Chapter 43
Rayne
Stay—Gracie Abrams
“This is so crazy.” Mae scrolls through one video after another, a look of awe on her face. Glancing at her phone, I see another edit of the music video replaying the kiss in slow motion, and I fall back onto my bed with a groan.
“Mae, stop watching that.”
“But the fan edits are really great. Do you know how many people have already used the song as their audio? Thousands. Seriously, it’s crazy.”
“I know.”
“Why aren’t you happy?”
“I am,” I say. “It’s just . . . I didn’t think it through properly before.”
Mae gives me an uncomprehending glance. “What do you mean?”
I sigh. “I wanted the video to do well. I just didn’t think that people would read so much into it about Easton and me. It feels . . .” I stop, shaking my head. “I can’t really explain it right now. It’s just strange.”
“Okay.” Mae puts down her phone and looks at me apologetically. “If it’s strange for you, I’ll stop watching the videos of you two.”
“Thank you.” I reach for her hand and give it a short squeeze.
We’re hanging out in my room after dinner.
Zoe and Jase are at the theater tonight seeing The Sleeping Beauty.
Jase got tickets, since it’s Zoe’s favorite ballet, which is why Mae and I are here by ourselves.
I’m happy for the distraction, because I’ve already spent half the day waiting to hear from Easton.
We saw each other in class like we always do, but we didn’t have time to talk properly. It’s been a hectic day. So I wrote to him later asking if we could get together. But he hasn’t answered yet, and something about that makes my stomach tighten uncomfortably.
“What happens next?” Mae asks after a while, when only Gracie Abrams’ soft voice is filling the silence in my room. Mae has her chin resting on her hands, her green eyes sparkling with curiosity.
“What do you mean?”
“You know. With the band.”
“I don’t know. I think they’ll keep going until some label says they want them. Or they’ll try it without a label, if that doesn’t happen.”
Her gaze becomes more intense. “What about you? What do you want to do?”
I freeze. “Nothing?” It comes out sounding too much like a question.
Mae’s finely arched eyebrows rise skeptically. “Come on, Rayne. You can tell me.”
My mouth opens, but I can’t get a sound out. I don’t know what to say.
Mae looks at me expectantly, and I’m saved by a gentle knock on my door. I get off the bed to open it and suddenly find myself face-to-face with Easton.
My heart leaps. We saw each other this morning, but right now it feels like weeks have passed, not just a few hours.
“Hey,” I say, a little surprised. “What are you doing here?”
“Sorry, I know I didn’t tell you I was coming, but . . . can we talk?” he asks, smiling uncertainly. The uneasy feeling in my stomach is back. He seems tired. There are dark circles under his eyes, his hair is even messier than usual, and he looks a little pale.
“Sure, come in.” I step aside and then remember I’m not alone.
“I guess that’s my cue to leave.” Mae gets off my bed and winks at us.
“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to chase you away. I can come back tomorrow.”
“Nonsense,” Mae says. “I see Rayne every day. I can survive without her for one evening. Especially if you two have things to talk about.” She gives him a quick hug, and a moment later the door closes behind her.
Easton and I are alone, but something is different. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but it makes me uncomfortable.
“Are you all right?” I reach out a hand, my fingertips brushing his, and breathe a sigh of relief when he immediately slips his fingers between mine.
“I am now.” He sounds relieved and I have to smile.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I think so. Today has worn me out.” He gently pulls me close and caresses my face.
“Why, what happened?” My fingers slip under his sweater; I need to feel his skin.
He hesitates briefly and bites his lower lip.
I wait and gently stroke his bare skin.
“Have you been reading those articles? About . . . us?”
I tense up. “No.”
I don’t even need to ask to know he has.
“Why not?” he asks quietly.
“Because I know none of what they’re saying is true. None of it.”
“What if it is?” He sounds so insecure that it breaks my heart a little.
“What did you read?” I ask, even though I don’t really want to know. But I have to, because whatever it was, it’s bothering him.
“A few things about you and your parents.” I shiver, but don’t get a chance to ask him more before he quickly moves on. It’s probably better that way. “Also some things about us. They say our music video is only popular because you’re in it. And that I’m using you.”
“But you know none of that is true, right?”
