by Rica Grayson
Speak of the devil. Ryan sits down at the table, carrying a plate of food and what looks like a glass of red wine.
My brother scratches his chin. “Well, you could air your grievances right here,” he says easily, eyes twinkling with humor. “Join us?”
I eye their table like it has thorns. “No, thank you.”
“Come on, Blaire. Loosen up,” my brother says. I know he doesn’t really mean it, but it strikes a nerve.
“I’ve already had a drink,” I reply.
“Are you sure? Could’ve fooled me.”
Yes, I’m the responsible one. So sue me. Just because he’s the one who decided to travel the world when at that time, I craved stability, I’m the one playing it safe.
I turn away, not wanting them to see how much it affected me. Loosen up. Why, exactly, is it so bad to be the careful one? I eye the food area, and I mutter about brothers who set up sisters with annoying jerks.
“Blaire,” Ryan’s voice calls out from behind me. A hand on my elbow stops me, and I look up at him, startled.
He’s going to side with my brother again, I just know it. Tag team me again, like they’ve done for years. Except I’ve long learned to stand my ground. “Let go.”
Abruptly, he releases me. A dark look crosses his face, his full lips thinning. But he doesn’t say anything more. So I finally head towards where the food is, stubbornly ignoring the stares from the people around me.
Ryan
Chris watches Blaire walk away and huffs out a breath. A scowl turns his expression grim. He jabs a finger at me. “Fix her.”
“Fix her?” I scowl. “What the hell does that even mean?”
“You broke her,” he accuses me. “She hasn’t been the same ever since.”
Ever since? I lean forward, the word sharp on my tongue. “Explain.”
His frown only deepens, and his next words make me go still. “What’s there to explain? She’s been half in love with you since she was sixteen.”
Chapter 5
Ryan
The world fucking disintegrates under my feet.
Blaire Mendes. In love with me since she was sixteen. That’s news to me.
His eyes widen, and he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Holy shit. You didn’t know? How is it possible you don’t know?” He’s completely floored, gaping at me.
It never occurred to me. Blaire who couldn’t stand me. Who ignored me when I walked past. Who gave back as good as she got. That’s why she was fun to be around.
“I guess she’s changed now,” Chris adds thoughtfully, “but still. She’s always been in love with you. And ever since that time she first met you, she’s changed. Did a whole one-eighty.”
I bet she did. I wasn’t the nicest person to her back then, and I just bet she held a grudge. Not that I could really blame her. Maybe it’s time to set things straight with her. See how she reacts to me knowing. Her response would tell me everything I need to know.
When I picked up her diary years ago, I didn’t know what it was. It sat on the side of a cubed asymmetrical shelf. I don’t know what I expected, but when I cracked it open, I saw a list of my transgressions a mile wide. My first reaction was surprise. But no one wants to read about the things people don’t like about them, and I was no exception. I was already done with it the moment I opened it. I don’t even really look at my own social media. I have a team for that. Everything that doesn’t have anything to do with music is just noise. It distracts me from the only thing I want to do—make music and tell stories.
I always wondered what it would be like between us if we weren’t constantly at each other’s throats. Fuck. I need to mend things with her. My eyes do a quick sweep around the venue. Blaire isn’t getting food anymore. For how spacious the reception area is, it only means it will be harder to find her.
All this time I thought she hated my guts. I never fully understood why. But knowing that, all this time, she doesn’t… That changes everything.
Chris excuses himself when he sees an old friend and goes to talk to him. A middle-aged woman with a sparkling sequin-stitched dress takes the seat Chris just vacated. “Finally got out of that toxic table. I swear, I almost stabbed that woman’s finger.” She eyes me like I’m a piece of meat, and from experience, it’s a sign that I need to leave soon. Talk to these types of people for ten minutes, and they’ve fully convinced themselves we’re friends. “So… Ryan, it’s so nice to meet you,” she says excitedly.
