Page 6 of Just My Type of wrong guy

“It wasn’t our first show, A.J.,” Richard clears his throat as we reach the door. “Pull yourself together.”

“But he’s right, today was really different,” Thomas stands by me, even if in a whisper.

“It was Brazil, man. Today was Brazil,” Guilherme, bragging about his homeland, bumps my shoulder as he passes me and throws the door open wide.

We left seventy thousand people behind, but we still have almost fifty in our penthouse. Among the band staff and some guests from the label or ours – like Suzane, the fan I kissed today.

“Good evening, Vicious Bonds,” James, our tour manager, announces as the door slams shut behind Thomas. Everyone turns to us, clapping and whistling, only stopping when Guilherme steps forward.

“It’s no secret that Vicious had really high expectations for this show,” he says in English, as it’s the band’s official language. “I mean, Brazil is the solid foundation of any fandom in the world.” Guilherme’s sucking up is justified, and the Brazilians in the room whistle louder, except for Alex, she just claps and smiles. The most beautiful smile I’ve seen today. “To face our first show under such chaos, leave an hour later, and already see the repercussion on major sites…”

“Cover of the new song!” Thomas adds.

“True. Can you believe there are already about thirty covers of a song released today? Alex, we couldn’t have had a more Brazilian, energetic, and beautiful opening act than you.”

“We really couldn’t,” I say a little too loud, and everyone turns to me with giggles while she rolls her eyes awkwardly.

“You already have a couple name online, so you better hold on!” James announces from across the room.

When her gaze meets mine, I shrug and pray Guilherme keeps talking.

“Thank you so much for giving us an incredible show, and we’re going to have an amazing night too,” our lead singer announces amid applause and cheers, and everyone disperses.

Like in a choreography, Guilherme, suffering from his ex – who was his fake girlfriend, then real, and now ex again – doesn’t even stay at the party. He shakes off everyone until he reaches his room at the end of the hall to the left; Thomas shoves his tongue into the throat of one of the backing vocals faster than Richard heads to the bathroom with his phone in hand to call his girlfriend.

And I’m left with the task of entertaining fifty people while Suzane waits for me across the room. Her hair reflecting the ambient light, a drink in hand, and an awkward smile on her face, just the way I like it. Before I go to her, though, I need to do something else.

I cross the room, leaving backup vocalists, musicians, and even the label people in my wake with a few “Hi,” “The show was amazing,” “Thank you,” and “I’ll be right back,” and approach Alexandra, who, leaning against the division between the room and the kitchen, is eating a fried snack.

“Hello, Wallflower girl, how are you?”

I stop beside her and rest my right foot against the wall.

“I’m good, I don’t… know many people. So I decided to stick with the food,” she shrugs with a playful wink.

“You know, what Guilherme said was really true,” I comment, observing her, and she shrugs, confused. “About how we couldn’t have had any other opening act than you; it was perfect.”

“Actually, you could have,” she retorts, but doesn’t laugh, so I think she’s not joking. “I know that ‘the ex-bandmate of one of the boys’ wasn’t the first choice,” she says – and she’s right… but we don’t need to talk about it.

Because the Alexandra I know wasn’t the same girl I saw on stage during our song. Her hesitation before starting, the way she drummed her fingers on her legs as I played, and how she never looked at the crowd made me realize that the powerful woman from just minutes before had turned into a confused girl because of a song, and starting the tour with that feeling isn’t fair to anyone.

“But you were the one there. So… do you believe in chance or coincidence?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never really thought about it,” she frowns, tossing the last piece of the snack into her mouth. “But three in the morning is too late – or way too early – for such a serious talk. I’m going to dance,” she warns as she moves away from the wall, but I touch her hand, making her stop.

“Well, I don’t believe in those things,” I shrug, letting her hand slip from mine now that I have her attention. “For me, everything happens for a reason. If it was you on that stage today, it was meant to be you.”

“And why are you telling me this…?” Alexandra grabs a ginger beer from one of the waiters before finishing her sentence, but after the first sip, I realize she’s not going to continue.

“Maybe I’m wrong and being presumptuous, but you seemed insecure to me. I thought some feedback might be nice.” My words make the right corner of her mouth curl into a shy smile, but she nods.

“Look, A.J., since GenZ ended,” Alex mentions the teen band she and Guilherme were part of in their youth, “I haven’t sung for so many people. I loved being on stage with thatsetup again, feeling the energy in the air, but that wasn’t my audience, so of course, I was nervous,” she admits, watching me, moistening her lips before continuing. “But I assure you it was just because I’m out of practice, not because I doubt my talent or think I don’t deserve it…”

“I don’t know if I really believe that or if I’m just letting you talk me into it…” I grab a glass from another waiter’s tray and study her face.

We toast and take a sip of our drinks.

“I told you on stage, A.J.,” Alex gives a half-smile and a slight nudge with her shoulder. “I know I’m good.”

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