"It's totally fine," Lindsey said, smiling at the woman while pulling out a rag.

It wasn't totally fine. What had this woman been thinking rummaging around in her mountain of a purse while her open cup of coffee stood right next to it?

"Are you okay?" the woman said.

Sure, my khaki pants now had a huge stain on the side of them but my leg wasn't burned, that at least is the one positive. Lindsey ignored the wet spot on her pants, instead focusing on the spill on the counter.

"I'm fine," Lindsey said. "I'll call you when your order is refilled."

The woman nodded, collected the behemoth of a purse, and walked away. At least with her gone, Lindsey could downsize her customer service smile.

"You good?" Nate called out.

He didn't move from his spot at the expresso machine. A small spill though a large pant stain didn't merit more than a cursory question.

"I'm fine," Lindsey said.

Dropping another towel on the coffee puddle, Lindsey took the half-empty venti cup and dumped out the contents before tossing it into the trash. Her phone in her back pocket buzzed as she wiped off the counter and headed to refill the order. She didn't even reach for her phone but when she glanced at the clock on the wall she knew who it was.

It was fine. I'm not going to miss it. I don't need to stress.

Telling herself that didn't mean she didn't hustle to refill the order. The woman thanked Lindsey profusely and apologized again for the accident. Though Lindsey accepted it all graciously it made her feel bad for shouting at the woman in her head.

"Nate," Lindsey said. "I'm going to take my five minutes, and see if I can't dry my pants."

"Got it," Nate said.

Lindsey twisted around Gabi and James to the back of the Starbucks store and hid in the cramped storage closet. Finding another rag, she pressed it to the wet spot on her pants as she sank onto an overturned bucket.

Dylan: are you going to make it?

Lindsey checked the time even though she knew exactly what time it was.

Lindsey: I'm going to try

Dylan: do I need to remind you that this is my last day here? That I'm flying out tonight. And if you don't make it then this might be the end of our friendship?

Lindsey: thank you for the guilt trip. If I don't make it I'll cry and tell you that I did so that you can have your guilt trip tomorrow.

Dylan: will that trip count towards my frequent flier miles?

Lindsey: that was a terrible joke!

Dylan: I know. I'm regretting it. But again you're going to make it right? My parents can't come since the twins got sick.

Lindsey: I'll be there.

Dylan: good.

Lindsey: my five minutes are up

Dylan: then get back to work Lazy Girl

Lindsey: I'll see you later Dumb Boy

Lindsey pocketed her phone and checked her pants. They were drier but the stain was still there. She sighed. Wonderful, another thing I need to buy. At least it hadn't been on her shirt, the stain on her pants could be hidden by her apron.

When she walked back out to the front, she got swept into the endless loop of order, coffee, name, order, coffee, name.

Eight o'clock hit and Lindsey looked to Nate and to the tidal wave of customers who snaked their way to the counter and to the lack of appearance of her replacement. Nate caught her eye and was kind enough to look apologetic. Lindsey nodded at him and then smiled at the next customer, all the while chanting to herself: 'It's fine, I can still make it, it's fine'.

Lindsey nearly dropped the cup of coffee she held when she heard the back door open. A minute later, Jennifer walked out to the front, tying her apron on.

"Nate!" Lindsey called out.

He looked at her and then at Jennifer. "Finish that and you're good."

Don't spill, don't spill. Lindsey worked efficiently, though it might appear frantically but since she didn't lose or spill the drink she called it efficiency.

"Hank?" she yelled.

A man detached himself from the herd of other waiting customers and Lindsey smiled at him as she handed over the drink.

Once it left her hand, she spun around and darted into the back room. Scrambling with her phone she called an Uber and yanked at the ties to her apron. Tossing it into the laundry basket, she raced to the computer and clocked out. Snatching her backpack out of the storage room, she grabbed the back door and rushed out.

The buzz of the Starbucks was replaced with the noise of the city. Even in the narrow alley between buildings, the city invaded every aspect with a sound that could only be summed up as one thing in Lindsey's mind: city life.

Lindsey rushed out of the alley and onto the sidewalk, a constant stream of people absorbing and avoiding her. She checked her phone for the car model and craned her neck searching even though the time said the car was ten minutes away.

When the Uber arrived, it barely had time to stop next to a parked car before Lindsey hopped into the backseat.

