s only been a day, Cole. I laugh. We’ve never been apart except for a few short days here and there.

Yes, and I miss you already. How am I supposed to last another thirty days? She sighs, probably flinging her arm over her eyes.

You have Trish and Morgan—you’ll survive, I say, chuckling.

True. So spill, what’s it like? More importantly what are the men like?

Why does it not surprise me that this is her first question? Nicole is boy crazy; she lost her virginity to her high school sweetheart, Matt, at sixteen and ever since they broke up four months ago, she’s had a new fling every few weeks. She is almost the girl version of Liam—not that I would ever tell her that.

It’s only my first day here, Cole, but they all seem really nice, I say casually, trying to forget just how nice they really are. Panty-dropping, thigh-squeezingly nice!

Nice… that’s it? Any hotties you feel the need to take to bed yet?

Nicole thinks it’s cute that I’m still a virgin at twenty. She could never understand why I never slept with Liam, even when I tried to explain to her it never felt like the right time and I just wasn’t ready yet. Sometimes I feel like I can’t even explain it to myself. I just never felt like it was right, and I always ended up stopping things.

"I’ve only been outside long enough to go to Starbucks, however the sexiest guy I’ve ever seen did show me how to get there when I was lost," I say, remembering yet again the gorgeous stranger I met earlier. I’ve been picturing those piercing blue eyes since he left Starbucks. I wasn’t planning on telling Nicole about him, but why not give her something to freak out about.

What! Oh my God—details, please! she all but screams into my ear. I can’t help but laugh at her.

I tell Nicole everything about the guy and our small conversation on our walk, even how when he talked I got butterflies and weak knees. Just thinking about him makes my insides stir.

Please, oh please tell me you got his name and number. He sounds dreamy, she gushes. She was oohing and ahhing the entire time I told her about him.

Nope. Even if Mr. Sexy had hinted at flirting, I would have turned him down. I’m done with guys like that.

Well, don’t tell me you’re just sitting in your hotel room doing nothing. Go out and find another one like him. Be adventurous when you’re there, do stuff you would never do here at home. She knows me far too well. I’m currently sitting on my hotel bed with clothes surrounding me, in my housecoat and with a towel on my head. Isn’t this how all people spend their first night in a new country?

Well, I did get a flyer for some band playing at a bar tonight… Why am I telling her this?

Go! Wear a killer outfit I would approve of and go have fun! Call me in the morning with details—well, our morning, not yours! she says sternly, as if saying do not even think about arguing with me.

Agreeing to go out and to try to have some fun, I say good-bye to Cole. I am sure her parents won’t approve of me going to some random bar my first night here knowing no one, but it is something I would never usually do, so why not give it a go? I’m not here to meet men, but a little fun never hurt anyone.

Styling my hair for the second time today, I decide to curl it again, but this time in a natural messy curl with a quick loose fishtail braid to the side. Nicole and I went shopping before my trip and bought multiple outfits for me to wear that I usually wouldn’t touch, and tonight I decide on a cap-sleeve, form-fitting leather dress that is cut low enough to show I have some cleavage. The bodice is tight fitting, and the skirt flares out about halfway up my thigh. I pair the dress with four-inch black suede pumps that have tarnished studs on them and a black clutch. I decide to do my makeup very natural, like I’m not even wearing any. I have to give Nicole credit; she always knows what will suit my curvy figure. I’m healthy and stay in shape but I’ve always had curves what with my C-cup chest, my tiny waist, and a plump butt that will not go away no matter how much I try. Cole always says I should love my curves and be glad I’m not tall and lanky like her. I guess she’s right, though I would hardly call her lanky, and more and more often I find myself embracing my womanly form.

Snapping a quick picture of myself in the mirror, I text Nicole to see if she approves of my outfit, then leave to find this bar. It’s eight thirty now, and the flyer says the shows starts at nine so I hope I arrive on time.

Damn girl I def approve. Now find a hottie, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do ;)

Seeing as Cole will do just about anything, that leaves my night open to doing whatever. However, knowing me, it will result in going back to my hotel room alone within the hour. At least I can say I went out.

