The buzzing of my phone awakened me. It was nearly two o'clock. Rock on, jet lag. It was a text from Matty, telling me they were ready to help me with my phone and asking if I was in my room. I texted back, asking for fifteen minutes. I took a quick shower, twisted my hair up into its usual bun and put on fresh clothes, opting for shorts and a yellow tank top. I tended to wear a lot of tank tops, because my swimmer's shoulders, coupled with my bust line, made it difficult to find shirts that fit properly.

When I opened the door, I was surprised to find all four boys on the other side. "Do you guys do everything together? I thought that was just something put out there for publicity?"

"At the beginning we did," Ronan answered. "We were the only people our age on the tour. I think that's why we got to be such good friends so fast. Lately we don't, but we've had a lot of down time, these past couple days, which is unusual for us. Usually on tour we have to schedule time to have a wee, but with the other translator bailing, some stuff had to be canceled, and with you not being able to get here until yesterday, it gave us a couple days free. So we've had nothing to do but play video games and work out, and both those things get old. And I think all of us would rather spend time with a pretty girl than either of those things anyway, right boys?" He gave me his gorgeous smile along with a couple of bats of his dark brown eyes.

"Aww, Ronan, you're going to turn my head," I couldn't help the blush I felt creeping up my neck. I turned away quickly. "I didn't know what you'd need to do the synching up thing? Matty?"

"The synching up thing?" he echoed with a laugh. He shook his head. "Just give me both phones, Tinker Bell," he said, holding his hand out.

"I gladly leave the whole thing in your capable hands," I said with a laugh, handing him both devices. "I wanted to ask you guys a couple questions, anyway, so I'm glad you all came back."

They had all made themselves comfortable, Ronan and Gethin on the bed, Theo on the sofa, while Matty sat at the desk with the phones. I opened the fridge and pulled out a carton of milk and took a bag off the top of the minibar, carrying both to the other end of the sofa from Theo.

"What's that?" Theo inquired.

"Lunch," I responded. "Well, brunch, more like. I didn't have time to eat this morning while I was tending to you four, so I'm starving. I stopped at a bakery to have this for breakfast, but it tastes just as good a few hours old."

"That looks good," Theo said. "Do you have enough to share?"

"Not enough to fill you guys up," I said, laughing. "But I guess there's enough for you to taste it, if that'll do?" I took out a croissant and handed him the bag. "Here, knock yourselves out."

Matty shook his head when offered, so the other three shared what was left, commenting on how good Japanese baked goods were.

"So, Tink, what did you want to ask us?" Ronan asked, mouth full as usual.

"Oh, yeah. Well, first, Geth, did you really break a chair over someone's head, just because he didn't like your car or something?" I queried.

He closed his eyes and shook his head with disgust. "Where'd you hear that stupid old story?"

"Google," I replied with a smile.

"Jesus, Tink, don't you know better than to go reading that garbage?" he shook his finger at me. "First of all, it wasn't a chair, it was a bottle," he said, as if that cleared everything up. "And it wasn't because he didn't like my car, he was trying to steal my car keys, from right off the bar, so he could steal my car."

"Oh," I said. "Wow, they got that story all kinds of wrong, didn't they? But still, breaking a bottle over someone's head is a bit extreme, isn't it?"

Gethin shrugged. "What can I say? I've got a bit of a temper."

"I thought hotheaded redheads was a stereotype," I said with a smile.

"Well, stereotypes don't come from nowhere," Gethin said as he took a huge bite of a chocolate croissant.

"You know, Tink, speaking of stereotypes, that's quite a tan you've got there," said Ronan from the bed suddenly.

"What?" I was in the middle of taking a drink of milk and nearly spilled a little. I carefully set the carton down on the end table and looked over at him.

"Well, you know how people from California are supposed to be so tan and all? You have the most gorgeous legs," he spoke with admiration. I had a sudden and overwhelming urge to cover up my legs. "The color, you know, it's legit, you can tell it's not one of those spray jobs, it's a proper tan, from being outside. And you're really in shape, what do you do, ride a bike or something? Those legs are proper fit—"

"Jesus, Ronan, you do need to learn when to shut up," Theo interrupted him fondly but firmly, and just in time, because I was starting to feel faint.

"What are you on about, then?" Ronan asked Theo, mystified.

"It's just that some people don't like having their bodies or body parts discussed publicly," Theo said mildly as he rose and went to the bed where Ronan sat. "Do you get what 'I'm on about' now, you fuckwit?" he asked as he pulled Ronan into a one armed hug and kissed his temple.

"Oohh, no, Jesus, Tink, I didn't mean to embarrass you or—oh my god!" Ronan was beside himself. "Oh, Tink, I'm so sorry if I made you feel bad, truly I am." The contrition in his baby brown eyes was going to make me cry in a minute, good gravy.

"Good lord, Ronan, it's okay. I'm just, um, not used to compliments, I guess. It's because I'm Japanese. They're not big on it. It's not your fault, really. Just relax, it's fine." He still looked anything but fine, so I gave him a smile of my own, and he smiled back, reassured.

"All finished," Matty called from the desk, and I smiled at him, glad of the change of subject and mood in the room.

Just then, all the boys' phones went off at the same time. They all checked. "Fuck," Theo said. "I thought we didn't have to do this until tomorrow?"

"Well, I guess they got it organized today," Ronan said with a sigh.

