The concert hall fills more and more by the second.

Stagehands and other band members rush on and off the stage, quickly making the finishing touches to their equipment before curtain.

I blink with wonder from my hidden spot out of the way.

“I don’t know how you do it, man,” I say, raising my voice over the gentle hum of a thousand voices on the other side of the thick, red curtain.

Jonah looks up at me from his kneeling position behind his amp as he sets up. His shaggy hair sprawls out from beneath his favorite navy blue beanie and covers his passive eyes.

“Do what?” he asks.

“Four thousand people bought tickets just to watch you strum your guitar,” I say. “Aren’t you nervous?”

He thinks for a moment. “Do you get nervous when a stadium gets sold-out?”

“Not really,” I answer.

He shrugs. “There ya go.”

“But that’s baseball,” I argue. “I’m not bearing my soul every time I hit a pop fly.”

Jonah stands up and steps toward me, gently rubbing the stubble on his cheek as he walks. “You all right, brother?” he asks. “I’m sensing some tension.”

My tongue twitches. “If she doesn’t have to pretend to be with me anymore, then she’s meeting up with me tonight because she wants to be with me tonight, right?”

He stares, his face blank. “Is this about the fake girlfriend thing you were doing?”

“Ira?”

“Duh.”

I nod. “It was just supposed to be a hobby,” I say. “An easy way to take my mind off my knee but it’s gotten way too complicated.”

Jonah squints. “You agreed to be the fake lover of an attractive woman and you thought you’d make it through without your dick making it complicated?”

“How do you know she’s attractive?” I ask.

“Why else would you even agree to it?”

“Eh, fair point,” I say as I scratch my chin.

He sighs and starts massaging his wrist. “You wanna know what I think?” he asks.

“Sure.”

“I think you’re overthinking it.”

I pause. “Why?”

“Because it won’t matter in a week.”

I stare in confusion and he laughs.

“Hayden, in the twenty-four years I’ve known you, I’ve never seen you with a girl any longer than that.”

My chest sinks.

Shit. He’s right.

I spend more time thinking about what I’m going to eat for lunch every day than I ever have about what I feel about a particular woman outside of the bedroom but Penelope has completely dominated me for the last two days. And we haven’t even had sex.

“What if she’s the one that matters a week from now?” I ask. “Would I still be overthinking it then?”

He shifts to his other wrist. “Then, you’ll have done the impossible.”

“What’s that?”

He smirks. “Surprised me.”

I chuckle as my phone vibrates in my back pocket. I slide it out of my jeans and find a new text from Penelope. “I’m outside,” I read aloud.

“Actions always speak louder, brother,” he says. “You say she doesn’t have to be with you anymore and yet… here she is. No overthinking necessary. That woman wants your dick.”

“Well, when you put it that way…” I drop my phone back into my pocket. “I’m gonna go get her. How long until showtime?”

“Ten minutes. So, we’ll be another half-hour, probably.”

I laugh and head through the back hallway, passing various young girls as they pile in and out of open dressing rooms. A very large bouncer guards the back exit and he nods at me as I draw closer, recognizing me from before.

I pull open the door and there she is.

Penelope Warren.

She has her back to me, so I take the opportunity to look her up and down. Her strawberry blonde hair sits atop her head in a strategically messy bun. Tight blue jeans and an even tighter blouse. The perfect outfit for a rock show, if I do say so myself.

Hubba hubba indeed.

“Marco?” I ask.

Penelope spins around with an adorable amount of panic in her eyes and smiles.

“Polo,” she says.