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

3. Chapter Three - Luca

I struggle with my bags as I walk out of the elevator, searching for the key to my new, temporary apartment all while pulling a suitcase behind me, having a bag slung over my shoulder and listening to my sister on the phone giving me all kinds of updates on our parents shenanigans.

“So they had a barbecue and Dad almost managed to set the house on fire,” Summer explains and recounts how half of the attending people scrambled for an extinguisher and then struggled with getting it to work.

Where is that fucking key? I should have put it into my pocket when I took it out of the envelope my manager had delivered to me. Why did my half-asleep brain think it was smart to put it in my bag?

I sigh relieved when I find it.

“Are you even listening, Luca?” Summer asks annoyed and I roll my eyes.

“Of course I’m listening. Excuse me for also trying to get into my apartment after a gruelling day of traveling.” I finally put my key inside the door and sigh relieved when it opens.

”There you are, Fucker!” A loud voice booms right as I shove the door open and I jump, almost dropping my phone that”s clamped between my shoulder and my ear. My whole body tenses, ready to either fight or get the fuck back out of here.

”What the hell?” Finally, I register who the voice belongs to. My heart is still beating in my throat and I”m still frozen in place. God, I”d be fucked if he was an actual intruder.

”Don”t scream into my ear, Luca,” Summer scolds me from the other end of the line, her voice sounding distant. She’s probably holding the phone away from her ear. I roll my eyes.

“Sorry, the next time I’m scared someone broke into my home, I’ll make sure to tell you calmly.”

”Wait, was that... Asher?” my sister asks with amusement tainting her voice, ignoring my sarcastic remark. Finally, my body decides to listen to me again, and I whip my head around, looking in the direction his voice came from - in my apartment for the next months, I might add. Van did not tell me I’d have a roommate, so how the fuck did he get in here?

I take a deep breath, willing my racing heart to calm down. Then I make my way further into the apartment. I find him, around the next corner, standing in my kitchen, leaning against the counter like he fucking owns the place. When he notices me, a wide smile spreads on his face.

”It is,” I let Summer know and shoot him a glare.

”Say ”hi” to him for me,” she demands with a chuckle, and I hear some shuffling and voices in the background. ”And from Mom. She asks if you could get an autograph for one of the ladies in her reading circle. And Dad is asking for one for his golf buddy”s son’s girlfriend.”

”Don”t you think his damn ego is big enough?” I ask extra loudly to make sure he hears, my eyes still narrow in a glare. Then I say my goodbyes to her and end the call.

I love my little sister with all my heart, but she has the worst timing when it comes to calling me. The last time, she rang me just as I stepped foot into an audition, before that, when I was about to jump off a roof for the movie I was playing in. And now, when my best friend, who I haven”t seen in months, is getting on his tiptoes to plant his butt on my kitchen counter, which I just realize is unsanitary as fuck.

Nine years ago, when I was twenty years old to his twenty-two, we were cast as brothers in a series that went on for four seasons. During that time, we grew close as can be.

It didn’t take long until we became brothers, not just on the screen. At work, we played emotionally constipated siblings who could barely stand each other on a good day, but in private, we were inseparable. We alternated Thanksgiving dinners and Christmas celebrations, one year at my parents’ house, one year at his.

I”m pretty sure my parents offered to adopt him at one point. His father also drunkenly put the offer on the table after a particularly wine-filled dinner. My sister would probably jump at the chance to switch me out for Asher, apparently knowing him is more brag-able in her friend circle at college than being related to me. When I told her that at least I”m brag-able compared to her, she punched my arm so hard I had a bruise for two weeks. Guess she can’t handle the truth.

”Who are you calling a Fucker?” I call him out with a chuckle and finally set down my travel bags. Or more like throwing them in a corner, stretching my shoulders when the weight is finally off them.

He grabs the bottle of beer on the counter next to him. ”You”re right, my mistake.” He takes a swig. ”Not like you”re currently getting any action.”

”Ha, ha,” I say dryly and roll my eyes. For a second, we look at each other, and then both of our faces break into wide grins at the same time. ”It”s been a while, brother.”

”Way too long,” he agrees. We skip the bro-hug handshake and go straight for the hug, clapping each other”s shoulders.

”Damn, you”re firm like a fucking boulder,” I say in awe and hit his shoulder again.

”Can”t say the same, but I”m sure the trainers are going to have a field day whipping you into shape.” A booming laughter fills the room as he lets me go, only to flex his bicep.

”Hey, I have the body of a runner,” I retort and lift my shirt to show off my abs. ”Look at these bad boys.”

He squints his eyes, acting like they”re not visible, even though my trainers put me through the wringer over the past months to look good for the action movie I just finished filming. I know he”s full of shit.

