Two Hearts and a Lie (Offstage Book 2)

by Rica Grayson

  But isn’t she right? I’m a damn liar.

  I’m still chuckling on the way out. “Let’s get back to practice.”

  What the hell just happened?

  I thought I had her. I thought that for someone who hid behind the camera, who hid how she felt towards me all these years, I finally had her.

  I pick up something that dropped from her bag in her hurry. I brush away the dirt. A battered purple notebook with the word Smile printed on it in silver lettering. The one she had back in my music room.

  So quick to leave. She isn’t the only one slow to trust, and with my work, I have to be careful. Every time I come home and meet old friends, it’s like breathing in clean air. Everything comes off—plastered smiles, measured words, calculated replies. The facade simply melts away, like life before the whole storm of the media and the fans began.

  I don’t know when or how it even started, but Blaire and I always gravitated towards each other. It didn’t matter which event—we clashed every chance we had. Like our paths can’t cross without pissing each other off. It’s a game we played, and while it was fun while it lasted, I’m done. I stopped wanting the back and forth—the chase, or whatever she’d like to call it. All I really want is her.

  She didn’t look back. Closing herself off before I could do more damage.

  She thinks she can go back to normal, as if this never happened. Fucking ridiculous. If she wants that distance so badly, I’m giving it to her. It’s damn near going to kill me to wait but I’m going to do it. Then maybe she’ll know I’m not going anywhere.

  Orion, as my security team head, walks over to me, telling me about how everything’s already in place and we’re leaving soon. He clears his throat.

  Shit. I haven’t been paying attention. He knows me well by now. He wears a cryptic look, but he doesn’t say anything. What the hell is with everyone today?

  “I’m guessing you didn’t hear a thing,” Orion surmises.

  “What?” I ask at his look, tempering my frustration.

  He grunts. “Nothing.”

  I might not like it, but I can deal with honesty. I know I can at least count on that when it comes to him. “You can say it.”

  “I don’t know what the hell happened, but...” He releases a sigh and tilts his head up, looking at the darkened clouds in the sky. “She’s good for you. Takes you away from the cold, ruthless side of the biz.” Isn’t that the damn truth?

  “You don’t like to let everyone in, I get that,” he adds. “Everyone wants something from you, yeah? But doesn’t seem to me she looks for any of those things.”

  A fist squeezes tight in my chest.

  “The car’s ready, Ryan,” Orion says, his face once again inscrutable.

  I should’ve told her. But I didn’t. The lie twists in my gut.

  One week. One week and I saw her. For once she didn’t hate me. For once we didn’t fight like it’s the only thing we know. I liked that. All ruined by what seemed like a little harmless omission. And if I don’t get a chance to explain, I get the feeling I’ll lose her.

  Blaire

  “How was your trip?” my brother asks at breakfast. He picked me up this morning from the airport and we bought some crepes near my apartment. He’s surprisingly calm, and knowing him, I’m not buying it one bit.

  “It was fine,” I answer placidly.

  He’s being nosy but I don’t give him any answers. I wonder if he helped Ryan plan this all out.

  “Were you in on it?” I drizzle honey over my crepe in the shape of an angry face. I place butter on top of the drizzle in the shape of a mouth. Now my crepe has a frowning face and a mouth full of butter. I smile.

  He frowns. “In on what?”

  Maybe he doesn’t know. Maybe… I stop and study him. I give my head a little shake.

  Nah. He’s too intent on answers to know everything that happened. My brother may be clueless at times, but he would never hurt me like that. “Nothing,” I reply quickly.

  He rolls his eyes, seeing my crepe. He drizzles a star over his own. “Who’s that meant to be?”

  “Ryan,” I answer like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

  He snorts. “I was thinking it’s about time you two got together. Me and Shelly were kind of half-tempted to lock you two in a room to make you and Ry even have a decent conversation.”

  My head whirls around this new piece of information. About time?

  “We—we have conversations,” I stammer.

  “Sure. You talked without talking at all,” he points out.

