Bragging Rights

I had recovered from my “ohmygoshIjustgaveAdamLevinemyphonenumber” giddiness, and was now working in the Green Room with some paperwork. I really had no idea what I was doing…I never did paperwork when I worked with bands before. I’d always done gofer activities. But apparently I had been elevated to the status of personal assistant by chance, and this came with it.

I had no clue what the paperwork even meant. I didn’t bother too look or read. I just sorted the stuff. Kind of. I was just praying for some other duty to arise so that I could leave this one, when my phone vibrated. It was a text from an unknown number. I checked it out.

Payton, it’s Adam. Can you help me with something?

I texted back, Be right there.

I stood and wound my way back through the halls to Adam Levine’s dressing room. I knocked. “Yeah!” was the response, so I opened the door.

Adam sat on the couch, his feet on the coffee table, swiping through his phone. He looked up when I came in. I stared expectantly, with a polite smile. “What can I help you with?”

He stared at me for a moment. Seemed like he was trying to think. “Oh. Right. I don’t need you.” He smiled.

“You…you texted saying you –”

“Yeah.” He threw a hand up, dismissing whatever he was dismissing. “Sorry.” He smirked.

I nodded slowly, puzzled. “Ohhhhhkay. Let me know if you need anything…” I backed out of the room and closed the door. That was…weird.

Back to the paperwork. No sooner had I sorted ten pieces of paper, when my phone vibrated again, signaling a text.

Payton, hey, it’s Adam. Can you come to the dressing room?

I texted back, Sure. I stood, took a deep breath, and retraced my steps to his room. I knocked. “Come in.” resounded from within.

I entered. Adam sat on the couch, still. This time, earphones in his ears, trailing to his phone. “Yes?” I asked, probably a bit more snappy than I should’ve been.

He looked over, and tugged a bud out of his ear. “Hm?”
“What did you want?”

He shrugged. “Nothing.”

Adam was just putting the bud back in when I said, “Are you always like this?”

He froze momentarily. Then he pulled the earphones out and sat the phone beside him. “Always like what?” He scratched a spot below his chin.

“Is this why your last assistant ‘recently left?’ Because of……this?” I gestured to him and around the room.

He held back a grin, which irritated me. Gosh darn it, he was so attractive, but he was really annoying right now. I was beginning to think he was an egotistical celebrity who enjoyed aggravating people.

“The last one left because he got a better job offer, or something like that. And what is all of ‘this?’” He mimicked my gesture.

“You. You’re being…” I searched for a word, but huffed when I couldn’t find one. This is not how I imagined my first day working for Maroon 5.

“Being what?” he planted his feet a little farther apart, crossed his arms over his chest, and tilted his head back a little bit. He looked interested. “What am I being?” He repeated.

The only word that could come to mind probably shouldn’t be said to Adam Levine. Especially by an employee. Especially by this employee. But he persisted. “What am I being?”

I spilled. “An ass.”

His face slowly grew into a full smile. His hazel eyes sparkled. His gel-fused hair even seemed to grin. “Brilliant. We’ll get along fine.” He patted my shoulder, gave me a wink, then walked past me and out of his room.

I was left dazed for a few seconds. Then I wheeled around and jogged down the hall after him. “What?” I asked incredulously.

He stopped. It was just us in the semi-darkened hallway. Construction noises coming from the stage were echoing around. Adam turned to face me. “You weren’t afraid to call me out.”

“So?”

“So, other assistants haven’t really been like that. They’re all shy and appeasing and they’ll say whatever they think I want them to say. Because I’m a celebrity.” He stuck a hand into his pocket.

It dawned on me. “It was a test?”

“Kind of. But I also enjoyed seeing you frazzled.” He smirked.

“I…wasn’t…frazzled…” I argued. I didn’t want him to think that he had gotten the best of me.

“Yeah, you were.” He laughed. “I’ll catch you later.” Then he started walking off toward the stage.

I called after him. “Oh, it’s Peyton with an ‘e,’ by the way. You spelled it with an ‘a.’”

He continued walking, but spun around and walked backwards, grinning. He gave me a silly salute and a wink, then turned back around and continued to swagger toward the stage.

*******

“You gave Adam Levine your number?!” Reagan squealed into the phone.

I had to keep myself from squealing. “Yes! And he was like, totally funny. Kind of annoying, but cute-annoying, ya’know?”

