#Moonstruck_A #Lovestruck Novel

by Sariah Wilson

  “Water?”

  He shook his head. “Steam.”

  He was right. Complete, total, and utter steam.

  Our first kiss had been no fluke.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  I packed quickly and explained to my brothers what was happening. Ryan had graciously extended the invitation to them as well, but they were either grossed out by the idea of watching us together or didn’t want to intrude.

  Fitz glowered disapprovingly in the kitchen. I told him about Ryan’s promise, but it didn’t seem to ease his mind. Cole made a perfunctory effort to talk me out of it, but I ignored him. I was an adult and could make my own decisions.

  It seemed like a waste of money to use the entire bus for just Ryan and me, but I understood his flying phobia. Not to mention that since I’d spent so much time there already, it was starting to feel a little like home to me.

  And whether that feeling was because of the bus or Ryan, I wasn’t sure.

  Once we got onboard, considering how late it was already, we decided to go to sleep. I went into the bathroom to change and brush my teeth.

  When I came out, I was surprised to find Ryan climbing into Fitz’s bunk above mine. “You have a huge, comfortable bed in the back,” I said.

  “I know. I’d rather be here.”

  That caused a series of funny twinges in my heart. I got into the bunk and lay on my right side. It was weird to think of Ryan being so close.

  Then he put his left hand over the side. I reached up and interlaced my fingers with his.

  “Good night, Maisy.”

  “See you in the morning, Ryan.”

  I fell asleep that way, holding on to his hand.

  I wondered what Ryan and I would do with all that time together. Fox didn’t really interact with us unless we stopped somewhere to get gas or grab something to eat. He pretty much stayed in his bunk.

  Ryan and I played video games (where he got to experience repeated failure for the first time in his life), watched movies, and talked. A lot. About everything. Even though I kept telling myself we were from different worlds, we had more in common than we didn’t.

  My favorite activity (besides kissing) was playing music. We wrote. We played all kinds of songs together. I’d never realized it was possible to connect with someone on so many levels.

  When we finally arrived in Los Angeles, Vince took us directly to Ryan’s home. Ryan lived in an expensive, upscale gated community in Calabasas. As the bus driver unloaded our luggage, I realized it hadn’t occurred to me that I didn’t have anywhere to stay for the week we were here. For some reason I thought we’d stay on the bus, but that wasn’t a possibility, given that Vince was currently driving away.

  I could have gone home, but there were four guys I didn’t know very well staying there. Fitz’s friend had invited some buddies to crash, which my brothers were fine with, but I didn’t feel comfortable staying there.

  Angie would probably let me sleep on her couch. I tried texting her, but I didn’t get a response. I grumbled, frustrated.

  “What’s wrong?” Ryan asked as we walked up the driveway to his ridiculous mansion.

  “I just realized I didn’t make any arrangements for while we’re in LA. There’re strange guys at my house, and Angie’s not answering her phone.”

  “Stay here.”

  I desperately wanted to. My mouth even opened and started to say the word yes.

  Which probably meant it was a bad idea. I didn’t want him to get the wrong idea about what was going to happen between us. “I should go to a hotel.” I’d have to rent a car as well. Spending that kind of money wouldn’t make Fitz happy.

  As if he understood my concern, he said, “Fox will be here, and so will my aunt Bibi. We will be well chaperoned, I promise. I have a lot of extra room in this house. You can choose whatever bedroom you want.”

  “Okay.” The word came out involuntarily. I was only thinking of my brother. For Fitz’s financial peace of mind, I would stay at Ryan’s. To distract myself from the lie, I asked, “Your aunt Bibi?”

  “My mother’s sister. She’s Diego’s mom. She took me in after my mom died and raised us together. Until my dad decided I should be a pop star. Now she handles my fan club and most of my social media.”

  The front door opened, and a forty-something Hispanic woman with Diego’s features stepped out. She folded Ryan into a hug before he could even say hello. “Welcome home!” she exclaimed.

