If only Erin had pulled down her designer shades from off the top of her head to shield her eyes; she probably would have seen him. If only she wasn't focused on her cell, texting her brother to remind him of their plans for brunch today; she probably would have noticed him. If only the sunlight didn't blind her eyes, the coffee didn't distract her taste buds and the four secret service men beside and behind her weren't so close, she definitely would have saw him before colliding with his hard body.

On the other hand, Jay was partly to blame too. If only he wasn't currently talking on the phone to his manager –his own brother- then he would have seen her walking down the sidewalk. If his fans weren't currently calling his name, he would have heard her heels against the pavement. If his brother wasn't on the phone, nagging him about changing the band's image then he definitely would have saw her before crashing into her. To be honest, it's probably more his fault than hers; she may have been distracted but he was distracted and rushing down the sidewalk. Tomorrow night he had a concert here in the nation's capital and he was currently almost an hour late for rehearsal at the arena –another reason why his brother was shouting in his ear. He had been more focused on making it to the coffee shop in time to avoid a lecture from his brother than actually concentrating on where he was going.

So, naturally, he'd walked straight into her. And if it wasn't for the two men beside her and the two men behind her, she would have most likely fallen.

It's mid-April; it's a sunny day. It's a beautiful day that practically nears perfection until this moment happened, until he saw her brown, warm beverage spill onto her short, yellow lace dress, until he looked up and realized exactly who he bumped into and until he saw her guards, step in front of her, holding their hands up to keep him away, "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to take a step back," it's Antonio Dawson who is the first to speak up, warning the guitarist away from her petite frame, "either you step away or we'll carry you away."

And that's when this day, suddenly starts to appear better when he hears her voice, "Calm down guys," she pushes through them, "it was an accident." None of the guards appeared too happy about the situation but they did slightly relax.

"Ms. Voight, I am so sorry," it was probably, honestly, most definitely, the first time in a long time since he's apologized for anything. This time though, he didn't mind it one bit. It came rather naturally. Jay looked into her eyes and he knew from that moment that he was willing to apologize even if they were both to blame.

"It's alright," she assures him. Atwater reaches into his suit jacket and withdraws a few napkins, handing them over to her and earning a smile of gratitude.

"And sorry to your guards," if his brother could see him now then he wouldn't believe it. Two apologies in the span of a minute, that's definitely record breaking for him.

Erin waves his apology away as if it was no big deal, as if her dress wasn't currently stained by her warm beverage, as if it wasn't his fault and as if it didn't even need to be said, "My guys can be a little overprotective, but they mean you no harm," she takes a pause, considering her words before correcting them, "they mean you no harm unless you mean me harm."

Jay had heard her words but his focus had been primarily on my guys. The First Daughter of the country had done an interview last month that his friend's wife –Kimberly Burgess- had on the television of their tour bus. Kim was a huge fan of her philanthropy, of her work ethic and of her in general, basically everything about her. Erin Voight was the reason Kim voted for her father. If Erin were to ever run for presidency in the future, she was guaranteed the vote of Kimberly Burgess. Dedicated and considered as her biggest fan, if his friend's wife could see him now, talking to the one person she would die to meet, she wouldn't know what to do, how to react, what to think. She knew everything about her, watched all her interviews, including the one that he had happened to overhear. In this interview that Jay didn't particularly want to hear but had no choice but to listen as he relaxed on the couch in their band's tour bus, he had heard her raspy, angelic voice answer the interviewer's questions. One of the questions pertaining to the interviewer picking up on the terminology Erin used when referring to her secret service men –the my guys- had piqued her interest. Photos of their close relationship, of that fine line between protecting her and befriending her were shown on the talk show and all she was able to do was smile and nod, assuring the audience that those were in fact her guys, her friends, and her family.

She laughed lightly in present time and it broke him out of his reverie. His face was burning bright red, sweat beads forming against his forehead from the burning sun. He looked up at her guys and they're back to being behind her and beside her, face stoic as if nothing happened. If she didn't refer to them as her guys, he never would have assumed these were the same men she described in her interview. These men were intimidating; they appeared strong, tough, locked, loaded and ready to defend Hank Voight's daughter against any threat of physical, emotional and bodily harm. He commended them for that. Just by looking at her, even though he barely knew her, Jay knew that he didn't want to see her hurt in any way.

He barely recognized himself right now. His mouth was dry. He was sweating. His heart was palpitating. He was at a loss for words. This feeling, what his body is currently going through right now, was all new territory for him. This wasn't him; this isn't like him. He's not one of those guys, one of those people who find themselves speechless at the sight of a beautiful woman. He was the guy who had that effect on everyone; it was never the other way around. Jay didn't know who he was but somehow, for some reason, her bright smile, dimples appearing against her cheeks, helps him find his voice to finally respond after a stretch of silence, "Let me pay for your dry cleaning; I ruined your dress. It's the least I can do."

She looked down at it, and sighs in frustration, "That's okay. This is lace and my mom knows a little trick to get stains out of lace."