”Whatever.” I let go of my shirt and roll my eyes. “I bet you can”t walk up a flight of stairs without taking a break to catch your breath.”

”Shut up and drink a beer.” He opens the fridge - my fridge, and hands me one.

I shake my head at him, not sure if he’s become more annoying or I’m just tired. ”So, how come you”re in my apartment? Who gave you the key?”

”Van handed it to me. Said something about not being woken up in the middle of the night when you inevitably lose yours.” He bites the inside of his cheek, probably to keep from laughing at me, and I huff, crossing my arms in front of my chest.

”What use is it if you have a key? Am I supposed to ask you to drive over in the middle of the night when I lose my key, then?” I love our manager most of the time, but sometimes, it feels like he and Asher get a kick out of teaming up against me. It”s all in good fun, though, because Asher and I enjoy getting on his nerves just as much. And Van is just as game to team up against Asher with me.

”Well, I”m your neighbor. My parents’ apartment is right next to yours and I’m staying there, so I”d say it”s of big use.”

I push out a heavy sigh. I knew his parents are from Philly and they have an apartment downtown in addition to their house in the outskirts, but I’ve never been there. ”You”re infuriating, you know that? Why didn”t you lead with that?” I swear to God, he”s just as annoying as my blood sibling; no, even more annoying. And he loves annoying me even more than Summer does.

”Now where would be the fun if I did that?” I take the bottle from him and clink it with Asher’s before taking a sip. Holy shit, this is good. After 12 hours of travel, this hits the spot.

”Feeling better?” Asher asks with his eyebrow raised amusedly.

”Hell yes,” I answer and set down the bottle. Finally, I have the chance to check out the kitchen.

It looks like a typical rich-bachelor kitchen. The countertops are made of graphite, and the cupboards are painted the exact same color. The room is lit by passive light underneath the counter and cupboards. There are no decorations, no kitchen utensils or machines in sight. Not that it’s an ugly kitchen, in fact, the color palette is right up my alley, but it’s just so empty and stiff. I grimace. ”Please tell me the rest of the apartment looks a bit friendlier?”

The tugging at the corners of his mouth tells me it”s not. Great.

”You have a lovely balcony, though. I might invite myself over a lot. It”s got a bunch of pillows and fairy lights and shit.”

”I guess that”s something,” I say with a sigh and take another swig of my beer. ”That’s probably Van’s attempt at making up for this way too-sterile model apartment.”

”You”re just picky,” he teases me, poking my arm. “It”s a perfectly fine apartment. Now, are you excited for training tomorrow?”

I don’t even need to answer, because seconds after asking, Asher bursts into laughter. I guess my face says it all.

It”s not that I hate sports, but I loathe, loathe, football. I don”t understand the rules. The ball has a super weird shape that I just can”t catch, and whenever I jumped over my shadow and played it in the past, I got hurt somehow.

One time, I had a contusion in my hand; another time, I rolled my ankle and walked around limping for the next two weeks. Not exactly experiences I want to repeat, especially with another movie coming up right after the match.

I”d rather just stay here and relax, make some clay figures. Ever since I was a child, I liked crafting little figurines. When I read one of my fantasy books, I used to sit down and try to create the character in clay the way I pictured them in my head. But now that my career is taking off, I rarely have days where I can just sit down and put my whole focus on creating something with my own two hands. It”s a gratifying feeling. I miss it.

”Relax, Luca. It”s going to be fuuun!” Asher adds with a slightly condescending undertone, exaggeratedly throwing his hands in the air. ”For me, anyways.”

”I think Mom, Dad, and Summer have a bet going about how soon I”m going to hurt myself,” I tell him with a grin. I can’t even pretend to be mad at them. They’re ridiculous.

”Pretty sure my parents have made their bets, too.”

Traitors, the whole lot of them. But it’s alright. One day, my chance for revenge will come.

I hide a yawn behind my hand and drink the rest of the beer. ”Anyway. Lovely of you to drop by but I”ve been traveling for, like, half a day. I need a shower and sleep.”

”Well then,” he rises from the counter and clasps my shoulder as he walks by. ”I”m to your left.” He points to the right, and I fight the urge to kick him in his butt. But he’s jumping on thin ice. ”If you hurt yourself in the shower before the first training, I”m winning the bet, by the way. Just putting that out there.”

Oh, he”s getting the butt kick. I run after him, but he”s already outside the door, his laugh muffled in the hallway. What an asshole.

”Come on, it”s not going to be that bad,” Asher tries to cheer me up on our car ride to the stadium. I feel better after a good night’s sleep, but the thought of training immediately pulled my mood down to hell.

