SuperStar!

Ethan woke up to a blinding headache. He groaned, his temples pounding like a relentless drumbeat. As he stirred, his hand brushed against something soft. Confused, he glanced down and froze. His hand was resting on a woman's backside. His eyes widened in shock as he scrambled to remove his hand, jerking back and falling out of the bed with a loud thud.

The commotion stirred the women lying next to him. Ethan blinked rapidly, his heart racing as he took in the scene. Two women, both stunningly beautiful, stirred awake, their bare bodies illuminated by the faint morning sunlight streaming through the curtains. Cynthia, the slimmer of the two, yawned and stretched languidly, while Lena, the curvier one, rolled over, muttering something incoherent before promptly falling back asleep.

"Good morning, Ethan," Cynthia purred, her voice thick with amusement.

"Uh, hi," Ethan stammered, avoiding eye contact as his cheeks burned crimson.

It wasn't like Ethan was inexperienced—far from it. He'd had his fair share of flings, mostly in his high school days, where his good looks and nerdish charm like they said had made him popular with the girls. But waking up in this situation still caught him off guard.

Cynthia laughed, standing up unabashedly and walking across the room. "You're cute when you're flustered," she teased, not bothering to cover herself as she headed toward the kitchen. "Would you like something to eat?"

Ethan shook his head, hastily gathering his clothes scattered around the room. "No, I'm good," he replied, his voice muffled as he pulled his shirt over his head.

Cynthia reappeared moments later, now draped in a loosely tied bathrobe, holding out a cup. "Here," she offered, a sly smile playing on her lips. "This will help with the migraine."

Ethan hesitated, but the pounding in his head was too much to bear. He accepted the cup with a muttered "Thanks," taking a cautious sip. The bitter liquid burned his throat but brought a surprising sense of relief.

"You didn't have to be so rough last night," Cynthia said, her tone teasing. Ethan nearly choked on his drink, his ears turning a deeper shade of red.

They settled into an easy conversation after that. Ethan learned that Cynthia was a computer science student at a nearby university. Despite the awkward start, they found themselves laughing and talking as if they'd known each other for a while. Finally, Ethan thanked her and left, still trying to piece together the hazy events of the night before.

As Ethan approached his hotel room, he moved quietly, hoping to avoid any awkward encounters. But just as he reached for the door handle, a voice called out behind him.

"Hey, Ethan."

He turned to see Bill leaning casually against the wall, a knowing smile on his face.

"Hi, Bill. About last night…" Ethan started, but Bill held up a hand, cutting him off.

"Look, I get it," Bill said, grinning. "You're young, you're famous and women like you. Just remember, kid, not every pond is worth diving into."

Ethan nodded sheepishly, mumbling a quick "Thanks" before retreating into his room. He headed straight for the shower, letting the hot water wash away the remnants of his hangover and the lingering embarrassment.

The next few days blurred together. Ethan avoided leaving the hotel, spending most of his time watching TV shows, calling his parents, or going over plans with Bill. By the third day, he was feeling more settled, the nervous energy replaced by a quiet determination.

That morning, Ethan dressed in a simple shirt and jeans, his mind sharp and focused. As he stepped out of his room, he found Bill waiting for him in the hallway.

"You ready?" Bill asked, his eyes scanning Ethan's face for any signs of hesitation.

"As ready as I'll ever be," Ethan replied, his voice steady.

Together, they made their way downstairs, where a sleek black limousine waited for them. The ride to the record label's headquarters was quiet, the air filled with unspoken anticipation. Ethan stared out the window, the city rushing past in a blur, his thoughts a mixture of nerves and excitement.

When they arrived, the familiar sight of the modern building loomed before them. Its glass façade gleamed in the sunlight, a symbol of power and opportunity. As they stepped inside, the same receptionist from their previous visit greeted them with a warm smile.

"Sirs, Mr. Grainge is waiting for you," she said, gesturing for them to follow.

Ethan felt a surge of adrenaline as they moved through the building's polished corridors. Each step felt like a march toward destiny. Bill placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder as they approached the double doors leading to the meeting room.

Ethan took a deep breath, his mind replaying everything that had led to this moment. The sacrifices, the doubts, the fleeting highs and crushing lows—it all culminated here. As the doors opened, a wave of cool air greeted them, and Ethan stepped inside with newfound conviction.

And then he saw him—a man sitting at the head of the long conference table, his presence commanding yet inscrutable. The man rose slowly, his piercing gaze locking onto Ethan.

"Mr. Jones," he said, his voice smooth and calculated, carrying a weight that made the room seem smaller.

Ethan swallowed hard, bracing himself for what was to come. He couldn't shake the feeling that this moment was just the beginning of something far greater than he had ever imagined.

The man gestured for Ethan to take a seat, his expression unreadable.

"Shall we begin?"