Page 4 of Siren's Heart

"So, where are we going first?" Kayla quickly changes topics, her mouth tight in a forced smile. She hates it when fans request pictures with only her instead of both of us; she says it feels unfair to her. But honestly, I can't blame the fans. Kayla is tall, more beautiful, a thousand times more talented than me, plus her confidence and presence overshadow me completely. I'm not surprised. Sure, it hurts like a damn bee sting, but that's a 'me' problem I need to learn to get used to. Maybe someday, it’ll be more like a mosquito bite.

"Follow me," Lila says way more confidently than she spoke before the picture, her whole face lit up like the sun. This. This is exactly why I swallow down my own feelings about the matter; they don't matter. All that matters is that we've made someone's day.

We trudge after Lila, eyes dancing around curiously, as she leads us down a long, plain hallway, rattling down what's behind each door. I stop paying attention after the fifth because most of the rooms are irrelevant for us, anyway. They mostly seem to be for media outlets, organizers, or technical crews. Plus, it’s not like she’s talking to me. Her whole attention is on Kayla, who is pleasant enough to her, and I'm just her shadow: Story of my life. At least it gives me time to have a good look around.

Finally, we reach a tunnel with stairs going upwards, light shining at the end of it. I swallow any 'Go into the light' jokes as we climb them, my heart pounding too loudly to hear anything else.

When we step outside, the sunlight is so bright it blinds me, so I squint and shield my eyes with my hand. Damn, this brightness is almost rougher than any late-night paparazzi storm.

The grass is soft under my shoes as I follow Lila for a few meters, blinking until my eyes finally get used to the light. Once they do, I freeze. Holy shit. We're in the stadium. Duh, obviously. It still catches me off guard.

"Holy shit," I whisper in awe, my feet planted to the ground as my eyes dance over the stands and I take everything in. The seats go up so many rows and so far back, I wonder–can people even see the field from over there?

"Close your mouth, or you're gonna catch flies," Kayla playfully scolds me, nudging me with her elbow, and I quickly do just that.

"What the hell, Kayla! This is insane," I whisper, my voice breaking and nervousness tickling my skin like ants running over it. “And we’re supposed to perform here?” I’m scared to talk too loudly. This seems like the kind of building that would carry your voice far and loud.

"It is insane," she agrees and holds out her arm to allow me to cling to her sleeve, just like before. My fingertips dig into the fabric, and I shoot her a thankful smile. My heart is pounding, my hands are clammy, and my knees are turning into jelly. "Come on.” She nods towards the other side of the field, where men are throwing footballs around. “Let's say hi to some of the players."

"Wait, what?" I hiss and look around, now even more stressed. Why is it suddenly so warm here? "We're meeting the players? Why didn't Naroa say so? I'm not even wearing makeup! I can’t meet other celebrities like this."

"You're wearing BB cream and mascara. That's fine, Millie." She rolls her eyes, but I can see a smile tugging at her lips. "And yes, that's considered makeup in my book. You look cute. Definitely better than I'm sure their sweaty asses surely look."

Lila is already halfway there and Kayla starts to follow her. As do I, almost jogging next to her wide strides, letting go of her in an attempt to fix my hair. My curls are unruly today; if I had known I’d need to look presentable, I’d have brought a hair tie or worn a damn hat.

My eyes grow wider and wider the closer we get and the more faces I recognize, my breath catching in my throat when Kayla suddenly stops dead in her tracks, looking at the group like she’s seen a ghost. I nudge her arm curiously. Why did she freeze?

"Oh, great," she groans, fingertips pinching the bridge of her nose and I try to follow her gaze to see who she noticed. And then I do... What the hell?

"Isn't that the guy who said you shouldn't get into acting? Asher? Aka Asshat?" I hiss, squeezing her arm in reassurance.

It was a whole thing back then. Kayla was asked to audition for the lead role in a rom-com, where he was already cast as the male part. Only to have him talk shit about her in an interview, something along the lines of 'if singers stayed in their lane and didn't try to take jobs from actually talented actors, the world would be a much better place.'

She nods, and rage builds inside my stomach like a bubbling volcano, ready to explode and give that asshole a piece of my mind. "Want me to kick him in the nuts?"

"Want? Kind of, yes," she mumbles, then takes a deep breath, holding it for a moment before releasing it in a long sigh. "Please don't, though. It's fine. I was bummed back then, but it's okay. I'm not really mad at him; really, I'm just holding a petty grudge."

"Petty grudge one way or the other, just say the word, and I'll do it." That makes her grin.

“How would you even manage to kick that high?”

“Don’t question my methods. Even if I had to bring a stepper or wear platform shoes that make me four inches taller, I’d do it.”

She laughs, and we resume walking. The closer we get, the more people I am starting to recognize. "Are those the Walker brothers?" I ask skeptically, and Kayla nods. Holy shit. They’re the most talented family in show business right now. One of them a singer, one a model, another one an actor, and… what did the fourth do again? "Isn’t the oldest one a CEO or some other executive?"

"Yeah, Adam is the CEO of Croney." I whistle, impressed. That’s the best talent agency I know of, not only one of the best-earning ones, but I’ve only heard the best things about them from their artists. “I didn’t think someone of his caliber would be here, to be honest.”

“Same,” I agree.

“Neither did I think the four of them would get together for this. But wow, I’m not mad at it.” She looks Adam up and down as he catches the football that one of his brothers throws him. I cock my head at the same angle and try to see what she sees.

Oh, I get it. That man is the definition of tall, dark, muscular, and handsome. As are his brothers. They have strong 'handsome' genes running in their family, and they seem to be playing kind of rough. Adam throws the ball back at his brother with a vengeance, almost hitting him in the face.

We're almost there now, keeping to the side and away from where the guys are rough-housing and showing off their throwing and catching skills. My eyes wander over the abundance of male bodies and, holy shit, all of these muscles–when they suddenly get caught by the greenest eyes I've ever seen staring right into my soul, and the world stops turning.

My heart beats fast like a hummingbird’s wings, blood rushing loudly through my veins like damn rapids, my skin prickling as I hold his gaze. I gulp.

"Kayla?" My voice breaks, and my whole body is overwhelmed by sudden emotion. "Who is that?"

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