Sing For Me by Rachel Schurig

Eva

Ican’t say that it’s easy to be led around the room by Haylee Hunt to make small talk with scary industry insiders, but it’s a hell of a lot more comfortable than it would have been on my own.

Truth be told, this was never my favorite part of the job. Put me on a stage and I turn into a spotlight-craving showoff with a very healthy ego. One-on-one in a room full of people? That’s a totally different skill set, one I hadn’t quite managed to hone even before everything went to shit.

And after that, interpersonal communication became next to impossible.

But Will was right about his aunt’s charm. She has a way of smoothing over all the edges, keeping the conversation flowing, putting the people around her at ease—or terrifying them into submission. Maybe it’s the absolute self-assurance she seems to exude. Maybe it’s a continuation of her stage presence. Maybe it’s just years of practice in this industry.

Whatever it is, I’m kind of in awe of her.

Even so, I feel myself shutting down after twenty minutes or so. I forgot how difficult it is, keeping myself on for other people. I can feel the nerves starting to seep back in through the cracks, my chest tightening as familiar unease settles in my belly.

There are too many people in this room. And it’s far too dimly lit. If something bad were to happen, chaos would descend faster than anyone could guess. We would be trapped and—

Stop.

But once those ideas creep in, they’re difficult to get rid of. I find myself seeking out the exit signs, checking them over and over, my mind mapping out the best way to escape in case disaster strikes.

There’s not going to be any disaster,I tell myself. You’re at a fucking black-tie charity event in a Hollywood ballroom, for God’s sake.

But if there’s one thing I’ve had to learn the hard way, it’s that disaster doesn’t give a shit. If it wants to come crashing down on you, it will. And there’s nothing you can do about it.

We leave the group we’ve been chatting with and I realize, belatedly, that I don’t remember saying goodbye. Sometimes I manage to go through the motions even when my brain is spinning like this, and I cross my fingers I didn’t come across as too nuts.

“You look about ready to wrap it up,” Haylee says, and my stomach clenches. She can tell I’m freaking. Great.

“Did I…” my throat feels dry. Who had we been talking to just now? The CEO of MTV had been in one of the groups we’d met. Was it that one? Had I gone half-comatose in front of him?

“Eva?” Haylee asks, taking my hand. I realize that my breath is coming in short pants.

“Did I seem out of it just now?” I manage to gasp out. “In front of those people? Was I—”

She squeezes my hand, hard. “You were just fine, sweetheart.”

“But… but you said… and sometimes I—”

“Eva, listen to me.” Her voice is clear in my ear. “You were fine. I noticed you seemed a little tired, but it’s only because I’ve been where you are.” I look over and meet her blue eyes, warm and understanding in the dim light of the ballroom. “No one else would have guessed anything was wrong, okay? I promise.”

I take a deep breath, trying to let her words permeate the clanging panic in my head.

“Good,” she murmurs. “Just like that. Breathe.”

I should probably feel like an absolute idiot right now, losing my shit in front of one of my idols. Haylee Hunt is reminding me to breathe, for fuck’s sake. But there’s something too familiar in her eyes. She said she’s been where I’m at and in this moment, I believe her. And that makes it all feel so much easier.

“Thank you,” I say, squeezing her hand back. “I can’t tell you how much it helped me to have company while I did that.”

She smiles. “Anytime, girl.” She releases my hand to form a fist, holding it out for me to bump with mine. “Rock chicks have to stick together.”

I snort out a laugh at that. “I don’t think anyone has ever called me a rock chick before.” Pop princess was the usual moniker people threw my way, not always kindly.

“Your first few albums, it’s easy to let them mold you,” she says, shrugging. “But you have the pipes for rock music. Hell, you have the pipes for any kind of music you want. Give yourself some time to grow into whatever you’re supposed to be.”

“You’re kind of my hero,” I blurt out, blushing crimson when I realize what I’ve said.

