Sweet Perfection

Dani's POV

I ring the doorbell for the second time and wait for roughly ten seconds. Still no answer.

I stifle a sigh, and mentally reassure myself. Maybe he's just not back yet. He IS a star, after all.

Still, he said ten, and it's nearly ten twenty now.... Maybe it was all just a prank.

Snap out of it, Danielle! I mentally slap myself. He'll be here.

I sit on a bench in the hotel hallway and stick an earbud in, trying to look like I belong here. I check myself in the reflection of my iPod, and make a face. I hear a laugh above my head, and look up, stunned. Standing above me is christofer drew ingle. THE christofer drew ingle. As in the lead singer of nevershoutnever. Standing in front of me. Smiling down at me.

I stand up as gracefully as I can. And stumble. I'm wearing a newish pair of converse, and they hurt my feet. I try to avoid wearing shoes when I can; it annoys me when I can't feel the roughness of the raw earth below me. Not that I'd be able to anyway. New york doesn't have very much raw earth outside of central park.

Chris steadies me as I stumble, and asks, "you okay there?"

I giggle nervously. "heh, yeah I'm fine. Just not used to these shoes is all."

He smiles and says lightly, "feel free to take them off."

I smile gratefully and kick them off, flexing my toes. He laughs and leads me to his hotel door. It's an impressive interior, with a bathroom to the left and a short hallway leading to a sitting area, kitchen with a minifridge, island, and sink, and a king sized bed.

He asks me to sit, and walks into the kitchen to rummage through the minifridge. I take a seat, trying my hardest to relax. It's no big deal, I tell myself. He's just cristofer drew ingle, your favorite musician. Nothing special.... Yeah right! Nothing special my foot!

Christofer walks into the room carrying two Japanese drinks called ramune, the most heavenly soft drinks on earth. I mentally squeal with delight, and reach for one. Christofer smiles and hands it to me. Our fingers touch briefly, and I almost pull away, but stop myself, not wanting to come across as rude. I take the drink casually, and christofer sits next to me on the couch so that we're close, but not touching.

"so, Danielle," he says in his sing-songey voice.

"so, christofer drew," I reply trying to sound confident.

He smiles and says, " you can just call me Chris."

"okay. Chris. So, just out of curiosity, do you always invite fans to your hotel?" because I really want to know if I'm special, or just in the right place at the right time.

"nope," he says. "you're the first."

Oh. My heart pounds unnaturally fast. "well then, why me?"

He shifts, unsure as to how to answer. "there's just, I don't know, something about you. About your eyes."

I look down, suddenly shy. Changing the subject, I ask, "so do you have anything planned, or are we just going to wing it?"

I look up and catch him staring at me. He clears his throat, his turn to look down. "I was thinking we could go sight-seeing. I won't be in the city for much longer."

"ah," I say, stifling a sigh of disappointment. He catches the gist of my tone though, and says apologetically, "there are fourteen more stops in the states, then three in Australia, thirteen in Europe, another four in the states, then some in south America. But then I'll have a few months to myself. I can come visit if you like," he offers.

I laugh, slightly disbelieving. "maybe we should wait to make sure the first date goes well."

He laughs and stands up, offering me his hands. I take them and he pulls me up. "so where to first, Danielle?" he ask me.

"oh, so I'm making the shots?" I laugh. "and call me dani."

"that you are, dani," he says ruefully.

"in that case, come with me," I say and grab my shoes off the floor. I wait by the door as he grabs his coat. We walk to the elevator side by side, and I blush as I see our reflection in a mirror. We look good standing next to each other. It makes me both happy and sad. I selfishly wish that he would cancel his tour and stay, then mentally slap myself.

Pull it together, girl. He has his life to live, and you have yours. Just because he invited you to hang out with him doesn't mean he won't change his mind. There's got to be a logical explanation for his inviting you.

As we step onto the sidewalk and I slip on my shoes, he asks me where we're going. I laugh and shake my head teasingly, looking up at him. "it's a secret," I say and start off down the street with him trailing behind me.