“Do you have any tips for an aspiring singer?” The woman, whose name is apparently Angelie, is giving me the look. It’s hopeful and expectant.
Five. Just five minutes with her and my head starts to ache.
“You see, my friend also wants to become one, but she doesn’t know where to start.”
I answer her question the way I answer questions in my interviews. “You should have the drive to do it.” She presses against me and I’ve had enough. “I just remembered I have somewhere else to be,” I brush her off, already standing up. She’s relentless. She stands, too.
Fuck. Why couldn’t she stay where she was?
“Me too!” she chirps. Shit. I lengthen my strides so she struggles to catch up, and when a family of five enters, I use it as my opportunity to get the hell out of here.
Blaire
One of our wedding planners finds me, and she’s hysterical, her face turning a shade of pink. “Have you seen Ryan? He’s supposed to sing one more song in like ten minutes. He’s still not here.”
Ryan? “No,” I answer. He’s trying to escape from his duties.
“I’ll go look for him,” I declare. After I ate earlier, I walked around, chatting a little with the guests. Gretchen was still nowhere to be found. I didn’t expect one of the wedding planners to corner me with a look of pure panic.
After agreeing to help look for him, I find my brother talking to a high school friend. “Excuse me, have you seen Ryan?” I ask him.
He looks behind him, but there’s only an empty table. “Hmm. Last I’ve seen him, he was talking to Corrine’s daughter.” Corrine is a friend of my mom’s from work. Her daughter, Angelie, is a hoot. He shrugs. “Maybe he went to get some fresh air.”
I walk towards the hallway leading towards the exit, only to see a few people having a smoke. Not here. The bathrooms, maybe?
Aha! Found you. I see him walking towards one of the doors along the corridor in a hurry. He sneaks a look behind him, walks inside, and shuts the door. What the hell?
Needless to say, I follow him inside and shut the door behind me.
“Found you!” I exclaim gleefully. I realize we’re in a storeroom. A single bulb lights up the room dimly. Ryan’s phone is on his ear, he sees me and he lowers it immediately. What on Earth is he doing in a storeroom? Whatever. “Ryan, you’re performing soon. The wedding planner’s looking for you, too. The poor girl was really stressed out. What are you doing here, anyway?”
To his left, a mop swings and nearly falls over but he manages to grab the handle. He adjusts it so it hangs back in place. As far as storerooms go, it looks tidy enough, with everything stacked neatly in place. What a strange place for a phone call.
He glances at the door behind me, his expression tight. His attention is drawn back to me, and he places his hands on my shoulders. “Did anyone else see you come in?”
“What?” Seeing his face, I consider it for a moment. “No. I don’t think so.”
“Good,” he replies quickly.
I snort. “You’re hiding, then.” Then I remember what Chris said, and it clicks into place. “Oh my God. It’s Angelie, isn’t it?” He doesn’t respond, but his expression is answer enough. “She’s harmless.”
“I met someone like her once. She followed me all the way home.” His face turns hard. “Shit. Didn’t mean to insult your friend. But it’s not something I want a repeat of.”
I whistle and pat his shoulder sympathetically. “Tough life, huh?”
His eyes flick to my hand, and I
drop it immediately.
“So you looked for me all over and followed me all the way here?” he asks. A corner of his lip tugs up, and his smug smile gets to me.
“Of course I didn’t do it for you, I just—ugh.” I turn to leave. I twist the knob, and… I gasp. “You’re kidding me.” I pull the knob harder. It won’t budge. The door seems stuck in place. This is not happening. I turn around and face him, wide-eyed. “It’s not opening.”
He steps forward and I move to the side. He takes his turn, putting his body-weight into it and pushes hard. The door doesn’t move. “It opens from the outside,” he says. “Fuck.”
He taps on a number on his phone’s screen and puts it next to his ear.
I can hear the line ringing, but no one’s picking up.
“Not answering,” he says, frowning. Uh-oh. That’s not good. “What about you?” he asks.
