Page 55 of Siren's Heart

It's nice. Then again, those were the guys telling me he rescued their cats and whatnot. They were definitely aiming for this.

A smile is plastered to my face the whole time. They're joking with each other, congratulating the two of us, and it's just so goddamn nice to be around supportive people. As Luca leans down to kiss me goodbye when I tell him that I need to get to work, they start hollering and whistling. One of them even acts like he's swooning. I leave the room giggling, and my heart feels light as a feather. Who knew it would take this little for me to feel better about everything? To be this optimistic about our future?

Kayla is already waiting in the dance studio, stretching her legs and ready to go.

"There you are, girlfriend," she greets me with a happy grin, skipping over and throwing her arm over my shoulders. "I have to say, though, the picture of you two is hella cute."

"Are you feeling better?” I ask her curiously. She’s been out sick the past few days and I was getting worried. And overwhelmed by the one-on-one training I got from Mike in the meantime. When she nods, a relieved sigh escapes me.

“I haven't even looked at the picture yet.” I was way too scared to do anything on my phone, terrified that my notifications would suddenly show me every mean comment about me. “Show me. Well, without comments, please."

She grabs her phone, her fingers flying over the screen until she pulls it up.

She’s right. We do look cute together.

And most of all, we look really damn happy with each other. His adoring gaze down at me and the shyness written on my face as I look up at him are just palpable. I might have to print it and put it in my journal. Or put it into a nice frame and put it into my living room. I'm also pretty sure this one was taken just before he alerted me to the camera.

Suddenly, Naroa storms into the room.

"You two," she points at the two of us and throws each of us a jacket. Mine is pink, and Kayla's red, our signature colors. "Put those on. We've got a children’s and youth charity coming over for a meet and greet in ten minutes."

"Wait, what?" I ask her, shocked, and look down at my outfit. I'm dressed for sweat-inducing dance training, not for a meet and greet, much less with children. Neither is Kayla.

"Sorry, this was a pretty spontaneous thing," she says, and I believe the remorse I hear in her voice. "A group of foster kids won a tour, and since a camera is coming along, the board decided just this morning that they want to give them the VIP treatment."

I sigh and put on the jacket. It's one of those football team jackets, but I realize that instead of a football logo, they have our Siren’s logo stitched on the front. Inspecting the back, I realize our names and the number '2' are embroidered on both.

"What exactly are we supposed to do?" Kayla asks, slipping her arms into hers. I follow suit and take a look at myself in the mirror. It's cute. A bit big, but I'm kind of into the oversized look, not in a sports bra and leggings. But I can work with it.

"Take a quick picture with them. Answer their questions if they manage to ask one. It's only fifteen minutes, so there's not much time for anything anyway," she says with a deep sigh. "I’m sorry, the organizers insist on it since the documentary videographer will be with them."

"Great, because being in a documentary without any makeup is just what I wanted," Kayla grumbles, and I nod along. Naroa freezes, looking at the two of us, her face scrunches into a grimace.

"You know what? Valid point. I'll have a talk with them. They can come tomorrow for filming." She storms to the door, then stops and turns to us, shooting us a firm glance. "So, makeup tomorrow, girls."

Both of us give her a mock salute, and I take a deep breath when she disappears out the door.

"I hate this spontaneous shit," Kayla curses and starts pacing in front of the mirror. “Is it too much to ask to have fixed schedules?”

"Yeah," I agree, leaning against the wall and slowly slipping to the ground. "She should know by now that we need a bit of time for emotional preparation when we have to meet fans."

"Right?" She sits down next to me, her legs twitching nervously. We remain silent, both of us going through our own process of preparing for the storm that is meeting fans. You never quite know what to expect. Will they be sweet? Will they be aggressive?

Before we know it, the ten minutes are up, and a knock on the door announces the group's arrival. Both of us jump up and plaster smiles on our faces, one of our simplest exercises.

"We can do it," Kayla says through gritted teeth and I agree with a slight nod.

"Hi there," we say in unison as a group of children and teenagers stream into the room. It's easily thirty people, and I shoot Naroa a dirty look. I was expecting like ten, but she wants us to take pictures and make a lasting impression with everyone in fifteen minutes?

Chaos breaks out immediately. Some of the kids begin to run around the room in a game of tag, completely ignoring us; others freeze and stare at us, completely starstruck, and some of the older ones already have their phones out and filming, pointing their cameras at the two of us.

Naroa is doing her best to bring some structure into this turmoil, herding the group into something that resembles a line.

"Sorry," a woman with brown, curly hair storms into the room, with a small girl holding onto their hand. "We had to do a quick detour to the bathroom."

"That's alright," Naroa tells the woman, but I can see that muscle in her jaw twitching, telling me that she’s, in fact, pissed. "Why don't you go to the front and take the pictures for everyone?"

"Of course." The woman lets go of the small girl and scurries over.

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