Two Hearts and a Lie (Offstage Book 2)

by Rica Grayson

  I watch as Blaire tips her head up, inhaling the breeze. Her hair is tied up in some sort of knot now. She leans back, her hands behind her in support. Something in my chest goes tight. Just one slide, and she could slip down there.

  But after several moments, as if sensing my presence, she tilts her head to the side, finally spotting me. Her reaction is immediate—her body freezes up, going tense. Then carefully, she schools her expression into a calm mask, meeting my eyes. She does this sometimes, especially when I catch her off-guard. Like she’s mentally preparing herself. I don’t know what I did to make her this way, but I want to find out.

  She frowns, her hand gripping the pool’s rail firmly. As if she suddenly doesn’t know what to do. “You don’t have to watch over me,” she says quietly. Her eyes return to the pool water, as if she could test their depths that way. “I’m not about to jump down or anything.”

  She can’t swim. I offered to teach her on two separate occasions, but both times, she turned me down without batting an eyelash.

  I grin. “Sure, Red, but no telling if you’d slip.” As if she doesn’t know her own brother. “Your brother will kill me if anything happens to you on my watch.”

  Now that I think about it, it’s rare that we’re alone together. She often makes up an excuse to leave me and Chris alone. Now that we’re probably one of the first ones to arrive, there’s no escape.

  I realize it’s the perfect opportunity to ask her what the hell happened between us, that every time we wind up in the same room, she’s hatching up an escape plan. Maybe it’s because of that kiss years ago. She can say what she wants, but if she says it wasn’t a damned good one, it’s a lie.

  So I walk carefully towards her, thinking that at least this way, I can make sure nothing will happen to her if she slips.

  “W-what are you doing?” she asks nervously, inching away from me. I don’t answer. I bend down to sit next to her, mirroring her, dipping my own feet in the water. My hand brushes hers, and her reaction is… telling.

  I don’t know what the hell to talk about that won’t scare her away, so I bring up the first thing I think of, something Chris told me recently. “I hear you’ve got a YouTube channel. So what’s it about? Vlogging? Traveling?” I wrack my brains for what Chris said about her. “Bags? Ryan says you have a thing for those.”

  “No,” she simply answers, her voice low.

  “No?” The response is unexpected. She turns silent. I can tell I’ve made her angry, but I don’t know what the hell I even did.

  “You don’t get that, Ryan.” Determination blazes in her eyes, like fire. Except it’s the kind that draws me in, and I can’t tell what the reason is behind it.

  “Why the hell are you mad?” I demand.

  “You don’t know?” She sounds almost disbelieving. She snorts, and without warning, she pulls her legs up from the water, drawing them close to her chest, her arms going around her knees. “Of course you don’t know,” she mutters. She does it again—reins in her temper. And for the first time, I see it. Maybe it’s because I caught her by surprise, or maybe because she let me see. But it’s hurt in her eyes. I don’t expect to see it there and it catches me off-guard. She blinks and it’s gone. She stands up abruptly. “Chris should be here soon. I’m going to see if I can switch rooms with him.”

  I don’t fucking get it. I don’t understand what I see.

  I know what’s going to happen—she’ll pretend nothing happened. Like always. I’ll give her this—for now. Because this time, I can tell something’s not right. No way I’m leaving it alone.

  Chapter 3

  Blaire

  It’s finally happening. Two years ago, it seemed like the unlikeliest thing. My sister’s getting married. I have no idea how they pulled it off with such short notice, but seeing everything come together, I know it’s no small feat.

  I think of all the people attending and my gut churns. Steady, Blaire. I pull myself together. I’m not one for social events, but today is her day. I’m glad Gretchen is here, too. I squeeze her hand. We both share a look. Today’s going to be long day.

  The deep blue of the ocean calms me. It glitters like a jewel against the sun. I’ve seen it in the pictures they’ve showed me, but right now, it steals my breath. My sister wanted an outdoor wedding, and here in Bali, it’s what she gets. Fortunately, the sky is clear today, and the view of the plains is stunning. A brief glance around the area shows me that security’s tight.