"Erin," one of the guards behind her –Roman- leans forward to whisper in her ear, "we should be leaving. We're running behind schedule. And you told us to make sure you stay on schedule."

"Let me buy you another drink then." He's technically an hour late for rehearsal and really doesn't have the time but he doesn't fucking care. He's with a beautiful lady –the president's daughter- and she could have all the time with him that she wanted. And besides, he was already an hour late, what would a few extra minutes more hurt.

"We really must be leaving," her fourth guard –Sorensen- asserts from her left side.

Atwater nods, "You're late for brunch with your brother."

"…maybe a raincheck then?" She hears her guards but what they said didn't require a response. She extends her hand; her manicured, white painted nails appearing bright in the sunlight, "until next time Mr. Halstead."

"You know who I am?"

"I've heard a few songs."

He realizes that her hand is patiently waiting for his to shake, "And what did you think?" Jay casually shakes her hand, reminding himself to keep his emotions suppressed and not act like it's such a big deal. Even though, holy shit, he's making contact with the first daughter. And she initiated this contact, and now his thoughts are rambling again.

"I think I have to go," she unfortunately sighs, "my guys over here are getting impatient and it is best if you stay on their good side, especially if you're planning to take me to get coffee."

From either being used to it, numb by it or purposely overlooking it, neither of them reacted to the paparazzi or the fans' flash photography. Erin actually notices them when she walks past the new guy she officially met. Questions are thrown her way but she just smiles and waves, learning the action from her lifelong experience of being in the public eye. And Jay watches, ignoring the questions being tossed his way just as Erin continues walking along the sidewalk; he hears Sorensen speak into his ear piece, "Phoenix is on the move."

Call him curious but she was definitely the first woman out of many that has piqued his interest, "Phoenix?"

She stops; the warm wind causing for the bottom of her thigh-length dress to blow towards the right, "It's my secret service code name," she turns to face him, running her hands through her loose curls as she decides to expand upon it, "all the first families in the history of the country had one. My dad's the sergeant, my mom's the general and my brother is the rebel. If you personally knew them, you would understand why their code names fit."

"And what about yours?"

"It's a mythical bird that always rises from the ashes of the fire that devours it."

"And that's you?"

Erin walks back towards him, "A Phoenix is immortal. Bursting into flames cannot keep it down; it still rises from the ashes. It never gives up. It's stubborn. It's feisty and it's persistent. I'm not the easiest person to protect because of my need for independence and the occasional isolation. It drives these guys crazy but I always come out on top. Don't I fellas?" They don't react. None of them give a clear reaction to answer her question. If it wasn't for their close distance, Jay may have thought they didn't even hear her rhetorical inquiry.

Sorensen simply approaches and gently wraps his hand around her upper arm, "We should really be going. You wanted us to keep you on schedule. After lunch, you have work and then dinner."

He's right. And she knows it. That's why she doesn't complain when they lead her away.

The designer heels she wore were high enough to give her height and sharp enough to poke through steel; they're expensive enough to feed the homeless and pristine enough to resale at the highest value. She's America's sweetheart. She has dedicated her life to volunteering at charities and helping those who aren't as privileged as she is; she's a civil rights attorney. Erin had always wanted to follow in the footsteps of her dad, but she chose this route instead of politics. She wanted to make a difference –it was a bit cliché, but it was true. Erin took a glance over her shoulder as Dawson opened the backdoor of the black Escalade. She could see him watching her leave and she simply waves to acknowledge him before hopping inside the back of the vehicle.

Jay took a few moments to compose himself, ignoring the lingering glances from bystanders, the shouts from fans and the questions from the paparazzi. He agreed to take a few photos with fans before he disappeared into the coffee shop, trying to focus and do something to keep her out of his mind. His phone had vibrated while he was outside but he ignored it. Now, as he waits in line for his coffee to be prepared, he listened to his message from his brother. It was a continuation; his brother was back to lecturing him on changing his image and the image of the band. Their current image –as reported by most news outlets- was getting old and affecting their sales as Will likes to kindly remind him. Will also loves to remind him and Rixton how Mouse is the good guy in the group and how Ruzek is the only band member in a serious relationship –married to Burgess for a few years now. He was told –along with Rixton- that the one night stands need to stop, the public drinking and intoxication needs to come to an end, the reckless driving and the multiple dates and courtships of many women needs to simply be cut out of their lives. The bad boy behavior –no matter how natural it is or appears to be- needs to end. And that was hard to do when it was in your nature. And as a 28 year old, he was pretty set in his ways.

"Thanks," he takes his cup of coffee and gives the barista a wink of the eye; she swoons just as he realizes that stopping this behavior was easier said than done. It's a part of him. He tried the serious relationship –twice- and neither lasted longer than a month and they both happened to end because of his inability to keep it in his pants –as his brother likes to term it.