After talking to the doorman about directions to Dolly’s, we both decide that with my horrible sense of direction it’s probably best that I take a cab. I arrive at the bar just after nine and am shocked to see the place is packed with a huge line outside. I kind of assumed it would be dead. Walking to the back of the line, I wait my turn and watch the other people waiting to go inside. Except for the odd risqué-dressed girl, I seem to be pretty dressed up compared to everyone else.

Once inside I feel even more overdressed. Everyone is dressed in jeans and T-shirts. The bar is packed with sweaty people standing everywhere, and how I manage to find an open table off to the side of the stage is beyond me, but I am glad I don’t have to stand in these shoes.

This place is a hole-in-the-wall, painted bright red with scratches and chunks of paint peeling and missing. It has very dim lighting and all-black tables with ripped-up leather chairs. There are pictures of classic rock musicians and old, autographed records hanging on the walls as well. It’s grungy but somehow strangely comforting. I love it.

What can I get for you tonight, miss? the bartender asks me. She’s a pixie-small brunette girl with huge green eyes.

Oh, umm, may I get a cosmopolitan?

She laughs at me, nods, and walks away, but not before I see her roll her eyes. I clearly do not fit in here.

The band is already on stage. No wonder this place is so busy—these guys are shockingly incredible. They’re a rock band like I figured. The lead singer’s voice is what draws me in, though. The rest of the band sounds good, but it’s always the voice that makes it or breaks it—and he definitely makes it. It’s deep and throaty and hauntingly sexy.

"Another shot of whiskey—I will take you home again—I’ll have you screaming for more. You’re my Friday Night Girl so don’t ask me for more," he belts out. Wow, they may have talent but their dirty, angry lyrics are not my type of music at all. I like angsty music, but when a song revolves around sex, drugs, and rock ’n’ roll, I just don’t feel it; I need relatable meaning to the music I listen to. But either way I’ll sit back and enjoy that voice.

The waitress finally brings me my drink. She looks like she’s run off her feet. I take a sip, looking up at the stage hoping I can get a better view of the band. There are three of them plus the singer: the drummer, who I can only tell has dark long hair; the bassist, I assume; and the guitarist. The one on the right has short red hair and both arms are completely covered in tattoos; the guy on the left has dark shaggy hair. He also is very tattooed. Actually, I think he’s the guy who gave me the flyer.

Then there is the lead singer with that sensual voice. He’s wearing dark jeans with rips up the thigh and across the knees. He’s wearing very worn Converse and no shirt. He’s skinny, but he has muscles—very defined muscles for that matter. He must run and go to the gym a lot—his abs look rock-hard, glistening with sweat under the lights. I would love to run my tongue across them. His arms look built enough to feel safe when they are wrapped around you… What is with me and these random thoughts about strangers today? I need to stop visualizing doing unmentionable things to them. His arms and chest have a few tattoos scattered on them, but nothing I can make out from here. To finish off his perfect rock-god look, he has blond, messy hair, like he just ran his hands through it. What is with the guys here—do they all look the same? Because he reminds me of the guy from earlier today. I wish I could see his face better. I’m sure they look nothing alike and it is just my imagination…

I dreamt about you before—you were on your knees in front of me, he sings, purring to the audience and making the girls go wild. Looking up his body as the lights on the stage brighten, I can finally see his face. And as his face becomes clear, goose bumps spread across my flesh when I find him staring at me with those piecing blue eyes I have thought about all afternoon.

Crap—I need Cole!

Sky, what’s wrong? Why are you calling me, you should be out! Cole asks, sounding slightly concerned. She probably thinks I backed out of going, but I just can’t believe the sight in front of me. I can’t believe it’s him.

He’s here, Cole! I yell into the phone as the band finishes up their set. I am still too stunned to move. Seeing those blue eyes seems to have paralyzed me.

Who is where, Sky? she asks, confused

Th-the guy from Starbucks, I stutter. What is with this guy causing me to stumble over my words even when he’s not near me?