  A small crowd forms at the side of the entrance, and I immediately know what’s going on. Growing up around my brother and his friends, it taught me what the cluster of people usually meant. There may as well be a large flashing sign saying Famous People Here.

  It turns out I’m right—the crowd parts and I see my brother making his way towards our table, Clay and Ryan in tow. Clay’s wife, Maven, is with him, looking stunning and ethereal in a simple, flowing pale yellow dress. Her hair is curled, framing delicate features and a smile that makes her eyes sparkle.

  I see extended family and friends grouping in a cluster around them, holding up their phones for pictures. Already met with large groups of people as soon as they arrive. It’s the career they chose, but it really comes at a price.

  The crowd and the noise draws the attention of other guests too. My friend, Jackson, one of the best make-up artists I know, also tries to get a peek of Ryan, now talking to my brother and one of his drummers. Two large, burly men stand behind Ryan. One of my younger cousins, a huge fan of both Ryan and Clay, squeals in delight. I can’t help but notice Ryan doesn’t turn people away when they get close, seeming to not mind the attention.

  I hear Jackson whistle. “They sure know how to make an entrance.”

  Gretchen, beside me, cranes her neck, also trying to get a peek. “Oh my God. Clay’s arrived?” she asks excitedly.

  “Yep, he’s over there,” I confirm, gesturing to where they’d entered.

  Jackson, after getting a good look, turns to me with a puzzled expression. “Tell me why you don’t like Ryan again?” he asks.

  I draw a sigh. I’ve been asked this question many times. “Let’s see. He’s arrogant. He buys stupid things.” Like that giant water gun on April Fool’s. “He keeps sending me tickets to his tours. He—”

  “What’s wrong with the tickets?” Jackson interjects.

  “Because he knows I’m not going. So he mails them to me. Every. Time. Like a big ‘hello to you, too’.”

  He stares at me blankly and rubs his jaw, thoughtful. “I don’t get it.”

  “They argue all the time. And he’s rude,” Gretchen adds in, in my support. “He once said her singing was terrible and he couldn’t be more wrong. For being a good singer and all that, he sure can’t tell talent.”

  He winces, finally understanding. “Oh, honey. I’ve heard you sing. You’re amazing. Don’t listen to him. It’s just that the papers paint him to be such a nice guy. I can’t believe he turned out to be like that, after all. What a waste.” He sighs in disappointment.

  “You’re right. Clay is here,” Gretchen chokes out. She clutches my hand tight.

  When Ryan emerges from the group of people, his eyes find mine. A shiver of awareness runs through me. What’s surprising is that he came alone. No leggy brunette or famous celebrity by his side. Not that he’s had one in a while, but still, I thought he’d bring someone.

  I can’t believe I just lost it in front of him two days ago by the pool. What bothers me is that I let him get to me. After his “dying rat” insult years ago, I retreated into my own shell. These days, the only ones that get to hear me sing are my shower walls and my four hundred thousand YouTube subscribers—I try not to think of that number too much.

  Music means the world to me. It’s my safe haven, and it makes me protective of it. It’s the one thing that my personal life doesn’t touch. I don’t show my face when I sing covers and my originals. I like to keep it that way. And when my brother told me about the crazy fan stories
he’d encountered during tours, I’m glad that I have the freedom to do what I want. When Ryan brought my channel up two days ago, I was almost positive he was going to say something mean about it. He usually did. I didn’t want it to get to that. He’d done enough damage. But still, I shouldn’t have gone off on him like that. I groan, remembering my reaction to him when he got close.

  Ryan reaches our table. Gretchen’s eyes nearly pop out, while Jackson smiles wide. A networking opportunity for him, no doubt. I introduce him, and Ryan offers an outstretched hand, polite as ever. In a suit, I can’t help but think that he looks so impossibly handsome, it should be a crime.

  “Gretchen,” Ryan greets, nodding towards my friend. Then his attention turns to me, and a corner of his lip curls up. “Blaire. The lawyer didn’t make it?”