  “That doesn’t even make sense.”

  “I know he hurt you,” he begins slowly. “But that was several years ago. It’s not easy being in the public eye and dealing with all that. He’s changed now.”

  And so have I. I can try to overlook everything that happened in the past, but this time I’ve grown to trust him. Maybe to him it was all fun and games. But I thought it meant something to him, too. I don’t know how he does it, but he manages to chip at my defenses, taking a piece of my heart each time.

  “You’ve gone quiet,” he notes. “Just give it some thought, okay?”

  Somehow, I’ve always known that underneath the teasing is the fear that if I give him half the chance to burrow under my skin, he would take everything with ruthless, devastating force—and the jerk would say you’re welcome. I stab at my crepe a little too hard.

  Chris nods his head towards my windows. “Will you be okay here? All those paps outside. Good thing you called me.”

  This makes me grin. “I’ll be fine. I can handle myself.” Like I always have. This time won’t be any different.

  A rueful smile touches his lips. “You always did handle yourself fine. Makes us worry that you won’t say a thing even when you can’t.”

  He’s right. I dip my head down and eat my crepe without a word. Guilty as charged.

  But he clears his throat, and when I look back up questioningly, a stern look hardens his face. “He knows this, but… He hurts you, best friend or not, he’s fucked.”

  I stare at my inbox and groan. In the space of just a little over a week my emails grew by threefold, and the thought of responding to them all feels a little paralyzing. I’m not sure how that happened. I’m almost afraid to read through all my messages. But I slog through each and every one, and by the time I finish, I decide I need more coffee—never mind that it’s half-past three in the afternoon.

  No surprise, I found a lot of comments about him. I pointedly avoid those.

  My eyes drag back to my phone. It’s been three days. He hasn’t called. Not that I’ve really been keeping track. I try to bury the disappointment. I guess I’ll still hear from him. After all, fake or not, I agreed to make the whole world believe we’re in love. I guess it’s clear that part is only on my end.

  Unable to help myself, I find myself searching Ryan’s name in Google. Of course, mine came up with it. Damn it. I browse through the headlines quickly and nearly miss my phone vibrating on the couch. Oops.

  It’s Jackson. “Blaire!” he exclaims. “I thought we were friends.” He sighs dramatically.

  I try to think about what I could’ve said to make him say that, but I come up blank. “Umm… We are.”

  “Just the other week I was with you at your sister’s wedding, and a few days ago you were apparently at his mom’s mansion in LA. What the fuck?”

  I rub at my forehead. Okay, so I haven’t exactly been sharing. “I’m sorry. Things happened really fast.”

  “I bet.” Amusement floods his tone. “You’ve gone pretty quiet on social media too—and I know how often you update those. Are you okay?”

  His question makes me stop and consider my answer. “Jacks, I don’t know what to do,” the words spill out, feeling the desperate need to vent.

  He doesn’t skip a beat. “Talk to me.”

  “He wanted me to be his arm candy for his promo on his supposedly upcoming album, and he set up all those fake dates, but
it turned out it was all a lie.” The string of words come out in a rush.

  “Huh? Slow down a sec. Who?”

  “Ryan!”

  He squeals. Not the reaction I was expecting.

  My eyes fall shut. “I’m in love with him.” The simple truth of it wraps all over me. I was never good at pretending. I don’t know how I thought I could fool myself for even a second.

  Last week made one thing painfully clear—that even though I’ve tried to convince myself otherwise, that he no longer owns my heart, I’m still in love with him. And faced with the truth, his lie is devastating.

  He’s quiet for only a moment. “Is it so bad?” Jackson asks, his voice softening. “Falling for him?”

  “Yes.” One hundred percent. Downright catastrophic. “No. Maybe.” Argh.

  “You’ve got a problem,” he teases me lightly. “So… Take me back to the start. Fake dates?”

  “Back at the wedding, he told me an album was coming, and he asked me to pretend to be his girlfriend.” Already, it seemed like a lifetime ago. “So people can talk about us.”

