#Moonstruck_A #Lovestruck Novel

by Sariah Wilson

  He pulled me close against him, his entire body a strong, hot line of fire that should have burned me but instead only made me feel deliciously hazy and pliant.

  His warm, strong fingers pressed into my bare back, and I sighed with pleasure, which he matched with a rough sigh of his own. I shook from the intensity of his kiss, from the blaze he seemed to so easily control inside me.

  At some point my nerve endings rearranged themselves to be connected to my lips so that every movement, every change in pressure, caused them to spark into ever-increasing flames. And each flame stole a breath, and another, and another. I’d never felt more safe or more sure than I did completely breathless in his arms, against his lips.

  I pushed against him slightly, not wanting this moment to ever end, but finally remembered myself. “Ryan? As you once said, we have company.”

  His breathing was labored, his eyes unfocused. It took him a second to regain control of himself. I brushed away a lock of his hair that had fallen over his forehead, and he grabbed my wrist and pressed a hot kiss against it, causing my tremors to start up all over again.

  Which made me almost forget about that whole-being-surrounded-by-thousands-of-people thing.

  “That wasn’t a glacier, Maisy Harrison. That was a bonfire. In front of everyone.”

  There was a certain symmetry to it, I supposed. I’d kissed him for the first time in front of the whole world. It somehow seemed appropriate that I would tell him I loved him for the first time in the same way.

  “Sorry, what was the question?” Ryan asked the reporter, eliciting laughter from everybody nearby. He thanked them, and we went into the theater. Once we were briefly out of sight of the cameras, Ryan spun me up against a wall and pinned me in place.

  “You love me.”

  “I do.”

  “I want to hear you say the words.”

  “I love you, Ryan De Luna.”

  Then he proceeded to show me, without words, just how much he loved me in return.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  During Skyler’s performance at the awards ceremony, I told him about her threats. He laughed for about five minutes, which I think the cameras caught and would probably spin another way. Like we were making fun of Skyler or something. When he finally calmed down, he told me I had nothing to worry about.

  “There is zero chance of Skyler Smith and me ever getting together. We were never even together in the first place. We went out on one ‘date’ because we were with the same label and our agents arranged it. Not to mention I’m not exactly her type.”

  Not her type? Was she blind as well as stupid? “What do you mean?”

  “Those friends? Her ‘crew’? Not just friends. More than friends. If Skyler said she wanted me, it’s only to be her beard.”

  Oh. “Did she tell you that?”

  “No.”

  Then he was just assuming. He didn’t actually know. “If it’s true, why would she hide it?”

  “A lot of famous people do. They don’t want to get pigeonholed. Like I told you, perception is everything. But know that I’m enjoying your jealousy.”

  “I’m not jealous.” I was jealous. A Jealous McJealouson. “I just don’t want your ex-girlfriend to ruin my life.”

  “You don’t have to worry about her. What do you think about sneaking out of here early? My performance is done. I have my pseudo award. Want to go?”

  I looked up, as if actually considering my answer. I desperately wanted to leave, to be alone with him and not surrounded by cameras or fans.

  “Come on, Maisy. Say yes, please.”

  In a low voice I told him, “Yes, please.”

  He let out a groan. “Unfair. You can say things like that when I have to behave.” Then he kissed me hard but all too briefly. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

  “Won’t it be a fun way to go?”

  “I don’t know. Let’s find out.”

  The tide of the internet turned in my favor after the awards show. Skyler had so many Twitter feuds with so many different celebrities that nobody paid her much attention. The consensus seemed to be that she came off as desperate and pathetic while I, by maintaining my silence, seemed classy.

  The comments on the YouTube video of Ryan singing to me had also changed in their tone.

  I did know I was the luckiest girl in the whole world. With the awards show over, Ryan and I traveled back to meet the rest of the crew and continue the tour. On the way, I helped him with his revenge prank on Cole, which involved a ton of Ping-Pong balls being stuffed into his bunk and held in place by industrial-strength plastic wrap.

  Cole was not happy, but it was really hilarious. I then asked both sides for a cease-fire because I knew how quickly this could escalate.

  As we traveled to new cities and new stadiums and arenas, something funny started to happen. People knew the words to our songs. Our downloads increased dramatically, as did our video views. We even got rid of one of the covers from our set list and replaced it with another original song.

  Bloggers and magazines started calling us for interviews. In every single one, Parker and Cole were relentlessly charming and hilarious, which everyone seemed to respond to. At the venues, people were waiting to meet us, wanting our autographs. Girls even screamed and jumped up and down for my brothers, which I still did not get.

  On top of everything else, Ryan’s “Be With You” video dropped and earned the highest number of views in a single day ever.

  One fan. Skyler Smith could kiss my butt.

  After sound check at the venue in Chicago, Ryan and I were hanging out in his dressing room, cuddling on the couch. They had insisted he do a meet and greet. I listened as he told me all the reasons why he didn’t like doing them. Then in the middle of his monologue, he interrupted himself.

  “Do you ever think about the future?”

  “Um, all the time. I worry about my mom, mostly.”

  He held up my hand, studying it. “I mean a future for you and me.”