  I dated a lawyer a couple of times several months ago. The guy wouldn’t stop talking about himself throughout one family dinner my mom took upon herself to invite him to. By the end of it, I knew it was a mistake. Everyone sighed in relief when he left. That was our last date. Amazing that Ryan manages to rile me up within the first five minutes of us sharing the same space.

  I pretend to look around him. “Where’s Sascha? The singer?” I ask casually.

  “Spain,” he answers brusquely.

  “Maria?” I try. “I think she was an actress?”

  He narrows his eyes. “LA. She’s a supermodel.”

  Hmm. “That’s nice. Claire?” I prompt.

  “Shut up, Blaire.” He hates the player angle. All the more reason I’m tempted to keep doing it. “You seem to have a fixation with the women in my life,” he continues conversationally. “The people you’ve mentioned are only friends.”

  Why he feels the need to tell me this, I don’t know. But in truth, it surprises me. I heard he’s had a string of dates and left a trail of broken hearts. My brother said he hadn’t heard him mention anything serious. I had doubts about that—not that I thought of it. Much.

  “They’re at it again,” Chris explains to my Aunt Renee who had just arrived, standing behind us. It’s no secret that she’s a huge fan. “You see, they do this every time.”

  “Oh, Aunt Renee?” I say brightly. My eyes shift to Ryan, and I wear a knowing smile. “There’s someone who’d love to meet you.”

  Ryan’s jaw locks, catching up to my antics. That should keep him busy for a while—my aunt knows how to talk someone’s ear off. She joins our table excitedly. Seeing Ryan’s face, my brother bursts out laughing.

  I’ve always thought my sister to be beautiful, but tonight, especially, she’s glowing. Her hair is twisted in intricate patterns, small white flowers interweaved in her chestnut hair. I watched a bit of how they did it earlier, and it’s amazing how long they spent doing it. Seeing her now, it’s absolutely worth it.

  She walks down the aisle with the kind of composure and gracefulness I’d never have in a million years. I know I’m not really losing her, but if I’m being honest, it feels like it a little. Until two years ago, her room had always been right next to mine. I know I could count on her whenever I needed her. My heart swells, proud. She’s found someone that makes her happy. I hope he treats her like the gem she is.

  Ryan steps onto the platform with the band, preparing to sing one of his songs. I’ve always believed it’s one of his highly underrated ones, in comparison to his singles.

  He opens his mouth and the sound of his voice glides over me, like warm honey. He’s always had a slight rasp, but his amazing tone sends goosebumps over my skin. He croons about finding the kind of love that has been right there all along. I’ve read that he wrote it about Clay, when he married Maven two years ago.

  Jordan whispers something in Shelly’s ear. She beams at him. I’ve never seen her this happy. It makes my heart full. The music elevated it into something else entirely.

  Someone sobs, and I turn to see Aunt Renee crying. To her left, Mom clutches Dad’s hand, her eyes misty from tears. A brief sweep over the room shows several people taking out their tissues.

  My eyes are drawn to Ryan again. I can’t help it— as much as I try to fight it, I’m not immune to his charms. I’m still a fan. Not in a way where I blindly believed everything he touched is gold, but in a way where I really respect his artistry. For all the crushing disappointment he made me feel, I’m grateful that he did this for her. To my surprise, he does something I don’t expect—his eyes find mine, not teasing or calculating, but warm. I don’t understand what it means, but part of me is almost afraid to find out.

  And as much as I say that I can’t stand him at all, it’s in times like these when he makes it especially difficult. He doesn’t just have a damn good voice, but hearing him, the emotion that’s pouring out, I feel like I could believe that he’s fallen in love, too.

  When he’s done, he slips to the empty seat next to me. I feel the weight of his gaze, but I don’t really care if he sees me crying. I feel so much and I’m not afraid to hide it. I shed my tears.

  “Thank you,” I say softly. “For doing this for her. I know... I know you’re probably busy with your work and everything, but it really means a lot that you came.”

  Something flashes on his face, but it’s gone the next moment. He wears a look I can’t decipher. “Anything for her,” he replies. “You’re family to me.”

  Everyone erupts in cheers as my sister and Jordan kiss. Jordan smiles wide. Eventually, I make my way across the crowd of people. I hug my sister and Jordan, congratulating them both.

