Page 48 of Just My Type of wrong guy

“Would you tell me?” I frown, not getting it. “If you actually felt something?”

“You’re so nosy!” I emphasize, letting out a breath. “But let’s go. I’m the fourth generation of singers in my family. My great-grandmother on my father’s side was the wife of the composer of some of the biggest classics ofsambain the ‘60s and ‘70s. My grandmother married the son of one of my great-grandfather’s friends and brought another greatsambasingerto the world. My grandfather’s a reference even until the ‘90s,then came my dad,” I list pragmatically to help him understand the reasoning, it’s a long story. “Another greatsamba singerwho married my mom, anothersamba singer. But Dona Tereza also liked to sing MPB, her parents were these two sides of society,” I smile at the memories, “grandma was a romantic dreamer, loving MPB, jazz, and blues, and grandpa was a radio host who worked with samba,” I explain.

“Your mom loved both, just like you…”

“Yeah, she did.” I run my hand through my neck awkwardly, grateful he noticed I shared those loves with Dona Tereza. “But the thing is, nobody knows my great-grandmother’s name, my grandmother, and my mom was never a big singer of what she liked, MPB; she was asamba singerandmy dad’s wife,” I emphasize, looking for his gaze to see if he’s understanding where I’m going with this. “During GenZ, Bia and Guilherme hit it off right away, and Pedro and I started being speculated as a couple. It made no sense, Pedro was kind of a jerk, but that freaked me out. I wanted to be a singer, not a musician’s wife, and I wanted to sing what I love, not what would fit best in the story...” I explain, with as much repulsion as I felt that day.

“So you think you’ll never get married?”

The question makes me break into a huge smile, full of love and memories. Missing the days when I was just a girl who loved her life and had big plans for it.

“I grew up in the suburbs, and everyone was really close. They played together, had their own samba groups, samba circles, and the kids were always around,” I mess with a piece of pizza, biting my lower lip to hold back the smile. “And I loved it! I grew up wanting weekends like those: my friends, making music in my backyard while my three kids run between them, you know?”

“Three?”

“I’ve always hated being an only child. But then…” My eyes lift to meet his again. “I realized I could never have it all, and I left those dreams in the past…”

It wasn’t an easy choice. It wasn’t even a choice. But staying with what I already had seemed much safer. AJ lets out a long sigh, watching me, lost in his own thoughts, never breaking eye contact.

“I never thought about getting married… My parents’ marriage is good, normal, they’re solid in each other and love each other,” he warns, as if I’m going to ask if his parents’ relationship was traumatic for him. “But… I had those dreams, that big dream. I wanted to put my name out there, be a big musician, be famous, kiss pretty people…” he confesses with one of his cute dimply grins, and I have to roll my eyes. “I know boy bands don’t last forever, that the peak isn’t eternal, and that this party life will end eventually… but I think I’ll only realize that when I meetmy person.” A.J. stops and swallows hard, then takes a sip of his hot drink and almost returns it to the can. I like when these little fragments of a vulnerable guy break through his two-meter armor.

“Yeah, that factor, right? The right person can change everything.” I shrug, tossing a slice of sausage in my mouth.

“I like you after three beers, you get talkative and honest.”

“And I’m still amazing at videogames, let’s play,” I say, sliding over to the side and picking any team.

“I think I don’t want to. We always play, today we’re going to talk.”

“About what?”

“The tour. I think we’ve never done a rundown of the good and bad things, what you liked, what it was like for me too, because this was my first international tour...”

“Alright, you start then.” I lay my head on the armrest of the couch, and A.J. grabs my feet, massaging them like he knowsexactly what a girl needs after a show in heels, and starts ranking the kisses he gave during the tour.

I laugh so loud that we both look down the hall to see if Thalia hasn’t woken up.

Then he says he feels bad for starting the tour in Brazil, since no audience will ever top that.

And I try to list a few, like the ones in Paris and Dublin, which were really good, but he counters that in Paris we did a lot of fan service, and in Dublin at least half the people at the show were holding Brazilian flags.

We move on to our favorite stages, foods, champagne problems, and finish the topic when the sun rises and we’re picking our top 3 favorite tourist spots.

We agree that Christ the Redeemer is the biggest, after that, the Eiffel Tower, and finally, a spot that’s not so iconic, but still beautiful: the Cliffs of Moher in Galway, Ireland.

“We’ll see each other in four hours,Miss Petulant.” Stopping at my room door, A.J. gives me a nickname — an awful one, but I love it. So I do the same:

“We’ll see each other in six hours,Golden Boy,” I emphasize the time and the nickname, and he stares at me like he’s accepting a challenge. Then I stand on my tiptoes, kiss his cheek, and walk into my room, ready to sleep until noon.

Chapter Seventeen - A.J

You’re perfectly wrong for me and that's why it's so hard to leave

Perfectly Wrong - Shawn Mendes

If someone had told me that the singer chosen to open our shows in Brazil – who initially couldn’t stand me, would end up living in my house, I would’ve laughed and suggested professional help.

But now, standing at my door with Alexandra by my side and her two giant suitcases between us, I realize life has a funny way of surprising you. I turn the doorknob, and Alex takes a deep breath, looking uneasy, while I smile.

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