What? He’s at the bar you went to? she asks, shrieking into the phone in excitement. Of course this would make her happy.

Oh, he’s here, all right. He’s the lead fucking singer of the band that’s playing, I scream. Thank God it’s still loud in here or everyone would be staring at me like I’m a crazy person.

Oh my God, Sky! This is perfect—talk to him and get his number or, better yet, fuck him! I can picture her jumping up and down. She is way too excited about this. Me, on the other hand—I’m freaking out. What are the chances? It is just far too weird for me.

Seriously, Cole? He may be the sexiest guy I have ever laid eyes on—and oh my God, his body and his voice—but I am not losing my virginity to a guy who sings about fucking girls and one-night stands! I yell at her, now pissed. She knows I would never do something like that, especially with a guy like him.

Suddenly I feel cold liquid hit my arm and turn in disgust to see what it is. Shocked, I drop my phone as Mr. Sexy is standing there with a beer in one hand and the other over his smirking mouth.

Shite, sorry, I seem to have choked on my beer, he purrs with that damn crooked smile of his, his eyes glittering in amusement. Grabbing my phone, which I dropped on the table, I put it back to my ear.

Sky, hello? Sky? I can hear Cole, now worried, repeating herself.

Cole, hey, sorry—I dropped my phone. I have to go, I mumble. This guy’s presence is seriously doing a number on me.

Was that his voice I heard, because seriously, I am wet just hearing it!

Oh my God!

Bye! I yell, hearing her laugh as I hang up. I grab a napkin from the table and wipe off the beer he spit on me, then in one sip polish off the rest of my cosmo. I’m going to need it to deal with him.

You following me, darling? he asks, sitting down beside me. I glare at him as he sits down. Who does he think he is?

No I am not following you! And you know, if you didn’t listen to other people’s conversations you wouldn’t choke on your beer! I snap at him. Ugh, how much of that conversation did he hear? He definitely heard I was a virgin, but what about him being the sexiest guy I’ve ever seen. Could this day get any worse?

I was just strolling by to get another beer when I hear about some mouthwatering, sexy guy who you’re not losing your virginity to. I’m sorry, darling, but that would cause any bloke to choke on his beer. He smirks, taking a sip of his beer. Yep, it can definitely get worse. How cocky can one guy be?

I did not say mouthwatering! And it’s none of your business. I just about jump at him. I’m not sure if I want to punch him or attack him with my mouth.

Another cosmo? Another for you, Olli?

He nods.

Yes, please, I would love one, I snap at the poor waitress. I feel bad for being foul, but this guy is so infuriating that I just can’t seem to help it.

No need to be rude, darling, he tries to say, holding back a laugh. Why does he find this so amusing?

Stop calling me darling. It sounds extremely sexy rolling off his tongue and makes my stomach turn every time he says it. I really need to get control over myself.

Then what shall I call you, darling? He gives me that stupid smile again while finishing off the beer that he spat all over me. I want to punch that smirk off his face. Yep, that’s what I want to do.

Sky—my name is Sky, I snarl, hoping he will get the point and just leave me the hell alone.

Sky? Like where the stars are shining right now sky? he asks, looking at me curiously.

Is there another kind of sky that I am unaware of? I ask sarcastically.

I can see why your folks named you that—you certainly do shine bright. He smirks at his own joke. I know I am being anything but bright right now.

Damn him and damn that accent for making everything sound sexy. Little Miss Big Eyes comes back to give us our drinks.

Well, Sky, it was a pleasure. I’m Olli, by the way. With that he stands and walks away, wrapping his arm around Little Miss Big Eyes’s shoulders. I hear him say, Darling, did I tell you how marvelous you look tonight? as she giggles and swats him playfully. Maybe she is the Friday Night Girl he sang about earlier. Whatever she is, the whole situation has left me beyond annoyed.

I sit and have a few more cosmos and meet a very nice guy named Will. He’s twenty-four and works for some magazine. He’s a good-looking guy in that preppy-boy kind of way, but he doesn’t come close to cocky, sexy band boy Olli. Will’s wearing black slacks and a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Seems like a weird place for him to