Page 1 of Once Upon a Boyband
CHAPTER ONE
Laney
Fair warning.This story isn’t very believable.
Most stories start withonce upon a time.
Mine? It’s more likeonce upona boyband.
I’m a twenty-six-year-old woman with a mortgage and a car payment and a career as a veterinarian. I have a gynecologist and a weekly shopping list, and last week, the IRS sent me a letter stating I underpaid my taxes and owe them an additional $438. Letters from the IRS mean I’m solidly adulting, doing very normal things, living a very normal life.
That’s the point. I’m so normal, I’m practically boring. Which is why you won’t believe that I accidentally fell in love with a popstar.
Twice, really. But the first time was completely one-sided, so I’m not sure it counts.
I was fifteen, and the teen boyband Midnight Rush had just dropped their debut album.
I was not a popular teenager by any stretch. I figured myself out in college, but high school was a lot of too-short bangs and social fumblings and watching other people live life while I stood on the sidelines and worried about the chocolate stain on my white shorts.
I muddled my way through the obligatory high school things. Prom. Homecoming. The occasional football game. But mostly I spent a lot of time at home. Alone. Obsessing over Midnight Rush.
Specifically, Deke Driscoll.
He was the quietest of the four-member group. A little shy, which made me think he would appreciate my similarly introverted tendencies. In interviews, he always came across as bashful, like he couldn’t quite believe he was an international popstar.
I could believe it, though. His voice was my favorite of the four, plus, he had these enormous blue eyes and light brown hair that did this swoopy thing over his forehead. He was constantly brushing it back, and there were countless compilations on the internet of Deke running his fingers through his hair in just the right way. Because of course there was. He was perfect. Justifiably beloved by millions of teenage girls worldwide.
A year later, when I stood on the front row of a Midnight Rush concert celebrating my sixteenth birthday, I was convinced I would never experience a happier moment.
Once we get to the end of this, you’ll laugh at the irony of that statement.
For now, let’s just say that when Deke crouched down at the edge of the stage and touched my hand, holding my gaze for the briefest moment, something inside me shifted. I feltseen. Understood, even, which, in retrospect, I realize was a completely ridiculous thought. But somehow, Iknewthat if I had the chance to talk to Deke about my parent’s divorce or my brother’s struggle to get through college, or the fact that my best friend was moving at the end of the summer, forcing me to face the last two years of high school alone, he would get it.
It wasn’t real love. I know that now. But my love for Deke—for all of Midnight Rush—saved me when I really needed saving. It gave me an online community of friends who understood and shared my obsession. It gave me something to focus on when life felt too hard or too scary or too overwhelming.
Rest assured, while I still feel a happy wave of nostalgia whenever a Midnight Rush song comes on the radio and I may crank up my playlist so I can sing along in the shower whenever I need a mood boost, I did eventually get rid of the branded sleep shorts that had images of Deke’s face plastered on either butt cheek.
I do havesomestandards.
But I’m getting off track. Where were we?
Right.The second time I fell in love with Deke Driscoll.
Well. Hang on. It’s a wild ride.
“Hey, Laney?”My vet tech, Percy, sticks his head into the break room where I’m currently hiding from anything four-legged and wrapping a bandage around my punctured pointer finger. He frowns when he sees my hand. “Wait. That little demon spawn actually broke the skin?”
“I’m no match for an angry chihuahua’s anal glands.”
“I swear, one of these days, I’m going to sneak over to Mrs. Finley’s house and accidentally leave her door open so Fifi can escape. Maybe we’ll get lucky, and a coyote will find him before she does.”
“Percy!” I say, biting back a laugh.
“Don’t tell me you haven’t thought it, too.”
“Maybe, but I’ll never say it out loud. She’s probably still out in reception.”
Percy huffs and folds his arms across his broad chest. “It would serve her right to know how we really feel. I swear, she trains that dog to be mean on purpose.”
