Page 51 of #Moonstruck

Did he not remember the last time he issued me that challenge? “I don’t really like video games.”

He tossed me a controller, and, sighing, I sat down.

“What do your tattoos mean?” I asked, maneuvering around a difficult obstacle in the game.

“Checking out my tats? I knew you liked me.”

“Shut up. I was just curious.”

I easily won the first round, which seemed to throw him.

“Let’s go again.” We’d been playing for a couple of minutes when he said, “The music notes are obvious. The triangle represents fire. Something I got when they started calling me El Caliente. And the black band is for my mom.”

That was really sweet. So sweet I almost considered throwing the game. I didn’t, though.

It took only three rounds before he admitted defeat.

“What was that?” he asked just as Parker entered the room. He looked at us and raised one eyebrow.

“Whatever you do, dude, don’t play against Maze. She will destroy you.”

“Where was that warning five minutes ago?” Ryan turned toward me. “I thought you said you sucked.”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t any good. Just that I don’t like them.” Apparently, whatever kind of manual dexterity made me skilled at guitar also made me excellent with a game controller. “Three brothers, remember?”

“You’re the kind of girl a guy would show off to his buddies,” Ryan said in a tone of respect and awe.

Since I had those three brothers, I knew that was one of the highest compliments a man could give a woman. “I could trounce them, too, if you’d like.”

“You probably also shouldn’t try to argue with her, either,” Parker suggested, sitting down on Ryan’s other side, to both my relief and disappointment. “Maisy always thinks she’s the smartest person in the room.”

Before I could protest, Ryan jumped in. “When she thinks this, are you the only other person in the room? Because then she’d be right.”

That led to some shoving and laughter, and I was impressed by how quickly and easily Ryan had won my brothers over, especially getting in on their insult games.

He soon found ways to win me over, too.

In Portland, my brothers and I had a fun, amazing performance, and at Piper’s invitation, I stuck around backstage instead of returning to the tour bus. I didn’t tell her that I tended to stay and watch his concert most nights.

Ryan put on another mesmerizing show, and I found myself humming along to most of his songs. In the middle of his set, instead of running offstage to change outfits like he was supposed to, the crew members brought him a guitar and two stools.

“I know you’ve already heard a version of this song once this evening, but I thought you might like to hear it again. I need everyone to put their hands together and bring out the lovely Maisy Harrison. Come on out, Maisy!”

The audience cheered and whistled.

Stunned, I stayed put in the wings. I turned to see Piper nudging me, a huge grin on her face. “Go on, Maisy. It’ll be fun.”

When I didn’t move, she took matters into her own hands. She pushed me, hard. Landing me onstage.

“There she is! Everyone welcome Maisy!”

The audience started chanting my name while I was stuck in my deer-in-the-headlights position.

One of the roadies came out and handed me my Dreadnought. I wanted to duck backstage and pretend this wasn’t happening, but I couldn’t.

What was he doing? Our “relationship” wasn’t front-page news, although it had made the rounds. Maybe Ryan was trying to take this thing more public. Which I had agreed to and been well paid for.

So I walked across the stage, waving to the crowd and smiling. When I got close to him, I asked, “What do you think you’re doing?”

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