Haylee laughs, slinging an arm around my shoulder. “I knew I liked you. Come on, let’s go find your man.”

I stumble a little as she begins to pull me away. “Oh, he’s not… Will and I… I barely know him. He did a tattoo for me a few weeks ago and… we’re friends. I guess.”

She raises an eyebrow but doesn’t comment on my babble. “He’s a good guy, you know. Smart. Loyal. Never coasts on his family’s fame or money. That boy wants to make something of himself, by himself.” She winks. “And handsome, too.”

Even though I’m still blushing, I can’t help the laugh from breaking free. “Haylee, are you trying to set me up with your nephew?”

She shrugs innocently. “I’m just saying, a girl could do a lot worse.”

And then I see him, a few feet away from us. He’s holding two champagne flutes, his eyes trained on me. So freaking focused on me as I approach, so intense. There were moments while I was walking around with Haylee that I could have sworn I felt the heat of that gaze on me, even across the room. My belly gives a pleasant flutter.

“You could say that again,” I mutter, and Haylee laughs, sounding delighted.

“How did it go?” Will asks, handing me one of the flutes.

“She did great,” Haylee says, squeezing my arm. “You got yourself a charmer here.”

Will doesn’t say anything, just continues to stare at me, but the corner of his lip quirks up a little.

And now I’m staring at his mouth. In front of his aunt. Great.

Haylee can’t seem to keep the amusement out of her voice. “I’ll just leave you kids to it.”

Will finally tears his eyes from mine as she moves to pass. He leans down and kisses the top of her head. “Thanks, Aunt Hay.”

She pats his cheek. “Anytime.” She winks at me and then she’s gone, leaving me alone with the most gorgeous—and terrifying—guy in the room.

“It went okay?”

“It did.” I try not to think about the way I had almost lost it at the end. “Haylee is great. Seriously. I have a giant crush on her.”

“I’ll try not to get too jealous.” He’s laughing, but the heat I see behind his eyes tells me it isn’t completely a joke. “Did you need to find Marissa? Or can you come grab some food with me?”

Since I just saw Marissa chatting with Annie Duncan, the Oscar-winning actress she used to work for, I know I have some time before I need to find her. Even so, a part of me hesitates. Spending more time with this gorgeous, intense man—a man who up until tonight clearly had no intentions of ever seeing me again—is most likely a surefire recipe for heartbreak.

But when he looks at me with those intense eyes, it’s really hard to say no.

“Okay.” I catch my breath when he grins at me, apparently happy with my decision. He holds out a hand and I reach for him—

And we’re interrupted by what appears to be a tornado of lanky limbs and black hair. “Will!” The tornado hurls herself into Will’s arms, making him step back with a grunt.

“Jesus, Santana,” he mutters, just before another person joins the mini pile-up, knocking him the other way. “Lyric, ouch. Come on, you guys. Can’t breathe, here.”

The two girls release him, laughing. They’re young, maybe fourteen or fifteen, both of them a little awkward and gangly in their fancy attire with the air of little kids playing dress-up. “Where have you been?” the darker-haired one asks.

“We haven’t seen you in ages,” the other agrees.

“It hasn’t been that long.” He straightens his now-askew tie. “What are you two even doing here? I thought the Littles were staying at home.”

Their happy expressions turn immediately to scowls. “Don’t you lump us in with the babies,” the dark-haired girl snarls.

He laughs, ruffling her carefully styled hair and making her yelp with outrage. When he looks at me, there’s an obvious change to his expression. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Will looking this… peaceful. Relaxed. His grin is easy, eyes sparkling with humor. Even his posture seems different, less tense.

“Eva, these are two of my little cousins.” He puts emphasis on little and the girls scowl. He tugs on the ponytail of the girl with light brown hair. “This one is Lyric.” Again, he tries to ruffle the other girl’s black curls, she ducks out of the way this time. “And this is Santana. Girls, meet my friend Eva.”