“Of course!” Reagan answered, as if it were completely obvious. I was moving around the small kitchen, making myself some hot chocolate.

“So, are you gonna like, go out with him?” Reagan asked.

I laughed. “I gave him my number on business terms, Rea. I’m his personal assistant. I can’t really assist him if we can’t contact each other, now, can I?”

We both laughed, then chatted about mindless things. I asked her how Italy was. She told me it was gorgeous, and that her boyfriend was incredibly romantic and had everything planned out and organized, so all she had to do was relax. I told her I was jealous. We soon said our goodbyes, and hung up.

Thursday morning showed up quick, and I was at work in no time. I clocked in, then began making my way back to Adam’s dressing room. I was almost there, when I heard music and singing coming from the stage.

Oooooh, oooh oooh oooh oooh oh ooohooo
Oooooh, oooh oooh oooh oooh oh ooohooo
You and I go hard at each other like we’re
Going to war; you and I get rough, we keep
Throwing things and slammin’ the door;
You and I get so damn dysfunctional we stopped
Keepin’ score, yeah you and I get sick, and I know
That we can’t do this no more, eh-yeah
But baby there ya go again, go again –

“I’m sorry, can we do that again? Didn’t feel right.” Adam’s voice rang out over the huge speakers. It echoed through the halls. I quickened my pace toward the stage. Finally, I turned a corner and saw the huge stage, and thousands of empty seats. Lights were flickering on stage, and I knew the gaffers were planning and setting lights.

Maroon 5 started playing again, and Adam’s voice began ringing smoothly into the venue air.

Bliss.

I watched for a few minutes. The band stopped and started more than a few times, working the kinks out of their performance. Crew ran here and there, zigzagging around speakers, platforms, and rigging. Then, I headed back to the greenroom to pretend to do paperwork.

Even with the greenroom door shut, I could hear the rehearsal going on. Posted around the greenroom was the lineup. I grabbed a paper and checked it out. The lineup for the concert was One More Night, Lady Killer, Lucky Strike, She Will Be Loved, Misery, This Love, The Man Who Never Lied, Moves Like Jagger, Sunday Morning, Never Leaving This Bed, and a few other songs. They would close with Daylight.

I was absorbed in pretending to look like I knew what I was doing with the paperwork, when I heard the greenroom door open. I didn't look up. I figured it was a PA or gaffer or other crew member. So, you can imagine my surprise when a hand smacked down over a pile of papers I had just placed my hand on to sort. I looked up.

Adam Levine.

“Sup?” He asked with an infamous smirk.

“I’m working.” I answered, staring at him, probably a little too coldly. As cute as he was, he was really annoying me right now. I looked back down at the paperwork.

“No you’re not.”

I looked up at him, surprised. “Yes, I am.” Maintain a professional behavior…

“Peyton, I’ve been watching you for a few minutes now, from outside the door. You have no idea what you’re doing.” I could tell Adam was trying very hard not to laugh.

“Then what do you suggest?” I threw my hands up, exasperated. I didn’t admit to not knowing what I was doing, but I wiggled out of it.

He grinned. “I dunno. Something other than that shit. C’mon.” He walked out of the green room. Reluctantly, I followed.

He went back to his dressing room. I followed him in, and when I came in, he was over by a rack of clothes. Adam looked back at me. “Close the door?”

I obeyed.

Adam proceeded to pull his plain white t-shirt over his head, and drop it onto the floor. I moved across the room to pick it up. I bent down, just two feet from where he stood, and grabbed the sweaty shirt. When I stood, he was right in front of me.

His shirtless, tattooed body was just a few inches from me. He stared down at me, a small smile on his face. Then I felt him tugging the shirt away from me. I held on. “I got it.” I muttered, a little embarrassed to be this close to Adam Levine. He still held onto the shirt.

I lowered my gaze to his chest and saw it rise and fall as he breathed; still recovering, I guessed, from his rehearsal. I could feel his breath hitting my face. Neither one of us moved. I was less than eight inches from a shirtless Adam Levine, and I wasn’t sure whether or not I wanted to be here. He was incredibly hot, don’t get me wrong, but…he was also a celebrity. This shouldn’t be happening.