-x-

America's sweetheart was settled on the leather seat in the back of the spacious truck. With one leg crossed over the other, she texts her brother, apologizing for running late but assuring him that she was in fact on her way. She finishes up her text and the second she sits her phone down on the cushion beside her, she sees their eyes. Dawson is driving; his eyes are the only ones trained on the city traffic. Sorensen is in the passenger seat, glancing at her from over his shoulder while Atwater and Roman sit across from her, facing her with accusatory eyes, "Spit it out," her arms cross over her chest defensively.

"It's the third year of your father's term," Roman reminded her; he's always been the stickler, the one who always manages to keep her in line, "his campaign manager will be starting reelection strategies so he can be reelected by next November."

"I'm well aware Sean."

"You have to be on your best behavior; no scandals and no acting out."

Her phone vibrates and she glances at the emoji faces Justin had sent her before looking up at her guys, "I'm 26. I grew up in the public eye. I know how to be good. And if I'm not good, I know how to be bad without getting caught."

"That's true," Roman nods, "but that rock star has quite the reputation."

"It's just coffee and we're probably both too busy to even make the coffee date even happen."

"A coffee date," Sorensen picks up on her word choice.

"You guys are too literal," she rolls her eyes and brandishes a smirk on her lips, "You know what I mean; a date on the calendar chosen for us to grab a cup of coffee." She lifts her phone up and in the reflection of the screen; she sees the coffee stain that the media will surely be waiting to attack the second the photos are published so she does what her mother does best –she gets ahead of it. Erin sits up straight, arms stretched out to angle her camera perfectly and smiles, capturing a selfie of herself before posting it onto social media –captioning the photo with an obvious point out of the coffee stain with the added message of her needing to start watching where she's going. Sometimes, it's best to point out the obvious so others –more specifically, the media- doesn't get the chance to do it.

You get ahead of the story before there is a story. One may think something as trivial and insignificant as a coffee stain on a dress wouldn't make headlines but there is always a critic. There is always a detractor, especially in politics, especially on every itty bitty detail that involves a politician and their family, and especially on one who prides herself to create a good image, an image that would make and keep her parents proud. Erin grabs a few more napkins from the clutch she left inside the truck and attempts to rub them against the dried coffee stain; it's a fruitless effort because it does absolutely nothing. Atwater reaches across the seat and takes the napkins from her, "You're fine."

"That's easy for you to say Kevin," she asserts; the horns from the surrounding cars mask the frustration in her voice, "My brother and I go to this bistro, once a month, every month and the paparazzi never fails to be there. They'll be there –waiting."

"They won't get within ten feet of you," Sean guaranteed; he leans forward in his seat and pats her thigh; he's the no nonsense, the stickler and she likes that about him.

Erin doesn't respond; some responses don't require any. She simply gives him a shake of her head, nodding affirmatively that she heard him and appreciates what he said. Erin slides down from the middle seat towards the door just as Dawson parks the truck; she sees two of her brother's guards standing near the front entrance; the other two were most likely inside, standing on either side of the bistro. As soon as the truck is parked, Atwater and Roman step out first, guarding the backdoor as cameramen move towards them. She can't hear what her guys are saying but based on the looks on their faces, she knows it's a warning for the paparazzi to stay back. When they step back –at least ten feet, which is still too close- Atwater opens her door and remains standing in front of it, blocking her from the flashes of lights and blocking her dress from being caught on camera. With Roman to her left, Atwater in front of her, Dawson to her right and Sorensen behind her, they lead her to the building. Her ears are bombarded with questions inquiring about her opinion on her father's healthcare plan, or his foreign policy ideas or even going so far as to ask her about her love life –or lack thereof, and also her career duties outside of being the first daughter and whether or not she'll take up a future in politics.

As they enter the building, Roman and Sorensen remain outside with two of her brother's guards, clearing the area and watching for any suspicious activity. She notices her brother sitting at their usual table, drinking water and waiting patiently for her. His other two guards stand a healthy distance away, close enough to intervene if someone approaches and far enough away to not be able to hear what is said between the two. Erin excuses herself from Dawson and Atwater as they take their usual stances, one near the door and the other near the large bay window; she walks through the rows of occupied tables, ignoring the obvious glances from individuals staring at the coffee stain. She's over it. With her head held high, she makes her way through the tables until she's standing in front of her brother, sitting in his usual seat.

"It's about time," he stands, drawing his arms around her to pull her into a hug; he pressed his lips against her cheek as he felt her arms circle around him.

"Excuse my tardiness," they separate.

"I ordered for us. I figured you wanted your usual," he informs, eyes immediately drawn towards the brown stain covering the front of her lace dress, "Is that supposed to be a fashion statement?"

She shoves his arm, "I stopped to grab my morning coffee and let's just say I had a run in."

"Erin," he retakes his seat, "I'm the headliner. I'm usually the one with not the greatest headlines in the news. Are you trying to one up me?"

"Trust me; this was not done on purpose."

