Page 8 of Siren's Heart

The Walkers are probably the most successful families in show business right now, but damn, they do not get along. I met them an hour ago, and they had to be pulled off each other twice already when they got caught in a brawl. And that didn't look too brotherly. Or maybe they're just taking this as a chance to express their frustrations with each other and are super close and loving off the field?

"No idea," I answer and squint my eyes. "They don't look like they're part of the team, though." Even from afar, I can tell they're three women. "Do we have a cheerleading team?"

"I sure hope so." Tanner laughs and turns to throw the ball right at his brother’s head. Luckily, he steps aside and catches it. At least I might not be the first, or only one, to get a concussion at this training.

Shrugging, I pick the ball up to do the same, the only difference being that I'm aiming at Asher's crotch. Which means I'm throwing the ball past him, basically. From the corner of my eyes, I watch the figures get closer, and the closer they get, the more murmuring I hear around us.

"Are you serious?" Jackson, the second oldest Walker brother, suddenly exclaims, full of excitement. "They got us the fucking Siren's?"

At his shout, everyone stops in their tracks, and all heads whip around to face the figures in the distance. Whispers of "Holy fuck, he's right," make the rounds, the atmosphere buzzing like a deep bass hitting our rib cavities, creating an underlying feeling of tingling excitement. The mood shifts, and suddenly, everyone is quiet, watching them come closer.

Siren’s? I think I’ve heard of them, but truth be told, I don’t keep up with music. I might have heard them on the radio before, but I couldn’t tell what their songs are or what they look like.

But now I do, because what I’m seeing right now burns itself right into my retinas.

Because instantly, my eyes are drawn to the blonde goddess of a woman clinging to the brunette’s arm. Her curls bounce in all directions with each step as her insanely vibrant blue eyes scan the crowd, waiting speechlessly for their arrival.

And I can't take my fucking eyes off her.

A slight blush creeps into her cheeks, and it looks like she's hoping for the ground to open up and swallow her. Her pretty pink lips are curled inward, probably caught between her teeth, as her eyes dart around our group nervously. She's wearing a frilly skirt, a long, fluffy-looking shirt and sneakers. Then suddenly, her eyes land on mine, and it felt like someone punched the air out of my lungs.

My heart beats against my ribs like a prisoner trying to escape, and the skin on my neck tingles, goosebumps covering my arms.

I just know it. The knowledge settles within me like gentle waves breaching the beach. Like a fireplace heating up a room, it becomes a part of me, filling me with soft warmth and a feeling of ‘home.’

That's the woman I'm going to marry.

Fuck. Someone, please tell me she’s single.

Her eyes dart away, and if my own don't betray me, the blush on her cheeks deepens just before she tips her head forward and lets her hair cover her face. I fight the urge to run over and push it back behind her ears, but it's like lightning struck me.

I can't take my fucking eyes off her.

"Bro, you're staring." Asher nudges me with his elbow, but I shake my head.

"I know." I tilt my head as they walk past us, trying not to– God, I just can't. Her legs look fucking amazing in her outfit.

"Are you okay?" He waves a hand in front of my face, and I shake my head to regain my composure. It's like I'm waking up from a dream, only to land in a daydream. I don’t know her name yet, but I know she put a damned spell on me. "Seriously, bro. What's up? You dizzy? Got a ball to the head?"

"Nope," I say, my eyes involuntarily finding her again. “I’m alright.”

All three women have made their way over to the coaches and are currently talking to the head coach, Rich, an older, heavy-set man with the most impressive gray mustache I've ever seen, and even he seems a bit starstruck. Apparently, the man is a big deal to people who know football, but I've never heard of him. He seems to know his stuff, though.

After a few moments of them talking, Rich blows the metallic whistle hanging around his neck and motions for us to gather around him. Not that anyone was still training.

"Alright, gentlemen," he says in his booming voice, clearly flustered by the two women. "I don't think these two need any introduction."

"We're going to do one anyways," the taller of the two interrupts him with a tight smile that tells me she hates people talking for her. Her expression softens once she turns to face us.

"Hi, I'm Kayla. This is Millie."

"Hi, guys," my future wife says in a soft voice and shyly waves her fingers. I know I'm not the only one starstruck and turning red in the face.

“And we’re the pop duo ‘Siren’s.’ It’s good to meet you. Well, most of you.” Kayla continues, and shoots someone to my right a glare, only for a fraction of a second. But that’s all it takes to make envy turn the blood in my veins ice-cold. Who here knows them?

"They are going to be doing the half-time show. Which means they'll have their rehearsals here, too." A murmur goes through the crowd until Rich continues. "Not on the field, so don't get your hopes up." Both Kayla and Millie roll their eyes at him. "You might run into each other in the hallways, though. Just a heads up."

"I sure hope so," one of the guys hollers from somewhere to my right, followed by a thud and "Ouch! What?"

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