I try my brother and my dad. “Not picking up.” I send a quick text message to a couple of people.
I pound on the door and call out for help. No response. Where is everyone?
He leans back against the shelf behind him. It hasn’t escaped my notice that he hasn’t made a snipe at me after locking us in, since I was the one who shut the door. He’s acting strange, and it makes me wonder what he has up his sleeve.
It’s in the muffled noises of people talking, and the laughter echoing from outside, that it all starts to sink in—we’re alone in this cramped storage room.
“About that talk,” he begins.
I’ve forgotten that he wanted to talk to me earlier. What is he planning? My defenses are on high alert.
His eyes glint mischievously. “So… I learned something new today. I was talking to your brother, and he said something interesting.”
I wait, curious what this is all about.
“I didn’t know you liked me, Blaire,” he drawls.
It’s enough to make my body freeze. My eyes shoot to him, the words stuck in my throat. My nerves are strung tight. Really? After all this time he throws it in my face? “Liked,” I stress on the past tense.
“Same difference,” he murmurs. There’s a smug look on his face. He must really enjoy rubbing it in.
I cross my arms. Why is he bringing this up now, of all times? I tilt my head up, studying the row of paint cans in the top shelf behind him. I blow a breath out. “Oh, please. Don’t pretend you didn’t even know.”
“I didn’t,” he answers sharply. “It was news to me.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m sure it is.”
He laughs darkly, the sound almost chilling. “Tell me something—you didn’t think I’d come, did you?” he asks.
His question throws me off. “W-what?”
“You didn’t think I’d come to the wedding.” He looks calm as ever, but I can hear the edge in his voice.
I open my mouth to protest, but just as I begin to, I stop. He’s right. I initially thought that he would be too busy to attend, especially since the announcement was given on short notice. He reads my expression, and as if getting his answer, he mutters something under his breath.
He gives his head a slight shake, a lock of his hair shielding his eyes. “I don’t know what kind of person you’ve made me out to be in that head of yours, Blaire, but I’m curious.”
I feel the guilt kick in. I smooth my dress and take a breath. “Can you blame me? I’m used to the worst case scenario when it comes to you.” Why is he acting so weird?
He’s wearing a grim look, but I can’t tell what he’s thinking. “I have a… proposal.”
He’s switching topics so fast, it’s giving me whiplash. I blink. “Huh?”
Then, with a completely straight face, what comes out of his lips nearly knocks me off my feet. “I need you to be my arm candy.”
Of all the things he could’ve told me, I never would have guessed it would be that. Not in a million years. My mouth hangs open for the first precious seconds after the words left his mouth. It’s the most graceless thing he’s ever said to me, dying rat statement aside. I snap my mouth shut as I struggle to grasp what he just said. Wait a minute… “Come again?”
“My plus one. My special guest,” he adds. As if that makes it sound any better. “For the rest of tonight, and… for the next two months.”
I think I heard him right. I burst out laughing, clutching my stomach. He has to be joking. Until I notice that he isn’t laughing, and I hold it in. Just. “Ryan… You don’t even like me.”
“I like you just fine,” he says smoothly. I roll my eyes. Yeah, sure.
“Why should I be your… arm candy?”
He smirks, his eyes dropping to my lips. “Because you’ll like it.”
I snicker. Unbelievable, this guy.
“You’ll get to grease elbows with people in the industry. Network,” he adds. “More exposure for you.”
He has a point. And yet, I have a feeling that by agreeing with this ridiculous deal, I’m going to lose more than just my privacy—something fragile and infinitely more precious than that. My hand rests over my heart, as if I could protect it any more that way.
“You want to hide in those covers of yours. Hiding your face. Your brother told me.”
My blood goes cold. He knows. He knows I’ve been posting covers of songs online. Did he watch them? Damn Chris. I grit my teeth. “My brother can’t keep his mouth shut. Anyway, I’m not hiding.”