”Tell me again why you got a car, and I didn”t?” I ask Asher, pouting.

Because it”s a nice car: Sleek black, with tinted windows, it looks badass. Like something Batman would drive. Well, almost. Asher is a freaking six-foot-five giant, so of course, it”s not one of those sports cars where you sit with your butt mere centimeters over the ground.

No, this one is big enough that I almost need to jump to get into it. It’s built like a freaking tank.

”Because Van likes me more.” Asher laughs, and I punch his upper arm when he comes to a stand at a stoplight. ”Ouch. Maybe he thinks I”m more responsible.”

”Or maybe he booked it for the two of us, and you”re lying to me,” I point out, narrowing my eyes at him. ”Wouldn”t be the first time. Or the second.”

”Maybe he”s getting you a Smart.” He grins at me. “Or maybe, this is actually my car and all the rentals were rented out already.” Now, there’s a sliver of truth in there. Knowing him and his parents, I wouldn’t be surprised if they keep a car in Philly, just for him to use.

”Oh, you”re so full of shit. But it”s fine,” I say with a grin. He looks at me from the corner of his eyes, probably surprised I’m giving in that easily. “If you”re that much more responsible, and it’s that hard to get another rental, I”ll play passenger princess. Seems like you get to drive me everywhere I need to go then.” I smirk when I notice the slightly panicked expression on his face, which quickly disappears to make room for feigning indifference as he turns into the stadium’s parking lot.

The attendant saves him from answering as Asher pulls down his window and listens to him telling us where to park. Driving along the narrow space between parking cars, I can see him struggle to keep from bumping into them.

I bite the inside of my lips to keep myself from laughing when he takes forever to park this giant thing, but my whole body shaking might be a tell.

”I hate you,” he grumbles when he finally deems the car”s position to be straight enough, and to my surprise, he’s even parked within the lines.

”Love you too, bro.” I chuckle and jump out of the car, grabbing my bag from the backseat. He grumbles under his breath as we make our way to the parking lot exit, where Van is already waiting for us.

”About time you two came.” He eyes us over the rim of his thick sunglasses. They make him look like some kind of secret agent with his curly hair slicked back, black blazer over a black shirt, and black jeans and shoes to top it off.

”Well, you can thank Asher for driving like a snail,” I snicker and shake his hand.

”And Luca for taking too long on his nails.” I roll my eyes and try to elbow him, but he swerves it.

”God, can”t the two of you act like adults for once?” Van mutters under his breath, and Asher and I glance at each other.

“Please,” he scoffs while I shake my head.

”You got the two of us to join this charity thing, didn”t you? I”d have been more than happy to send a donation and watch it on TV at home.” I shrug, kind of hoping that option isn’t completely off the table yet.

”Anyway,” Van says, crushing my hope. “Follow me. Good thing you”re in your sports clothes already, training is starting in twenty minutes. I’ll give you a quick tour.”

Without waiting for an answer, he strolls off, knowing Asher and I will trail behind him like lost kids in a mall. He leads us through tunnels and bare hallways until he pushes a plain door open, revealing a locker room. I whistle. For a room only used for changing clothes, this one is really big and luxurious, with wide lockers and flags all over the walls.

”Looks like you”re the first ones. Who would have thought?” Van mumbles under his breath and gestures around. ”I hope you”ve memorized the way here.”

Well, he”s going to be disappointed. All the hallways looked the same, and I wouldn”t even know which direction to go back. And judging from Asher’s feeble attempt at suppressing a grin, I’d assume he’s just as clueless. Maybe they”ll put up some signs. I can”t imagine we”re the only ones who would get lost in this backstage labyrinth.

”This is where you”ll meet up with the others on all training days. Which are every weekday from now until the match.” My eyes grow wide. I thought we”d train two or maybe three times a week.

”I didn’t think they were taking it this seriously,” I admit with wide eyes, and Van burst into laughter.

”Luca. This match is sponsored by very big companies, and even bigger companies and institutions are donating to, in some ways, save their public image. Did you really think they”d be okay with televising an amateur match?”

I gulp. He”s got a point. Fuck. I really should have just said no.

”You”re obviously the first ones here, so feel free to pick your lockers. The others should arrive any moment now. Get to know them, do some networking, no fistfights or brawls. Please. It’s bad enough they’re putting all the Walker brothers together.”

”No promises,” the two of us answer in unison, and I hold up my hand for a high five he gives me without even looking.

Van leaves the room, grumbling something about retraining to become a kindergarten teacher under his breath. Asher and I glance at each other, then run for the same locker, trying to push our bag in first.

