Inside, the limo is cool and softly lit. I slide across the leather seat until I'm sitting opposite Felix.

There's a cold, fluttery feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Felix places the guitar case on the floor between us. He stretches back, crossing his long legs out in front of him at the ankle.

I notice he's wearing the same outfit (a dark top, black jeans and navy blue converse sneakers) he was wearing in one of Lyall's Instagram updates from earlier in the day.

It's all just so surreal.

I look down at my own outfit and realize we're wearing practically the same thing. I didn't change after school, so I'm still in my skinny jeans, converse and a red hoodie.

I'd give anything to be wearing a pretty dress right now. Or some killer lipstick or even just eyeliner. I can see Jamie's logic in wearing makeup 24/7 now.

But there's no way when I was rushing to get dressed this morning I could have known I'd be going to the concert, escorted by none other than Felix Lockhart.

The limo takes off with a slight jolt. I look down at my hands, trying desperately to think of something to say.

He's gazing out the window as if I'm not even here.

I'm shaking.

After a few minutes of silence, I manage to ask him the big question.

"Why are you doing this?"

He looks puzzled for a moment, then looks out the window again.

"You mean, why am I taking you to the concert with me?" He asks.

"Yes." Is all I can manage.

"To be honest, I don't really know."

After that, there's just silence for ages. He's completely ignoring me. He doesn't even look my way. Maybe I said something stupid. Or maybe it was because I made such a fool of myself before getting into the car. All that staring and blushing.

He must regret asking me to come along. A charitable deed misfiring.

I want to curl up and die right about now.

After what feels like an hour (but it's probably more like a few minutes) he breaks the silence.

"Natural colored hair, no visible tattoos or piercings, total lack of edge or style. You don't look like a rock band groupie," he says, eyeing me suspiciously.

I feel my face flush.

"I'm not," I say.

"So what do you like about Fable then?"

Before I can answer, he raises his hand, and talks over me.

"Actually, I don't care," he says. "What I do want to know, is where'd you learn to play like that?"

The sudden question startles me.

"Play?"

"The guitar." His face is still turned away, but I see the corner of his mouth twist, like he's suppressing a laugh.

I don't think it's actually possible to feel any more embarrassed than I do right now.

"My grandmother taught me. " I can feel my heart racing. I need to calm down. Breathe. "She was in a band in the sixties."

"She sounds interesting."

"Yeah, she was," I say without thinking.

Felix turns to face me. He raises his eyebrow as if expecting me to continue.

"She passed away a few months ago."

I inwardly cringe, expecting more awkward silence.

He doesn't offer his condolences. He just turns his gaze to look out the window again.

I'm so nervous and desperate to fill the silence that words rush out of me, almost in one long breathless sentence. First I couldn't talk. Now I can't stop.

"The doctors thought it was a stroke. I found her after school one day."

Felix's eyes are fixed on mine again. He's probably wondering why on earth I'm telling him about my dead grandmother.

"She was just lying on the floor in her kitchen when I found her. My gran looked after me a lot when I was growing up. Not because there's anything wrong with my parents. I mean, they're not like... bad parents, or anything. They just work a lot at the restaurant... and –"

Must. Stop. Talking. I'm just digging myself deeper and deeper.

"... I spent a lot of time with her. With my gran. We had a lot in common.... I mean, everyone said we're very similar."

OH MY GOD I need to shut up right now. I'm telling him all this creepy stuff about my dead grandma and it needs to STOP.

Felix is just leaning back into the seat, his hazel gaze fixed on me, impossible to read. The image of a cat lazily watching a mouse pops into my mind, and sets off my verbal avalanche tenfold. I know I'm babbling and I want to shut up immediately, but I can't.

"What I mean is... we were the same... my gran and me, I mean, she was really young at heart. She was in a band in the sixties, and I'm also in a band. We don't play sixties music or anything though..."

This is getting worse and worse. Kill me now.

"...everyone says I take after her... and I look like her... I mean... not like I look old or anything..." I giggle nervously. "Like, I look like how she used to look, when she was young. Except she had red hair. But I don't. I'm blonde."

Oh... my... god. What am I saying? Why am I telling him this? He can see I'm blonde.

So lame. Incredibly, embarrassingly lame. Why do I turn into a babbling idiot every time I try to speak with a guy?

"Blonde suits you," he says.

