One of his fans moved over while I approached, leaving a big poster of a black-haired Tristan visible. A topless girl stood in front of him, with big, fake E cups jutting out in the air while one his arms wrapped tightly across her chest between her breasts, and his beautiful face cheek to cheek with hers. His other hand was clutching her shoulder, seemingly to press her against him even tighter.

Under different circumstances I might have thought the picture was incredibly erotic, not to mention hot. I probably would've run home and started looking up Robby Lingus on my favorite websites, but I wasn't going to. I couldn't. I felt like shitting out my organs. I had just spent some funny and embarrassing moment with him, and I felt a little betrayed.

My mind was racing so fast, hollering at me to run, yelling at me that I had no right to feel anything about his obvious occupation. My brain told me he wasn't mine and that he hadn't expressed any real interest in me. I couldn't get upset. I had no right. But my poor heart felt otherwise. My heart felt a strange connection to his beautiful mind.

I'm so stupid.

I found myself directly in front of his table; the line of women staring at me like hyenas ready to make me their dinner. Tristan's bright jade eyes stared at me as if he was trying to convey some message to me without words.

"Hey," he said, softly, so I could barely hear him over the chatter of his fans.

"Hi," I croaked out, my throat feeling parched.

"Robby!" a sharply dressed man standing behind Tristan called out, his face looking impassive. Tristan just waved him off, not bothering to look behind.

"Kat," he said, before leaning across the table as far as possible.

I stood there, not moving an inch, looking back and forth between the poster and the real thing. I wasn't mad at him. I knew that. My feelings were just haywire because I felt dumb.

"Kat," he repeated, pleading at me with his eyes.

I took another step toward the booth, brown eyes locked on to green ones before I leaned across the table and sucked in a strangled breath. "Yes?"

His lips brushed against the shell of my ear, warm breath lingered like fog over my skin. "I'm done in ten minutes, will you wait for me?"

No.

Yes.

No.

"Yes."

The tip of his perfect nose brushed against the skin right by my ear. "Okay," he whispered, before stepping away and giving me a soft smile.

I looked at him, and then back at the poster again before turning on my heel and marching away from the table of sluts as quickly as I could. I figured I'd be able to hear when he was done, and then just walk back. All I knew was that there was no way I'd want to stand there like a moron and stare at the parade of women embarrassing themselves.

Nicole, Zoey, and the big hunk of a man I recognized as Calum were standing in the same spot they'd been in earlier. The booth closest to them had a huge assortment of different lubes. In the middle of the table was a small, eight by ten frame of Calum holding up a small blue bottle.

He was a spokesperson for DrizzLube. Go figure.

Zoey grabbed my hands, pulling me toward her with a strength I didn't know she possessed. Then again, I guess she was used to having her way with women on a regular basis. Ha. "What did he want?"

"That was Calum's friend," I tried explaining, but she gave me a confused expression. "The one I told you guys about that I met earlier?" She nodded at me in understanding. "He asked me to wait for him until he's done with his signing."

Zoey squeezed my hands between her two smaller ones as she looked deeply into my eyes. "What did you tell him?"

"Yes."