Alex obviously didn’t really belong there. L.A. Much too far from Sheffield for his own comfort, but a tour was a tour, and it was his job — something he loved. And getting to travel out of the country was equally terrifying and exhilarating, but he couldn’t complain. Being dragged off to some L.A. party the day after the band’s show was the same experience.

He thought he’d had enough blasting music after the show. Turns out the party was no different, but worse. Now he was in the crowd, surrounded and swarmed by people, far too different from being on stage. A few drinks wasn’t enough, so he settled for cigarettes and fresh air. He slipped out the front door, walking down the front porch to the driveway. Which is where he spotted you; sitting on the driveway, nursing a half empty bottle of beer.

He wasn’t the type to stare, but for a moment his eyes were trained on nothing but you. He managed to shake himself out of his thoughts and remind himself why he was outside in the first place — to smoke and calm down, not to stare at the pretty girl on the driveway — which was proving to be difficult.

“You mind, love?” he finally spoke up, gesturing to the cigarette he placed between his lips, not wanting to bother you by smoking. His accent was a dead giveaway that he wasn’t from around here, and more noticeable, he had no idea what he was doing here either.