Easton is silent, the kind of silence that means he wants to agree but isn’t entirely convinced. I stroke the back of his neck, nestling against him and breathing his familiar scent.
“When I was little, I didn’t know my dad was famous.
Mom always took me to his concerts, and I’d wear these huge headphones, but I never realized that all the people there were there because of my dad.
How could any kid understand that?” As I remember how Mom showed me pictures of us, me in her arms with huge headphones on, my eyes fill with tears.
But I also have to smile. It’s a beautiful memory.
“It took me years to realize who he was. My parents always tried to keep me out of the public eye as much as possible. Even though we lived in LA, we were just outside the city. Even as a child, I preferred being at home to anywhere else.”
Easton’s hands move from my face to my hair. He’s still silent, waiting for me to continue. Which I do. But I’m not really sure what I’m trying to tell him.
“Eventually, of course, I got curious. Google is a gateway to hell when you’re in the public eye.
I read so many things about my parents that at some point I didn’t know if I really knew them anymore.
Which is absurd, because of course I knew my parents.
Much better than those fake journalists who’ll write anything to generate clicks.
It took me a long time to realize that it wasn’t good for me to read what was on the internet.
Not just about my parents, but about myself too.
It started when I hit puberty. So much crap was being written that it was hard to bear.
So I made a clean break and stopped reading all of it.
It was really difficult at first, but eventually I got used to not Googling certain things.
What I’m trying to say is that none of what you’ve read is true.
They have no idea. The music video is popular because it’s great.
The song is great, and sure, we were a little lucky.
Maybe the timing was just right, who knows?
It doesn’t matter, the important thing is that it’s working.
” I stand on tiptoes and wrap both arms around his neck, looking him straight in the eyes to make sure he not only hears me but also understands me.
“The idea that you’re supposedly using me is the biggest load of crap I’ve ever heard. ”
His blue eyes flicker. “So you don’t believe it’s true?”
“Not for a second. I know you, Easton.”
He leans his forehead against mine, his breath brushing my skin as he sighs. “I hate that I worry about stuff like this. And I hate that I feel bad because sometimes I think I should be able to do this without you. But I don’t want to do it without you. Does that make sense? It doesn’t, does it?”
“Yes, it does.” I stroke his lips with my thumb. “It makes a lot of sense to me. I think thoughts like that are normal when you work in a creative field. But Easton, you can do anything, with or without me. You write amazing songs, I know that.”
“You too,” he whispers. I don’t know why, but I’d rather pretend I didn’t hear him.
“Please don’t read those articles anymore,” I say quietly, snuggling a little closer to him.
“Okay.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
“I love you.” The words come out of my mouth before I even think about saying them. It just happens. Maybe that’s how it’s supposed to be. Maybe you’re meant to say those words without even thinking about it. When you just feel it. And I feel it very strongly right now.
“I love you too.” Easton’s voice sends shivers down my back. He smiles, and then he kisses me. It’s a gentle kiss. Just because he wants to kiss me. Because we’re in love with each other. So in love.
Tears fill my eyes because right now, at this moment, I’m so damn happy.
I can hardly comprehend it, but somehow I am.
It doesn’t matter what gossip magazines write about us.
There’s only one truth. Maybe I’m crying a little because Mom and Dad will never know that I’ve found someone I can love. Someone I want to love.
Easton looks down at me when he tastes the salt on our lips. His gaze is dark, clouded and worried.
“Don’t cry,” he whispers.
I shake my head. “I’m sorry,” I murmur, wiping the tears off my cheeks and swallowing the lump in my throat.
“What’s wrong?” He holds my face in both hands, his gaze gentle.
“Nothing,” I reply, shrugging. “I’m just . . . happy.”
“That’s why you’re crying?”
“Yes.”
“Then they’re happy tears?” A small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, a little uncertain and very much like himself.
I nod and blink away the last tears. “Yes, because you make me happy.”
His eyes light up, and when he kisses me this time, it’s different. Slower, deeper. More. A kiss that makes us both forget why he came here and what we were talking about. A kiss that makes me forget everything.
I open my mouth when I feel his tongue, arching my back so my body presses closer to his.
I let my hands wander under his sweater again, and he immediately gets goose bumps.
I smile against his lips, tugging at the sweater that desperately needs to come off so his skin can touch mine.
I want to feel his heat. I want to feel him.