When your best friend falls in love with a rock star, you either join her in her fixation, or you spend a lot of nights eating ice cream and watching Netflix by yourself. If you can't beat them, join them, isn't that what they say?
While Bree - my best friend since forever - couldn't get enough of Trouble and their lead singer, Rob Burns, I set my sights a little lower - and to the left. Rob's immediate left, that is, at least onstage. Tyler Cook was Trouble's lead guitarist, a tall, glorious, dark-blonde, beautiful specimen of a man who could make ovaries explode and panties drop with just one smirk.
Of course it was all just in good fun, two girls going to Trouble concerts and screaming ourselves hoarse along with the rest of the fans. Bree's fascination with Rob, and mine with Tyler, was a fun little fantasy. It was a distraction from our boring everyday lives, mine as a dental hygienist and Bree's as an elementary school music teacher, until one day the "what if" game Bree liked to play - as in, "What if we met Trouble some day?" and "What if they asked us to go on tour with them?" - actually happened.
One minute we were going to see Trouble in concert, and the next we were backstage, face to face with the real, live, sexy thing. I never expected to meet rock god Tyler Cook. I never expected to end up on a tour bus with sex god Tyler Cook. I certainly never expected to fall in love with the man, that beautiful, broken, wild man, or become so hooked I simply couldn't give him up - no matter what it cost or who I hurt, even myself.
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