-x-

When you start rehearsal late, it's always an accurate assumption that you'll end rehearsal late. Everything had to be ready for tomorrow night's concert; his reputation may have been questionable, but it doesn't seem to affect his concert sales since every seat in the arena is sold out. Jay moves away from the microphone and pulls the electric guitar from around his shoulders, "We need to adjust the lighting; if it keeps shining like that I'm going to go blind."

Burgess rushes onto the stage, phone in hand and practically bouncing up and down and with no consideration for the rehearsal taking progress, she bounds towards Jay with one thought in mind, "Guys, take five please," she orders.

"Kim, that's my job," Will interrupts, removing the large headphones –the ones that soundproof and protects his ears- from around his head. Kim waves away his complaint in order to rush over to Jay; she's practically beaming from ear to ear, smile so stretched across her face that it looks straining and as if it hurts. She's trying to remain calm, keeping her emotions at bay as the rest of the band approaches, all curious as to why their wardrobe coordinator was currently rambling.

"Slow down," Ruzek whispers, drawing his wife towards him, "use your words."

She turns back to face Jay, "You ran into Erin Voight and you didn't tell me."

"Erin Voight?" Adam repeated until the name registered, "You mean the president's daughter."

"YES," she exclaims, holding out her cell towards him, "TMZ is talking about how you ruined her dress! And I follow her on all social media platforms and she posted this," she nods for him to take her phone, "You should respond."

Jay immediately replies, "Nah, she doesn't want to hear from me. I don't even follow her."

"You do now," she hands him his cell; the exact cell he had left on the charger in his dressing room. Jay snatches his phone from her and pockets it. He has no intention of commenting on that photo. He simply doesn't do things like that.

And when Burgess notices the clear annoyance crossing his features, the little light in her eyes fizzles out, "This is a once in a lifetime thing, Jay," she says; her voice appears to be much calmer and less high-pitched than it was when she first entered, "You were lucky enough to meet her and you don't even realize how much I envy you right now. She's obviously trying to initiate conversation with you and I think you should take her up on it."

"So you're saying, she's trying to start a conversation with me by posting a selfie of herself," he says questioningly and continues when she nods, "not tagging me in the selfie but simply just posting it means she wants me to reach out," Burgess nods with a confident affirmation and it's obvious she's bias towards this whole situation, "I think I'll pass," and while he shows no interest in responding, he does withdraw the phone from his pocket.

Mouse approaches next; his pincher fingers toying with his bottom lip as he strategically thinks of a way to bring up his concerns. It was no secret from the band how the kindest member of the team held a small crush on the president's daughter. It never ventured into deep romantic feelings, but the man did recognize how beautiful she is and how his feelings were built solely on what she does for a living. Mouse takes the phone from Jay's hand and stares down at the image, "When you met her, what was she like?"

"She was cool," Jay nonchalantly shrugs it off.

"Just cool," Kim exclaims, refusing to believe the simple term used to describe her idol, "this woman is pure greatness. You practically ruined her dress and she's posting a photo of it. She's more than just cool, she's down to earth and she's fucking amazing."

He snatches his phone back, "Won't you message her then?"

"I can't just message her out of the blue; she doesn't even know me."

"Did you know that every year since she moved to D.C., she feeds the homeless around Thanksgiving time?" Mouse's excitement over Erin's charity work was amusing; this woman could do no wrong in his eyes and while Jay realizes that while he may not have known that, he would be interested in finding out just what else she does in her spare time. Mouse heads back over to the bass guitar and lifts it up, "Man, I would die just to meet her."

"I would die just to be in the same room as her," Burgess retorted, "And Jay doesn't even appreciate the fact that he literally bumped into her and had a conversation with her while I would give my left lung just to hear her say my name. Geesh," she rubs her forehead, "I sound like an obsessed fan. What is wrong with me?"

Jay is done with this conversation; he twirls his finger in the air and orders another rehearsal session in preparation for tomorrow night. The scene is set up like every other rehearsal. They play through the songs; adjust volumes, lights, spaces on the stage and every other factor that's involved in a successful production. And by the end of rehearsal, four hours had passed and they were all understandably exhausted. Ruzek, Mouse and Burgess had been the first to leave, mainly since Will wanted to speak to him and Rixton over the band's needed image change.

Will had spent all of today preparing himself for this moment –the moment of telling his brother and their close friend that an image change wasn't just a request but a requirement. And they had gathered that by his insistence on them taking a seat before he felt comfortable enough to talk, "We're not getting good publicity."

"I thought all publicity was good publicity," Jay smirks, high-fiving Rixton after his remark.

"Can we please be serious?" Will retorted, pacing back and forth; his hand scratching the back of his head as he thinks of how to proceed, "No more competing to see how many women you can bang. No more speed racing. No more getting pulled over. No more getting into trouble."

Rixton rolls his eyes, "So basically, no more fun?"

"If that's how you want to look at it, no more fun."

"Jay and I aren't down for that, we've built our band on our reputations," Rixton speaks up, voicing his unwavering opinion, "It's who we are and we have no intention of changing it. Now, if that's all you want to talk to us about, there's a bar across the street from the hotel that has my name on it." He disappears before Will has a chance to even respond.

