That sounded a little too close to the questioningyou?the bouncer had thrown at me.
"Is there something wrong with me?" I challenged.
"There's not a single thing wrong with you," he said. "Just different." Nathan discreetly pointed to where his lead singer was standing around, chatting with another band member. "See her?"
I certainly did. The young woman looked maybe one or two years older than me, with long, striking red hair flowing down her back, matching red lips, a leather kilted skirt and black combat boots. She was the definition of bad-ass rocker-chick.
"And see them?" Nathan pointed to a trio of girls still in the pit in front of the stage, snapping selfie after selfie.
They also had faces full of dark, dramatic makeup, in contrast to my own quick swipe of mascara and tinted lipgloss. Two had bright neon hair, one pink and one green. The green haired one had half her head shaved. Their outfits ranged from tight black leather bodycon dress to artful shredded band t-shirt and miniskirt. All three of them were effortlessly fashionable and painfully cool.
And I was definitely not.
"At least I'm wearing black," I joked.
"There's nothing wrong with what you're wearing," Nathan said. "You just don't look like our typical fans, that's all."
"That's because I'm not."
"Ouch," he faked a wince. "A blow to my ego. I thought you said you liked my music?"
"I won't turn it off if it comes on the radio."
"You're killing me here, gorgeous."
Nathan put an arm around my shoulder. I stared as his finger ran slow circles along my collarbone. He took a step toward the exit. I nearly tripped, still focused on the way his thumb pressed into my skin.
"Come on," he said. "The club isn't far away."
We went out the side door. The bouncer/bodyguard gave the two of us a look before snapping his eyes forward. I remembered what he'd said before. I was the only name on that list. Were there usually multiple names on Nathan's list? How many girls did he regularly invite to his rock shows?
How many did he invite out clubbing after?
The thought made me uncomfortable, so I shoved it away. I was having a fun night. I didn't want to ruin it by overthinking. It didn't matter, anyway. His playboy ways would only make this easier on both of us.
As we walked, the crisp night air sent chills though my body. Nathan hugged me closer to his side.
"We're almost there," he promised. "The body heat from dozens of sweaty bodies will warm you up."
"Ew." I crinkled my nose up. He laughed.
When we reached the club, Nathan breezed through the front door with a single nod to the bouncer, ignoring the others waiting in line. Being a rock star had its perks.
"Aren't you worried you'll get mobbed by fans?" I asked.
"This is a more upscale club," he explained. "Socialites and wannabe internet celebrities, mostly. They know better than to cause a scene."
I nodded as if it made complete sense, but inside I was taken aback. A club just for the rich and famous? I didn't know those things existed in real life either.
It seemed like Nathan and I were both surprised at the way each of us had experienced the world. I couldn't think of two more different lives people could lead. It wouldn't have surprised me if we had nothing in common.
Nothing aside from the heat in his eyes when he looked at me, because I was sure my own reflected the same.
"Let me get you that drink," he said.
Nathan led us to a bar and lifted his chin to get the bartender's attention. He ordered some multi-colored concoction with a layer of something dark pink at the bottom, blue in the middle, and white on top. Little round red things floated in the glass. I looked at it skeptically.
"Try it," Nathan urged. "Those are just pomegranate seeds."
