Hotel Café
Chapter 1.

I was lost in life. That's the only way I knew how to put it. I had finally decided, once and for all that I, Baya Henely was going to leave this worthless down, the one that held no opportunities and no hope for my future, that I was going to pack up and move on to bigger and better things. I had been burned, cheated on, taken advantage of and I was tired of it. I was better than that, then this, and deserved more in life. I knew that no one else could save me and that it was up to nobody else but myself. I was sick of the excuses, the procrastination and everything that prevented me from leaving. It was when I woke up, sad, alone and on the brink of depression, that I decided I was going to leave.

And that's what leads me to the hear and now.

I switched the track on my CD player, glancing over my shoulder to change lanes and continued on this tortuous journey. I used to find road trips kind of soothing. A place where I could turn the radio up and sing as loud as I wanted to and just be alone with my thoughts but that ended about five hours ago and now I'm just bored out of my little mind.

I've went through most of my favorite Cd's. I've switched to the random tracks I have on my ipod but nothing seems to surpass the time. I've sorted out my thoughts, tried to make a plan for what was to come and now I'm just itching to get out of this car and do anything but sit. I know I could possibly stop somewhere but I'm not in the mood to pass the time by chatting with creepy truck drivers, not to mention I'm terrified of road side rests. Instead, I take the time to crack my neck, rolling my shoulders to sooth my aching muscles, all while keeping my eyes on the road.

I think about all of the things I'm leaving behind, mostly being my friends and family but I know I don't have to lose them just because I'm moving away. They all encouraged me to go, to chase whatever dreams I had but right now, I don't even know what exactly those dreams are. I guess it would be silly of me to say that a part of me could maybe see myself as an actress some day but then again, I don't feel like I have the personality to be full of all the glitz and glam. I'm just a typical girl, twenty six years old from the worlds smallest town in Pennsylvania, wanting and needing to live in a land where the world is at my feet, where I can wake up every day with new dreams, new goals and feel anything besides living in a dead end road. I want the world at my feet.

And to me, California was my answer to that solution.

I get a little excited when I think of the access to the beaches I'll have, to waking up to weather that I could just dissolve in. The beauty of not having to shovel my snow just to get out of my drive way. Ahh, yes the simple things in life.

I glance at my GPS as it reads my next exit coming up and groan when I see how many more miles I have to go. This trip is going to take my another four days, easily. Focus, Baya, focus.

I tap my finger tips to the steering wheel, hoping to surpass my attention span, even if it's just for a little while. I find myself finally getting into a song, finding myself signing along and for that moment, I'll just let myself get lost in the song. Anything, and I mean anything to surpass the time. This is getting to be too much. It's times like these where a passenger would come in handy to save my sanity right about now. I could always pick up a hitch hiker. I shake my head, laughing at how ridiculous that thought is. I must really be getting delirious.

Okay, it's official. When it gets dark, I'm stopping at a hotel. A little sleep will do me some good right? Right.

Another three hours to go. Sanity, officially lost.

***

I had lost count of the time but I know it felt like I had driven to Egypt and back.I had given up on switching Cd's and was now enjoying flipping back and forth between radio stations until I found a song to hold my temporary interest. All I knew is that it was getting dark and my eyes were shutting with each second that passed. I looked at my GPS, checking to see what the hell state or town I was in when I learned I had finally made it to Tennessee. For some reason, that interested me. Wasn't Nashville and all of that where country music and blues was popular? I loved music of all kinds and more than anything, I lived for seeing new places.

It seemed the perfect place to find a hotel. I kept driving, being a little choosy on my surroundings and not wanting to end up in the ghetto of some town. When I finally did make my way off the highway, I took in the surroundings as I seemed to get closer to the downtown region of wherever I was. I chose the first one I saw, lit up with neon letters and big guitar attached to it. I should have known music was going to be the theme of this. Who knows, maybe it'd end up being more that I predict. Hell, at this point, all I want to do is relax for a bit and eventually fall onto a bed and sleep.

I could already feel it in my bones. These next few days and I'm sure more to come were going to be a whirlwind.

**

I grabbed my bare essentials, over night back with clothes and the basics and was impressed with how fast it was to get a room. Hotel room key in hand, I walked towards the elevators, taking in the surroundings of the hotel. Country and blues were definitely the theme here. And if for just a second I might forget, all I had to do was turn around and there was some type of picture or statue to remind me.

