Page 1 of Never Have I Ever

PROLOGUE

“I’m in love.”

Him, a famous rock star.

Me, a mere mortal witnessing greatness.

Hard abs and broad shoulders.

A guitar god in the flesh.

I’ve never been a groupie, but I’ll be one for him.

Across a sea of people, his eyes meet mine.

Kismet.

Destiny.

Whatever we call it, it’s real with him.

“What?” My best friend says, “The music is so loud.”

She’s got earplugs in and is still complaining. I laugh when leaning closer to her and yell, “Look at the guitarist on stage.” Of course the song ends, and everyone is now staring at me, including her boyfriend. I hope the shade of red I’m turning is at least flattering. Just going with the mortification, I throw my arms out and shrug. “What? Like he’s not perfect?”

A lady pressed to the railing in the front row yells, “Marry me, Laird!”

Laird.

I’ve never seen a more beautiful man in my life. That he’s shirtless, a rock star, and plays amazing music just adds to his perfection. While the lead singer of Faris Wheel talks about the sweltering heat and all of us being here together in Austin, I’m still distracted by the guitarist.

Tall. Dark. So good looking it’s hard to believe men who look like that even exist. I wish I had freshened up, but there was no time before the concert. So I sweat, beads rolling down my temples, and enjoy the view . . . I mean, the music.

Marina says, “He’s just your type.”

I take a sip of beer and then giggle. “He is.” Before I let my imagination run wild, I turn to watch this glorious man perform. His gaze latches onto mine, I swear. He singles me out, mesmerizing me under his spell. Stunned to the spot, I’m unable to look away, my heart thundering in my chest and my throat going dry.

Bumping my side, Marina asks, “Is he staring at you?”

“God, I hope so.”

When the song ends, he steps up to the microphone. Our eyes meet across the crowd filling the sold-out concert. With a killer smile that about knocks me on my ass, he points at me and says, “We’ve got a date with destiny, baby.”

And then the drums kick in.

1

Poppy Stanfield

“What are you craving?” Laird Faris runs the pad of his thumb over my bottom lip, his eyes trained on my mouth as if he’s imagining what he can do with it. “I’ll give you anything you want, baby.”

Three o’clock in the morning is not the best time to make life-altering decisions. Fortunately, I know the answer. “You.”

“I’m yours.” At least for tonight.

Closing my eyes, I breathe him in and savor this moment deep in my lungs. It’s not something I’ll get to do tomorrow, so I take full advantage of the situation. I’m kissed, the sweet pressure turning firmer with each stroke of his tongue.

If I only get one night with this rock star, I’ll deal with the consequences of my choices come morning.

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