Welcome again to YAFF Muse: blog rounds. The ladies of YA Fiction Fanatics have come together for YAFF Muse. To have a little fun, explore different styles of writing and to give you some kick-butt shorts to read. Enjoy!
Photo by: trublueboy
Your Biggest Fan
“If you can’t get him to meet me, you can forget our little deal,” Carrie yells over the noise of the crowd.
“Nope.” A smile curls her cherry chapsticked lips. “We agreed. You land me some time with Phin or I go to the Dean—”
“Okay, I get it,” I say.
She disappears among the thousands and waits on Phin to take the stage. A hush falls over the crowd. Blinding flashes of strobe lights explode overhead. With each blaze of light a member of the band begins to play until finally beams flicker around Phin, drenching him in literal lime light and a mix of shadows and stage fog.
The crowd erupts. Bouncing up and down, arms pounding the air above their heads while they sing along, as if they know his songs better than he does. At the end of his first set he struts offstage. The place reeks of sweat and alcohol. Girls tug their shirts off, happily exposed. The guys enjoy the flesh show as much as the concert.
I circle the outer edge of the crowd, flash my all access pass at the stage manager then head to Phin’s dressing room. The faces behind the scenes are as familiar as my own. Cameron, his stylist, empties half a can hairspray on Phin’s hair as I slip into the room. He spots me in the mirror.
“Lara, darling,” Cameron coos.
“Hey Cam.” I force a smile. “Can I get a minute with Phin.”
Cameron looks disappointed, but after another couple squirts of hairspray, he leaves.
“What’s up?” Phin swivels in his chair and puts his baseball cap on. If Cameron were here he’d have a beautician conniption.
I ignore the waste of Cam’s effort, and say, “I need a favor.”
“Yeah?” His brows joggle.
“Not that kind of favor, perv.”
“One of these days you’re going to change your mind.”
I shake my head. He forgets I know how many girls he’s seduced, or rather, how many girls he hasn’t needed to seduce, since so many of them try to reach him through me. So I start how I always start, “There’s this girl—”
“Sure Lara, I’ll meet her.” He usually makes me beg for it, but this time he lets me off easy. “Just tell me what this one’s holding over your head.”
“The thing is…” I fidget. “I’ve been seeing someone.”
His brows furrow. “Since when?”
“About a month now.”
“Carrie saw me sneaking out of the dorms and threatened to tell the dean and my parents.” The rules are clear with both the school and my parents: No boys and no going out after curfew.
“So you met someone?” He leans back in his seat.
“Try to keep up, Phin. If Carrie tells them, I’m screwed. Mom and Dad will hit the roof and Dean Sanders…” I lift my hands in exasperation.
“Do you like this guy?”
“What?” I cock my head. Phin’s never cared who I’ve dated. Of course, maybe that’s because I’ve never really dated before.
“Have you done him?”
“Are you kidding me?” My arms link over my chest. “This isn’t one of those, I’m gonna be your macho best friend and protect your honor things, is it?”
He removes his hat, giving me full view of his eyes, they remind me of the lime stage lights, only they’re a calmer shade of green. “What if it is?”
“Trust me, I’m fully intact. I can’t seem to get any, even if I want to.”
“Do you?” He pushes from his chair.
I stare up at him. He’s a whole foot taller than me and on all accounts looks like a sex god. I swallow hard. “I’m going to be eighteen soon.”
“That doesn’t really answer my question, does it?”
“Phin, come on.” My face heats. It’s almost painful to admit what I think he already knows. “I’ve never gotten to second base with a guy.”
“Just forget it,” I say and turn to go.
“Wait up.” He follows me. “Bring this Clara—”
“Whatever. Bring her by after the show.”
“Thanks.” I smile.
“But you come too?”
Tonight, when he finishes his set. His people inform me that he only wants to see Carrie and me. Everyone else is turned away as I knock twice on the dressing room door. It swings open and he stands there with his button-down shirt open, bare chest exposed, pants riding low on his hips. Suddenly his dressing room feels hotter than the mass of fans I pushed through to get in here. It’s not like I’ve never seen his chest before, but it catches me off guard when I do, I can’t help it. It’s like an animal that jumps in front of your car and all you can do is react. But he’s way hotter than any squirrel I’ve ever seen.
Carrie nudges me.
“Sorry.” I clear my throat, hating introductions the most. “Phin, this is Carrie Solet.”
“Nice to meet you,” he says giving her one of his performance smiles.
“You too.” She giggles. “I’m one of your biggest fans.”
It’s at this point I usually leave, but Phin shuts the door and gestures for us to sit down. I stand in case I need to make a quick getaway when Carrie throws herself at him.
I listen as they talk a while, then he hands her a signed photo, in which, she asks for him to write that he had a great night with her, and he signs it with his signature, P. Afterwards he shows her out and when he comes back, I watch his every step. Until I finally get the nerve up to ask, “So that’s it?”
“No kissing, or fondling, or sex,” I whisper.
He laughs and takes a snapshot of the two of us off his dressing room mirror. He scribbles something on the back then hands it to me.
I flip the photo over in my hand.
To the only girl I want to cover all the bases with!
Your biggest fan,
©2010, August 30, rmg.