Siren's Heart (Siren's Duet Book 1): Love at first sight

2. Chapter Two - Millie

”We”re going to perform in this…thing?” Kayla asks, her voice full of awe as Naroa turns on an intersection, and the buildings make space to reveal the stadium through her car window. Without hesitation, I unbuckle my seatbelt and scoot over to her side, earning a chastising glance from Naroa through her rear-view mirror. But I want to see it too.

”Oh holy–” The words get stuck in my throat along with my breath, my heart beating in my throat. I don”t even know what to say. We”ve played in stadiums before, sure. But there is just no way they were this huge. I’m in fucking awe.

”Almost seventy-thousand people fit in there,” Naroa explains, merging into the parking lot lane. ”Plus, there will be a live stream that people can buy tickets for worldwide. I wasn”t kidding when I told you this would be huge. You’re going to have a massive audience.”

”You really weren”t kidding,” I mumble, exchanging a quick glance with Kayla. I don’t know what to feel, and judging from her expression, neither does she. Her blue eyes are as wide as mine are, and I”m sure her heart is beating just as loudly, her stomach full of the same bumblebees buzzing with anxiety and excitement. ”We”re going to kill it,” I whisper reassuringly, nudging her shoulder with mine.

”Of course we will,” she answers with a grin, but the slight twitching of the corner of her mouth is a tell-tale sign of her nervousness.

Naroa stops at some kind of special entrance for the stadium and ushers us out of the car. I shudder when we step into the cold shadow the building casts upon us.

”Holy shit, the building looks even bigger up close,” Kayla curses, her eyes moving up the building, and I nod, still unable to form words. My hand hovers through the air until I find her arm, clutching onto the fabric of her sweatshirt. We remain right in front of a tall gate as we wait for Naroa to park the car, looking up the walls of the stadium, laying our heads way back, and still not seeing the roof.

”This was a good idea, this was a good idea,” I mumble to myself over and over, and feel her chuckle beneath my touch. I couldn’t say which of the two of us I’m trying to convince.

”Alright, let”s go.” I jump when Naroa’s voice comes from right beside my ear. She sounds way too enthusiastic about this.

My fingers remain clinging firmly to Kayla”s arm as the two of us follow her inside. Naroa holds up a card to one of the security guards and is handed three lanyards, passing two to us without looking away from the person she”s talking to. Finally, I let go of Kayla to accept one, slinging the thin blue band over my head without it catching in my hair, lifting it so I can actually see what it says.

”Millie. Talent,” I read aloud and grimace as I flip it. ”Couldn”t they have used a prettier picture, though?”

”Show me,” Kayla demands amusedly and leans over my shoulder, cackling as soon as she sees it. ”Oh my God. It looks like a mugshot.”

It really does. My stern eyes look right at the camera, my mouth is almost pointing downwards, and I have a frown on my forehead as I look at the camera through my lashes. I don”t even know when this was taken, but it was probably when we started at Starlet Sound, our label. The lack of knowledge about posing and general anxiety with the new situation caused a lot of weird pictures.

”Show me yours!” I reach for hers, but she quickly grabs the laminated piece of paper and evades my grabby hands. Narrowing my eyes at her, I pout and step closer. Oh, I’m so going to look at it.

”Hey, hey. Behave,” Naroa scolds us like we’re five-year-olds. A group of people gathered around her, finalizing the organizational stuff, but after a few more moments, she ends her conversation with them and turns around to scrutinize us with a strict look. When I let go of Kayla, she shakes her head and points at one of the women she had been talking to.

”This is Lila. She’ll show you around the stadium. You”ll have the chance to familiarize yourself with the backstage labyrinth today so you know where you can find what and who. Training with Mike starts tomorrow.” She checks her watch, then straightens her spine, her eyes darting around the area nervously. ”I actually have to go. There”s a meeting I need to join online that started five minutes ago. I”ll be in the car, have fun.” She gives us a quick wave with her fingers, then she darts away, clutching papers to her chest and already dialing into the meeting.

”Uhhh–” A soft voice stutters, and Kayla and I turn to the woman Naroa left us with.

Lila doesn”t look a day older than twenty-two. Ginger hair, falling down to her hip in two braids, and the very prominent freckles in her round face make her look even younger, though. The poor thing seems super nervous, her eyes jumping from Kayla to me, the pamphlet in her hands already torn on the sides as she nervously rubs the paper between her fingers.

”Hi, I”m Millie,” I say, plastering a smile on my face, trying to sound reassuring as I hold out my hand for her to shake. I”m really damn nervous when I meet a bunch of strangers too, but for some reason, I find it easier to contain it if I put my focus on making another person feel less nervous. Her hand is clammy in mine, but once our eyes meet, she seems to relax a bit.

”Kayla.” My friend steps forward and extends her hand as well, the smile on her face just as subtly strained as mine. ”Lovely to meet you.”

”I–” Lila’s eyes grow wide, and she gulps before nervously shaking her hand. ”I”m Lila. I’m sorry, would you mind–” She doesn”t finish the sentence, but Kayla and I are pros at this point.

”A picture?” I ask, and she nods fervently, her shoulders slowly sagging in relief as she realizes that we’re not about to bite off her head. ”Of course. With the two of us or individually?”

Her eyes dart to Kayla, and I swallow down the sting. It”s by far not the first time someone”s asked to take a picture with her and not me. At least Lila is nice about it. There have been other, far less pleasant, fan interactions over the years that made me cry myself to sleep on more than one occasion.

I take Lila’s phone with the camera app open, and step a bit back until the two of them appear on the screen. ”One second,” I mumble and adjust the camera settings so both are better visible. The light out here is horrid. I count down, and both smile widely as I shoot several pictures for her. ”Here you go!”

I hand her back the phone, forcing a smile onto my face. She takes a quick look at the picture and swipes through them before pushing it back into her pocket, mumbling a soft ”Thanks.”

”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?”