When I finally reached my room, a quick shower seemed to be due and as I layed their in my large king size bed, flipping through the TV, I realized I wasn't as tired as I had once thought. Apparently my shower had temporarily revived me of stresses and all I wanted to do was get up and do something.

My laptop came to mind, until I had realized I had left it in my car. Grabbing my hotel key, I quickly left my room, en route to find it. As the elevator descended down, I heard what could only be described as a band playing. It sounded like a cross between some type of blues and jazz but I had no idea where it was coming from. My ears seemed to follow the sound just around the corner from the lobby where I was met with what little to be some type of Café. I had come to get my laptop but suddenly I couldn't pull myself away.

I stood there, by the door, not committing myself to go in just yet as I leaned against the side, arms crossed, slowly taking in the music. Among the small stage set up at the end of the room, I took in the band playing but more importantly the lead singer. He sat perched on the bench, one foot up, the other lying on the wooden floor. His guitar lay in his lap, drink beside his foot where he'd take turns nursing the beer bottle between choruses. His thin frame was dressed in what appeared to be vintage washed jeans, and a gray and red plaid button down, open and exposing the t-shirt beneth.

I wasn't staring.

He continued strumming his guitar, right before he began to belt out the bridge of the song and I swear my heart just did a flip flop. Whatever he was singing hit me like a ton of bricks as he went on and on about the paths we take in life and all of the roads we have to cross to get there. The words seemed to fit perfectly in sync with my life right now and it was almost too much to take. I've been known for randomly crying at lyrics that touch me. Don't ask, I'm a girl.

I swallowed thickly, my mouth suddenly void of any moisture but it was all I could do to hand my mouth open in awe at the sound of this mans voice. I couldn't stop taking in little things like the way he'd lick his lips every so often or how his curly hair looked like a light golden brown color with the lights hanging above him.

I looked around nervously as I felt my eyes well up and dammit, this was getting to be too much. Only I would be on the verge of tears from a song I heard in some random town in Tennessee by band I'd never heard of. I took a deep breath, gathering myself together when I took my attention back to the stage only to find myself sort of breath.

He was looking right at me.

Not just looking. His eyes held mine with a slight smile as he continued to sing and strum his guitar and lick his lips like he seemed to have a habit of. My heart thudded loudly in my ears and my brain told me that this feeling was too much, too intense but for some reason, my brain wouldn't make the connection to my feet and I couldn't move.

What exactly was I getting from my car?

Hotel Café
Chapter 2.

"Justin, get off the phone man! We're on stage in like ten minutes." Trace ushered his friend.

Justin nodded, rolling his eyes as he paced the small back stage area of the hotel cafe, one hand balled in a fist while the other held his cell phone to his ear.

"Look, I can't get home for at least a month. We're playing shows all over. We've got to do this if we want to make it." Silence. "You said you'd understand. I've got to try."

Trace tapped his foot in front of Justin, urging him on but he payed no attention. "Justin!!" He finally yelled, catching his attention.

He pulled the phone away from his ear angrily. "Dammit Trace, give me a fucking minute." He yelled.

Trace stood wide eyed, shaking his head before he finally gave up and left the room.

Eight minutes went by and by the time Justin emerged, he found Trace sipping a beer by the entrance of the stage. Trace passed a glance his way but didn't speak.

"I um, I'm sorry about that, man."

Trace shook his head. "Don't worry about it. I take it didn't go very well?"

Justin ran a hand through his short curls. "Same shit, different day. I'm not home enough. I don't love her. Blah, blah, blah."

"So did you guys break up?"

Justin shrugged. "You know, at this point I wouldn't even care. I can't do this shit every damn day."

Trace padded his friend on the back. "Let it go man. We've got a show to do. Forget about it for now and just get out there and sing your ass off man."

Nodding, Justin picked up his guitar and began tuning it. "You're right. Let's do this."

Trace took another swig of his beer before picking up his own guitar as he waited for them to be introduced.

Justin closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm his mood. He didn't need this shit right now. He was once reminded that musicians made really shitty boyfriends but he refused to fit that mold. His girlfriend was suppose to be happy for him, was suppose to love him, want him to peruse his dreams but that simply wasn't the case. They were high school sweethearts and she had every intention of staying at home, going to a four year college and working somewhere locally, in the same home town they grew up in. Justin however had different plans.