Rixton and Halstead grew up together; they had known each other for a long period of time; their friendship had developed solely on their three major similarities –their love for women, their musical talent and their thrill for adventure and trouble. Their confident personalities, stubborn minds and large egos had caused multiple clashes between the two, creating the love-hate relationship that the band strives on. Mouse was the pushover, the good guy of the group that always had the kindest heart. Ruzek was the married one; the one who girls pined for from a distance as they envied his wife –their wardrobe coordinator. Rixton was the jerk; the one who had absolutely no respect for women –besides Burgess, Natalie and his mother- and had no respect for authority and those in power. After having his heart broken a few years ago when his fiancée left him three days before their wedding to run off with a surgeon, he closed himself off from any and all potential relationships; he swore to only have fun with women, keep them at a distance but allow himself to have his needs satisfied. Halstead, on the other hand, was the mystery that the media couldn't quite figure out; he intrigued them the most. As the lead singer and the electric guitarist in the band, he was the most known, the most wanted and the most interesting. He was a bachelor, living in a penthouse in Chicago with trains of women coming in and out of his reserved hotel room in Chicago almost every time he's home from work. Jay's the guy who doesn't call back after a one night stand; he didn't do emotions or attachments. His career required travel and he was too busy to settle down in a relationship that would never work out; it was best that way.

As Will leaves the meeting next, just as disappointed as when he came, Jay remains. During Will's rant, he had been looking through his phone, googling her name to see their recent meeting being top news. It wasn't every day the first daughter and a rock star literally ran into each other. It wasn't every day America's sweetheart walked around sporting a brown, coffee stain on her bright, yellow lace dress with every amount of confidence that one could possibly muster. He had clicked on the magazine articles –ones that weren't even printed yet- and he saw a photo of his face next to tomorrow's headline. These people worked really fast by the looks of things; this print was going to be at newspaper stands all around the country. And Jay wasn't worried about it, he was more focused on the photo of her –Erin- plastered on the same cover page. And while he was against the idea of commenting under her photo, that picture changes his mind. He switches apps, knowing Burgess had followed her from his account and he scrolls through the few people he actually follows before clicking on her name.

It's not the most recent photo she's posted. Another one of her and her brother –the first son- was posted literally five minutes ago. She was no longer in that yellow dress and now stood poised and graceful in a long, strapless burgundy gown. Her arm was wrapped around the waist of her brother as he stood smiling in a suit. They're in front of a long dinner table –most likely in the white house- and behind them sat dignitaries, representatives and ambassadors. She was glamorous and there was something about her that straightens his posture and dries his mouth. Maybe it was her eyes; when they looked into his, he felt like she could read him, see him for him and overlook his bachelor past and all of the questionable rumors published about him for all the world to pass judgment on. Maybe it was her smile; when she grinned, he felt all of his worries disappear. It could have even been her presence; she turned him into a nervous wreck, all of his years' worth of confidence crumbled away just by standing near her. He leaves that photo and goes over to the one waiting for a comment from him. And when he selects it, he quickly adds a response under the photo, unknowing of what to say, he apologizes and offers once again to pay for her dry cleaning.

And honestly, he didn't expect a reply –especially not one posted less than five minutes later- but he gets one, he smiles at her response, agreeing that she may actually have to take him up on his offer. Apparently, the trick her mother knows to get stains out of lace didn't apply to coffee.

So, he types a quick response, keeping it short and simple: Tell me when and where.

-x-

Over the period of an hour, their conversation on social media had picked up. She was bored. It was obvious. After work, she was forced to attend a dinner at the white house; she had to help her mother host foreign dignitaries and ambassadors. Fortunately for her, her brother was present and had kept her entertained for most of the night until the speeches started. She couldn't exactly converse with her brother while some powerful figure spoke about trade a few feet in front of her. So, she held her phone on her lap, using the dining table to block the device from the eyes of the guests, her family and the media recording the event for live television.

Erin had reread his last message to her at least fifteen times. It was a comment he wrote under the picture she posted of her and her brother when they had first arrived. Beautiful. It reads and she chuckles at the next word, Spotless. She knew what the joke was in reference to and luckily for her when she started laughing at it, the speaker had cracked a joke on stage, earning laughter and applause from the listeners. She looks up and claps, joining in as if she had been listening the entire time. She had been about to respond to his comment under her photo but when a notification came through signaling she had a direct, private message, she had curiously opened it up. It's Jay. And his message makes her smile.

You know you're on live television right now. –JH

When Erin looks up, she drops her phone onto her lap, pretending to pay attention as the last speaker approaches the microphone. It's a struggle though, trying to decipher through the accent of the foreign dignitary and some rather complex terms she had never heard before, especially after such a long day had proved to be too difficult to actually watch. Her brother seated beside her is just as lost. Instead of playing on his phone, Justin is pulling at a loose thread attached to his suit jacket. Her phone vibrates again and she manages to keep her head trained on the ambassador while her eyes glanced downward at the screen to read his next reply.