  After she finished with her nephew, she turned her attention on me. “You must be Maisy.”

  At first I was flattered, thinking Ryan must have talked about me, but if she was in charge of his social media, of course she would recognize me.

  “Nice to meet you.” I held out my hand to her.

  “We don’t shake hands in this house. We hug.” She pushed my arm aside and pulled me in tight. Her perfume reminded me of my mom’s, as did her embrace. It had been a long time since I’d had a motherly-type person hug me, and it was better than I remembered.

  It made me want to cry.

  “Much as I’d love to catch up, tonight is my book club. There is an enchilada casserole in the fridge. Give me a call if you need anything else.” Bibi kissed Ryan on the cheek and then headed out through the front door.

  Leaving Ryan and me alone.

  “I thought we were going to have chaperones.”

  “In a sense. Bibi lives in the guesthouse, and Fox and the security team stay in the pool house. The bedrooms are upstairs. Come on.”

  I finally got a good look at his place. The first thing that struck me was how much light there was. Everything felt bright and airy. The ceilings were high, the windows enormous. The walls were gleaming white with a dark-wood trim.

  His home managed to be comfortable and cozy while still being big enough to host a Super Bowl. Not a Super Bowl viewing party, the actual game itself.

  “So nobody sleeps in this house except you?” I clarified. Would he understand that I wasn’t ready to do anything beyond making out? Or that I was desperately afraid being alone together in his home might tempt me to change my mind? “This is not what I was led to believe about the sleeping situation.”

  “I promise I can control myself,” Ryan said, dropping a brief kiss on my lips. “But just barely.”

  Trying not to blush, I followed him into a frilly, feminine bedroom. I’d never considered myself to be a girlie girl, but there was something about the canopied bed, mauve pillows, and sparkly chandelier that spoke to my inner princess.

  “I thought you might like this one.”

  “You were right.” I dropped my bags.

  “I’ll let you get settled. When you’re ready, come downstairs and I’ll feed you.” He backed out of the room, grinning at me. “My bedroom is the third door down the hallway, on the right. Just in case. I want to make sure you know where to find me. If you want me.”

  I chucked one of the pillows at him and listened as his laughter trailed down the hallway.

  I kicked off my shoes and let my toes luxuriate in the expensive rug that covered the hardwood floors. I decided to take a very long shower and get changed.

  When I went downstairs to the kitchen, I saw that Ryan had done the same. He was so beautiful that sometimes he stopped me dead in my tracks.

  “What are you staring at?” he teased as he pulled the casserole out of the oven.

  “I was just admiring what a good job I did on your hair,” I responded, sitting down at the kitchen table. “Or maybe I’m just in shock at the sight of you actually cooking.”

  “I can cook. As long as there’re very detailed instructions and somebody else has done all the preparing and putting it together first.”

  “Which means you can reheat things. Not cook.”

  “What about you? Do you cook?” He took out a metal spatula and cut some square pieces for us. He put them on plates.

  “I’m lacking that particular gene. The only thing I’m good at is brownies.”

&nb
sp; He brought me one of the plates and a fork. “Why brownies?”

  “My mom has a secret recipe that’s been handed down for generations. She promised to pass it along to me, but she had her accident before she could. So I’ve been trying to re-create them for years. Nothing’s ever quite right.”

  “I’d like to meet your mom.”

  I had a bite of food almost to my wide-open mouth when his words made me freeze. “Why?”

  Ryan shrugged. “She’s someone important to you, and I’ve already met everyone else who’s important to you. Just like you’ve officially met everyone important to me.”

  That caused a hysterical panic that I hadn’t felt since . . . after I’d kissed him onstage. He seemed to bring out that feeling in me a lot.

  Probably because his request indicated a level of seriousness and commitment that shouldn’t have existed in our fake relationship.

  Was it still fake, though? We were kissing. Being affectionate. Spending all our free time together. I was eating dinner with him in his house after traveling with him halfway across the country to get here. And I’d be sleeping here tonight.

