Heartthrobs Don’t Date Wallflowers (Texting the Boyband)

Chapter 19

nineteen

Not Zesty

Meet me by the stage door

The text came through only two minutes after the concert ended, as we were streaming out of the stadium. Beside me, Poppy was happily chatting with the group of girls who’d been sitting next to us during the concert. She’d always been great at making friends, just like that.

“I’ll be right back,” I mumbled to her, not even positive if she could hear me over everyone talking. She waved me off with one hand, not even turning around. Typical Poppy. I loved her for it—she wouldn’t think twice if I disappeared for a while, and right now, I needed that freedom.

Ivy

I’ll be there

I hit send, my fingers trembling. There. Now there was no turning back. My heart flipped as I headed toward the door marked “Exit,” which I assumed led to the back of the venue. When I pushed it open and stepped out, the cool night air hit me and I sighed in relief. One more minute in there and I thought I was going to die of heat stroke.

It took a second for my eyes to adjust to the limited light, but once I did, I realized I was in some sort of parking lot, with a few vans and trailers parked haphazardly around. It looked like it was mostly just crew members out here, moving equipment, but when I squinted at the shadows, I saw some girls milling about too, heading across the way to some other doors.

It seemed as good a place to look as any.

I glanced down at my outfit, suddenly feeling self-conscious. Did I look okay? Did I even look like the kind of girl Zach would want to meet after a concert? I mean, I wasn’t anything special. Just... me.

As I got closer to the door everyone seemed to moving towards, I noticed security guards stationed near the entrance, directing people away. My heart sank. How was I going to get past them? My legs felt shaky as I approached, and for a second, I thought about turning back. This was crazy, right? No way was I just going to waltz backstage like I belonged there.

“Uh, excuse me,” I said, my voice sounding small and shaky as I approached the guard by a large white door. “I... I’m supposed to meet someone?”

He gave me a skeptical look, raising an eyebrow like he’d heard that excuse a thousand times before. “This area’s off-limits to fans,” he said gruffly.

My face heated. Of course, I sounded like some over-eager groupie.

“I know, but... it’s not like that. He—he texted me?” I winced, realizing how lame that sounded. I took a shaky breath, hoping I didn’t look as freaked out as I felt. If I looked freaked out, he was never going to believe I belonged here. “I’m meeting Zach. Zach Miles.”

The guard raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “Backstage’s closed, sweetheart. You got a pass?”

“I, uh...” I gulped. He probably thought I was here for some sort of meet and greet or something, right? Meeting Zach might have implied that. So, I had to try again. “I’m with Zach.”

The guard stared at me for a second, clearly trying to gauge if I was serious. My heart pounded in my chest, and I could feel a flush creeping up my neck. I was definitely going to get turned away. Why had I even thought this would work?

Just as I was ready to give up, door cracked open and a guy with a clipboard and headset peeked out. The security guard didn’t take his eyes off me—as if he thought I was going to try to shove my way past him somehow—but he leaned back for the guy to whisper something to him.

“What’s your name?” The guard asked me gruffly. Suddenly, Clipboard Guy had his eyes on me too.

“Ivy,” I squeaked. “I mean, Ivy Wade, sir.”

The security guard’s eyes darted to Clipboard Guy, who nodded, and he stepped aside. Before I knew it, Clipboard Guy was ushering me through the door and down the hall.

“Wait here,” Clipboard Guy said, leaving me in the middle of a random hallway. He started to walk off before I even had the chance to blink.

Excuse me?

“Wait!” I called. “What am I supposed to…” I let the words trail off as he rounded the corner and disappeared from sight, leaving me completely alone. Great.

Shouldn’t there have been some rule about not leaving an unvetted girl alone backstage where she could presumably find the band?

I guess I wasn’t enough of a threat.

I wasn’t sure if I should be offended by that.

I spun around in a circle, looking for anything that could be a sign of where to go in this stupid dark hallway. I didn’t really want to go wandering around aimlessly.

And then, I saw him.

A boy walking toward me, his posture relaxed and hands shoved deep in his pockets. His hair was dark, a little messy, like maybe he’d been running his hands through it all night. As he came into the light, his face was unmistakable—and he was walking toward me like it was the most normal thing in the world, like he hadn’t just performed in front of thousands of screaming fans, like this was what he’d been waiting for all night.

Meanwhile, I was forgetting how to breathe .

“You’re wearing my sweater,” Zach said as a greeting.

For a split second, I thought about running. Like, literally turning around and booking it. What was I supposed to do now? What was I supposed to say?

“Do you want it back?” I asked. I immediately started tugging it off, even though goosebumps started to raise on my arms. “Here, I?—”

“Stop.” His hand grabbed the fabric, stopping me from pulling it off. Gently, he slipped it back up my shoulder, his fingers trailing along my skin in a way that sent a warm shiver through me. His eyes lingered there for a second, then drifted up to mine. They looked darker now than they usually did. Almost black instead of their typical brown. Maybe it was the light? Or maybe I was losing it. His voice was almost a whisper as he said, “It looks better on you anyway.”

I was suddenly very aware that he was right there. Like, one wrong move and our faces would collide. My brain was already halfway to a meltdown when I realized I was leaning in. His eyes flicked to my lips, and it was officially too late to chicken out now.

Then he closed the gap, brushing his lips against mine, soft and careful. His hand cupped my cheek, his thumb lightly brushing my skin, and my heart felt like it was going to burst out of my chest. The kiss was sweet, careful, like he was giving me a chance to pull away, to change my mind.

But I didn’t.