Ha, I could tell you read my message. You practically looked up spooked. –JH

This is entertaining to him. He wasn't the type of guy to watch these things so she knew he was only watching for her. The cameras weren't even trained and focused on her, but she was in the background. And he was watching. At this point of the night, she didn't care who saw her or if she could possibly be spotted on camera, she types out her reply.

Are you enjoying the speech? –EV

Must you ask? Of course; I live for these. –JH

What's your favorite part? –EV

She knew he had no interest in this type of stuff; she grew up around politics all her life and sometimes she found it draining. Case in point is this moment right now.

The part where I'm watching you smile at our conversation right now. –JH

He was flirting. That much was obvious. But, what caught her off guard the most was the fact that she was enjoying it.

Are you flirting with me Mr. Halstead? –EV

Maybe. –JH

Well keep it up. –EV

-x-

Jay sits on his bed, resting inside of his hotel room, away from his bandmates, the media, the paparazzi and everyone else who might want to disturb him. His conversation with Erin had ended over an hour ago and he was bored. He could have hung out with Ruzek and Burgess but he didn't want to be a third wheel. Will had been video chatting with Natalie the last time he dropped in on him in his room. Mouse was already asleep; Jay couldn't blame him, it was past midnight. And he could have gone to the bar with Rixton, but honestly –and for the first time in forever- he wasn't in the mood. He actually preferred lying in his bed messaging Erin than going to the bar to get drunk and more than likely hook up with some random female.

Since the dinner ended, on all major news networks, they were talking about different policies and trade deals discussed. Jay wasn't interested. He had honestly only watched to see her. And he had done just that, once it ended, he flipped through channels, settling on something he swore he would never watch in a million years –celebrity gossip.

For over an hour he watched, listening to the rumor mill swirl with stories of celebrity hookups, breakups and all that falls in between. He had honestly been about to change the channel when his name is said. Apparently, the news thinks he's met his match in Erin Voight, citing and posting their brief social media conversation along with discussing their early meeting –him bumping into her in front of a coffee shop. Fortunately, they were unaware of his and Erin's private messages and that was definitely for the best. The rumors were going on about them, bets were made about a possible courtship –as if this was the 30s- and fans that deemed them a cute couple were already starting to combine their names together. It was weird. This has never happened to him and he honestly didn't know how he felt about it.

Jay grabs his cell off the end table and doesn't even hesitate to private message her. Her response from an hour ago was the last message; he couldn't think of what to say or a new conversation to spark, but now as he watches their faces plastered all over celebrity gossip news, it had offered him the perfect conversation starter.

Are you watching this celebrity gossip trash? –JH

Her response comes pretty quick; she most likely had her phone near her, No, and I'm honestly surprised that you watch that crap. –EV

I usually don't, but you see, my earlier source of entertainment left my screen. –JH

Such a charmer, Mr. Halstead. –EV

You told me to keep flirting. And please, call me Jay, -JH

Only if you call me Erin, -EV

You're the first daughter, -JH

And you're a rock star; and now that we've officially recognized our titles, to what do I owe the pleasure of this conversation, -EV

You're the first daughter. I feel it's a bit too informal if I refer to you by your first name, -JH

I think we passed informalities the second you stained my dress, -EV

Jay chuckled as he adjusted himself more comfortably on the bed.

And speaking of your stained dress, it appears that it's the talk of the town now, along with our exchange on social media, -JH

And what exactly are they saying, -EV

I've met my match in you. And of course, the standard rumor of we're secretly dating or we'll be dating pretty soon, -JH

Halstead had turned off his bedside lamp, lying in darkness with the only source of light coming from his cellular device. She hadn't responded in over half an hour, maybe she was busy, maybe she was asleep or maybe she was uncomfortable with the rumors going around about them. Whatever it was had caused for her sudden lack of responses. He wasn't going to press or attempt to coax a reply out of her. He may have surprised himself with apologizing earlier, but Jay Halstead didn't beg.

Just as he was about to give up and set his phone down on the end table, it had vibrated. She responded, I always find it interesting how those sites know more about my life than I seem to do.

They understand each other.

The story of my life, -JH

An immediate response doesn't come right away. It takes another half an hour for her to reply, Sorry for the late reply. I am currently locked in my office and am about to handcuff my wrist to the radiator until I finish this legal appeal to file at the federal court. -EV

Jay's heart sped up as he pictured it. He envisioned it; he allowed his mind to wander and clearly pictured the first daughter handcuffed to a radiator. It's him this time that takes the longest to respond, but once he gathered the perfect reply, he typed it with no regrets.

Beauty and brains; I must admit though, it's late and my mind couldn't help but picture just how alluring you must look working, -JH

If there was any speculation on whether or not he was flirting, it had just been made so obviously clear. And she didn't mind it. Blame it on the late night and the few glasses of wine she had at the dinner, but she was definitely going to respond. She prepared her reply and sent it moments afterwards.