  “I have to meet with my agent and my dad tomorrow, and then there’re a few rehearsals for the USMAs starting the day after that. Maybe closer to the end of the week, before we head back and meet everybody in North Dakota?”

  “Okay.” Much as I’d agreed to stay there without thinking, now I did the same thing about him meeting my mom.

  Admittedly, some part of me wanted them to meet, even if she would immediately forget.

  “Do you want to come to the rehearsals, too?”

  That I definitely wanted to do. “Absolutely.” Not for any business purpose. I should be doing my best to network and make some new connections in the industry. Instead, and despite the fact that I’d already seen him a bunch of times, I wanted to watch Ryan perform.

  I wanted to be where he was.

  My phone rang before I could finish my potential freak-out. I didn’t want to interrupt our first dinner together, but if it was one of my brothers, they would call until I picked up. I glanced at the screen. “It’s Angie. Excuse me a second.”

  I walked into the family room and answered. “Hey! Guess who’s in LA?”

  “You and Ryan De Luna. Your boyfriend.”

  “How did you know that?”

  “I read ENZ every day, thank you very much.” She sounded insulted that I’d questioned her knowledge of the movements of pop stars. “Ryan’s supposed to perform at the USMAs this week. I figured he would come. I just didn’t know you’d be here, too. This is excellent.”

  Ignoring her implication, I said, “I’m going to visit my mom tomorrow. Do you want to get dinner after that? And maybe hang out with me at the USMAs rehearsals? If you can get the time off?”

  “I can probably take one sick day this week, but that’s it. Your timing is perfect, though. Hector’s parents asked to keep the baby for the next few days, so I’m free to hang out and do whatever. I would love to have dinner and go to some rehearsals! And make sure your man’s good enough for you.”

  There was no point in rolling my eyes since she couldn’t see me. “Sounds good. I’ll text you later with the details.”

  “I’m assuming your lover boy is nearby, but when we’re alone, you will tell me about that song and that kiss because I completely died when I saw it.”

  “Talk to you later!” I said, not knowing if Ryan could hear her or not. She tended to be loud on the phone.

  “What did Angie have to say?” Ryan asked as I sat back down.

  Nothing I could repeat to him. “We planned to have dinner tomorrow night.” I have no idea what possessed me to add on, “Do you want to come?”

  “Yeah. That sounds fun.”

  “Bring Fox. I want him and Angie to get married.”

  “Do they know that?”

  “They do, but they’re being stubborn.” I told him about Hector and how he and Fox had served together. And all the cute little glances I’d observed between them the night Ryan and I met, and how Fox didn’t deny that he had feelings for her.

  We finished eating, and Ryan asked if I wanted more. I told him I was stuffed, and after I thanked him for the meal, I got up to clear the plates.

  “What are you doing?” he asked. “You’re my guest.”

  “You ‘cooked’ and served; I wash up. That’s how it works.”

  Which consisted of rinsing off our plates and forks and sticking them in the dishwasher while Ryan packed up the rest of the casserole. We were being so domestic, and it felt . . . strangely natural. Not like we were playing house. Like it was the real thing. As if we’d done this a million times before and would do it a million more.

  “I’m kind of beat,” Ryan said. “Feel like watching a movie and then turning in?”

  “Sure. If I get to pick.” Our bus choices had been mainly his favorites since it was his bus and his movies. He really liked movies about music stars and explosions, and old black-and-whites.

  I dried my hands and followed him into the living room. He logged me in to the streaming service attached to his TV, and I chose one of my favorites, Say Anything. “Have you seen this before?” I asked.

  “Nope.”

  “That should be listed in the Geneva Convention as a crime against humanity,” I told him. “One of the greatest movies ever. My mom used to watch it religiously. Sometimes when I visit her, we just sit and watch it together. It’s like the 1980s answer to Romeo and Juliet.” Say Anything didn’t come out until after my mom had graduated from high school, so at every viewing it was like she was seeing it for the first time.

