"Yeah, it gets out after one or two rinses," he answered, looking down at his palm again. "Do you mind helping me wash it out in the sink?"

I should have wanted to tell him no when I realized why he invited me here. Hopefully he wasn't stupid enough to think that we were going to get to know each other better. I knew deep within me that he wasn't like that. At least with me, he wasn't. He'd been nothing but kind and silly. Once again, another reason to deny that he wanted anything besides friendship with me. If he really wanted to, he'd have me pushed up against the wall, but he hadn't. Instead, I just nodded as I followed him through the door I'd seen earlier to find that it was a small restroom with a sink and a toilet. There was barely enough room for both of us to be in there together, so I had to squeeze into the area between the sink and the toilet. I saw him turn on the left knob for the hot water and spotted two white towels hanging on his right side.

He was staring at me through his black-framed glasses when I looked back at him. "Is there something on my face?" I asked.

He smiled and shook his head. "No." Tristan looked at me for another heartbeat or two before taking off his glasses and placing them in the front pocket of his jeans.

"Are those prescription glasses?" I blurted out another awkward question.

He nodded slowly. "I'm farsighted." Tristan ran a hand through his jet-black hair again, grimacing when he was halfway done with the action, probably remembering that it stained his skin. "Kat, I—," he sighed. "The water should be ready now."

Tristan dipped his head closer to the sink and he was so tall that he had to bend over at the waist to get parallel with it. I had to scoop my hand under the tap to get a steady stream of water over his scalp. A faint swirl of charcoal tainted the vivid white color of the sink as the hair color washed off easily with the help of his fingers pulling at the strands. Within a couple of minutes, the auburn color started peeking out from under the black. It took about ten minutes of running water, using one hand to scoop water onto his hair while using the other to help him rub and scratch at the temporary hair dye to get about ninety-five percent of the color off.

"Thank you," he said softly, once we were done. I put a towel over the back of his head for him to dry off. "Did you get your autograph?"

"I did," I replied. "His voice was a little squeakier in person."

He chuckled, still facing down while he ran the towel through his damp hair. It was still a bit darker than it had been earlier when he'd taken his cap off, but nowhere near the shade it was at when he was in Lingus mode. "Most of us are a lot different in person," he said simply, but I felt like he was trying to convey more into his words. It didn't escape me that he said us, like he acknowledged the fact that he really was a porn star despite the fact that he didn't tell me about it earlier. It suddenly hit me why Nikki thought he looked familiar when I first saw him at Calum's booth. She'd seen his work before. My stomach clenched at the mental picture of the poster he had by his booth with the big-busted bitch.

"I see," I mumbled out. "I won't tell anyone your real name, if that's what you're worried about."

Tristan's bright green eyes looked right at me like he was trying to look through me. "I'm not, I know you wouldn't tell anyone."

It was so awkward in the tiny restroom; the tension felt suffocating. I didn't like this weirdness, whether it was with him or with someone else, I'd hate it. Tristan dropped the towel, which was then more black than white, on the floor and waved for me to follow him out of the bathroom almost as if he read my mind. Don't check him out. Don't check him out. Don't check him out, I repeated to myself to no avail.