Of all the things to be handcuffed to, a radiator is probably the least bit exciting. How about you picture a much more exciting position? –EV

Jay cursed himself; he did in fact take her advice. He pictured her handcuffed to her work desk, to her bed and to almost any and everything. She got him. She got to him. No one has ever been able to fluster him as much as she did; he'd been speechless for nearly fifteen minutes and the fact that it was over a girl was saying something. It was saying a lot. She had responded before he had the chance to even formulate his thoughts and come up with a reply.

Having fun, -EV

A winking face emoji is sent with her post. She knows what was taking him so long. She's well aware of the impact she had on him. And it didn't take a rocket scientist for her to figure out that he was definitely taking her up on her recommendation of picturing her handcuffed to something a bit more appealing.

How could I not, -JH

What did you picture me handcuffed to, -EV

What game was she playing? She was America's sweetheart. She became a civil rights attorney to help people, to fight for their rights. Her mother started a charity that Erin runs in her free time. She gives speeches at universities about criminal justice reform, women's rights and climate change. She visits orphanages every Christmas. She feeds the homeless every Thanksgiving. She traveled during the summers of her undergrad years to help other countries build houses, take care of their sick and read to their children. She was pure, seeming as innocent as they come; she was practically giving Mother Teresa a run for her money. And now, she's flirting with him in a not so subtle way.

A little bit of everything: a desk, a bed, everything, -JH

He took a chance with his reply. He didn't know how she would respond but he took a leap of faith that she wouldn't be insulted in knowing that he did in fact picture her handcuffed to almost every piece of furniture that came to his mind.

How naughty, Jay –EV

I'm naughty? You're the one who practically recommended it. And here I thought you were a good girl, -JH

This conversation was definitely taking a turn for the best in his eyes. He had never expected this day to turn out like it did. Here he thought that after literally running into her, he wouldn't see or communicate with her again even though they made not so serious mentions of a coffee date; he figured that moment would be a fleeting memory, but no, that's not how it ended at all. He was having a somewhat dirty conversation with the president's daughter at one in the morning. And the oddest thing about it all was this feeling in his gut. He's never felt it before; and it was the moment that she replied when he realized what that feeling was, he was falling for her. He wanted her. He actually wanted to be with someone, someone completely unlike the women he met at bars and hooked up with after only buying them a drink.

As the saying goes Jay, good girls are just bad girls who don't get caught, -EV

His phone nearly dropped from his hands after reading her message. What was her endgame here? What exactly was she trying to do? He quickly readjusted his grip and typed out his reply, ignoring every instinct in his body and for the first time going for the girl, seeking whatever she was willing to offer.

Shit. What exactly was he typing?

My concert is tomorrow in downtown Washington D.C., -JH

Is that an invite, -EV

I want you there. And maybe afterwards we can go for that coffee, -JH

Unfortunately, I can make no promises. It's a bit last minute and I have to run it pass my guys. I'll use my best persuasion techniques though; they usually always work, -EV

A bit of disappointment washed over him and he quickly shoved that feeling aside. He replied, but kept his response clipped.

I hope you pull it off, -JH

I do too, -EV

So what are you doing right now, -JH

He steers the conversation to a different topic; he didn't do emotions, he didn't do relationships and he definitely didn't do this, but here he was doing everything he normally wouldn't. Here he was doing what his brother would approve of while going against everything he and Rixton would do. He wasn't himself. This wasn't him; at least it had never been him. Yes, he flirts with girls but he's never invited them to one of his concerts, he's never had actual late night conversations with them that wouldn't result in a hookup and he's never tried this hard to hold an exchange with a girl. He barely even knew their names; he kept details to a minimum because the only thing he was interested in was sex, not dating or relationships. Normally, they're chasing after him but right now, he's doing all the chasing. And for some reason, he didn't mind.

Sill working, -EV

Do you ever take a break, -JH

Not really, -EV

Another reason why you need to come to my concert, -JH

I cannot argue with the truth, -EV

Get some rest Erin, -JH

I wish I could Jay, -EV

Don't fall asleep in your office, -JH

No promises, -EV

And how is being handcuffed to the radiator treating you? –JH

I would know if I had handcuffs to actually chain me to the radiator, -EV

And here I got all excited for nothing, -JH

Sorry, you'll just have to settle for this, -EV

Her message seemed incomplete. Jay didn't fully understand it. What exactly would he have to settle for? He stares down at the screen, trying to read through her message and wondering to himself where her response will lead when a picture loads up.

She'd sent him a private picture; a picture of herself.

His heart metaphorically stopped beating momentarily as he clicked to view the full image. Her hair had been pulled back into a messy ponytail with little strands that were too short to fit dangling and framing her face. She was wearing reading glasses; thick, black, rectangular frames around her eyes giving her that hint of professionalism which separated the fine line between work and play. Erin's smiling in the photo, teeth and dimples present as he stares into her tired eyes. She was beautiful.

