Stumbling out of our Uber, we both thank our driver before breaking back out into laughter as we make our way to the line. I always wonder if Uber drivers judge us or listen in to our conversations at all. Honestly, they're probably so used to overhearing random drunk shit that it doesn't even phase them at this point.

Although, I'd be worried I'd start laughing way too easily at the things people talk about if I was the one driving. A huge shout out to our driver Brandon for being way more put together than me.

At least we've been to this venue, Crimson Core, before, so we're not completely helpless finding the entrance. I've been to other places that make it like a whole maze to find the entrance. They're out here sending us on a whole side quest to locate the door and the line. You'd think hundreds of people arriving to the same location would be easy to spot, but I have literally no sense of direction.

Thankfully, we don't have to worry about that tonight. And, we don't even have to wait in the longer line, since we splurged on our VIP meet-and-greet tickets. I'm still in absolute shock that we're going to meet Bawdy tonight.

I want the night to go by fast so I can get to meeting him, but I also want this night to last forever. Fuck, I just want him.

Kennedy pulls me out of my spiraling train of thoughts, and I pull up my ticket on my phone. Security pats us down and puts on our wristbands, and we're good to go.

After getting a drink and some more shots throughout the openers, I'm more than ready for Bawdy to start performing. Luckily, the VIP section is barricaded off to easily fit a few rows of people in front by the left half of the stage. We're able to move around and don't have to fight for our lives to be right by the rail.

All of a sudden, the lights dim, and the sound of a guitar starts playing. The crowd erupts into a roar as a spotlight shoots onto the stage revealing the one and only, Bawdy.

Will Bawdler. Bawdy. The world doesn't deserve someone so perfect.

I swear every time I see him, he gets hotter. Finally being so close to the stage, I can really take in all of him.

Standing well over six feet tall, he fills the stage not only with his size but also with his talent. It feels wrong that someone with such perfect looks also is one of the most talent musicians I've ever heard.

"LA! What the fuck is up!" He shouts as he reaches the microphone stand in the middle of the stage.

His black hair shimmers in the stage lighting. As he looks around the cheering crowd, bits of his shaggy hair fall onto his face, and he brushes it back with a smooth swoop of his right hand, drawing attention to his muscular arm filled with intricate black tattoos.

I'm not typically a tattoo person, but his look good. They look so good. It's not a huge blaring sleeve, but instead he has many tiny tattoos spread along his arm.

As he begins to play his first song, I start to wonder if his tattoos continue onto other parts of his body. I want to trace them with my fingers, examining each one and see if they lead elsewhere.

In a tight black v-neck t-shirt, I'm able to easily make out the outline of his abs, especially when he moves his guitar around to his back to just sing. My weakness in life truly is a man with abs. He could tell me to get down on my hands and knees and bark like a dog and I would. No hesitation.

Looking to my right, girls are screeching, practically throwing themselves towards him. I don't know why I can never get myself to be like them in crowds. I'm always a bit more reserved but truly am enjoying the show.

I look over at Kennedy, and her blonde hair is swaying back and forth as she dances to the music. I love going out with her, because we both just vibe along to the music in our own little worlds.

Watching him play his next guitar solo, I can't help but think about how fast his fingers are moving. If he can move them so easily, so quickly, I wonder what it would feel like if...

"Having fun?" Kennedy shouts into my ear as if I even need to be asked that.

"Oh, absolutely," I say as she grabs my hand and we sing the next part of his song to one another.

As he finishes off that song, Bawdy pulls the microphone back up to his mouth. I fixate on his perfectly shaped lips as he says, "Tell me, are you guys having a good time tonight?"

Kennedy and I cheer along with the crowd as he walks to grab something behind one of the speakers. "How about we add some more fun?" He asks as he pulls out a bottle of tequila.

He unscrews the lid and throws it into the crowd. Then, he pushes his hair back and takes a drink from the bottle.

"Alright, who the fuck wants a shot?" He yells as the crowd goes crazy.

"Gianna, get up there and get a shot," Kennedy says as she pushes me forward to be against the rail. Why am I not bold enough to start jumping up and down like all the girls around me?

It's not like I'll ever see these people again or that they're even judging me, but I just don't usually like standing out too much in crowds. Maybe it's thanks to the alcohol already in me, but I'm able to press those thoughts out of my head, standing up on my tippy-toes to compete with the tall blondes surrounding me.

As he moves towards my side of the stage, my heart rate starts increasing, and I don't think it's just from all the jumping going on around me. He squats down and pours a shot into the mouth of a girl a few to my right.

Don't be a pussy.

He makes his way towards me, and I lock eyes with him. He has to stop for me, right? A smirk comes across my face as he inches closer.

For a second, I forget that I'm in a venue surrounded by so many people. His blue gray eyes continue to lock onto mine, and I see him smile, flashing his gorgeous teeth. Something about the connection when our eyes met felt electrifying.