  He gasps, thrilled. “You said yes?”

  “I did.”

  There’s a pause before he says, “Oh, Blaire. He persuaded you.”

  “What do I do?” I burst out.

  He hums in thought. “So… You’re telling me, the fake dates are actually fake fake dates, just so he can spend time with you?”

  What? “He made it all up.”

  He starts to laugh. “Wow.”

  “It’s not funny.”

  “Blaire,” he says, sobering. “Don’t you see? He probably planned everything to spend time with you.”

  I reject the idea of it almost immediately. “He wouldn’t do that.”

  “And why not?”

  “Why would he?” I challenge. “Jackson, it makes no sense.”

  He huffs out a breath. “Doesn’t it? You’re gorgeous and super talented and creative. I wonder why?” he asks dryly. “Because from what you’ve told me, after the wedding and all the dates?”

  “Fake dates,” I correct him.

  This seems to crack him up. “Are you so sure about that?”

  “What do you mean?” I ask carefully.

  “Are they really fake, Blaire? Do you really think that? Truly?”

  I open my mouth to answer and shut it. I close my eyes and draw in a deep breath. No. They didn’t feel fake at all. I never even suspected anything. “But he’s Ryan Carson. It’s not like he’s lacking for company or whatever. He can ask anyone he wants.”

  “And yet he chose you.” Before I scramble for another excuse, he goes on. “Blaire, I know you two have had some history, but for him to go that far...” He trails off, letting me fill in the blank.

  “I thought we were past all that,” I confess. My heart squeezes in my chest. “Maybe at the start, but after? If we’re to have something, it has to be something real.”

  “I get that,” Jackson replies, understanding. “That was a calculated move, trying to get you to spend time with him.”

  “Have you heard from Gretch?” I ask, hoping to lighten the mood. I miss her. I haven’t heard much from her lately, and we usually talk a lot. She’d kick my butt into gear for sure. Telling me moping won’t do me any good.

  “Now that you mention it, not a whole lot. But she says she’s busy helping her aunt move into their new house lately.”

  “Oh.” I miss her. “I got her some stuff from the trip.”

  “I just talked to her yesterday and she said she’s going to a friend’s party tonight. I’m actually coming over later to do her make-up. She’s been asking about you too. Want to come?”

  The news perks me up. It’s been a while since we last talked. “Sure.”

  When Gretchen opens the door, I’m immediately struck by how removed their house feels from the busy streets and loud crowds. A new coffee table sits by the side of the wall, next to a lounge chair. Her mom redecorated again. With earthy colors and fresh flowers on the table, it softens the cold, industrial steel from the outside. The pool sparkles in the back of the house, her one favorite thing about it.

  She beams at Jackson, but when she spots me, her smile freezes in place. “Gretch!” I hug her, and a few seconds later, she hugs me back, a small squeeze, letting me know everything is okay.

  Relieved, I smile wide. “I come bearing gifts.” I pass her a gift bag, which she accepts, thrilled. “Blaire. Thank you! You didn’t have to. How are you?”

  While Jackson did her make-up, he rambled on about his previous client who wasn’t only late, but kept critiquing every technique he used. He deemed it worse than the client last year who turned up smelling like she rolled over rotten fish and had a field day there.

  By the time he finished, Gretchen stands up looking like she stepped out of a Vogue photoshoot, beach-wave curls and peach-tinted lips, the effect sweet but sultry. Jackson has always impressed me with his talent, and this time is no different.

  She gasps when she stares at her reflection in the mirror. “Oh my God. Thanks, Jacks! You’re the best.”

  “Are you leaving soon?” he asks her.

  “You worked your magic in record time. My friend’s picking me up in half an hour still.”

  Jackson’s phone starts to ring. He frowns. “Oh shoot. It’s my client. Gotta take this call. Excuse me.” He answers the call, leaving us both in the room.

  “You look amazing,” I tell Gretchen.

