How Not To Be Starstruck. Portia MacIntosh
century to say that I have a slight crush on him – I am crazy for him. I haven’t wanted to be anybody’s girlfriend since Robbie Williams ripped off his clothes (and then his skin) in the ‘Rock DJ’ music video back in 2000, but I could quite easily believe in monogamy for this man – something which troubles me because I’m not a commitment kind of girl and he certainly isn’t a commitment kind of boy.
He’s tall without being lanky, his dark hair is effortlessly perfect with his fringe falling over his gorgeous brown eyes and he always seems to smells so nice, even when he’s all sweaty after a show – see what I mean, I sound like a fifteen-year-old girl. The bottom line is that he is gorgeous, but I’m not the only one who thinks so. He has an even bigger female following since hitting the big time and I can’t compete with semi-naked, drunk chicks that operate as a team.
Luke: Nicole?
As the message pops up on my screen, the butterflies in my stomach start fluttering like crazy, it’s ridiculous. When we see each other at gigs, we get on so well and we flirt constantly but that’s just the way he is. He definitely doesn’t know about my little crush on him. It would be stupid of me to interpret his flirting as real feelings because he’s such a ladies’ man and a total charmer. He’s the kind of guy your mother would warn you about and your father would want to kill – actually, he could probably charm your mum too.
After what feels like several minutes of panicky excitement, I manage to compose myself enough to type a reply. He tells me that he is currently sat in a hotel room, all alone and bored out of his mind. After we get past the hello-how-are-you stuff, things start to get interesting.
Luke: No party tonight. This is not what I signed up for.
Nicole: Well I’ll be with you in a few days, and I’ll make sure we have a messy one.
Luke: Looking forward to it. Are you seeing anyone at the moment?
Am I seeing anyone at the moment? That’s a laugh. The truth is that it’s been years since I had an actual boyfriend. It’s not that I’m lacking male attention, far from it, but my type happens to be musicians.
When you’re on the road, all relationships are short, even friendships. You take ‘relationships’ where you can find them and they require about as much commitment as a pet rock. Having a guy ask you to be his girlfriend in the ‘real world’ is the equivalent of a band boy actually remembering your surname. But that’s the way I like it. The sad truth is that I’d rather have two nights with a rockstar than two years with your average bloke.
The fact that Luke is even enquiring about my love life is enough to make my heart race.
Nicole: Nope. Are you?
Luke: No, I’m single too.
I knew that. Luke totally subscribes to the musician way of life and a girlfriend would only cramp his style. Before I have chance to worry about what to say in response, Luke sends me another message.
Luke: Can I ask you something?
Nicole: Sure.
I’m trying to sound cool, like I’m not really bothered what he says next – I am though. This is so high school, I cannot believe that I am still playing these games.
Luke: You know that I fancy you, don’t you?
If I’m being honest, I’m waiting for the punch-line.
My first guess is that it isn’t Luke at all. It could be Eddie, the TFTR front-man, messing with me. Or maybe it is Luke, but he’s drunk. Then again, if he’s drunk how come his typing is so accurate? And Eddie being sober, or alone, at this time of night after a gig is about as probable as me using my cooker for something other than storage.
Nicole: You fancy everyone, ha-ha!
Luke: No, I really fancy you.
If this isn’t a joke then I am gobsmacked. I’ll have to reply with something or he’ll think he’s scared me away. Not only is this guy my crush, but he’s a proper celebrity these days. He might not be a super-star like Dylan, and TFTR aren’t as big as Plastic Rap yet, but he’s big enough to have an album in the impressive end of the Top Forty at the moment.
Nicole: Is this really you?
Better to ask than to make a total tit of myself and have the rest of the band tease me about it for the rest of time.
Luke: Of course it’s me. You don’t believe me?
Nicole: Are you drunk?
Luke: Yes, but that’s not why I’m telling you. I can’t get you out of my head, especially when I’m alone on the bus ;-).
He’s taking a bit of a risk with our friendship here, but he is a musician. He oozes confidence and probably thinks every girl in the world finds him attractive – then again, they probably do. Luke can easily get away with hitting on his female friends and using tacky emoticons in his messages.
Luke: Am I making things awkward? I’m sorry.
Nicole: You’re not making thinks awkward, don’t worry.
Luke: We flirt all the time, why do you seem so surprised?
Nicole: Again, because you flirt with everyone!
Luke: Wait until I see you, we’ll talk in person and then you’ll know that I mean what I say.
I agree before changing the subject from Luke’s declaration of lust and we carry on chatting for a while. Before I know it, it’s nearly 3 a.m., which means I should definitely be in my bed by now. I don’t want to go, but I don’t want to be late for work again either. I am both relieved and devastated when Luke says that he had better get some sleep, so we finish the conversation by saying that we’ll see each other on tour in a couple of days.
Finally climbing in my bed, I rest my head on the pillow and try to get some much-needed sleep. My conversation with Luke is replaying in my head and I can’t help but wonder how things are going to play out when I see him.
I’m so going to be late for work in the morning.
The Fan-bang
Despite the exciting events last night, not only am I at work on time but I am also the first one to arrive.
I am in a fantastic mood today and my work is reaping the benefits. In fact, I am so busy flying through the emails that I don’t even hear Jake arrive. I’m surprised I couldn’t smell the coffee as he was coming up in the lift.
He makes me jump by dropping a copy of the Daily Scoop newspaper on the desk in front of me. Plastic Rap are on the cover accompanied by the headline: ‘We’re having a fan-bang’. Not only am I amazed by the speed these tabloids operate at, but I’d give anything to have been the person who came up with that pun.
‘Oh my God...’
‘I take it you left before this went on?’ Jake enquires.
‘I did. Minutes before, actually.’
‘You’re probably too old for them,’ he jokes.
‘Oi, you! Sam gave me his number if you must know.’
‘For what exactly? In case he needs a babysitter?’
Jake is so funny. He’s not really that into the kind of music we write about, but he is so good at his job and he keeps us all in stitches while we’re working.
I take a long, unladylike swig of my coffee and grab the paper to have a proper read.
It doesn’t say who their source is, but they must have been at the hotel last night because they saw exactly what I saw. I can’t believe this has made the front page.
I