Their relationship had always been the same. He, somewhere trying to get his music heard, her never wanting to come out and support him. She had often accused him of cheating, though he never had and it seemed every time they had the repetitive conversation, they just got more and more distant with one another. They had planned to get married, were officially engaged if you wanted to put a title on it but was pretty sure that title had quickly been squashed right before he finally hung up the phone.

**

I don't need this shit. I'm going to shake this stress off of my shoulders, go out there and perform my ass off. Who knows who could be out in the audience, who could see us, like our sound and want to sign us. I've got dreams and it's up to me to see them through.

Chill, Justin. You've done this before.

Shit, and now I'm talking to myself. I've officially lost it. I wait for them to introduce us and I have to mentally tell myself, this night is another shot. I've got to kick some ass out there. All problems, all drama, all the shit going on in my head needs pushed away. Right now, it's just me, my band, and the music. Nothings going to stand in the way of that. Absolutely nothing.

Right?

I go out, taking a seat on the bench placed in front of the microphone and introduce myself. For some reason, tonight my palms are sweating like crazy. I never get nervous. What the hell? I begin with a little faster song, trying to bring some rhythm to the room, get the crowed warmed up and maybe wake them up a little. After all, this is a hotel cafe. How rockin' can these people get?

I scan the crowd, albeit the bright lights and I'm actually impressed. It's bigger than the norm. This hotel is pretty 'upscale' for being in Nashville and it's places and people like this that matter. We were lucky enough to book a few gigs somewhere so big, under no real management team or record label of any sort so all in all, I'm just stoked to be here.

I start the song, strumming along, singing, excited to see the crowd getting into it and begin to look like they're genuinely liking our sound. Maybe this will be a good night after all. I think at this point in my day, it can't get any worse. On the way there, our van that we take got a flat tire, we ended up lost on some dirt freaking road, almost late, and to top it all off, I have to get an earful from the woman whom I used to call my finance. Focus Justin, focus. You're here for the music.

We go through two more songs, followed by an abundant round of applause and I'm a little excited. Theres nothing better than a big crowd that loves you. I can tell Trace is feeding off it, as well as our drummer and right now, everything is coming out beautifully, free up any mistakes or anything. Their might be a small cocky side of me that really enjoys being adored. Sick, I know.

I look down graciously as the bar tender places a beer bottle down by my foot, and one back by Trace as she winks and I nod in thanks. I try to stop the thoughts running through my mind as her cleavage nearly falls out of her top as she leans over. Something tells me alcohol is the last thing my brain needs to feed off of right now but I tell myself, one won't hurt right?

I lick my lips as I take a long swig from the bottle before returning it to the floor and get a better grasp on my guitar. I turn back to Trace, and Kyle on the drums and nod, starting up another song. This time, it's a slow song, one that I wrote and it has to be one of my absolute favorites. I began, happy my voice comes out in the perfect pitch, just as I needed it to. I'm in the mood to serenade and just let people get lost and feel everything I did when I wrote this. I call these lyrics from my soul.

My fingers continue strumming effortlessly, Trace on background vocals, balancing out my voice and in the midst of my intense belting out the song, I open my eyes and scan the crowd again, looking for reaction when I stop, seeing a woman standing be the exit sign, leaning against the door. I squint, trying to get a better picture with the light shining in my face and I can't see her that well but from what I can, I find my breath hitching in my throat, almost screwing up the song.

She's got her arms crossed and her eyes are glued on mine and I call tell she's actually listening. I lick my lips again nervously, taking in her average built frame, her brown curly hair laying over her shoulders easily. She looked to be dressed in what could only be low rise jeans and a green t-shirt that clung to her body. She was.... shit, she was beautiful. Was she watching me? I began to second guess myself. Did I have something on my face or was she staring at Trace or Kyle? Trace was known to be a ladies man, especially since we'd been doing shows here and there. Hell, Trace could have groupies for all I knew.

I went on with the song, my eyes locking with hers as we continued to gaze at one another. She'd look away nervously, her arms going around her tighter and her chest would heave and she'd look back, eyes once again on mine. I put everything into the rest of the song, belting out, crying out, singing my ass off like I've always loved. I tried to ignore the thudding in my chest as the song came to a close and she still hadn't moved from her place against the door. Why hadn't she come inside? I felt a surge of hear creep through my cheeks as I sat my guitar down only to catch her clapping along with everyone else softly. I couldn't lay a finger on why I was so affected by a stranger.