"Shot, babe?" He asks as he gets closer to me. I can't seem to form words, and I doubt he could even hear me, so I just eagerly nod my head, tilt it back, and open my mouth. He pours some into my mouth, and I have to come back to reality in order to not choke on the tequila as it burns down my throat.

As he pulls the bottle away, a small bit of tequila drips onto the side of my mouth. Without hesitation, he wipes it off with his finger, his eyes burning into my soul.

I let out a small gasp as he pulls away. And with that, the moment is over as he moves along to pass out a few more shots.

It takes Kennedy saying, "Dude, dude, DUDE," to really get my attention.

"You saw that, right? Please tell me it wasn't all in my imagination." I do find myself having a pretty vivid imagination, especially related to Bawdy.

"Oh, I saw it. He was practically fucking you with his eyes."

I feel myself smiling, and I know it's not leaving my face tonight. I know I can't get too excited, because that's his thing: being sexy and making his fans feel special. But, the way he looked at me? I've never felt that type of energy with someone before.

I didn't see him leaning down to touch any of the other girls. Even as fans put their hands up towards him, he primarily ignores them. Obviously he can't give everyone special attention, but, oh boy, do I feel special right now.

I definitely did not need another shot, and I start to lose myself in the music.

Before I know it, he's thanking everyone for coming, and the crowd starts slowly clearing out. Someone else gets on stage and announces that those here for the meet-and-greet can form a line by the left backstage access door.

"Bathroom?" I ask Kennedy as we start shuffling towards where a line is forming.

"I'm good to wait, but do you want me to come with you or wait in line?"

"Go ahead. I'll meet you back here."

I turn to walk towards the bathroom and groan at the sight of the line trailing out the door. I would usually wait until we got back, but I drank a good amount tonight, and I don't need to pee my pants in front of Bawdy.

Waiting in line, I overhear snippets of so many different conversations. One girl just broke up with her boyfriend. Another girl thinks she's going to throw up. Two girls are arguing over the same guy. Their friend just wants to eat tacos.

Finally entering the bathroom, I really wish that I could hold it. The soap dispensers have fallen off the wall. The trashcan is overflowing. Two girls are crouched on the ground, fighting for their lives to stand up without getting nauseous. All the while, a girl is having a full on mirror selfie photoshoot. What lovely background scenery she's going to have.

I finally make my way into a stall. Thank God there's still toilet paper at least. I look down as I pull off my pants and decide to not look back down again after seeing the nasty puke that has clearly been stepped in multiple times on the floor.

I try to pee as quickly as I can, but that's a lot easier said than done when drunk. I don't know if it's the horrible fluorescent lighting or the fact that I am, well, drunk, but going to the bathroom after a concert is the real sobriety test. One that I am failing.

I can't even be that upset at all the bodily fluids on the floor, because I'm part of the problem I realize as I miscalculate my peeing while hovering. You couldn't pay me to sit on one of these toilets.

After wiping, I pull out way too much toilet paper and attempt to wipe off the seat. I really don't want to be touching all of the potential diseases coating the seat mixing with my pee, so I attempt to wipe around the seat with one of my boots. There's still some people waiting to come in, and it'd make me feel way too embarrassed if the next person who went in after me thought I made this whole mess, although I was only part of the problem.

Balancing on one foot in heeled boots while trying to hold onto my purse and phone is not going the best, so I just kick the rest of the toilet paper into the bowl and make my way to the sinks. After washing my hands, non-effectively, with just water, I wipe my hands onto my pants, smooth down my hair, and reapply my lipgloss.

At least my makeup stayed in tact. And with that thought, I decide to take a few quick photos. For the memories, you know. It feels a lot less cringey to do it yourself than watching someone else take photos in the mirror.

Finishing taking my pictures, I realize that it's almost 2:00am. Shit, the venue closes then, so the meet-and-greet has to be done by then too.

I shuffle out of the bathroom as quickly as my unstable legs allow me and easily spot Kennedy waiting by the backstage entrance. Pretty much almost everyone has cleared out by now.

"There you are! I was about to send a search party," she says as I walk up beside her.

"I didn't miss it, did I?"

"No, no, don't worry, a group just went in before us, and Henry," she looks over and smiles at a cute security guard, "promised we could still go back as long as it's before 2:00."

I mouth, "Henry?" To Kennedy as the security guard ushers us in. She rolls her eyes and pushes on my arm. He's tall and muscular and looks to be in his mid-twenties.

We're ushered in as a group of girls are walking away from him.

"Hey, guys, thanks for coming out to the show," he says casually to us. No, thank you for being a literal God taking the time to talk with us.

My mouth starts moving faster than my brain can think. "I absolutely love your music. This is the fourth time I've seen you. I'm sooo excited that you have a residency here."

"That means a lot, seriously, thank you," he says genuinely with his wide, beaming smile. "Would you like some pictures?"