“You’re sticking with the familiar, Blaire,” he taunts.
It grates at me—because he’s right.
“You’re sinking in that pile of oblivion and no one will ever know who you are,” he continues, rubbing salt over my wounds. My biggest insecurities.
“And what do you stand to gain from this?” I shoot back. Why would he ever want me around him, of all people?
“The fans will speculate. It will be good for the upcoming album. Besides,” he looks me over, “you don’t look half-bad.” He nods, when his eyes drag back to my face. “And I won’t be bored.”
He’s eyeing me like he’s speculating the price of a perfectly-cut diamond, and I don’t know whether to laugh, be insulted, or both. As if he ever gets bored wherever he goes, anyway. He has plenty of people to talk to. He thrives on all the attention.
I give him my best smile, taking a step forward in the tight, enclosed space. “If you want fans to speculate, you can date that leggy redhead of yours that’s been topping the charts. What was her name again? Masha? Tasha?” I tease right back.
“Sascha,” he bites out.
“Wow, Ryan, I’m surprised you actually remember.” I start to laugh.
His frown melts, his lips pulling up in a smile. It’s lazy and warm, and I decide I hate it. “You’ve been keeping track. Even earlier.”
Oh my God. “Not hard to when you’re all over the news.”
He hums in reply, but inside, he’s probably gloating.
When you hang out with people whose job is to appear picture-perfect and impeccable at all times, whose toxic words are coated in honey, you learn to read between the lines. “You don’t want me to just be your arm candy. You want me to pretend to be your… your… your pretend honey bunny,” I utter in distaste.
He snorts. “That’s one way to put it.”
My heart speeds up, thinking of the implications. Rubbing my arms to chase away the chill, I voice my fears. “I don’t want my face in the papers or the tabloids.”
“If you’re ever gonna want to make it big with your talent, it’ll happen, Blaire.” It sounds almost ominous, the way he says it.
I bite my lip, considering the consequences. “I don’t know…”
But then he says the magic words that give me the final push—“I’d owe you one.”
There’s a lot I could do with that offer. Even things I can’t decide on right now. With a sigh, I relent. “Fine.”
“We have a deal, Red?” he asks. How does he look so confident leaning back in the shelf of a storeroom? For some reason, it sounds like a challen
ge. And for as long as I’ve known him, I’ve never backed away from one, especially when it came from him.
“Yes.” My head is still struggling to wrap around what he just told me, but he’s not done.
His hand touches my elbow. “Sure?” he asks. “Can’t take that back.”
“Yes.” Only then do I notice how close we are to each other. I take a few steps further away from him, as much as the small space allows. “S-stay where you are,” I blurt out, eyes going wide.
He takes another step, our faces mere inches apart, a determined look crossing over his face. But then his phone rings, and he pulls back. I see the change almost immediately. All business now. More distant, somehow. He answers the call immediately.
“Lance. About fucking time,” he snaps. “In the storeroom. Yeah, when you turn left in the hallway.”
I hear a string of curses at the other end of the line. “Yeah. See you soon.”
Minutes later, I hear keys jangle by the door, shifting the lock, and the door finally opens. A big body muscles his way in the door, and then his eyes find Ryan. Dirty blond hair, piercing eyes, and tattoos all over his arms. He towers over me, intimidating. “How long?” Lance asks, pissed.
Ryan shrugs. “Ten? Fifteen? Wasn’t keeping track.” I make a move towards the door. Both their eyes flick to me. “Blaire, wait,” Ryan says. Oh no. He looks like he has more to say. I have to go.
“Blaire! Ry!” my brother calls out. My brother finds me first. He places his hands over my shoulders, frowning. “Heard about what happened. You okay?”
I only nod.
Try to act normal. Try to act normal.
What just happened?
We hadn’t been there for more than fifteen minutes, but it feels longer. My brother slings an arm around my back and pulls me away. For the first time in my life, I’ve never been so glad with my brother’s interruption.