Kendall stepped off of the tour bus and into the thick, August air. He sighed. Another day, another city, another show. Even the craziest of lifestyles could become mundane after a while.
He leaned up against the venue and took a long drag from the cigarette held loosely between his calloused fingers. He exhaled, giving a quick nod to each of the roadies that passed by, surely carrying another box of his belongings. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d participated in load-in. The label wouldn’t even think of putting their resident Heartthrob - the Kendall Schmidt of Heffron Drive, a.k.a Rolling Stone’s #1 Hottest Frontman of the Year - in such a position. If any harm came to that chiseled jawline or those endearing little dimples, all hope would be gone. Record sales would plummet. They’d be out of a job, and nobody wanted that, right?
A few yards away, fans were already packed like sardines around the gates that fenced in the “backstage” area. They all nudged and squeezed and shoved, telling themselves that if they got just one glance of the man that covered their bedroom walls, their every wish would be fulfilled. Kendall dropped his cigarette and smothered the remaining embers with the toe of his Vans. He shot a wave to the masses and climbed back onto the bus, sauntering back to his coffin of a bunk.
For someone who spent their whole life traveling, he was feeling pretty stuck in a rut.
Dakota’s heart raced as security scanned her ticket and ushered her into the venue. Her friend gripped her hand for dear life and the two bolted for the barricade, squealing in delight upon claiming their spot. They had been looking forward to this day for months, and now that it had arrived, both felt as if they could barely breathe.
“I think I’m gonna cry. We’re close enough to touch them.”
Dakota nodded excitedly, fiddling with the hem of her shirt to calm her nerves. She’d dreamed of this day since she’d first set sight on Kendall Schmidt. As attractive as she found the blond, though, she was more interested in what lied beneath the surface. Often times, she’d find herself lying awake at night, listening to his music and wishing she could just see into his mind.
“I can’t even believe this is happening,” she whispered.
Before they knew it, the lights had dimmed and the first opener took the stage. In the blink of an eye, the second had finished their set, and Heffron Drive’s equipment was being rolled into place. Dakota’s breath hitched in her throat as the venue went pitch black. The band walked out, but her eyes were glued to Kendall. His every move, note, and breath had Dakota captivated. She was positive that her friend would’ve called her crazy, but she could’ve sworn she was in love.
Kendall handed his equipment to his guitar tech and headed back to the green room. He shrugged off countless invitations to party at the bar across the street and several groupies beckoning him to come back to their houses for “a little fun.” He just wanted to sign a few autographs, take some photos, and head to bed. Playing rockstar wasn’t on the agenda
The cool night air hit Kendall and he pulled his leather jacket closer to his body as he made his way over to the fence that “kept him safe” from his fans. Bullshit. Looking around to make sure his manager was out of sight, he ducked out of the enclosed area and greeted the people that got him to where he was.
Dakota’s head snapped up from her phone as she heard everyone around her beginning to scream. Kendall had made his way out of the gate and was taking pictures with fans. Before she could think, her friend had begun dragging her through the crowd. Soon, Dakota found herself standing before Kendall as he signed another autograph. When he looked up, his gaze fell on her.
“Hey, I’m Kendall,” he said with a smile, holding his arms out for a hug. Dakota stepped into his embrace and smiled to herself as he squeezed her extra tight. She opened her mouth to reply when she was cut off.
