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He was pretty sure his heart was collapsing in on itself, like a black hole forming in his chest. He struggled to regain a normal breathing pattern as he watched her enter the elevator, hands hanging lifelessly at his side. He’d dropped his copy of ‘A Little Bit Longer’ on the floor.

It was probably the meanest thing anyone had ever said to him outside the elementary school playground. He knew he had his critics—he’d stopped reading Jonas Brothers reviews long ago—but no one had ever said anything like that to his face. No one. Especially not a girl. Especially not a girl he was desperate to impress. This was totally uncharted territory. And what made the situation even stranger, more foreign, was the fact that despite his wounded ego, he only wanted her more.

Aisling already gone, he decided to return to the conference room. His family was still crowded around the table talking about the meeting and they didn’t seem notice his return until he huffed as he dropped back into his seat unceremoniously. Suddenly there was silence, everyone stared at him. He could feel their eyes, but he chose not to look up.

“I’m going to make her like me,” he announced.

Glancing up through his eyelashes he saw his father quirk an eyebrow at him. Everyone else stared only a moment longer before a smattering of laughter broke out across the room. Then they all looked away, right back to their conversation. He had a feeling no one was taking him seriously. But then, lately, he had that feeling more and more. Like they were just keeping him around for amusement and to give Nick a break on the vocals once in a while.

He was entirely serious. This girl—no, this woman. There was something about her. He was drawn to her immediately, powerfully, physically.

He did not know what he was going to do. Nothing he’d tried that morning had been even remotely effective. And he’d tried everything in his arsenal. Hair flipping and witty barbs and prolonged eye contact. With the possible exception of yanking on her pigtails, he’d used every play in his book. And he’d succeeded with that book for his entire life. Like wildfire. He’d paid attention to her to the point of excluding everyone else. Girls always responded to this, to him. And yet, she was immune. He could not fathom why. It was infuriating. It was intoxicating.

***

It had been easily three weeks since he’d seen her last and Aisling had not left his mind for more than a few moments consecutively. He’d been anticipating their next meeting with the kind of fervor he usually reserved for vacations, planning and plotting for every blissful moment that he’d be near her.

The morning of their meeting he got up earlier than strictly necessary, wanting to take his time getting ready. He needed to be in peak form when he saw her again. He needed every advantage he could get. By 7:45 am he’d been in the bathroom for more than an hour. Staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror he ran lines in his head: possible ways to open conversation with her, to keep her talking, to keep her listening. He’d decided to change his tack, to approach her with more charm and less sass. He was not sure this would work, but he literally had no other ideas.

Normally, he would have turned to Kevin for advice on something like this. Admittedly, Kevin wasn’t quite as smooth with the girls as he was. But when Kevin reeled a girl in, it was for good. Kevin knew how to keep a girl around. That was the kind of skill he very suddenly needed. More suddenly than he was prepared for.

But in three weeks he couldn’t once get Kevin alone. The one and only time he’d even gotten close, Kevin had been in such a terrible mood that he backed off immediately, not interested in yet another screaming match. Screaming matches, especially between himself and Kevin, had become more and more commonplace. It was exhausting.

He was vaguely aware of a pounding on the bathroom door and the sound of Nick’s voice outside demanding entrance. He wasn’t terribly concerned. There were plenty of other bathrooms in the hotel, Nick could find one. He had bigger things on his mind. Like the dreadful dark circles under his eyes, and the stray patch of hair near his left ear that would not flatten out. And even more importantly, like the things he could and could not say to the redhead who had begun to haunt him, who filled his every thought.

***

He couldn’t believe his luck when they entered the record company lobby and he saw Aisling crossing the marble floor at the very same moment. Her sunglasses were still pulled down over her eyes, even inside the building, but he recognized her hair immediately. It swished behind her as though it had its own lighting director and wind machine. Without a word he ran off to meet her, wanting to take advantage of every possible second he could spend near her.

“Good morning sunshine,” he rasped lowly, lips close to her ear, feeling smug.

She halted suddenly and gasped, simultaneously jumping a few inches and turning toward the sound of his voice. Things had shifted into slow motion around him. He stepped forward to put a hand on her lower back and steady her, a smile tugging at his lips. But that smile was erased instantly as her venti-latte filled hand pressed forcefully against his chest, beverage top flying off and contents emptying down the front of his outfit. He hissed in pain.

The crushed, empty paper cup hit the floor and echoed in his ears with a disproportionately loud thump. He wondered, briefly, if everyone was staring at them. It sure felt like it. He stood perfectly still, looking down at his soaking wet shirt, absolutely unsure of what to do in the situation. Unsure, even, of how he felt. Her proximity was maddening. There was her body, still very nearly touching his, her silk top smooth and warm under the palm of his hand, her chest heaving in front of him as she struggled to calm down.

And then, there was her fist, slamming squarely into his right shoulder with an intensity he would never have expected of a girl.

“What was that for?” He winced and brought his hand from her back to his throbbing shoulder.

“For frightening me like that,” she said, tone completely dry, eyes still shielded behind her sunglasses.

“I didn’t mean to…my gosh, that was completely uncalled for.” He looked up at her, eyes narrow and brows knit, still rubbing the spot where her fist had connected with his body.

“You are so lucky that was my left hand.” She didn’t sound like she was playing around. She sounded pissed off.

“What?! Man, I’m the one standing here soaked in your latte.” He wondered if he sounded as incredulous as he felt. The woman was unreal.

“Now you see where being cutesy with colleagues gets you. Wet and alone. Try it again and you’ll meet my right fist. Good morning, Mr. Jonas,” she said coolly.

He watched as she strode away from him with purpose, leaving him once again to stare at her back. His heart was pounding, his shoulder was still throbbing, and he had no idea what exactly had just happened. Once again she defied his expectations. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been hit by someone who wasn’t his brother. He couldn’t remember the last time someone spilled something on him without immediately groveling and begging for his forgiveness. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d sought someone’s approval so aggressively and been so flatly denied.

Still, he knew he could not let it end. Not with the unfamiliar tingling in his left hand and the flighty feeling in his stomach. Not when he was in the red. He would prove her wrong.