  My pulse exploded, skittering frantically underneath my skin. Because, no, I hadn’t. I’d been living day to day, taking things as they came. I didn’t think about tomorrow when it came to Ryan.

  “Have you?” I asked.

  “It wasn’t something I ever considered before, but recently I’ve been thinking about things like getting married.”

  I think I blacked out for a second because he couldn’t possibly have just said what I thought he said.

  Could he?

  “What?” I whispered.

  “I think I’d like to have kids. A big family, like yours.”

  It was like my entire body had turned into one giant heartbeat, drumming so hard I couldn’t hear or think. In my life rules, the unspoken Rule #3 was “Never marry a musician.” How could I marry and have a family with someone who would always be gone? Who would always have to deal with an unending horde of women who would constantly offer themselves to him?

  “Any thoughts?”

  I was glad we were both facing the same direction and he couldn’t see my panicked expression. I gulped. “When I think about the future, it’s mostly about making the band work out. I don’t have to be famous. I just want to make enough money so we can earn a living from it without having to do crappy second jobs. And still take care of our mother. I’ve honestly never thought about marriage. Ever.”

  “Really? Never?”

  “I’ve thought about it in the abstract sense. But it terrifies me. The same way that becoming intimate physically terrifies me. I’ve never wanted to care that much about someone. Never wanted to give a man that kind of power over me that he could destroy me the way my dad destroyed my mom. I joke a lot about my overprotective brothers driving guys off, but the truth is that I’m the one who drives them off.”

  The silence between us felt physical. Like it was shaping itself into a wedge and setting between us.

  “So not only am I the first man you’ve let yourself care about but also the first
one you haven’t tried to scare away.”

  I nodded.

  He turned me on my side so I could look up and into his eyes. “Maisy, you do realize that whatever power or control you think I have over you, you have that same kind of control and power over me. I could never hurt you because I would only be hurting myself. I’m not your father, and you’re not your mother.”

  There was a knock at the door, telling Ryan it was time for the meet and greet.

  He stood up and kissed the back of my hand. “Maybe think about our discussion. About whether or not you see possibilities for us.”

  Maybe think about it? It was all I was going to think about from now on. And panic about.

  Ryan De Luna saw a future with me in it.

  I probably should have gone back to my own dressing room and done vocal warm-ups. Instead, I found myself on the outer fringe at the meet and greet. I knew his heart wasn’t in the event, but his fans would never have been able to figure it out. He made everyone feel special. He comforted the crying girls and got them to laugh. Whenever a gorgeous woman flirted and acted all seductive, his eyes automatically flickered back to me, ignoring her. Like I was the only woman he could see.

  A little bald girl in a wheelchair came through. The flirting women got seconds with him, but he spent a good five minutes talking to this girl, signing everything she wanted signed and taking picture after picture with her. Ryan even called Fox over and upgraded their seats, giving them VIP passes.

  When they were done, the girl’s sobbing mother threw her arms around Ryan’s neck, thanking him for giving her sick daughter such an amazing gift. My own eyes welled up with tears. Ryan calmed down the mother and sent them on their way.

  Watching him with that girl, with all the kids who came to meet him, made me realize he would be such a good father. I knew he’d be a good husband because he was already the most amazing boyfriend in the entire world. He was right. I wasn’t my mom, and he wasn’t my dad. It wasn’t fair to make Ryan pay for crimes he’d never committed.

  Marriage had always seemed like an overwhelming, frightening concept. A fire-breathing, scaly dragon I couldn’t face alone. But with my own devoted knight at my side, it didn’t seem nearly as scary or unconquerable as it had even minutes before.

  After the show, I got on the bus and was shocked when everybody yelled out, “Surprise! Happy birthday!”

  Ryan bringing up marriage earlier had consumed my every thought. I’d forgotten it was my birthday.

  Balloons covered the ceiling, and streamers hung haphazardly along the walls. I wondered if my brothers had been in charge of those. All my siblings were there, along with Ryan’s band, Piper, and the dancers.

  Ryan grabbed me and picked me up off my feet. “Happy birthday.”

  “Thank you. I can’t believe you threw me a surprise party. I’ve never had one of those before.”

  “Well, in honor of it being your twenty-second birthday, you get two of everything. Like . . .” He gestured to where two big pies decorated with birthday candles sat on the kitchen counter.

  “Are those pumpkin pies?”

  “I know, birthday pie is not really a thing. But that’s your favorite, right?”

  It was. How did he remember stuff like that?

  Because he loves you.

  I couldn’t stop the tear that fell onto my cheek. “My mom used to make me pumpkin pie. All the time.”

  “Sweetheart,” Ryan said, rubbing away the tear with his thumb, “I didn’t want to make you sad.”

  I leaned my head against his chest. “You didn’t. You made me really, really happy. Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. We haven’t even gotten to the presents.”

  My brothers came over to hug me and wish me a happy birthday. They told me to sit at the table, and everyone sang to me as they brought both pies over. I’d never heard such a beautiful rendition of the birthday song before. Totally on key, with perfect harmonies.

  When it was time to blow out the candles, I made the same wish I did every year. For my mom to get better.