I pressed closer, my hands finding their way to his jacket, clutching the cool leather like it was the only thing keeping me grounded. The kiss deepened, slow and tender, and all the chaos and confusion melted away, replaced by this overwhelming sense of rightness . Like this was where I was supposed to be, like Zach was the answer to every question I hadn’t even known to ask.

When we finally pulled apart, our foreheads resting against each other, both of us breathing hard, I let out a soft, almost relieved laugh.

“Am I really a bad enough kisser that you’re laughing?” He whispered.

“Awful,” I murmured, another laugh slipping through my lips before I could hold it back. But the laugh wasn’t mocking, and it wasn’t only the kiss that had caused this giddiness inside me. It was everything. It was Zach’s perfect scent overwhelming my senses, it was his hands on my arms, it was remembering the way he’d been waiting for me in the window today, and it was knowing him in a way that not many people in the world did. It was watching every star in the universe align for us to end up here, together, right now.

“Hey, what’s that?” Zach asked. He dropped down to pick something up from the ground.

“Hm?” I asked, still feeling a little woozy after the kiss. I glanced down and realized he was picking up a piece of paper that had fallen on the floor between us. A folded piece of paper that looked remarkably like the one I’d torn out of my notebook earlier.

Oh no.

“Wait!” Running on instinct alone, I tried to kick the paper away as he reached for it. Of course, I’d never been one for soccer or any other sport that involved kicking, so I didn’t have great aim. And instead of kicking away the paper, I kicked him in the face.

Well… more like knee’d him in the face.

Right in the nose, actually.

Zach yelled and cupped a hand over his face as he fell backwards out of his crouch.

“I’m so sorry!” I cried, my hands flying to my mouth. “Are you okay? Do you need?—”

“Hey!” A voice yelled from down the hall. When I looked up, I saw two security guards running toward us. “What the heck are you doing?”

Great, now I looked like some crazy person who snuck backstage just to assault Zach Miles.

Oh my gosh, I broke Zach Miles’ nose.

“It’s not what it looks like!” I said, backing away from him even more. “I swear!”

One of the security guards stopped to check on Zach—and even from here, I could see the blood all over his face—while the other guard grabbed my upper arm and started to pull me away.

“Hey, hey!” Zach yelled. With one hand cupped to his face, he pushed the guard off him and got up. “Leave her alone!”

“She can’t be?—”

“She’s my guest,” Zach interrupted. “She’s okay. Leave her.”

“Zach—”

“Leave. Her. Alone,” Zach said dangerously. “It was an accident. She’s fine.”

I looked at the guard holding me with wide eyes, just waiting for him to pull me off anyway. But he nodded and stepped back, although he didn’t look happy about it. Zach rushed forward to me.

“You okay?” He asked.

“I should be asking you that,” I murmured. “I’m not the one bleeding.”

“Eh, it’s not that bad.”

“Your fans are going to kill me,” I said, running my hand gently over his cheek. “I ruined your face.”

“It’ll heal.” He glanced back at the paper on the ground then at me. “So, what’s so bad that you were willing to kick me in the face to stop me from seeing it?”

“Hey, I wasn’t trying to kick you in the face,” I said indignantly. “And it’s… nothing.”

“Nothing?” He raised his eyebrows at me and slowly walked backward toward the sheet. He looked ridiculous, with his hair a mess, a hand cupped over his face, and blood still dribbling down his chin.

“Don’t,” I pleaded, but I didn’t go after him because I didn’t want to accidentally kick again or something.

“You can’t expect me not to be curious,” he said. Quick as a flash, he ducked down and grabbed the paper with his non-bloody hand. He looked at me curiously for a moment and I tried to look confident and not at all like I was about to faint at the idea of him seeing it. I doubted I was successful .

He let the paper fall open so he could see the words and I squeezed my eyes shut, unable to stand looking at his reaction.

“Was this for me?” He asked.

“No,” I lied, keeping my eyes shut. I heard his footsteps come closer to me and soon, his fingers were brushing under my chin, the edge of the paper still between them. I couldn’t keep my eyes closed, knowing he was so close so I let them flutter open and took in his face before me. He didn’t look mad, so that was a good first sign. And he didn’t look embarrassed either.

“You know something, Princess?” He said. Then he reached into his own jeans pocket and pulled out a piece of paper, slipping it into my palm. I just stared at it, feeling too weak and shaky to be able to open it. Too scared that my own hope for what it said was setting me up to be disappointed by what it actually was. But when I didn’t move, Zach unfolded the paper for me and there it was, in his beautiful perfect handwriting.

I LOVE YOU

I gasped and brushed my fingers against the paper. “But when…”

“That night on the phone,” he said. “It was the same day I figured out who you were. I wanted to tell you, tell you as Ivy , but…” He bit his lip and looked down at the sign. He didn’t need to finish, I could read between the lines: but he couldn’t say it until I realized who he was too.

“Why me?” I asked before I could stop myself. Zach Miles could have anyone he wanted. Why did he choose me?

His brow furrowed slightly, as if the question caught him off guard.

“Why not you?” he asked, his voice low and serious.

I blinked, trying to come up with a reason, but nothing came. “I just… I don’t get it. I’m not like the girls celebrities are usually with. I’m not?—”

“You’re not anyone but you,” he said, cutting me off gently. His thumb brushed over my knuckles, sending a warm shiver through me. “And that’s why.”

My heart thudded so hard I was sure he could hear it. I searched his face, half expecting him to laugh or take it back, but he just looked at me, his gaze steady and warm.

“Would it hurt if I kissed you right now?” I murmured.

“It would hurt more if you didn’t.”

It was possibly the worst second kiss ever. The security guards watching us, his nose bleeding, the weird dark hallway we were in—it was all wrong. But Zach loved me and I loved him and I thought that was enough for us both.