Page 40 of #Moonstruck

CHAPTER TWELVE

Fortunately, I did come down from that euphoric high and regained my sanity.

We stayed and watched most of Ryan’s show. I was impressed by his energy level and how he seemed to hold the audience in the palm of his hand. Whatever he said or did, they responded at increasingly frantic levels.

Which I got, because all I wanted to do was watch him perform. How had I ever thought he wasn’t talented? He sang so well. Unlike a lot of music stars, Ryan sang the songs his audience had come to hear. All their favorites, if their reaction was any indication.

Our driver sent Fitz a text saying he was available whenever we were ready, and we decided to head to the hotel before the traffic got too bad.

I tried to invite my brothers to Ryan’s after-party but found out Ryan had already invited them. Cole said he’d had a quick talk with Marcus about it. The after-parties were fairly tame, especially in comparison to other music stars. “Marcus was telling me about when he was on tour with that rock group Wild Stallion. A bunch of press used to tag along, and they’d get ridiculously drunk and put holes in the walls and cause toilets to explode. One time in Florida they even nailed the furniture to the ceiling. He said it was like blowing up a car in a movie—the cost of the destruction was mitigated by the amount of entertainment value it provided.”

None of that sounded particularly entertaining to me, but I was not a guy.

Speaking of guys and weird things, despite their usual overprotectiveness, my brothers didn’t seem to have any problem with Ryan.

Whether that was because of who he was as a person or because he was the guy allowing us to live out our dreams, I didn’t know.

We all went to our respective rooms to shower and change. I felt strangely nervous. Like I was about to be on a different kind of stage and nobody at that party would buy the lie that Ryan and I were together.

Just as I finished fixing my hair, there was a knock at my door. I grabbed the key to my room and joined my brothers for the walk down the hall. They were still on that performance high, laughing and jostling one another. I, on the other hand, feared I might puke from this new kind of stage fright.

Ryan’s door was open, with one security guard posted there. He recognized us and waved us inside. The main living room was already full. I saw Ryan’s band, and Diego had a group of pleeches surrounding him, vying for his attention. I didn’t see Ryan. But I got to meet his three backup singers as well as the lighting supervisor and two other bodyguards.

Then a door opened, and Ryan walked out, his hair wet from a shower, the dark-green shirt he wore turning his eyes that shade. Multiple people murmured his name when he appeared, and I knew they would all want his time and attention. I wasn’t sure if I should approach him or wait for him to come over and find me.

His gaze landed on me, causing goose bumps all over my forearms. He smiled—a dashing, brilliant, charming smile—and headed straight to me.

I started to say something when he got close enough, but he grabbed me, pulled me into a hug, and twirled me around. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

He smelled amazing. Like soap and oranges and something masculine that was just ... Ryan. My heart pounded in my throat as he set me down. “I’m glad I’m here, too.” Strangely enough, I meant it.

“Come with me.” He took me by the hand and led me to an empty sitting room. I saw the women who had been with Diego start toward us, but Fox stood in the doorway, not letting anyone inside. Ryan sat us on a white-quilted love seat.

I wondered whether I should sit really close to him or try to retain control over my reaction by keeping some distance between us. I settled on the second choice.

“How was your first show?” He shook his head as if he’d misspoken. “I know it wasn’t your first show. I mean, how was it playing to an audience that size for the first time?”

“Pretty amazing, actually. I couldn’t stop grinning for half an hour after it was over.” I curled my legs up underneath me while Ryan spread out in every direction, legs askew, arm behind me on the couch.

“You played more covers than I was expecting.”

“We wanted the audience to enjoy themselves. That’s why you brought us along, right? To entertain and warm up the crowd for you. We wouldn’t have been doing our job if we’d bored everybody out of their minds.”

He looked surprised and then smiled again. “Most opening acts don’t do anything like that. They care only about their own self-promotion.”

I propped my elbow on the back of the couch and let my head rest on my hand. Super aware the entire time of just how close our arms were now. “I guess we’re not like other people.”

“I already knew that,” Ryan said with a quiet smile, reaching over to play with the ends of my hair. “Your hair is so soft.”

My own fingers itched to touch his hair in return. Especially since a song had literally been written about it by reigning pop princess Skyler Smith. If I remembered correctly, they’d dated at some point. I wondered if she was the one serious girlfriend he’d mentioned.

The surge of jealousy I felt bothered me. This was fake. We were pretending. Which made me think of our earlier conversation that afternoon. “I never thanked you.”

“For what?”

Out of the comer of my eye, I watched as he wrapped a tendril around his index finger. I gulped. “Specifically for the money to help my mom. But there’s a lot I haven’t thanked you for. Thank you for bringing us on tour with you. Thank you for listening to me earlier. Thank you for putting up with my brothers.”

“I should probably get a medal for the last one,” he teased, and that sparkle in his eye made me want to sigh. “But everything else? It was my pleasure.”

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