  Everyone cheered and applauded and started loading up the table with presents. Fitz gave me his first so he could help Piper cut up the pie and serve it. The card said it was from both of them. They had bought me a pair of emerald earrings, the stone for my birth month. Parker threw his present at me: two expensive-looking pairs of sunglasses. Cole gave me a set of guitar picks that he claimed had once belonged to Christa Harbinger.

  I was touched not only by their thoughtfulness but also by the fact that they had obviously dug into the money we’d been saving to buy me presents. I thanked them, hugging them as best I could, given the crush of people surrounding us.

  The other presents were also two-themed, and everything was meant for me to use while on tour. A pair of small throw pillows, a set of comfy slippers, and some wool-lined socks. Nothing big and bulky that would be difficult for me to lug around.

  “Ryan’s turn!” Parker announced when I’d opened all the other gifts and thanked everybody.

  To be honest, I was a little bit afraid of what Ryan might do. If he might have a wedding ring in his pocket. My heart expanded into my throat, choking the air from me. He wouldn’t do that, would he?

  “What do you think I got you?” he asked as if he could read my mind and knew just how much I was freaking out.

  “Jewelry?” I could barely squeak out the word.

  “Not jewelry.”

  Powerful relief surged through me, allowing me to relax.

  “Because what would Maisy Harrison love more than jewelry?” he asked.

  “Being right,” Cole yelled out, just avoiding my swatting hand.

  “Could you be any more annoying?” I asked my brother. “By the way, that was rhetorical, not a challenge.”

  “Come see,” Ryan said, gesturing me over. He stood in front of the closed bunk-alley door. “Open it.”

  Just beyond the doorway stood two guitars: a custom acoustic Martin guitar just like he had, and a blue-edged Fender Stratocaster. These were not guitars that cost hundreds of dollars. They cost thousands. Maybe tens of thousands.

  “I wanted to replace your broken Dreadnought. I bought you two in case you lose one or some random crazy person breaks it,” Ryan said. He went over and picked up the Fender. “This one I had signed.” He turned it over, and Bonnie Raitt’s signature was on the back.

  He handed it to me.

  “Ryan, I couldn’t possibly accept.” But I said it even as my fingers curled around the neck of the guitar. It was so beautiful. And the perfect weight. I plucked at the strings, excited to sit down and tune it.

  “Seems like you just did. Are you going to tell me I spent too much money?”

  “No.” I turned over the guitar and ran my fingers over where one of my idols had signed it. “You can afford it. And it would be really selfish of me to deny you the pleasure of giving me a gift.”

  He threw his head back and laughed, and it filled me with such an overwhelming wave of love that I wrapped my arms around him, squeezing tight. “Thank you, Ryan. This is literally the best gift anyone’s ever given me.”

  “Hey!” Parker protested somewhere behind me, but I didn’t care.

  I looked up at the most incredible boyfriend in the entire universe. “Thank you. I love you, Ryan.”

  “Because I bought you guitars?” he teased.

  “No. I love you for who you are. I see you, the man. Not the money, not the pop star. And that’s who I love.”

  He kissed me then. The gentle warmth of his mouth blurred my mind with hazy pleasure. Each kiss was longer, slower, and more intoxicating than the last.

  “Gross! Give her the tonsillectomy later, dude. There’s a party going on!”

  We broke apart, but the promise and want in his eyes nearly made me reconsider. We went back into the lounge, and Fitz handed me a piece of pie. I asked Ryan to hold my guitar for a second.

  The pie was delicious. “This is now the sec
ond-best thing that’s ever happened to my mouth.”

  Ryan laughed at our private joke. When I finished, he gave me back the Fender and retrieved the Martin. I wouldn’t let anyone else touch my guitars, and I sat there holding them, not knowing which one to love and play with first. I wondered if this was how mothers of twins felt.

  “What kind of jewelry did you think I was going to give you?” Ryan asked, sitting next to me.

  I felt my eyes get big. “Nothing.” Not only wasn’t that an answer to his question, but also it was basically untrue since I’d already announced that I thought he would get me jewelry. I saw Fitz and Piper’s present on the table. “Earrings.”

  “You didn’t think I’d give you a ring, did you?”

  “Of course not. That’s silly.” My voice sounded pathetically unbelievable even to my own ears.

  Ryan smiled at me like he didn’t believe a word I was saying. He kissed me on the cheek. “When I know you’re ready.” He got up to join the group of guys playing a video game.

  When he knew I was ready, what? He’d give me one? He’d said only half a sentence.

  But did I want him to finish it?

  People started drifting back to their own buses, and Ryan’s bandmates turned in for the night. It was just me, my family, and Ryan.

  It turned into a “Let’s embarrass Maisy” party. My brothers told Ryan story after story about me, and no amount of threatening to reveal their secrets stopped them.

  “She was a total band geek,” Parker said, laughing.

  “Please tell me you wore a polyester uniform. And that you marched in a parade.”

  I stayed quiet for a moment. “I’ll have you know we were in a parade at Disneyland.”

  For some reason they all found this totally hysterical.

  “And band camp? Did you go to band camp?” he asked when he could breathe again.

  “I’m not dignifying that with a response.”