  “Don’t cry,” Shelly murmurs. “You’re going to make me cry, too.”

  “Oh no, your make-up!” I dry my own tears. “I’m just—I’m really happy for you.”

  She squeezes my hand. “Thank you, Blaire. Honestly, I feel like the luckiest person in the world.”

  That’s all I can really ask for.

  “I’m glad.”

  Something catches her attention behind me, and she passes me a curious look. “Looks like there’s someone waiting to tell you something.”

  I follow the direction of her gaze and turn to see Ryan just behind me. His hand lightly touches my back, and it makes my heart do a little flip. Okay. What’s going on? He steps forward, letting me go, but I still feel his lingering touch. He congratulates them both, offering his best wishes. After they leave, he leans close, but I can’t think, because with him being so close, I’m distracted. “Blaire,” he murmurs in my ear. “Can we talk?”

  Chapter 4

  Blaire

  I’m whisked away after Ryan asked the question, before I could get an answer out. When Mom’s on a mission, there’s no stopping her. She insisted I leave early so I could greet the guests and get ready for my speech. Even with the amount of preparation I’ve done, I’m absolutely not ready for my speech. It already fills me with dread.

  I wonder what he wanted to talk about earlier. It’s unusual for him to ask that.

  When we arrived at the hotel for the reception, Gretchen catches up to me with Jackson.

  “Okay, what was with those melty eyes?” she demands when she first sees me.

  “What?”

  “You know what. Ryan. When he was singing in the wedding.”

  “He wasn’t making melty eyes,” I start to deny.

  Her eyes sharpen and she argues, “He so was.”

  I roll my eyes. “Okay, let me rephrase—he wasn’t making melty eyes at me.” Who knows? Maybe he just woke up on the right side of the bed today.

  Jackson clears his throat. “Blaire, we’ve got eyes. I saw it, too.”

  They’re probably reading too much into it. “It’s nothing. He’s been acting strange tonight,” I admit. A cryptic look passes between them.

  “What? You think he’s planning something?” I ask.

  “Well, we don’t know, but… Haven’t you thought that he might be extending an olive branch? This has been going on for a while. Or, maybe, he’s finally recognizing that you’re an awesome person and there’s no more reason to fi
ght,” she says brightly.

  It’s an optimistic view. But… Why now? Why the change of heart? Had I said something that made him change his mind? It seems highly unlikely. One could never tell with him. But I push those thoughts back. I have a speech to do and wedding guests to greet.

  The speeches pass by without incident, fortunately. In that time, I lost Gretchen, although I found Jackson talking to Jordan’s brother. It seems like everything’s running smoothly so far. Food… Where is the food…. I was too keyed up for the speech that I didn’t feel like I could eat anything, and now my hunger has returned with a vengeance. My eyes light up when I spot some croquettes.

  “Blaire,” my brother calls out. Nope, I need food. I continue heading towards the food area. I’m still mad at him for trying to play matchmaker. “Blaaaiire,” he stretches my name out.

  My eyes squeeze shut. Frustration boils over. I know him. He won’t stop until I have his undivided attention. I jerk to a halt and make a beeline towards him, wanting to get this over with. I glare at him, arms crossed. I still can’t believe he booked a lover’s suite. “I’m not talking to you.”

  “Aw come on, Blaire, it was meant to be a joke.”

  “What’s this?” Jackson asks from behind me. At some point, he found me and decided our discussion was interesting.

  “When I first arrived here two days ago, my brother just happened to book me and Ryan in the same hotel room,” I hiss. “In a lover’s suite.”

  Jackson’s mouth hangs open, and then he starts to laugh. “No way. Did he really?”

  Why is he laughing? It’s not funny. When he sees my expression, his smile drops. “I mean, that’s absolutely ridiculous. Ridiculous.”

  Why my brother thought putting us in one room was a good idea, I have no clue. To my satisfaction, Ryan did end up dunking him in the pool when he arrived. I had taken a good video of it too. It was almost worth it, catching it all on camera. Thankfully he agreed to swap rooms—apparently his intention in the first place.