Right after that, Trace announced our short intermission and I stood, setting my guitar against the wall and walking towards the bar for another drink. I kept glancing in her direction, trying to nonchalantly make sure she didn't leave. A huge part of me wanted to just walk over to her and introduce myself but my nerves had got the best of me. What the hell would I even say? I cursed myself, knowing I've never really had trouble speaking to a woman in all the 25 years of my life. It just came naturally to me. My wit, my charm, again, cocky much?

I stand at the bar, ordering a drink as I feel Trace slap his hand on my shoulder from behind. "Dude, what the hell was up with you during the last song?"

I looked at him confused. Nothing was up with me yet, so I play dumb. "What do you mean, man?"

He rolls his eyes at me, downing the shot he just ordered. "That girl by the door you kept staring at. Do you know her?"

I wish I knew her. "No. I've never met her before in my life." I shrug, trying to discreetly glance in the direction of the door. Shit, where did she go? I turn to walk away, hearing Trace immediately question me but I shake my head, ignoring him. She wasn't there anymore. Why was panic running through me?

With me beer in one hand, I quickly scan the hotel cafe, not seeing her anymore. I walk to the doorway, just below the exit sign and see her nowhere. I walk out, wondering where she went or if I've really lost it and she was just a figment of my imagination. I'm now walking through the hotel lobby that leads to a hallway and I finally see her, standing there in front of an elevator. I swallow thickly, wondering if I should go up to her and if I do, what the hell do I say?

Instead, I stand there, watching her for a second and it's not long before I hear the ding of the elevator doors open. Shit. Just as she's about to step on the contraption, I can't prevent myself from what I'm about to do. "Hey.."

She turns, her brown hair moving softly against her shoulders, eyes slightly wide. She turns around, feet backing out of the elevator and I don't even realize that I've just speed walked over to her. "Yeah?" She asks, and I smile, the sound of her voice noncommittal.

Oh gosh, think Justin, you idiot. "You um, you liked the show?"

She nods slightly. "I did."

I scratch the back of my neck nervously, having no damn clue what to say. "I'm glad." I sputter out. "I'm Justin." I say, reaching my hand out to her.

"Baya." She says, her hand meeting with mine, soft but firm.

I never believed in that 'love at first sight' bullshit but I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel something. It might not have been be love, or lust even but there was it was one of those things I chose not to distinguish.

"Nice to meet you. You got somewhere to be?"

She looked around, confused. "Nice to meet you too and um, no. Should I?"

I laughed a little, my nervousness creeping out. "Yes you do." I say, already going the cocky route but quickly recover."Would you--, would you like to come back and watch the rest of the set? I could--maybe buy you a drink after?"

Baya looked hesitant, almost like she was going through a mental argument with herself, deciding what to do. "Okay."

Her answer was sure and firm. I let out a breath I had no idea I had been holding. "Yeah?" I asked making sure I had heard correctly. She nodded, taking a step forward. "Let me lead the way." I said, smiling as I turned on my heels, now facing the cafe. She comes up beside me, walking in step with me and it's almost instant when the light flowery scent of her meets my senses. It takes every bit of willpower inside of me not to reach an arm around and toss it over her shoulders. I just met her. Don't jump the gun you idiot. She's just a girl you met in a hotel cafe. It was all very plain and simple right?

Did I really just agree to that? To going back with a perfect stranger, a musician none the less in a hotel in some town I probably wouldn't remember if you asked me tomorrow but something made me say yes. I don't know exactly what it was but wondering is the last thing on my mind right now. I went back to the cafe, and by Justin's insistence got a table right up front with the perfect view and the only thing meeting my brain right now is the most beautiful sound coming out of his mouth. I've said it before, I've always had this thing for music. Like I've always been really into it but theres been times where it goes deeper than that. It's almost like I fall into the lyrics and feel them as much as possible. I can hear a melody and it's enough to give me chills. It's just-- we'll say it's bigger than just something I like. Music and me go together like Romeo and Juliette, peanut butter and jelly, cereal and milk, you name it. Lame analogies but whatever.

I'm sitting here, completly mesmerized, listening to him sing and I try to ignore the little smirks he sends in my direction every now and then. I'm also trying not to count the number of times this man licks his lips and how it stirs something deep inside of me. Whatever it is, they can't be feelings. I'm pretty sure my ex-boyfriend made me completely void of the word 'feeling.' I'm not going to analyze this. I'm on my way to California to start my life over and I happened to stop at a hotel and ended up bumping into some music. No big deal.