  He leaned against the couch, and without overthinking things, I cuddled into his side. His arm went around my shoulders.

  Ryan, however, did not seem impressed with the movie, not even during the pivotal boom-box scene, where Lloyd Dobler stood outside Diane Court’s house, willing her to remember how important “In Your Eyes” was. He wouldn’t let her forget what it had meant to both of them. He was expressing his devotion through that song.

  “Why didn’t he try getting her flowers?” Ryan whispered, and I hushed him. He was silent for only a few moments before he added, “Take away what I assume is the happy ending, and this is just a restraining order waiting to happen.”

  I paused the movie, irritated. “You’re saying that only because you have actual stalkers. This is romantic. He’s serenading her. Like they used to do back in olden times. Telling her he loves her. That he’s willing to make a fool of himself to win her back. Are you planning on watching the movie, or are you just going to annoy me?”

  In an attempt to calm me down, he gently kissed my forehead and said, “I can do both. Because wouldn’t his arms get tired? That thing looks heavy.”

  I elbowed him in the side and instructed him to be quiet. He chuckled. He did manage to keep his comments to himself and let me enjoy the rest of the movie.

  When it was over, I told him I was tired. He walked me upstairs and stopped outside my room. “Are you upset with me?”

  “Not upset. Aggravated.” I’d get over it. My brothers aggravated me on a daily basis. I was kind of a pro at dealing with it. “I love Say Anything. I was hoping you would, too.”

  “We don’t have to like all the same things. If anything, our differences will make things exciting. I do think it’s funny that a hard-core rocker chick like you would be such a fan of a romance.”

  “I like romance,” I said, feeling a bit insulted. “My music doesn’t define everything about me. I like all kinds of romantic stuff. Movies. Books.”

  “Boyfriends?”

  I realized I could really like a romantic boyfriend. “Depends on what he thinks is romantic.”

  He slipped his arms around my waist, and I sank into the feel of him. The tiny sparks he generated set off small flames inside my veins. “I can think of something romantic both you and I really enjoy doing, if you’re interested.”

  I was inte
rested.

  After kissing me for a very long time and more passionately than he probably should have, I finally told him good night and fell asleep quickly. I had always been a ridiculously light sleeper. When my mom was in full-on lecture mode of the “Do you know what I’ve done/given up for you” variety, she always brought it up. “Do you know how many times I had to get up in the middle of the night with you because you heard some small noise?”

  It was how I knew when any of my brothers snuck out of the house. They still owed me so many favors for keeping my mouth shut all those years.

  So when my bedroom door quietly opened, I was instantly awake. Not afraid, because I knew Ryan would never let anything happen to me. But alert.

  “Maisy?”

  “I’m up.” I glanced over at the small digital clock next to the bed. Three thirty in the morning.

  I felt my mattress sink as he sat on it, next to my knees. I went to reach for the lamp on my nightstand, but he put his hand on my forearm.

  “Leave the light off.”

  At the sound of his deep, husky instruction, my blood thickened, and my pulse hammered inside me. He didn’t release my arm and instead locked his fingers with mine.

  “There’s something I want to say, and I think it’ll be easier without the light on.”

  My heartbeat had become so loud that I was surprised it wasn’t shaking the bed. I didn’t know what I expected him to say, but I could tell from the tone of his voice that it was important.

  “I know what I said. That I wouldn’t pressure you or try to influence you. I wanted you to make a decision on your own. But, Maisy, I can’t stay quiet. I want this to be real.”

  “What?” What did he want to be real? Us?

  “I don’t want to pretend to date you. I want to be with you. Because I think . . . I think I’m in love with you.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Every molecule inside me froze and then sped up, threatening to burst.

  “I’ve never been in love before. All I know is that what I feel for you is different from anything else I’ve ever felt, so . . .” He let out a self-conscious laugh. “For someone who sings about it constantly, you would think I’d know.”