"Within your ability," Lindsey said, "please hurry."

In other words, break every freaking traffic law and possibly physiques laws as well to get me there as fast as possible.

The driver nodded and cut back into traffic. Lindsey flipped on her camera and checked her face. She grimaced and pulled out her makeup bag. Wiping away the little she'd applied that morning, she did her best to make herself not look so frazzled.

The end result of her efforts was her green eyes looked more prominent under a thin line of eyeliner, her pale skin didn't look as scary with some blush and a touch of lipstick and as for her hair, she'd tried to let her deep red curls be free but the disastrous result meant they were put back up into a ponytail.

When she looked up from her makeover endeavor, she found they were only a few minutes away. She checked the time again.

It's fine, it's not a big deal that I'm forty-five minutes late, there's still time.

Needing to distract herself from how much it did feel like a big deal that it was so late, she unzipped her backpack and touched the folded-up poster reassuring herself it was still there.

"Here you are," the driver said.

"Thanks!" Lindsey said, bursting out of the backseat.

She tore down the sidewalk, avoiding the front entrance for the back entrance. She skidded to a stop at the security booth and the two beefy men that stood in her way.

"I have..." Lindsey wheezed, bending over her knees. Wow, I really need to work out more. "I have... I have a pass."

The two security guards didn't look at all convinced and Lindsey knelt on the pavement to find her pass. What she found was a pass on a lanyard that was in a rough shape due to a packet of hot sauce she hadn't known was in the front pocket of her backpack. She wiped it away as best she could and held it up to the men.

"See, a pass," she said.

The men eyed it and her. "Sorry, we can't accept this."

"You have to. I have to get in."

No, idiot don't say that! You sound like a freaking fanatic. She knew that's how the men heard it from the way they shifted and closed ranks. I do not have time for this!

Grabbing back the pass, she took off running again. She nearly collided with the entrance doors but managed to stop herself before she caused serious damage. Music blasted her as she entered, music and the cacophony of tens of thousands of screaming fans.

Posters taller than Lindsey covered the walls, displaying a young man with classic looks and a winning smile. Merch and photo booths crowded the stadium's entrance. With the main act playing, Lindsey had enough room to half-walk hack-run through the maze of booths to the ticket counter.

"Hi," she said, breathing heavily. "I need you to call Michelle Green and tell her that Lindsey Reynolds is here and needs to get in."

The attendant looked Lindsey up and down. A woman with a mountain of a bag spilled her drink, okay! It was not my fault I look this terrible. Okay, only half my fault the uniform does nothing for me, I know that.

"Please," Lindsey said. "I'm not joking with you, Michelle will want to know this."

"I don't know how to call her," the attendant said.

"Then can you please talk to your manager, they will know how to call her."

Again the attendant looked hesitant. Don't yell at the attendant, she's only a person who's doing her job.

Lindsey held up her pass to the glass barrier. "I have a pass but it got damaged."

This seemed to help the attendant and finally, a manager was called for. Lindsey looked at the screens around the entrance displaying the scene inside the stadium. No, no, no. Come on!

"Can I help you?" a woman in a suit said.

"Yes, can you please call Michelle Green and tell her that Lindsey Reynolds is here and her pass got covered in hot sauce and she needs to get in."

Lindsey tried not to scream in her head as the manager gave Lindsey the same once-over that the attendant had. It's a work uniform, get over it!

"Please," Lindsey said.

The woman took another eternity before she relented and made the call. Lindsey started hopping on the balls of her feet as she watched the manager's face. What started out as polite skepticism turned to disbelief to shock. When the woman focused on Lindsey, she nodded. Yeah, I wasn't lying, lady. Now let's move it!

The manager disappeared but reappeared a moment later through a pair of side doors.

"I'll take you in," she said and handed Lindsey a new pass.

Draping the pass over her neck, Lindsey fell into step with the woman. "Thank you."

The chaos of singing and screams of 'Dax, Dax, Dax!' doubled as the manager guided Lindsey through a side door, down a long corridor, and into the stadium. The noise nearly deafened Lindsey as they walked out onto the main floor. She slowed her steps as the surrounding darkness pierced with blinding lights disoriented her.

The manager spoke to a man with a light stick and pointed to Lindsey. The man beckoned to Lindsey and she followed him as she took her to a cordoned-off area only a few feet away from the stage. Lindsey stepped into the only space that seemed to have any breathing room among the smashed fans in the rest of the standing area.

