Page 3 of Passenger Princess

“Did you hear Atlas Oaks is here?” Jules yells over the bumping bass while we’re getting a drink of water in between dances.

“What?” Harper yells, jumping up off her chair. Jules nods and tips her chin to a VIP section.

“Atlas Oaks, the band Jeremy likes? They’re here.”

“No way! I told him he should have come,” Harper says, pulling out her phone to text her asshole boyfriend.

“We should see if I can get you guys a hello!” I shout over the music, grabbing her hand and standing, moving toward the rope doors.

“It’s not?—”

I shake my head with what they call my signature,Ava has a plan,smile.

“No, we’re doing it. I went to high school with Stella Greene. She was a few years ahead of me, but it’s a small town, and she was on cheer with me, too. I bet she’d, at the very least, help you get a picture with them.” I look at Harper, who is dragging her feet. “You can send it to Jeremy and rub it in his face.”

I shift my gaze from Harper to Jules, and we roll our eyes. Harper is dating the most intolerable asshole of a man who, if I didn’t know better (and to be so honest, I don’t really; it’s just what shetellsus), I'd think he hates everything about her. But also, he has a strangely all-consuming obsession with the band Atlas Oaks for someone with absolutely no personality.

“Ava—” Harper starts, exhaustion in the words.

I hold my hands up in surrender. “I’m just saying! He didn’t want to come tonight because he’s a fucking loser—” I start, but she cuts me off with a sigh.

“He has an early day?—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, he has a super important job he has to see to on a fucking Sunday morning. Got it.” I roll my eyes but continue. “Now we can meet his favorite band and make him feel stupid for always thinking he’s too good to hang out with Jules and me.”

“He doesn’t?—”

“You can get their signature, maybe,” I say because I’m absolutelylovingthis idea now, and I know this might be the only chance to get her on board. “Have them sign a cocktail napkin or something and give it to him.”

“He would really appreciate that,” she says, biting her lip, slightly less hesitant now, and allowing me to move her in the appropriate direction.

“Perfect, let’s go,” I say, grabbing my drink and making my way toward the VIP section.

“Ava, no. Ava, I—” Harper shouts, following me as I move with determination. Jules follows behind with a smile and a slight shake of her head, knowing there’s no stopping me once I get an idea in my head.

Stopping in front of the big man at the bottom of the steps of the VIP section, I give him my best smile (what I can now call apageant-winningsmile) and speak. “Hi, I’m so sorry to bother you. So my friend over here?—”

“No,” he says, thick arms crossed over his chest, sunglasses on even though we’re in a dark night club, and an earpiece in his ear like he’s watching over the president rather than a rock band.

“What?”

“No,” he says in a similarly deadpan voice.

My smile widens, and I shake my head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get a chance to explain. I’m—” I start, but he looks over my head past me like I’m not worth even having a conversation with and cuts me off again.

“Don’t care who you are, you’re not getting in there.”

“I just?—”

“Don’t care.”

Okay, so this man is the absolute worst. I’m sure so many people try to sneak in here with wild stories, but he hasn’t even given me the grace of letting mesaywho I am, much less trying to verify I do, in fact, know the band.

I put my hands on my hips, taking a step closer and glaring up at him. It’s then I realize how tallhe is—six foot two, maybe six foot three—and he towers over my five feet two inches in five-inch heels. Andhowhandsome. He’s the kind of handsome man who definitely knows he’s hot but doesn’t care about it.

Close-cut brown hair and a small diamond stud in each ear that somehow looks like he tries and is utterly effortlessat the same time. A strong jawline with a hint of a five o’clock shadow shading it. Full pink lips I justknowcould do wicked things to me.

Except his attitude is utter trash.

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