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Your name is Dave Strider. And currently, you are the number one DJ in California. Everything’s great. You live in a mansion by the sea, you’ve recorded multiple songs of your own, and you own your own club. But there is a downside to all of this fame. The only people you’re expected to be with are other celebrities. Not that you’re complaining, most of them look pretty hot. But that’s all due to plastic surgery and lots of makeup. You would much rather prefer someone who went au natural. Like yourself. You can’t wear a lot of makeup, or else it clogs your pours and when you DJ it runs terribly. You are presently doing just that, working the Friday night shift at your club. You don’t pay attention to the gaggle of girls around your booth; all you can focus on is the work in front of you. You can feel rather than hear the music pulsing through your veins, and it’s an extension of your blood. You had a passion for the stuff that most DJs didn’t. And that’s what made you spectacular at your job. It’s why you’re the number one DJ. Coming back to the present, you realize how thirsty you’ve become so you call for a break.
“I’m taking fifteen; enjoy this playlist of hit songs till I get back.” You turn off the microphone, remove your headset, and turn on the automatic playlist before leaving the booth. You make sure to lock it this time before heading to the bar. Halfway there, you collide with someone who must not have been paying attention. All you see is a patch of unruly black hair before the guy is falling into you.
“Oh, wow, ouch. Sorry I’m such a klutz and-” He stops midsentence when he notices who it was that he backed up into. His face immediately turns red. The girl he was with starts to giggle at the whole thing. She seems a little more than tipsy.
“It’s cool, bro.” You mutter, going to move around them so that you can just get to the bar. He starts following.
“Let me buy you a drink, at least.” He seemed flustered. And kind of sexy with how disheveled he looked.
“You know, they usually start out with their name before offering to drug me.” You smirk, watching him squirm uncomfortably for a second.
“John. And I’m not doing this because I like you. I’m not a homosexual.” His voice is firm at the end, and you almost laugh. He sure got defensive there. But, you like the spunk in this one. So, you agree and he pays for your drink. After downing it, you glance over him again now that you can see his face more clearly under the bar light. Blue eyes behind black rimmed glasses, slightly protruding front teeth, and almost invisible patches of freckles on his pale skin. Yup. He screamed nerd, but perhaps with a touch of charm. Still undeniably cute.
“Hey, you never told me your name.” You almost choke on air. He hasn’t heard of you?
“I’d be offended if I thought you were from around here. The name’s Dave. I’m a bit of a celebrity around here.” You watch his eyes go wide before he narrows them.
“What do you mean a bit of a celebrity? I thought you were just some random guy that I ran into.” He looks embarrassed, and that’s when you know that he has a bit of man crush on you. Not a homosexual your ass. You check your watch and look back at the booth. Yup, it’s already crowded.
“Tell you what. Enjoy yourself tonight; tell the bartender that Mr. Strider is treating a guest. I have to get back to work, but I’ll see you afterwards.” And with that, you’re heading back to the booth. You manage to get to the door, unlock it, and slip inside without any troubles. It’d be helpful if you actually hired a body guard, but you don’t want to feel trapped. You stop the playlist and start playing something more upbeat- one of your own songs. You can hear the reaction from the people, mostly screaming, and you can tell you’ve managed to please the crowed.
Your name is John Egbert. You’ve recently moved to California in hopes of a career of some sorts while you finish of college here. Everything was going fine until Jade, your crazy sister, decided to drag you to some club. It was a really popular place around here, and Jade decided that you needed to get out more. You didn’t even leave her side once you got on the dance floor. Presently, you were sitting at the bar after some random supposedly celebrity ran into you. You had bought him a drink out of kindness but now you can see you really didn’t need to. He had his own tab set up. And he was letting you order freely from it. Either he really trusts you, or he’s loaded. Either way, after a few drinks you start to feel a bit tipsy. But seeing as you don’t see Jade anywhere, you decide to keep going. She did say you needed to socialize a bit, right? Well maybe this would help. Within five minutes, you’re on the dance floor, letting the pulsing beat control your movements. You were okay with that, until you felt someone grab ahold of you. You almost freak out, until you see he’s trying to say something.
“What?” You ask dumbly, blinking a little. You really could not hear what this guy was saying. You can see he’s irritated, since he just starts dragging you to the booth you saw Dave disappear into earlier. When it gets a little quieter, he speaks again.
“Mr. Strider told me to come get you. Good luck.” He opens the booth and shoves you inside. Since you can’t really see as it is, you fall flat on your face.
“Ouch. What was that for?” You sit up, rubbing your forehead. You see Dave staring at you with amusement. What the hell was so funny?
“It’s almost closing time, and that girl you were with left with some douche so I decided I’d be civil and take you home.” He pulls a headset off of his head and sets it on a stand before picking up a microphone. “Alright everybody, it is closing time. You have five minutes to clear out before I call in security.” And with that, he shuts down everything and hauls you up by your arm. You can hardly stand now.
“Wait. My sister left with a guy?” You feel slightly concerned, but the look on Dave’s face calms you a bit.
“Don’t worry about her, she’s in good hands.” He’s helping you into an expensive looking car when you refocus, and you almost climb out again if it weren’t for the seatbelt holding you in.
“Oh hell no. No! I am not riding in this thing, Dave, get me out!” You don’t like fancy cars, they always go to fast and in this state it might make you sick to your stomach.
“Relax, John, I’ll go slow.” He throws you that cocky smirk of his and you almost want to punch it off of his face. Why? Because you can almost physically see the hidden meaning behind that stupid line. Instead, you cross your arms and look out the window when he starts driving. You realize too late that he’s not taking you back to your hotel, but rather back to his own house. This appears to be, from the hulking silhouette, actually a mansion. A giant, freaking, mansion. Great. He wasn’t lying when he said he was a celebrity. You were just officially kidnapped by a celebrity. Good going John, you managed to lose your sister and get kidnapped all in one night. You don’t even realize it when he picks you up, carries you inside, or even sets you in an expensive bed. All you can recall is falling asleep as soon as you hit the silken sheets.