4: Starstruck

Zoey felt the wind ruffle her sandy hair as she slightly leaned her head out of the window of Jordan's car. That was the last thing she felt before she let her eyes grow heavy. When she woke up, the sun was setting, and Jordan still had his arms stretched out, firmly gripping the steering wheel.

He knew when she fell asleep. In fact, he had watched her sleep and heard her gentle snores. What he hadn't noticed was when her eyes fluttered open and fixed themselves on him.

She saw the tattoo just below his right bicep. She wondered if it was supposed to be a rose tied to a sword or a rose wounded by a sword. His brown hair was gently ruffled by the breeze blowing through his window, and his deep brown eyes remained focused on the road.

“Am I getting kidnapped right now?” she finally asked after they took a turn and headed towards a beach house.

He looked over at her with a raised brow and let out a small laugh. It was the first time he had actually acknowledged her humour. “It's kind of your best option at this point.”

The engine stopped outside a house, and Jordan gave her his cap and sunglasses.

“Wear this,” he instructed.

She frowned because the black face cap Jordan handed her was drenched in his sweat. There was no way he expected her to wear that on her head.

“Just do it,” he said, as if reading her mind.

The house they walked into made Zoey feel like she had stepped into a completely different world. It definitely contrasted with the small, worn-out apartment she lived in. She realised then that this was what it meant to be him. An expensive house with multiple passcodes and a swimming pool that overlooked the ocean. And he didn't even seem moved by any of it compared to her.

“Hey, man, is this the new hire?” a man said as soon as they walked in. He was tall, about six foot three or four. Zoey wasn't exactly sure, but he stood at the same height as Jordan. Unlike Jordan, though, the man was gruff and built in a way that made his counterpart look like a femboy. He wore an apron, and Zoey smelled something tangy in the air.

“New hire?” she frowned.

“Yeah, she's with the roadies,” Jordan lied.

The gentleman offered his hand with a grin plastered across his face. “Cool. I'm Raymond, but you can call me Ray. Welcome to the family…”

“Zoey,” she told him as it slowly dawned on her that she was standing before the legendary Ray Buchanan. He was the one and only lead guitarist of the Mayhem band and had played beside Jordan for twelve years.

“Wait, oh my God, you're Ray,” she said, trying to suppress an overexcited squeal.

“Well, there is no denying that,” he acknowledged humbly. “A fan?”

“Big time,” she affirmed, her face reddening like a little schoolgirl with a new crush. “I've listened to your band for almost all my life.”

“That's good to know. You know, maybe Jordan can give you a small tour of the crib while I make sure the lasagna doesn't burn on the stove,” he said, winking at Jordan before leaving the scene.

“Oh my God… That was surreal.”

“Just wait until you meet the rest of the band,” Jordan said to her. “You know what? I think Ray's right. Since you're here now, I might as well show you around. Now, don't go touching or stealing anything.”

Zoey blinked away his condescending tone. It wasn't as if she could pull out his beautifully long lashes without getting charged for assault. She followed him through the mansion and stared at the placards of awards hung up on the walls throughout the house. From the gaming room to the bar, and even the bedroom Jordan gave her for the night, everywhere reeked of Mayhem, but this was the dream of every single female out there. Even at twenty-four, she still obsessed over them.

They met another bandmate while circling the veranda. Brandon Walkman, the drummer, was hot in all the ways Zoey had imagined he would be in real life.

“I heard the wifey is coming over,” he said to Jordan, and Zoey thought she had imagined it when the smile on his face slipped away.

Zoey's heart skipped a beat at the thought of meeting the woman whose heart she was about to rip to shreds. Momentarily, Jordan caught her nervously rubbing her hands, the same way she had done when she signed the contract. She saw him looking and tried to act like nothing was wrong, like she was only in it for the money.

•

She watched as the boys played like teenagers. She saw how Jordan wasn't half as inhumane as she had believed. He laughed with the rest of his bandmates as she sat alone by the poolside. Then Ray decided to get into the water by launching a full cannonball, and she laughed.

“Get in the water, new girl,” Ray called to her, splashing cold water at her.

“I'm good, thanks,” she said, laughing.

Then Jordan walked over to her with two beers in his hands and crouched low to sit on the chair beside hers.

“You look like you're having the time of your life, all cornered away,” he commented sarcastically as he gave her a bottle.

“Who would've thought that somewhere deep down, you're not as closed off as you make yourself out to be?” She smiled and took a sip.

Jordan stared for a moment, and Zoey raised a sarcastic brow.

“What?”

“Well…” He paused. “I mean, of course I'm not completely heartless.”

“I'll remember that the next time you hand me your sweaty hat,” she laughed, giving him the cap she had been forced to wear all night.

“Most girls would kill to get what you have.”

“Do you need gratitude? If anything, I'm the one doing the favours here.”

Silence hovered between them for a moment, and Zoey regretted saying anything at all. They listened to the other bandmates in the background joke about girls and a fling Brandon had.

“I love Amanda, okay? Let's not get it wrong,” Jordan started.

“I'm not one to judge you, but you'd rather pay a total stranger to break things off than be honest. So much for love.”

Jordan brought out his phone and scrolled through his gallery. He looked for the perfect picture and showed Zoey.

The image captured an old memory, probably from a few summers ago. It was on the beach, and Jordan was smiling at the camera, his arms wrapped around the raven-black-haired girl beside him.

Maybe too much time had passed, and Zoey didn't remember clearly as she should have in that moment. But there was no denying the recognition that came from the bright blue eyes staring back at her.

The girl beside Jordan was someone she knew too well. Someone she hadn't spoken to in three years because she was scared that she had ditched her long ago.

Zoey's heart sank for the one hundredth time since she met Jordan Fischer because his fiancée was, in fact, Amanda Richmond.

“What's wrong?” Jordan asked immediately when he saw her smile break into a thousand pieces.

“That's her?” Zoey asked for clarification. No, she needed denial now more than ever. Someone to tell her that she wasn't about to hurt her former best friend.

“Yeah, that's her.”

His phone rang then, and she dreaded that she knew who the caller was without needing to check the ID.

“Hold on a sec.”

Zoey played it over in her mind. She was going to walk into that church in twenty-five days and profess her love to a man Amanda was madly in love with.

“She's here,” Jordan said, and Zoey was sure she was already having a heart attack by the time Jordan stood to leave.