Fuck, she was gorgeous. She was a sight for sore eyes in her tired, relaxed, makeup-free state. As she reported earlier, she wasn't handcuffed to the radiator behind her. Instead, she was sitting on the carpeted floor, legs crisscrossed. Stacks of folders and paperwork were spread around her, a half-full glass of wine sat beside her and her iPad sat on her lap. While she may have been at work, in her office in downtown D.C., she wasn't sporting a business suit; instead, she was dressed in a pair of leggings and a large, white button up shirt. If this is what she needed him to settle for then he would happily take it. She was obviously mistaken if she thought he wouldn't appreciate this, if she thought that this was actually considered settling.

I'm speechless, -JH

Do I look that horrid? In my defense, it's a little pass two in the morning,–EV

You actually look far from it actually, -JH

You have a way with words, -EV

It's probably why I write all of my own songs, -JH

I'm looking forward to hearing them tomorrow, -EV

What was she saying? She spoke it in the affirmative. It sounded as if it came from a definite place, a plan already set in action and guaranteed for tonight. Jay didn't want to get excited; he's never gotten excited over a girl agreeing to a date before, but this time was different, this time he was eager. He rose from his bed, too much energy coursing through him for him to lay still. Jay paced around his dark room, fingers flying across his screen as he types up his response.

Does that mean what I think it means? –JH

I'm going to your concert, -EV

Jay bites down upon his bottom lip. He wants to respond; he actually knows what he wants to say but for some unknown and ungodly reason, his fingers won't move across the screen. He's frozen in thought and in action because this is actually happening. He actually asked a girl out, and not just any girl but the president's daughter, she had agreed and she had positively asserted that she would be going to his concert; she would come and see him live. No one would believe it. Shit, Jay barely even believes it himself.

And after finally managing to come undone and relax, he succeeds in typing out a short reply, What? How? –JH

The photo of myself that I sent to you, I had Atwater take it for me. He was tired. He was ready to go home, but he can't go home until I do. So, I used my powers of persuasion and negotiation to make an agreement with him, -EV

Now I'm interested? –JH

I thought you always were. Anyway, normally my guys start work at seven in the morning and end the second I'm home for the night. Once I'm home for good, it's a shift change where my four guys go home and one guy –who I honestly only met a few times- guards me from outside my place. I agreed to work from home for the next two weeks which makes their lives a little bit easier, -EV

Quick thinking, -JH

I'm a lawyer for a reason, -EV

Jay was calm enough to make his way back to bed, crawling inside and resting under the covers. He hears a loud knock at his door before the drunken words of Rixton echo though it. It's ignored. He's too much in a good mood to allow Kenny Rixton to ruin it for him by teasing Jay on his little crush or insulting the president's daughter because of his distaste of authority figures. Rixton was great behind the keyboard and even worse than Jay at relationships but Rixton was proud of it. Rixton was the kind of guy who got in between many of his friends relationships –or potential relationships- with the only exception being Ruzek and Burgess because of how long they've known her. She was family, so he approved of her. Jay didn't know how well Rixton would approve of his flirting banter with Erin, especially because she was the daughter of one of the most powerful people in the world.

I'm looking forward to seeing you in the audience tomorrow, -JH

Me too… Anyway, I have one request for you right now, -EV

And what is that? –JH

It's your turn, -EV

Shit. She was far from innocent. Without any specifics, he already knows what's being asked of him. She wants a photo. It's give and take. She sent him one and now it's his turn to pay up. There's just one minor problem; he only sleeps in his boxers. And Jay was definitely not about to send the sweetest, most selfless woman he's ever met a picture that is surely something she isn't prepared for. So, he simply responds to her message with words instead of a photo.

I would, but I'm far from decent right now, -JH

And he doesn't know why her response surprises him, but it does.

That's okay, I won't tell if you don't, EV

Jay gulped as he turned on the bedside lamp. Exactly, what was he getting himself into? This wasn't like him. He didn't fall for anyone, especially women like her. He remained distant and void of emotion when it came to the opposite sex. He didn't text women at all hours of the day. He didn't know anything about the women he flirted with besides their first names, their health status –safe sex and all that- and whether or not they wanted to go back to his place or theirs. Jay didn't have to try hard to vie for a woman's affection yet he found himself wanting to do everything possible to keep this up, to keep her intrigued and interested. After all, he was a rock star, born and raised in a rough neighborhood in Chicago while she grew up in the limelight, being scrutinized and sculpted into the successful, well-respected woman she is today. With his reputation, he could ruin that image for her. With her reputation, she could do wonders for his. And this is exactly what his brother wanted. Jay was confused; he didn't know what he wanted. He was torn between his old self –the self he has been with for 28 years- and this new self –this self that just appeared the second he bumped into her. He wanted whatever this was to continue and that's why he happily obliged and sent a photo of himself; mussed hair, sculptured, bare chest and a dashing smile to match. He turns off his bedside lamp and hopes as he falls asleep that his picture affected her just as much as hers affected him.