I stepped away, and he let go of the shirt. His hazel eyes followed me, never breaking the gaze with my brown ones. “I was going to pick it up.” He said softly. He turned away and began flipping through shirts on hangers. There were only two colors: black and white. I wondered why he was having trouble deciding on one. Finally, he pulled another white one off its hanger and pulled it on.

Then he turned to look at me. He leaned against the vanity in the corner. “You’re different.”
That surprised me. “How so?”

Adam shook his head, thinking. “I…dunno. You just are. But in a good way.” He gave a shy smile.

Just then, my walkie-talkie buzzed. It brought both of us out of our entranced state. He smiled again, but this was his normal jokester smile. “I…should go.” I said, shrugging.

“Okay.”

**********

“WHAT?!” Reagan’s exclamation caused me to yank my cell phone away from my ear. When I put it back, she was nearly hysterical. “You mean he totally flirted with you and you did NOTHING?!”

“Shut up!” I said, chuckling. “But…yeah. I didn’t know what to do. I mean, he was all sweaty, and hot, and…”

“And totally coming onto you! Peyton, are you stupid?”

“No!”

“Then do something about this! Invite him over!”

“What? No, I can’t Reagan. He’s Adam Levine. I can’t just…what would I say?” I asked, curious. I was in the parking lot, outside the concert venue, on my lunch break.

I heard her sigh, as if her patience was running thin. “Every Friday is Netflix night, right?”

“Yeah.” I shrugged. Reagan and I always had movie nights. Every Friday, we would watch two new movies that we got through Netflix. We didn’t have a Wii or gaming system, so they came the old fashioned way: snail mail.

“So invite him over. Tell him about Netflix Night. What did you get this week?”

I thought back to my laptop, picturing the Netflix queue. “Um…Real Steel and…Deception.”

“Perfect, a robot-boxing movie and an intense sex-filled thriller. Leave the movie choice up to him. If he picks Real Steel, then you’ve got a fun evening ahead cuz it’s an awesome movie, and it shows that he likes to just chill and watch a good flick. And if he picks Deception, it shows that he really likes you and likes sex, because it’s an intense movie.”

I was literally speechless. Reagan’s thought process was truly something. “Wow.”

“Yeah. So go ask him!”

*********

I glanced at my watch. 4:49. I had to be out of here in ten minutes. I took a breath, then I knocked on Adam’s dressing room door.

“Come in!”

I did. He was sitting on the couch, leaning over the coffee table, scribbling in a notebook. A Starbucks coffee sat nearby. He looked up at me. Then he stood. “Hey! Look, I’m, uh, sorry about…” his hand went to the back of his neck. I could tell he was a little uncomfortable. “About before. I didn’t mean to make you…uncomfortable…”

I smiled a bit. “It’s okay.”

“Yeah? Awesome.” He dropped his arm back down, relieved. “So what’s up?”

Now it was my turn to be nervous. “Um,” I began. “Well, me and my roommate, uh, we have this, um, thing, and, well, we watch movies, aaaand…Friday nights are when we do it. Oh, god, not “do it” as in…like that…my roommate’s a girl, but I’m not, like…gay or anything. But we watch Netflix movies, I mean, and, um…” A grin played across Adam’s face. He was trying to suppress it, and stay serious, I knew. His hotness made me even more nervous. “I was kind of wondering, um…well…um…”

“Are you inviting me over?” Adam interjected through a smirk.

I felt my face get hot. “I’m trying to, yes.” Silently, I thanked God that Adam was so intuitive. He had helped me out. I’d only ever asked a boy out twice before. And I’d known each of them for a few months before I did that. I had just met Adam yesterday. Was this too forward?

“Cool. Tomorrow night?” He asked. I nodded. “What movie?”

“Real Steel or Deception.”

He made a face as if he looked impressed. “Deception, huh?” He smiled coyly. He bent down and grabbed his coffee. “That’s quite a movie.” He took a sip, but his eyes stayed on me. I nodded my head.

“It’s a good film.” I said.

“Well, sure, but there’s a lot of…” his eyes darted from one corner of the ceiling to the other.

“Sex?” I helped. Did he think I was a prude?

He looked a bit startled, but then he grinned. “Yeah. Sex.” Another sip of coffee. “Do you have a preference?”

“Nope. Both movies have Hugh Jackman in it. Whichever you want to watch, I’ll be more than satisfied.” I answered briskly, then I turned and strut out of the room. I couldn’t let him think I really wanted him, now, could I?

I clocked out and went home.