Another half an hour passes by and Justin finally announces that the next song they're about to sing will be the last for the evening. A little piece of me dies because I've just come to the conclusion that I could sit and listen to this man sing for the rest of my life and never get bored. I don't know what it is about him, sitting there on a stool, guitar in his lap, strumming along, singing his heart out. It just hits something in me, mesmerizes, draws me in. I've listened to his lyrics, watched him pour out his heart and soul and you can tell that this man, and or his band mates perhaps have written each word from personal experience. I know some of them have to be his. Just the way talent pours off this man tells me that I'm right.

The twangy sounds of his guitar finally fade out as he bows his head in gratitude as the cafe fills will applause. I cautiously join in, not wanting to draw attention to myself. It's not long after when he finally exits the small stage and disappears in what I can only guess is the "back stage" area of the small cafe. I mentally go back and forth with myself, wondering if I should sit here and wait or if I should go back to my hotel room. I don't have to look at a clock to know that it's getting late and I should be sleeping, knowing I have another million hours of driving to do tomorrow but something, I'm not sure what makes me stay. I don't even want to think about this, to over analyze any of this. I just know I'm here right now and right this second, I'm not going anywhere.

I take a seat, mindlessly looking around me, hoping that people arn't staring at me because I for some reason feel like I'm on display. I hope all of the little looks he's sent me wern't obvious to others in the room. Not that I care really, but I just have a weird feeling about this. Almost like a groupie of some sort. Does he do this often or at every stop they go to? Hell, I don't even know how popular they are or if they have 'stops.' I just know that I'm not what you'd define as a groupie. This was strictly my admiration for music. Plain and simple. So what if I've got butterflies in my stomach? So what if I haven't had that feeling in forever. Ugh, here I go over thinking way too much and I'm once again asking myself what the hell I'm doing here. I should leave. Seriously. Okay, I'm really going now. I hesitate for about ten seconds, looking at other people around me, some staying and sipping their drinks, others scattered around the room. I finally get up, actually leaving my chair this time and I turn to leave before I hear someone call my name. It's him.

"Baya.."

I turn around and I'd be lying if I said this didn't take willpower not to remain standing upright. "Yeah?" I rush out. Seriously, how does one man make it hard to breath by wearing jeans and what can only be described as the white wife beater he had on under his flannel shirt? I can tell he's a little sweaty by the way it's molded to his defined chest but as he gets a little closer, I forget my own name as some spicy but light and flowery smell meets my senses. God, he smells do damn good. Breath Baya, breath.

"You weren't leaving were you?" He asks, his face a half smile as he cocks his head in question.

I blink, trying to form words. "I um, I thought about it."

His face instantly falls and it's instantly got me second guessing. "Oh.."

"I can stay if you want."

His face instantly lights up as he steps closer. "I want you to stay. I was going to buy you a drink."

"Alright.." I regain my composure as he smiles at me and then winks and it's all I can do to not melt into a puddle of goo. I've got a bad feeling about this.

We walk to the bar, arms brushing against each other in the process as we take a seat on the metal stools. The cafe is now dimly lit, creating an 'after hours' type of vibe and for some reason it instantly relaxes me. He turns to me, taking my drink order before he tells the bartender and I remind myself to keep it light and end up something girly and fruity as I watch them set a beer in front of him.

I take a sip, instantly tasting the alcohol and I remind myself to drink this slowly. This could easily end in disaster. I watch him take a drink from the long neck of his beer bottle and have to stop myself when I sit there, imagining the path it takes past his lips, over his tongue, down his throat and yeah, shit. Snap of it Baya!

Justin takes this moment to break me from my reverie. "So where are you from?"

"Pennsylvania." I answer, not missing the place just yet.

"Cool." He smiles.

I raise an eyebrow. "And you?"

"Memphis. Born and raised."

I nod. "So have been singing for long?"

He licks his lips again and I've come to the terms that it's just some type of habit of his. "Yeah, my best friend Trace and I have been performing ever since high school. We usually perform locally around here but we're branching out more. Trying to make a bigger name for ourselves. I'm kinda dertermined to make it one day."

"Define make it?" I ask coyly.

He laughs using air quotes. "You know.. 'make it.' Record deal, tour, fans, the whole deal."

"Oh so you want to be a rockstar, huh?" I joke. Seriously, he doesn't seem the type.