"Yes, we'd love that," says Kennedy as she pulls out her phone. "Go ahead, I'll take some."

I walk over to his right side, and as he starts to crouch down to close our height gap he starts laughing.

Laughing? At me? How'd I screw this interaction up already?

In between laughs, he says, "Babe, you have a bit of toilet paper stuck to your shoe."

Stop, no. I look down, and low and behold, there's some stupid toilet paper stuck to the bottom of my shoe. Not even a little piece, but a literal trail a few pieces long. My face goes red with embarrassment.

"Oh my God," I say as I try to step on it with my other foot and pull it off. To make matters worse, I stumble like an idiot forward and have to catch myself on the table.

"You all good there?" He asks as he puts his hands gently on my waist to help stabilize me as I stand up. His touch is light, but I'm fully aware of it.

"Yeah, yeah, sorry about that. The bathroom was a wreck, and I was rushing, and there was puke."

"You threw up?" He asks, looking genuinely concerned.

"No, no, not me. I just stepped in it."

Great talking point, Gianna. Really seductive.

He laughs and shakes his head. "Well, how about we take that picture then?" I didn't realize that his right hand was still lightly hovering against my back, and the realization sends shivers up my spine.

We turn towards Kennedy, and Bawdy rests his hand on my hip, and Kennedy takes a couple pictures.

As he stands back up after taking the pictures, he slowly slides his arm away from me. Maybe I'm thinking way too into this, but the feeling of his hand brushing against my back felt too good for such a simple touch. Knowing that his tattoos were on me, our skin making contact, I can feel my cheeks burning from smiling so much.

I quickly grab the phone from Kennedy and take a picture of them, noting how his hand only hovered around her back.

"Well, thanks so much for coming out. What are your names?"

"I'm Gianna, and this is Kennedy, and I wanted to give you a bracelet if that's alright," I nervously say.

"I would love that. Thank you, Gianna."

It's now or never. Be bold. Just hand him the damn bracelet.

I slide the bracelet with my phone number that also says Gia on it (I couldn't find any n's to put my full name). He takes the bracelet and adds it to the collection of other ones on his arm. I catch a glimpse of a few with phone numbers, probably from some other bitches who of course want him too. I bet they didn't show up with toilet paper to their meet-and-greet.

"Alright, ladies, it was lovely getting to meet you." Well, at least he isn't continuing to talk about how embarrassed I just made myself.

"Real quick, if you have time, could I get an autograph," I say without much thought seeing that I didn't buy any merchandise to be signed, but I saw the Sharpies on the table.

"Sure," Bawdy says as he quickly eyes both of us, probably looking for items to sign. "What would you like me to sign?"

"Me," I blurt out before I can really think this through. "I mean my shirt. If that's alright." I start to swirl one of my braids out of a nervous habit. Could I be any more awkward?

The edge of his lips curve upward into a smile as I catch his eyes quickly peer down to my small top. "As long as it's alright with you."

I nod my head a bit too frantically as he uncaps the Sharpie while sitting down. I lean forward, completely just putting my boobs on display for him.

"On the red fabric? That's good with you?"

"Yes, yes, go ahead," I say eagerly.

He uses his left hand to cup my boob slightly, stabilizing it as he signs with his right hand.

His hand. On me.

I immediately feel my nipples get hard from his touch and light goosebumps spread on my skin as I take in his touch. I'm really glad I'm wearing pasties under my top or I would have cut him with how sharp my nipples are right now.

I'm also glad I have some sense of self control, because I really just want him to rip this top off of me. He catches my eyes as he slowly lets go of me.

"Looks perfect. You ladies get home safe."

He flashes us a smile and turns around to talk to some people probably on his management team.

Making our way back home, I go into my room still with a huge smile across my face. I quickly wash off my makeup the best that I can and take off my outfit, putting on just an oversized t-shirt. I turn off the lights and fall onto my bed. My head starts to spin as I lay and feel the effects of alcohol still in me.

I know I shouldn't keep thinking so much about meeting him. I'm not usually an obsessed fangirl, but I truly do not think a more perfect human walks the planet.

And the way that we made eye contact and touched me, even if it was only briefly- I could get lost in his eyes and never want to leave. I would do anything to feel the touch of his skin again.

Thinking about how hot he is, how his perfect jawline is shaped, and how toned his muscles are, I start to think what it would be like to have his mouth touching mine. To have his bare chest up against mine, which he's already touched.

Thinking about the possibilities with him, I start imagining him here, now, fucking me. I know he'd be able to throw me around easily.

I find my hand moving downwards, and I brush against myself, already wet. The things this man does to my body, and he doesn't even know.

I slowly start to swirl my finger around my clit, imaging Bawdy is here to do this to me. I lose myself in my thoughts, playing with myself until I catch myself off guard with an orgasm that sends me into sleep where I'll hopefully dream of the only rockstar I'll ever want.