Without trying to be overly pushing, she slipped past the only non-screaming, non-jumping audience members toward the front of the VIP section. She nearly tripped at one point and knocked into a girl.

"Sorry!" she yelled.

The girl only waved away the incident and Lindsey kept going. Holy buckets! That's Lennon Kayhill. She glanced back once and shook her head. And that's freaking Kade Mathews next to her. Never not weird. The thought of the famous stars got forgotten as she reached the front of the section.

Twisting around to reach her backpack, Lindsey tugged out the folded poster. Sliding her arm back through the strap, she lifted the poster above her head. She shook it back and forth as she jumped up and down.

A smile spread across her face the moment she saw Dylan notice the poster than her.

A smile of his own broke out as he continued to sing and make his way toward her.

His note faltered with a laugh as he reached the edge of the stage and read what she'd put on the sign: Bring back the fohawk. Along with the message was a picture of him at age twelve with a fohawk.

He shook his head and turned back to the audience, falling back into his rhythm. Lindsey lowered the poster. As Dylan, or Dax to the world around him, went into his next song, Lindsey sang along with him. Him and the thousands of other fans.

Though just like them in her love of the music and the performer, when she looked at him on stage she saw the polished guy he was but also the awkward boy she'd grown up with: Dylan Alexander.

All too soon, Dylan thanked everyone for being a part of his life, supporting his love, and spending the evening sharing his passion with him. The stadium reached new heights of noise as Dylan made a trip around the stage waving goodbye to everyone.

When he got to the side where Lindsey stood, she crossed her eyes, pulled out her ears, and stuck her tongue out at him. He responded with a mocking face then quickly put back on his smile for everyone else.

As he said his last goodbye and let the lift descend, someone tapped Lindsey on the shoulder. She turned to find Michelle standing there. Dylan's manager beamed at her.

"You made it!" she shouted.

Lindsey nodded but didn't even attempt to answer since she'd tried to make up for her tardiness by screaming out the final few songs. Michelle seemed to understand and motioned for her to follow.

Michelle led her through a maze of hallways to the Green Room. A room that Lindsey could not have been more out of place if she'd tried. Everyone present in the room looked flawless and only a smile away from being ready for a photo shoot. Michelle gestured towards a back corner for Lindsey.

"What happened with your pass?" Michelle asked as Lindsey sank onto the arm of a chair.

"Hot sauce packet," she said.

"Next time know that you're name is on a list. You simply have to tell them you are on the VIP list and you'll get a new pass printed."

"Sorry."

"It's not a problem. I'm happy you could make it. I have to go but are you okay here?"

"Always."

Why wouldn't I be extremely comfortable surrounded by beautiful people who everyone knew their names.

Michelle smiled and squeezed Lindsey's shoulder in farewell. Lindsey slid her backpack off and set it on the seat of the chair she perched on. After scanning the crowd and noting who was there, she eyed the buffet table. She didn't know how long it had been since she'd eaten. This morning? No, I've had to have eaten at some point during the day.

"What are you thinking?"

"About how many crab puffs I can hide in my backpack," Lindsey said.

Dylan laughed and she grinned at him. It was the laugh she knew, not the one that was a perfect balanced of boyish, and friendly but contained. His real laugh sounded a bit like a broken car horn. Not the type of laugh most people expected.

"Don't worry, I already told Michelle to have a bag made up for you," Dylan said.

"This is why I come to see you, free food."

"I would be insulted but I've always known that's why you come to see me. It's always been that way."

"Yes, well your mother cooks like no one else."

"True."

Dylan lifted Lindsey's bag and sat on the edge of the chair next to her. His hair was a wet mess from a quick shower and he smelled like shampoo and cologne. As she eyed him, he returned the inspection.

"What are you wearing?" he asked.

"It's my uniform! Can everyone please stop judging me for it? It's not my fault my work uniform isn't Gucci."

Dylan tugged at his black t-shirt. "It's Chanel. Can you please get it right?"

"Oh sorry I can't tell the difference between one black t-shirt and another."

"It's okay. It's not your fault you're a peasant."

Lindsey shoved his head which made Dylan laugh. He poked her leg on the stain.

"Coffee or did you wet yourself from the excitement of seeing me?"

