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It was like a battle cry as a herd of women stampeded toward the back of the club. My girlfriends and I were being swept up in the wave, and I struggled to get my bearings.
"Who's here?"
I racked my brain for a face. Politician? Not likely. An actor, maybe?
I had just started my freshman year in Bristol and was starting to feel more like the dumb American that I was. My friends tried to fill me in as we lined up at the meet-and-greet.
Oh... He was an X Factor contestant.
Of my singing contest addicted family, why did I have to be the only one who didn't pay attention?
I watched as an older woman in a short sequined dress was yanked off of Frankie by a security guard. At last it was our turn.
I was ushered in by security and brought face-to-face with a celebrity that was about the same age as me. If I hadn't known better he could've been another student in my class.
He leaned in for a kiss but I offered my hand instead. We both smiled for the camera and with a flash my brush with fame was over.
I just read somewhere that Frankie has slept with around 300 girls. Looking back on it, that was about the same number of women at the club where I met him. All I'm saying is he might've gotten a few more tattoos after that night.
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