How Not To Be Starstruck. Portia MacIntosh

it needs a good wash and I wish he would have a shave – I am not a big fan of beards at the best of times, but his definitely has to go. As I’m staring at him, I catch his eye and he gives me a wink, so I give him a smile in return. Then I look at Luke, he’s sitting behind the drums with his shirt off, sweat literally dripping off him as he bangs away on his kit with real enthusiasm. I get that feeling again, that pang of something in my chest. I think my heart just skipped a beat – how lame is that?

      We’ve managed to push our way to the front of the crowd – at Gemma’s request, I’d be happier blending into the background and pretending I’m important. As their song comes to an end, Eddie chats to his audience. I look over at Luke who is downing a bottle of water and the moment he stops drinking, he spots me. Standing up behind his drum kit and grabbing his microphone off the stand, he interrupts Eddie.

      ‘Nicole Wilde, I see you! Guys, we’ve got a very special lady in tonight, huge shout-out to Nicole from Starstruck. She’s touring with us and we want her to write nice things, so if you see her at the bar then buy her a drink!’ And with that, he returns the mic to its rightful place and sits back down behind his drums.

      ‘This one is for you, Nicole!’ Eddie shouts as he bursts into their next song. I am both smug and embarrassed in equal measure. Shout-outs are great, but embarrassing, and because it was from Luke I can feel my cheeks flushing. I’m hoping people will assume it’s because it’s warm in here.

      The guys put on one hell of a show and, before I know it, they’re about to play their final song of the night.

      ‘So, this is our last song, guys.’ Eddie stops talking to swig his beer, his audience will wait. ‘Thank you so much for coming. We’re going to party here for a while afterwards so come and say hello, and then we’re going to a club. Where’s cool in Manchester?’ he asks in the faux-American twang he picked up somewhere along the way – I’m not sure where, he’s a Londoner. His question is met by a series of shouted-out suggestions from the happy crowd, none of which are audible.

      After they play their final song and go off stage, the nerves really hit me. I’m going to have to have an actual conversation with Luke, and I can’t hide behind a Skype window while I think of cool and clever responses. I am so worried he’ll bring up the other night, but I’m even more worried that he won’t mention it at all.

      After a quick trip to the bar for more drinks, I am chatting with Gemma when Eddie and Mark come over to say hello. Like the good friend that I am, the first thing I do is introduce Gemma to them, and if she is nervous then she isn’t letting it show because she is so cool. As the four of us chat, I feel two hands on my waist and my heart jumps into my mouth because I know who it is. I spin around in his gentle grip to see a slightly sweaty and unfortunately fully clothed Luke Fox. He pulls me closer for a hug and plants a kiss on my cheek.

      ‘Well hello, Miss Wilde,’ he says, with the usual slightly flirtatious tone to his voice.

      ‘Hello, Mr Fox,’ I reply – how very smooth of me.

      Oh shit, is this awkward? Someone needs to say something.

      ‘You guys were awesome tonight,’ I tell him as the rest of the gang go back to their conversation.

      ‘Thank you,’ he says before pulling me close and whispering softly into my ear. ‘I think you and I need a conversation tonight, don’t you, Nicole?’

      In my flat boots (which do not go with my dress at all) I have to lift myself up onto my tiptoes to whisper back to him, ‘That all depends on what you want to talk about, Luke.’ Now it’s my turn to sound flirtatious. Before he can reply, I am dragged back to the other conversation by the band’s tour manager who has now joined us. I was far too wrapped up in Luke to notice. Mick the tour manager hands me my laminated Access All Areas pass so that I can get in and out of venues without needing to be on the guest list or with a band member.

      As we’re all stood chatting, I take the opportunity to think over what just happened with Luke. ‘We need a conversation’ doesn’t really mean anything, does it? No matter how flirty he was acting when he said it. I am snapped out of my thoughts by Eddie, who asks me something about the magazine. As I am answering, I feel Luke’s hand moving slowly down my back before resting softly on my bum. I’m trying to give Eddie an answer, but I feel like everyone can see it on my face, and I’m sure my cheeks are flushing again. My face cheeks that is.

      Just as I start to relax, the band are called away to do some photos. Time for some more Dutch courage.

      Gemma and I knock back a few more drinks as we watch the band chat to fans, pose for photographs and sign autographs.

      Eddie is surrounded by girls, as always, and Luke and Mark have a fairly big crowd around them too, but Ben is sat to the side texting away on his mobile, probably to his girlfriend. It must be strange for him to go from being an unknown guitarist to being in a band like TFTR. I think he’s handled himself really well though. It’s great that he’s still with his girlfriend, especially considering the attitude towards women that the rest of the band seem to share. Having said that, Eddie has had several girlfriends, it’s just that unfortunately they have all been other people’s girlfriends.

      I see Luke walking over, so I jump up from my stool, but the alcohol doesn’t seem to want me to and I stumble straight into him. He catches me and asks Gemma how many I’ve had.

      ‘Enough,’ I interrupt and I’m pretty sure I just winked.

      ‘We’re going to some club down the road, are you ready to go, babe?’ he asks, and I nod.

      Gemma has work in the morning so she has to go. I drunkenly see her to a taxi and wave her off. I am caught by a pair of hands on my waist again, although they’re not quite as gentle this time. I turn around and see Mark, the sleazy bassist, and he looks like he’s had quite a bit to drink as well. I call him sleazy because, like the Plastic Rap boys, Mark has always had an eye for the younger ladies. Luke and I call him the torpedo, which Mark thinks is a pretty badass nickname, but what we’re actually calling him is the tour-paedo.

      ‘Nicole! Let’s go, we’re going to party!’ he slurs, his breath stinking of cider, as he grabs me by the arm. I’m not entirely sure who is holding up whom but he is stuck to me like glue all the way to the club. I don’t even get to talk to Luke on the way there. I’m going to have to up my game.

       Chapter Eight

      The Mix-up

      Once we’re inside the club, everyone heads straight over to the bar and Mark pushes a bottle of something colourful and alcoholic into my hand, which I happily accept. He is attempting to make small talk with me, but I am too drunk to focus on a word he is saying.

      Luke walks over to us and grabs my hand.

      ‘May I have this dance, Miss Wilde?’ he asks.

      The DJ is blasting out pop music – they’d never play a band like TFTR in a place like this, which is probably why we’re here.

      I am dancing without a care in the world thanks to the alcohol, and although it’s a fast song Luke pulls me close and stares into my eyes. There’s something about him that makes you feel like the most important person in the world when you have his attention and it’s making me feel all funny inside. Either that or it’s all the booze combined with the fast movements.

      The music is too loud to talk so we just dance, and after what feels like hours of shamelessly flirting through movement Luke pulls me close and tells me he’ll be right back. He gives me a kiss on the cheek and disappears into the crowd.

      I decide to try and find the other boys, rather than stand here dancing on my own. I spy Ben sitting on his own, still messing around with that bloody phone, and then I spot Eddie and Mark who are lining up shot glasses on the bar and filling them with something I can’t quite make out. Noticing me, Eddie calls me over.

      ‘Just in time, would the lady care for a shot?’ he asks.

      ‘Oh,