"Come on Quinn we're gonna be late. I need your advice. I'm going for an I'm-totally-into-you-but-I'm-not-an-easy-slut look." Lexi calls through the door as I'm getting dressed.

"You look hot in anything Lex, relax." I try to calm her nerves with positive affirmation.

"Can you come check me? Pleaaaaaase?" she begs.

"Yeah, okay. I'm almost done." I answer, tying up my dirty runners. Track pants, tank top, hoodie and hair down with a beanie almost covering my eyes. Everyone leave me alone, I'm not in the mood for fukboi's. That's about as subtle as a flying brick right?

Plodding out of my bedroom I tell Lex she looks very chic in her yellow tank top, jean jacket, skinny jeans and calf length boots. She looks me up and gives a bit of a frown, trying hard to hide her surprise at my dreary outfit.

"I'm going for the don't-effing-come-near-me-or-I'll-bite-your-balls-off look." I say in the girliest voice I can manage. She sniggers and gives a nod, knowing full well I plan to keep sleazy guys, a.k.a Mason away from me tonight.

When we arrive at Jim's tavern Lexi is a ball of nerves, going through a whole packet of gum before we even get let inside.

"Chill Lex, what're you so nervous about?" I massage her shoulders, willing her to relax.

"He said he's playing for me tonight." Covering her mouth like she's spilled the ultimate secret.

"That's so romantic!"

"I know right? I'm just really excited to see him after the show. Those lips, man, I've been staring at them all day wondering what they feel like." She drifts off into her imaginary makeout session with Zach staring into space. I laugh and shake my head at her. Romantic little love bug she is.

To be honest, I was nervous too. Back home my strict Christian parents would never have allowed me out past 6pm or listen to anything other than old church hymns. I felt a little rebellious even setting foot in the tavern but Lexi had been there for me all summer, I had to at least show the same curtesy of supporting her.

Once we're inside I see the band up on stage tuning their guitars and talking about the song list I presume. The bar runs along the left side of the room and small round tables and chairs are scattered evenly in front of the stage. Very cosy.

Mostly younger people are hanging out making conversation while others are ordering multi-coloured drinks at the bar. The bar man is an older guy with a plump middle and smile lines around his eyes. I decide that's my safest bet to sit at the bar with jolly old bar man.

"I'm gonna go sit over here Lex." I point towards the stools lined up neatly. It was either the bar or directly in front of the band. The bar felt like the lesser of two evils.

"Okay, I'm going up front so I can perve on Zach." She says and practically runs to the table front and centre.

I take my seat on a rickety old wooden bar stool and lean against the counter for support. I quickly check on Lexi in the front and shift my gaze slightly upwards to the band. 'The Amity Project' is plastered all over the drum kit and the big banner behind them. Zach is tuning his guitar while the drummer stretches out his wrists and joints with a series of odd movements. I miss playing.

Before I can continue my train of thought my breath catches in my throat as I lay my eyes on Mason. Standing on stage in his ripped jeans and black tank top. His dark ruffled hair falling ever so slightly in his eyes as he stands looking down at his electric guitar, tuning each string. His thick muscles are covered in tattoos, tensing and relaxing with each movement he makes. Seriously, who is that muscular at 22? Does he camp out at the gym and live off raw eggs or something?

"He's something isn't he?" The old barman speaks quietly into my ear. I spin around, embarrassed that I've just been caught oogling the one guy I said I wanted to steer clear from tonight.

"Mason? Hmmph, he's a player." I spit out in disgust. The old man runs his hand through his silvery hair and bellows a laugh that is hard not to laugh along with.

"What? It's true! You should see him at college. He's with a different girl every second. It's actually quite sickening." I point to my tounge as I pretend to gag. Even though i've only seen him with one girl, i aleady had his charachter pegged as a playboy.

"You're the first girl who hasn't been taken with him. You and that lady over there." He juts his thumb across to the right at an older woman with short red hair.

"But she's not into men, if ya catch my drift." He winks chuckling. I can't help but laugh.

"Are you calling me a lesbian?" I try to say through the sniggers attempting to keep my face straight.

"Haha no no dear, just unique." He smiles with a warmth that reminds me of father Christmas.

"The names Jim." He offers his hand for a shake. I take his giant hand and give it two big shakes.

"Pleasure to meet you Jim, I'm Quinn." He looks down at my gloves, I presume, and back up at me.

"Is it that cold out?" he nods to my hands. I don't like to explain to anyone why I wear them or why I never wear short sleeved shirts, so I just make up the first excuse that comes to mind.

"They're comfy, what can I say." Gesturing a shrug. Jim doesn't even check my ID, he just fills up a glass with amber liquid that foams at the top.

"Thanks Jim but I can't drink. I mean, I don't drink." Correcting myself giving an apologetic smile. His face falls a little. My stomach turns, making me for horrible for refusing to take the drink he poured for free.

"But, I'll take you up on the pub squash." I grin, pointing to the keg behind him. His face lights up again and he sets off to fill another glass with the drink I requested. The fear of disappointing people is still a trait in me that is alive and well unfortunately. When I disappoint someone I feel like a failure. Like the biggest piece of walking crap on this earth. I have to keep working hard, plan everything, know where I'm going, I remind myself. Control, control control.

"You know," Jim nudges me, "He's not as bad as you think once you get to know him." I give him a reassuring nod. I highly doubt that. I sit with my glass in hand as the band strikes their first chord. They start with a cover by Jason Derulo 'Want to want me'.

Want you to want me by Jason Derulo (cover by Fame on Fire)

I can't help but stare when I hear Mason start singing. He's the lead singer and he's... actually pretty good... okay, he's really really good. He looks over to me sitting at the bar while he sings.

"Girl you're the one. I want you to want me. And if you want, then girl you've got me. There's nothing I no I wouldn't do, I wouln't do to get up next to you." His voice is a mixture of smooth and rough with the right amount of passion behind it.

Get over yourself Quinn, he's probably looking at Jim, stop being such a hormonal female. Even though song lyrics mean a lot to me it doesn't mean they mean anything to him.

I make a mental note to punch my ovaries when I get home. His strong arms tense and relax as he strums the power chords on his Gibson guitar.

I wonder what it would feel like to be held in those arms.

I start imagining his hard muscles pressing into my waist as he hugs me from behind and plants sweet kisses down my neck.

No! Mason is trouble.

But when I watch him play, there's a sense of calm I haven't seen in him all day. I can tell that music is therapy to him, just as it is to me. Even if we share a love of music, I just can't get involved with him, it's too risky.

I have a five year plan and he doesn't fit anywhere in it. I left behind everything back home for a fresh start, so that's what I'm going to do.