Page 46 of Siren's Game

"Because his dad is the CEO of one of the sponsor companies of this damn thing," I tell her, and her eyes grow even wider.

"And he's making you meet them like this?" She looks me up and down, her eyebrows scrunching together. "No offense."

"Absolutely none taken." I sigh and wipe a drop of sweat off my forehead.

"Wow." She leans back on her elbows and blows a strand of hair out of her face. “The gall of that guy.”

"I know, right?"

By now, my blood has turned from ice cold to anger hot.

How fucking dare he? I can't believe I spilled my guts about my parents to him, only for him to throw his own into the mix without at least having the decency to warn me.

Even without my backstory, a little warning would have been the least he could do! I mean, in general, no matter the type of relationship, dating, fake dating, friendship, making a good first impression is kind of the goal of meeting parents, isn’t it?

Our relationship might be fake, but if we act like it's real, a good first impression should have been the goal, right? He could have chosen a day where we have vocal training, hell, he could have told me and I'd have found a shower in the stadium and brought fresh clothes to meet them after dance rehearsal. But in the middle of it?

What a fucking dick.

I reach for my bottle of water and take a big gulp before throwing it into a corner and walking to the middle of the room. I'm so fucking angry, my whole body is prickling with the need to let it out.

And to Mike's delight, that means I'm pushing it all into dancing.

Kayla

"Youmadeit!"Igreet Josh with a smile and walk into his outstretched arms for a hug. I’m not a fan of touching, but I mean . . . he’s done a lot of touching with me. At this point, hugging him feels natural.

He arrived in Philly yesterday and I asked him if he'd come to the stadium so we could hang out without having to be all paranoid about paparazzi finding me and painting me as a cheater. Everyone might be supportive of Asher and me, but I know how quickly the masses’ opinion about a celebrity can change.

The security for this game is so tight, there is no way anyone with an unapproved camera could make their way inside the stadium, so meeting here seems like the safest choice. I even waited for him at the entrance, collecting him so he wouldn't get lost in the backstage labyrinth.

"It's like a maximum security prison here," he jokes and closes his arms around me and hugs me tightly. "Thank God, they didn't frisk me. Although, looking at your security guy right over there—" He points at a tanned guy with tattoos standing by the entrance with his arms crossed in front of his chest, making his biceps bulge. “—he can frisk me all he wants.”

"I was just about to say, knowing you, you would have been into that," I joke against his shirt and let him go. He looks great. More refreshed than I was the day after my flight here. "How was your flight?"

"Long. Tiring. Only slightly turbulent," he replies, and I start walking towards the cafeteria. The coffee here sucks but they have delicious cake.

Millie and I have a long lunch break today since Mike has some important appointment in the middle of the day. He didn't tell us what kind exactly, but I suspect he’s negotiating with another client.

This gig doesn’t last forever, so of course he’d need to get ready for his next gig, so no problem from Millie’s and my side. I hope it goes well; he seemed tense this morning. "But the pilot was hot, so I forgive her."

"So noble of you," I say with an eye roll, and he nudges me with his shoulder. I know that he’s all talk. He finds everyone hot, but it’s not like he earnestly tries to get everyone to sleep with him. Otherwise, he would already have tried to chat up Millie, Mike and about ninety percent of our security team.

"Now, enough about me." He links his arm with mine as we turn a corner. I freeze for a second. That’s a friendly gesture, right? It’s innocent enough to not seem romantic to an outsider, right? "Tell me all about that boyfriend of yours."

"The boyfriend can tell you himself." Asher's booming voice suddenly comes from behind us. Both of us freeze, shooting each other a glance from the corner of our eyes before we drop our arms and turn around simultaneously.

"Hey, man, so good to meet you." Josh’s face breaks into a wide smile and he takes a step towards Asher, offering him his hand.

"Likewise," Asher answers but his whole body language reveals his lie. A deep wrinkle has formed between his eyebrows and his jaw is tense, his muscles straining as he shakes Josh's hand. I’m surprised he doesn’t squash it in his grip. “You must be Josh."

"Oh, he knows my name," Josh says with excited wide eyes and a happy grin on his face. "Sorry, I'm a huge fan, Kayla, would you mind?" He pushes his phone into my hands without even looking at me and poses next to Asher without waiting for an answer.

God, Josh is the best.

I can see Asher wants to stay angry, his jaw is ticking, but it’s obvious that he’s trying to fight a grin, not anger.

That's Josh's superpower. He might overstep lines like it’s an Olympic sport and he’s chasing the gold medal, but nobody can stay angry with him for long. It's just not possible. He's such a sunshine, he even gotmeto warm up to him and that takes some skill and serious patience.

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