"Definitely wet myself from excitement."

"I knew it. Once I became famous you changed. It went from secret handshakes to starry eyes. It's never been the same."

"Such a shame too, our handshake rivaled all other handshakes."

"You're just saying that because you want to know if I still know it."

"I'm just saying with all the dance moves you've had to learn you might have forgotten your roots."

Dylan raised his eyebrows taunting her as he stood. Lindsey mimicked his expression as she rose. They faced each other but before either of them could do anything, Michelle appeared.

"I'm sorry to steal you away but people want to say hi and you still have a plane waiting to take off in a couple of hours."

"It's fine," Dylan said. "Give me one more second."

Michell left and Dylan looked down at Lindsey. He looked so solemn that she poked him in the chest.

"Post a bazillion pictures so I know what you're up to," she said.

"I could always just text you."

"Ha! Where have I heard that one before? You suck at texting but you'll post for your fans. I just so happen to be one so I can know how you're doing."

Before Lindsey was ready for it, Dylan hugged her tightly and she got her face smashed against his chest. She hit his back to make him stop but he hugged her even tighter and he rocked them from side to side. Finally, he released her and she hit him in the shoulder.

"Keep me updated," Dylan said.

Lindsey flipped imaginary hair off her shoulder since hers was in a ponytail. "Yes, I shall post all my lavish photos so that you in your private jet and posh hotels can be jealous of my extravagant college life."

"I'm already jealous thinking about it."

Michelle returned and before Dylan could let her know that he was coming, she held a bag out to Lindsey.

"Food for the home and I got a car for you," she said. "It's waiting out back when you need it."

"Thanks," Lindsey said, accepting the gift.

She looked at Dylan and saw him staring down at the bag. When he lifted his gaze to her, she knew what he was thinking. A side effect of knowing each other since they were little.

"You know," he said. "You once lent me money when we were younger, I don't think I ever paid it back."

"You're right, you didn't. And I was so generous too for letting you borrow ten thousand dollars just for ice cream. Who knew that corner store was overpricing their ice cream."

Dylan opened his mouth but Lindsey knew what he wanted to say. She reached up and tapped his cheek playfully.

"Later, Dumb dumb. Have a safe flight," she said.

As she began to leave, Dylan spoke.

"I'll call you, Lazy Girl."

"Of course, you will."

The car ride home smelled like crab puffs and the last traces of Dylan's cologne on her shirt. The car dropped her off in front of her apartment building and Lindsey slowly climbed the ten flights up, regretting her sprinting from earlier.

When she unlocked her apartment door, it was to find the sink crammed with her three roommates' dishes, the tiny kitchen table littered with Ashley's current art project, and the light to Becca and Kayla's room still on.

With a longing look at the room to her shared room, Lindsey moved to the cramped living room and sank into the couch. She laid her head back and stared up at the dark ceiling that was spotted with stains she didn't know what from. After a minute of being an immobile blob, she switched on the lights and got her computer out, she still had a paper due for Lit. she needed to finish.

By the time she completed the paper, she was half asleep and stumbled into her room. She flopped onto her narrow bed and thought about changing into pajamas, but remained motionless.

The ding of her phone eventually made her stir and she tugged it free of her pocket. The notification was for a new post from Dax. She opened it and saw a photo of him on a plane in a seat that transformed into a bed with the caption: Ten hours of sleep then a new city.

Twisting in her bed, Lindsey clicked on her bed lamp and took her own photo to post. It was the same angle as Dylan's the narrow size of her bed almost exactly matching his. She posted it with the caption: six hours of sleep then the same city.

One second later her notifications popped up that Dax had liked her photo.

Smiling, Lindsey rolled over and fell asleep.

***********************************

Hello!!

Before I tell you my thoughts I want to hear your thoughts! If you want to share them!

I got the idea for this because so many famous people books are about the girl dating the famous guy and living some crazy life because of it.

I thought about all those old friends that singers have that have normal lives, don't tour with them and have problems that would look really common in comparison. I wanted to explore what that would be like to see the difference between a girl living an ordinary life while her best friend traveled the world.

I already like it, but I am bias towards my first chapters.

Also it's the first time I've ever written a redhead!

Vote, comment, follow!

I'm sorry I'm always giving you first chapters and then slowly slowly delivering the rest of the book to you.