He instantly shakes his head. "No. It's not even like that. I honestly do it for the music. I've been playing for so long. Don't laugh but when I was younger, I'd sit in my room and mess around with this guitar my grandpa gave me. He actually helped me learn. The rest I pretty much taught myself. Me and music, well, it's weird. You'll laugh."

"I will not." I say, urging him on.

"I have this thing with music. Like it's bigger to me than any words can describe. I love it. Everything about it. How it sounds, the way it makes me feel, how it reaches to like the deepest places inside of me and does something I can't put into words."

I stop, stunned, feeling like he just read a short story from inside my brain. "Seriously, I can't believe you just said that."

"What?"

"I thought I was the only person that's ever described music like that. I pretty much feel the say way."

He instantly smiles, licking his lips again. "Really?"

I nod, taking a sip of my drink and then tucking my hair behind my ears. "Really. Half the time I can't find the words to explain how much I love it. I think you just took the words right from my brain."

"We're awesome." He smirks and I almost melt.

I laugh. "We are."

I watch as his finger traces the moisture from his beer around the smooth surface of the bar table, concentration written all over his mind. "So what are you doing in Tennessee?"

I sigh, annoyed and excited at the same time. "Moving to California."

His eyes get bigger and I can tell he's surprised. "Really?" His face softens as I nod. "Gonna make it big?"

I shake my head. Yeah right. If only I had a clue. "Nope. More like to find myself. Reinvent myself. Get away from all of the bullshit."

"I hear you there." He says, his face falling. "You sure your not moving for a boyfriend?"

I scoff. "Hell no."

He holds his hands up in defense, his blue eyes sparkling. "Sorry. Did I hit a sore note?"

I nod, downing the rest of my drink. "Slightly. But it's okay. Don't worry about it."

"I take it he was an asshole?"

I nod. "A big one."

I don't know what happened next but it was something close to a soft brush of his elbow against my arm where skin met skin. I didn't get chills from the contact. Not at all.

"He doesn't know what he lost." He says in concession, smiling before winking at me. I swear I might fall off this barstool and I'm not even drunk. Why the hell does every little thing this man do affect me? Maybe he put something in my drink. Shit, what if it's his plan to drug me and then... shit, I need to calm down.

I try to focus on my breathing. "Thanks." I smile.

"So when you get to California, then what?" He asks.

I start folding the napkin that was under my drink. "I'm not sure. I worked at a job I hated for too damn long. I'd eventually like to go back to college once I figure out what for."

"You'll figure it out. I've just got a feeling about you."

I laugh. He's always so confident. "Thanks Justin."

He finishes his beer and sets it down the the bar with soft 'clink' and turns and gives me that bone melting smile again. "Your welcome, Baya."

***
I stop laughing long enough to pull my phone from my jeans pocket and check the time. I know it's late but right now I don't even care. I'm fully sober and have been having the best time of my life. I cringe when I see it's almost two in the morning. I figured this place would have closed by now but it didn't and surprisingly, we weren't the only fools here. We've been talking for what seems like forever and I have to say, Justin is a good listener. No topic stuck as we seemed to jump from subject to subject. He finally learned about my asshole ex-boyfriend that cheated on me and broke my heart. I told him all about my life back at home in my PA and how I needed to get out of there. He shared with me stories about living in Memphis all his life and how he put everything into his music and the band and I was none other than interested.

The vibe was winding down and the topics were becoming a little more intimate and I found it hard to believe I was sitting here sharing this information with a stranger.

Justin saw me looking at my phone. "Am I keeping you?"

"Nope." I say, trying to hide my yawn but it breaks through with me laughing.

He smiles softly at me, standing up and holding out a hand. "You're a bad liar, Baya."

I take his hand, not even thinking about it. "I know I am."

"Come on. Let me walk you back to your room."

I nod sleepily, too tired to care. The walk is short to the elevator and as we wait for the doors to open, I don't even realize that I'm leaning into him, his arm around my shoulders. The door finally opens about a minute later I feel myself gently tugged along with him. Seriously, I'm so vulnerable when I'm tired. It's just not right.

"What floor?" He asks.

"Huh?" I ask, then realize what he just asked. "Oh 19."

I watched as he presses the buttons an I lean against the back of the elevator. He turns around, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans and the smile on his face just might be the death of me. He looks contemplating, kind of shy and seriously sexy. It's pretty much the most brilliant mixture I've seen in a while. Suddenly, I'm curious as to what's going on in his head.