  “Thanks, Blaire.” Her cheeks turn pink at the compliment. “Have fun in Tokyo?” she asks, pushing open the sliding door leading to their pool area.

  It’s a cool night, and I rub my hands together for a little warmth. “I did. We went to LA, too. To meet his mom. Gretch, it was amazing.” I can’t keep the wistfulness from my voice.

  She gives me a measuring look. “Okay, what is it? I can tell something’s on your mind.”

  She sits down by the edge of the pool in her white robe and I follow, and we dip our toes in the water. I swing my legs, in the carefree way we used to. We spent many summers this way, back when everything was simpler. Although I never learnt to swim, I always figured this was her way of making me feel included, not sitting away from the rest of her friends.

  “I don’t know what to do. The whole fake dates thing for promo isn’t even real. And it will be over soon, our deal… It’s only for a month.”

  “One month?” Her forehead creases. “And what happens after that?”

  “Then we go back to before,” I admit. My heart sinks at the thought, but I push it away. “Hey, he invited me to this gala thing. Want to come? Got you an invite too, with all the goodies. We can have fun and eat food nobody really likes to eat but they pretend they like anyway, to blend in.”

  She withdraws her legs from the pool abruptly, and water splashes around us.

  I take in her response and the way she greeted me earlier… and I can’t help but notice she’s acting strange. “Gretch?”

  She isn’t saying anything. It’s so unlike her. “I don’t want to go to the gala.”

  Her swift rejection, casually delivered and wholly unexpected, hits me like a blow.

  “So I can what? Pretend too, in front of all those people I don’t know? I can’t pretend like you, Blaire.”

  Another dig, and it hurts. Bewildered, I pull myself to my feet. Where is this coming from?

  “You grow up around all these amazing people, and you take it for granted, and then you avoid them like hell.” It takes me a moment to take it all in, to read what she’s not saying. And then it clicks—she means Ryan.

  “I’ve tried to get you out of that shell so you can meet people, so they can see you. And the thing is, you’re amazing, Blaire, and so talented. And still you’re not taking all these chances.

  “I like him too, you know.” Her admission stops me cold. She can only mean one person. “I know it’s never going to happen, and everyone knows you two have always been circling around each other.
But I have, like, the biggest crush on him.”

  My stomach feels like lead. I didn’t know. What kind of friend does that make me? “I thought… I thought you liked Clay.” I feel so numb, only just seeing what I’ve never noticed before.

  “You’ve never gotten along so I didn’t want to say anything. I’ve supported you in everything. And when the guy I really like seems to really be head over heels when it comes to you, you don’t even have the guts to chase after him?” she blurts out, accusing.

  “Blaire, you’re lucky. Really lucky. I may as well have been invisible at the wedding. It’s so obvious how he feels about you, and you never saw it.” Her bitter words make my heart ache. I can’t believe that my best friend liked him all this time, and I never even realized.

  “What you have? Not everybody gets that.” More words pierce through, each one like a blade. And although maybe I didn’t fully deserve that, I’m still sorry for making her feel that way. She exhales a deep breath, like venting it all took a weight from her chest. I catch the moment regret creeps in, and as I try to apologize, the warning look she wears silences the words on my lips. She knows me too well.

  She looks down at her wet robe. “I need to get changed,” she says, her shoulders slumping.

  When I reach out to try to stop her from leaving, she jerks her hand away. The action throws me go off-balance. The ground, wet from the splash of water, makes me slip, and suddenly I’m falling.

  Cold. The water sucks me deep under. I try to kick with my legs and flail my arms, but it’s useless. The water chokes my lungs, and in the back of my mind, I can’t help but wonder… Is anyone going to come?

  Chapter 22

  Ryan

  My heart stops.

  It happened fast. Just as I walked in, I saw Gretchen’s arm move, and then Blaire fell into the water. I don’t think. I jump in.

  Earlier, I asked Jackson if he knew where Blaire was, and he told me they were swinging by Gretchen’s. I didn’t have to be a genius to hear the underlying threat in his tone when we talked.