I'm not sure if it's a compliment or an insult.

"I guess," I say.

Now that he's spoken again, I've finally managed to stop myself gushing out of nervousness.

I'm not entirely sure what I just said or how much of it made any sense. I'm still shell-shocked just from being in car with him.

"What's the name of your band?" he asks boredly.

"Wild Blue Yonder," I say quietly. He doesn't respond.

More silence while Felix watches the traffic go by outside the window.

I know I should just be grateful that I'm getting to meet him, and it'll mean that maybe I'll also get to meet the rest of the band – but why did it have to be Felix? Ben can be sort of wild but he's fun, Elliot's an all-round nice guy, Alastaire's a bit OTT but he's super charming, and Lyall is a total cutie... but Felix... he's just mean.

Still, he's one fifth of my favorite band, and I can't help but desperately want him to like me. I've got to say something cool. I can impress him somehow. Win him over. If anything, I'll be that much closer to meeting the rest of the band. I have to try.

I'm studying his face, wondering what to say, when Déjà Vu starts playing.

It's my ringtone.

As I zip open my bag I pray that it's not my mom or something embarrassing like that. I hold my phone up. No calls. Instead, I look up at Felix, who's taken his phone out of his pocket and is staring down at the lit-up screen in his hand. His mouth is twisted in disgust, like he's holding a giant cockroach instead of an iPhone. He lets it ring a while longer, then taps the screen, looking annoyed.

It stops.

I can't believe we have the same ringtone. I guess it makes sense for him to be using Déjà Vu as his – it's Fable's biggest hit after all. But still, I suddenly wish my phone would start ringing too so he'd realize that we have something in common.

"Never stops," he says quietly, as if to himself, as he puts the phone back in his pocket.

He looks out the window again, watching the scenery pass by. There are so many questions I want to ask him about the band. A million things, but right now, I can't think of a single one.

Just when I think I've got my nerves under control, a lock of his dark hair falls over his eyes, just like it always does in the videos. He's so close, I could just reach out and brush it behind his ear.

The limo veers to the side of the road and stops. Felix raises his eyebrow at me, as if to say "what now?"

The front door swings open. Steps. The driver opens up the back door.

"Your manager," he says as he passes Felix a battered-looking BlackBerry.

Felix scowls, as he takes the phone.

The driver's door slams hard and we're driving again, much faster than before we pulled over.

I can hear someone on the other end of the line shouting. It's hard to tell if it's a man or a woman's voice, but either way, they are seriously pissed.

It seems mostly to be a one-sided conversation, with Felix getting yelled at. When he does interject, his voice is so cold and sharp it sounds like it could cut. Whoever's screeching at him on the other side of the line is seriously brave.

"Are you done yet?" Felix says. "Yell all you want. It won't get me there any faster. We're on our way. That's all you need to know." In response to this, the shouting on the other end of the line seems to go up a few decibels.

"I know. I got... sidetracked." More shouting.

"It doesn't matter by what," he says in a firm voice. "Now calm down and tell me exactly what's changing."

The other voice has stopped shouting, and Felix is listening as something's explained.

This would be a good time to text the girls, but I feel sort of shy about him seeing me texting while he's right here. He'll know I'm texting about him. Awkward.

And beside, the girls will think I'm joking. It's not like they're going to just believe a text like "IN LIMO WITH FELIX LOCKHART ON WAY 2 CONCERT. 4RL".

No one's going to believe I met him.

That decides it.

When Felix is off the phone, I'm going to get a selfie with him. I know he's used to it – just the other night, Zee and I spent about four hours watching videos of fans getting their photos taken with the boys.

Alastaire's the one who usually surprises fans by going out for photos outside hotels, but all the boys do it from time to time. Even Felix.

I feel embarrassed asking, especially because he's not exactly Mr. Cheerful.

By the time Felix is off the phone, we're pulling into the parking lot at the Rose Quarter. I didn't even realize we'd crossed over the river. It feels like I only just got into the car with him, and we've barely spoken.

The most important ten minutes of my life are almost over, and I blew it.

I wanted to make an impression. I wanted to ask about the rest of the band. And most of all, I wanted to keep the promise I made with Mia. Before the bus and that terrible day changed everything.

Instead I ended up with Felix ignoring me the whole way through the trip.

He might even think I'm a psycho.

But my thoughts are drowned out by screams coming from all around us outside the car.