I should be glad I wasn't drinking anything when the guy gave us the total, because I would've spit it out all over myself and Zoey. Two hundred and twenty dollars? We each shelled out our debit cards and asked him to split it in half. He handed me the box in a bag, which was a lot freaking heavier than I would've expected and after a round of thanking us, we took off looking for Nicole who was just a couple booths away.

"Officer Spanksalot better have a butt-hole for Josh to wank off into for two hundred dollars," I groaned, hoisting the heavy ass bag over my shoulder.

"They should make one with a hole in his mouth too," she giggled.

I was so focused on getting to Nicole while also trying to avoid hitting anyone with the gigantic bag over my shoulder that I almost missed looking at the booth directly across from where Nikki was standing talking to Calum. A big guy pushed past me, knocking me off balance to where my body turned to face the booth surrounded by a bunch of half-naked sluts.

The sharp jaw was the first thing I recognized about the man standing in a wave of women. I managed to catch a glimpse of high cheekbones and pink, bow-shaped lips.

I felt my stomach drop to the floor, or maybe even all the way to hell.

The guy's hair color was all wrong though. It wasn't the light, reddish brown I'd seen less than an hour before, it was jet black. The eyebrow color was wrong, too. The guy had trendy black-framed glasses perched on his nose.

I felt like Moses then, because the sea of people spread apart in front of me at the same time the guy looked up, right at me. He froze.

I knew that face; maybe not the hair color or the glasses, but I knew that perfect face.

It was Tristan.

Chapter 10

It all snapped into place then.

The cap he had on, the hoodie he wore on top of that, why he constantly looked around, and the reason he kept his voice low.

Tristan didn't want anyone to recognize him. His hair color was so unique it was a dead giveaway even in a large group of people.

He was a porn star.

He was a fucking porn star.

Fuck my life.

My stomach hurt, and I couldn't pinpoint the reason why. I knew that he didn't lie to me at any point. I didn't ask and he didn't offer up any information. He was so funny and cute... I felt stupid because I'd seen the warning bells. Someone that good looking wouldn't be watching porn and roaming around this place by himself just for the hell of it.

He was making porn.

Ugh.

Tristan stared straight at me from behind the table, ignoring the swarm of women surrounding him as they yapped like chihuahuas. I swear his face even blanched a little. I'm not sure how long we stood there staring at each other in shock, but it wasn't long; it just felt like a lifetime of seconds.

One tentative hand came up and gestured for me to come over to him. The women around him finally caught onto his movements and followed the path of his eyesight to me. Me. I had fifteen women looking at me like they wanted to rip me to shreds, and I couldn’t have cared less.

My stomach hurt.

He was a porn star.

This perfect looking person who caught me pulling my underwear out of my ass, called me a gold digger, walked me to the bathroom, referred to the bat signal for assistance, ate a hot dog with me, and said he enjoyed meeting me was a freaking porn star.

Tristan motioned for me to come over again, his mouth set into a grim, hard line.

I felt a shove from behind, and turned to see it was Zoey who was looking at me with big, gray eyes. "Robby Lingus wants you to go to his booth!" She ripped the heavy bag from my hand as pushed me again, tipping her head in the direction of the booth. "Go!"

Robby fucking Lingus.

I walked slowly toward him, keeping my eyes steady on his face because he hadn't lost eye contact with me at all. A sudden urge to flee in the other direction away from him charged through my system. Run! My brain screamed at me, but my traitorous legs continued their sluggish path to Tristan.