At my questioning look, he explained, "We're supposed to do one-on-one interviews for an English magazine this weekend, but we didn't know if it was going to be today or tomorrow. They were telling us it was going to be this evening, but it looked like their interviewer wasn't going to get over here until too late, so it was going to be tomorrow morning, but now they're telling us she's ready now."

"Shit!" Matty suddenly interjected. "I forgot something. It's—technical—wouldn't mean anything to you, but if I don't do it now, I'll have to re-do the whole 'synch thing' tomorrow, all over again."

He turned to Gethin, who was already standing, ready to go. "Can you guys go first, tell them, god, tell them anything, tell them I'm not feeling well, whatever, just tell them I'll go last, that I'll be down in an hour or so and I'll go last? It'll take them at least an hour to get through you three anyway, don't you think?"

Gethin nodded. "Yeah, I'm sure we'll take at least that long, with how long those two run their mouths." He smiled in Ronan and Theo's direction. "Don't worry about it, mate, we'll see you down there."

The other three left and Matty surprised me by joining me on the bed with the phones. "I don't actually have to be at the desk to do this last bit," he said, pushing a bunch of buttons. "Just let me get this last bit going—" he continued to push and slide, biting his lip while he concentrated, "—aand, done. For a bit." He put them down and turned to me.

"So."

I looked at him questioningly. "So?" I made mine a question.

"What piece are you going to perform for your Hamilton audition?" he asked, looking me right in the eye.

"What?" I stared at him.

"I said, 'what piece are you going to perform for your Hamilton audition?'" he repeated evenly, not breaking eye contact.

"How did you know about that?" I asked, flabbergasted. As far as I could recall, even with the jet lag and saké, I hadn't said a word to anyone about my piano audition next January to Hamilton Conservatory.

He chuckled. "Believe it or not, Tink, you're not the only one who knows how to use Google."

"You googled me?" I was incredulous. It was ridiculous, I knew, but it felt like such a violation of privacy.

"Now you know how it feels when the shoe's on the other foot," he smiled. "Besides, why would you keep something like that a secret? Hamilton's one of the best in the world. The article I read said you were the youngest person ever to make the cut. That's flipping amazing! Aren't you proud? If I could do that, I'd be so proud. My parents would have banners made and hang them from the roof of our house." He nudged me with his shoulder. I nudged him back. "So you need the money from this job to pay for expenses in New York, right? The scholarship only covers fees at the school?"

I nodded.

"Well, I don't think you're going to have a problem. I've seen you play, and you're phenomenal."

I turned my whole body this time to really stare at him. "How did you see me play?"

"There's a bloody video of you on YouTube playing Beethoven's fucking Sonata Opus 106 when you were seventeen years old! That's fucking incredible! How does that even happen? I heard it performed once, by Daniel Barenboim, and it was life changing. How could a seventeen year old possibly perform that piece?" His voice was full of wonder.

"I'm sure Señor Barenboim's performance was by far the superior one," I said drily. "The critics crucified my performance of the 29th; didn't you read any of the reviews? I was way too young and inexperienced to attempt it, it was stupid of my teacher to make me."

"That's not the point, Tink! For you to even attempt it was amazing. You were on fire. It was magic. Your hands," he grabbed them, "were filled with fire. And you didn't tell any of us.

"And that's not even everything I read about you." He put my hands down. Uh oh. What else could possibly be online about me?

"Junior Olympics? Nationally ranked in the breaststroke three years in a row? Seriously, Tink?" He was doing the staring thing again.

"Matty, first of all, Junior Olympics doesn't mean anything, it's just another time standard, they call it that to get the parents all jazzed up about signing their kids up for these expensive training camps. And being nationally ranked when you're twelve or thirteen, which is what I was, is not a big deal, it's just not super competitive at that age. And it was in the breast stroke, which is a weird stroke. It's not about strength, it's about flexibility. People who are good at the breast stroke are usually really bad at all the other strokes. You have to believe me. By the time I got to college, I wasn't even good enough to make the USC workout team. I mean, think about it. You've seen college athletes. Do I look like them? They're huge. They're six feet tall, weigh one hundred sixty pounds, built like linebackers. They could break me in half. I weigh one twenty-five, maybe, on a good day. So swimming is a hobby for me, something I love, something that keeps me in shape.

"So, is there anything else you learned about me on Google that you'd like to discuss? Hmm?" I looked into those gorgeous eyes some more.

"Well, no, I guess, I just want to make sure I understand. We all just assumed you were a twenty two year old language major going for a B.A. But you're not, you're a twenty two year old music major going for a PhD, is that right?" he asked.

"Yes," I said with a smile.

"Wow. My parents would love you," he said with another smile of his own. "Better not let them google you, they're going to be trying to set us up. They might be here in July for the benefit concert, so you'd better watch out. I'm serious."

His phone buzzed, and when he checked it, it was a message saying they'd be ready for him in ten minutes. "I guess I'd better go," he said with regret. "You know, I really enjoyed talking with you, just the two of us," he said, putting his hands in his back pockets and looking down at the ground.

"Yeah, me too," I said with a smile.

He smiled as he ambled toward the door. "I think we have to do some photos or something after this, so who knows when we'll finish. See you tomorrow, then?"

"Yeah. Good night, Matty."

"Night, Tink."

"Matty?"

"Yeah?"

"You didn't really need to stay after to do something 'technical', did you?"

He smiled at the ground again. "Jesus, was I that obvious?" And he was gone. I took a deep breath. That amazing looking human being had been flirting with me. Did he not see me? Could he not tell what a cowering nobody I was? Strange.