"What are you thinking?" I ask.

"Nothing." His reply came way to quickly. Guilty.

"Okay." I smirk.

He takes a step closer, scratching the back of his neck nervously. "I was just thinking."

Seriously, I may never find out. Elevator rides lasted like what? 70 seconds max?

"Thinking huh? Don't hurt yourself Timberlake." I laugh. Oh yeah, when I'm tired, I don't give a shit what I say either.

He scoffs, taking a step closer. "Oh it's like that huh? Gonna make fun of me now?" He asks, and he's close enough that I can smell the scent of him again and the faint smell of alcohol on his breath.

"Never." I grin and the closer he gets, the more my heart beats faster. He's not going to kiss me, he's not going to kiss me.

His head leans forward, so it's leaning against mine, his breath fanning over my face. "Good."

I swallow thickly, my hearth still thundering and I can see this is going to become some kind of came. He's smooth. He's got all of this down but I decide to play along. Our personalities, I've learned, are kind of similar. This could be fun.

I arch a brow, leaning forward just a little bit, our arms now touching. "What if i did make fun of you?"

He laughs, licking his lips and he's leaning down by my ear now. "I'd have to think about it. But i'd probably do something like this..."

Right as he said that, I didn't even try to prevent the chills that ran up and down my neck but the door opened and inside, I mentally screamed. I wasn't the type that did this type of thing, in fact, this-as in spending an evening talking to a stranger-slash-musician is the most out of the box thing I've done. Seriously, my town is small. I still wanted to know what he was going to say.

I heard him chuckle for a second, almost as if he heard my groan of disappointed. "Like what?" I whisper.

"I probably shouldn't." He says pulling back.

I hang my head low, pulling away from him and make a quick escape from the elevator. I'm walking down the hall towards my door only to find Justin hot on my heels.

"Baya, wait."

Stopping in front of my door, I turn to him, arms crossed. "What?"

He laughs a little, mimiking my stance. "Don't be mad."

I shrug, pretending that I'm not curious as to what he was about to do. It's probably for the better. I don't go around kissing people I've met for less than twenty-four hours. It's just not my thing.

"I'm not."

He chuckles out loud, moving forward and grabbing my crossed arms. "You are too."

"You think you can read my thoughts after knowing me for a couple of hours?"

He bites his lip. "I'd say I know a great deal of it. Like what spots make you shiver."

I look up, wide eyed as my cheeks get warm, turning a bright crimson color. I curse myself for letting him affect me like that. "I didn't- I just-.." I stutter for a second before I feel his hand cup the side of my face forcing me to look at him.

"It's okay, Baya. You have nothing to apologize for."

"I don't normally do this."

He looks around before turning back to me, his long fingers caressing my skin and i'd be lying if I said it didn't feel amazing. Something about him was comforting, but dangerous and sexy at the same time.

"We haven't done anything." He says before his forhead comes down to meet mine, pressing me back against my door. "Yet." He finishes in a whisper and my heart skips a beat right before I feel his lips, softer than ever brush mine.

I'm surprised, to say the least but I can't even think right now. I respond fully, keeping it slow as he's just merely caressing, smudging his lips to mine. He's taking his time, doing his best not to come off as rushing this, whatever it may be. It's not long before his tongue, soft and wet is tracing the seam of my lips, begging for permission. I readily agree, accepting his sweet invasion as he teases his tongue with mine. He swallows my gasp of surprise and I don't even feel my hands reach up into the tight curls of his hair but their in there, twisting and tangling, relishing in the soft feel of it. When he we finally pull apart, his eyes are looking down at me, heavy and hazy.

My hands slide from his hair, as I turn around reaching in my pocket for my key and placing it in the lock of my door before it clicks, allowing me entry. I don't walk in right away, keep it crack, my foot preventing it from closing. His hands are in his pocket again and he's shuffling his feet nervously. I know what he wants to hear and I don't even think the words are able to form on my tongue. I don't do this sort of thing and hadn't really planned on tonight being the night to start. I'd just met this man and even though I knew a lot about him in a short amount of time, it still didn't justify what he wanted to do.

"So, tonight was fun." He says, looking at the floor. "I'm glad we met."

"Justin." I say reaching my hand out, a wave of braveness coming over me. Breath Baya, breath. "I'm not promising you anything but would you like to come in?"

He gives me a half smile, laying his hand in mine and it's that one word that has my mind racing. "Yes."