”I never thought I”d say it, but it is kind of fun,” I admit, before throwing the ball to Asher. The movement is a bit awkward, but I’m slowly starting to get the hang of it. ”Don”t tell anyone I said that.”

Today and for the next week, they”re having us go through several exercises to determine which position we could play and then train toward it. We”ve already done warm-up and some timed sprints. I”m not looking forward to the tackling exercise, but hey, if I”m injured, I won”t have to continue with training... glass half full and all that jazz. And since I got through the shower yesterday without any injury, at least Asher’s not winning any bets.

At least, that”s what I”m telling myself to tone down the nervousness.

”Oh, I”m going to shout it from the rooftops,” Asher promises with a grin and throws back the ball. I”m still not great at catching the weird egg shape, but I”d say I make it about three out of ten times by now, and that”s actually great progress for me.

This is not one of the times, though. The ball slips through my fingers and flies down into the grass, rolling about five feet away from me.

As I turn around, I see three figures approaching the training from a distance.

”Hey, who”s that?” Tanner, one of the Walker brothers, asks me. He’s twenty-four, the youngest of the bunch, but he”s hiding his young looks behind a beard and sunglasses.

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?”

”You know exactly what,” Adam, the oldest Walker brother, scolds, but it”s too late. The whole atmosphere has shifted. The magic is gone, and Kayla and Millie look incredibly uncomfortable, quickly excusing themselves.

”Who was that?” I ask Asher, blood boiling. He”s taller than all of us, he must have seen which dickhead was running his mouth.

”Some B-List. Unimportant. Rich’s got it.” He nods to our right, where Rich beckons a guy I’ve never seen over and leads him to the locker room. I hope he puts him in his place.

Meanwhile, Asher and I go back to throwing balls at each other. Physically. But I function on auto-pilot. Mentally, I’m far, far away, all of my thoughts revolving around her. Millie. I mouth her name. God, I love the way her name rolls off my tongue. Millie.

”Goddamnit, Luca. Quit dreaming and catch the fucking ball.” I raise my middle finger at Asher and retrieve the thing from a few meters behind me.

Millie. Her blonde curls looked so incredibly soft. Just like her pink, pouty lips. I want to paint the walls in my apartment the adorable rose shade of them so I”ll never forget it. So I can stare at it all day.

”Do you know them?” I ask Asher. Without having to clarify, he instantly knows who I”m talking about.

”Kind of.”

”Talk to me.” He knows I”m not the best at keeping up with pop culture, or anything happening on the internet. He”s always giving me shit for it, but I only use my phone for e-mails, calls, and messages with my family.

At the beginning of my career, just before starting to film my first big role, Van recommended I avoid social media, and I did just that. Immediately after our meeting, I deleted all of my accounts and wiped the apps from my phone. I wasn’t a big social media user to begin with, but it”s unbelievable how much happier I”ve been since I don’t have to deal with all of the notifications popping up.

Instead, I read, play games, or watch TV, all of which make me feel way more productive than doom-scrolling the World Wide Web. Nowadays, I barely keep up with what”s happening in the TV entertainment world, and if I do, it’s because it’s part of my job, much less what”s going on in pop music.

”Why?” He asks, his voice dripping with smugness, as he wiggles his eyebrows at me. I sigh and roll my eyes.

”Because I”m asking you.” I look at him pleadingly. Judging by the others’ reactions, I’d find the answer to most of my questions online. But each and every person standing on this grass knows how much of an untrue, slippery slope the internet is when it comes to celebrities.

”Alright, alright,” he concedes and looks at the stadium roof as he rolls thoughts over in his head, throwing me the ball without looking. I scramble and almost drop it, but finally, I have it cradled against my chest, pumping my fist in the air before throwing it back at him.

”So, the Siren’s. They had their big breakthrough four years ago, I think? Nowadays, they’re a very big deal. They have shows in stadiums all over the world, and they even did a few movie soundtracks.” He throws me the ball, still looking at the sky.

”According to tabloids, so take it with a grain of salt, the blonde one, Millie, changes her boyfriends like underwear. Feels like every month, she’s plastered over the web with another poor bloke wrapped around her little finger. Not too much known about the brunette in that regard.”

Tilting his head, he finally looks at me. ”She was going to be cast as a counterpart for me in that rom-com I did early last year. Thank God she didn”t. I hate working with amateurs.” I nod, vaguely remembering him mentioning that he might have to team up with a singer. He wasn”t thrilled. At all. But I never followed up on it, assuming he’d tell me. Suddenly, his expression turns serious. ”Listen, Luca, I don”t think Millie is a smart idea.”

”When have you ever known me to be smart?” I tilt my eyebrow and throw the ball right at him.