“Hey, Eva,” Lyric says easily, barely glancing at me. But Santana takes one look at my face and gasps.

“Oh. My. God,” she whispers. “Oh my God!” She jumps up and down, wobbling on her short heels. “Are you seriously for real right now?” She grabs Lyric’s arm. “Don’t you know who this is?”

“No,” Will says firmly, clamping a hand on his cousin’s bouncing shoulder, stilling her. “You’re not going all fangirl on her.”

“But she’s Eve,” Santana cries, clapping her hands together since her cousin is now preventing her from jumping up and down. We’re starting to attract attention.

“She’s a real person,” Will says, rolling his eyes. He shoots me an apologetic look. “You’d think after years of watching people treat our dads like this, she’d learn to be a little more chill.”

I find that I’m grinning, both at the excited girl—who really couldn’t be cuter—and at her bossy, protective big cousin. “She’s fine,” I tell him.

Santana pulls away from him. “Can I have an autograph?” she asks. “Or maybe a picture? Oh my God, I would die if I could take a picture with you.”

“Jesus,” Will mutters. “You know, this kind of thing is the reason the little kids aren’t allowed to come to the gala. Maybe I need to tell our parents that you’re not mature enough to mingle with celebrities either?”

She shoots him a pout. “You’re so mean, Will.”

“I know, I know, I’m the worst.” He winks at me. “Now run along and tell your little friends you met a celebrity so Eva and I can get some food.”

Santana gasps. “Oh my God, please let me come with you.” She tugs on his arm. “I want to be able to say that I ate dinner with Eve Lidell. Please, Will. Please.”

“Oh, look at that.” Will points across the room. “Your dad is looking for you.”

Santana pouts. “He is not.”

“Is too. So’s your mom.”

“No she isn’t!”

He looks to Lyric. “A little help?”

The calmer girl laughs, grabbing her cousin’s arm. “Come on, Ana.” She lowers her voice to a loud stage whisper. “I think Will is trying to flirt. You’re messing up his game.”

Santana looks like she might pass out. “Oh my God, please date my cousin!”

Will groans, grabs her by the shoulders, and physically pushes her away. “Fifty bucks if you get her out of here,” he tells Lyric.

She narrows her eyes. “How about a tattoo instead?”

He snorts. “In three years.”

She gives a long-suffering sigh, but she’s smiling as she grabs Santana’s arm. “She’s pretty,” she stage-whispers again, winking at him. “Don’t blow it.”

“Jesus,” he mutters as they go. He runs a hand through his hair as he turns back to me and his eyes narrow at my expression. “Don’t you dare laugh.”

I hold up my hands, grinning. “I’m not laughing.”

“Yeah, but you want to.”

I do laugh, then, and he joins me. “Remember when I told you spending time with my family was like being in a madhouse?”

“I think they’re great,” I tell him honestly.

He looks at something over my shoulder and groans. “Well you’re about to meet a bunch more of them.”

I turn just as a group of who I assume must be his cousins arrive. There’s something similar about all of them, a familiarity that makes it clear they’re related. But these people seem older than the girls I’d just met, all of them probably my own age or close to it.

“William,” one of the boys says in a smug sort of voice, flicking a perfect wave of white-blond hair over his forehead. “So nice to see you being social tonight.” The guy’s gaze flicks to me, his smirk deepening. “Aren’t you going to introduce us to your friend?”

“No,” Will says flatly and the guy laughs.

“Ignore River,” a very pretty girl says—she has the exact same black curls I’d just seen on Santana. “We all do.”

“Hey,” the guy objects. “I’m charming and delightful.”

“Sure you are.” Another blonde, a girl, pushes past him to hold out her hand for me. “I’m Rose.”

“Eva,” I say, shaking hands. “Nice to meet you.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s so nice,” Will mutters. “To be bombarded by half my cousins over the course of five minutes. You haven’t even had food yet.”

“That’s why we’re here, actually,” Rose says, pointing over her shoulder at a darkened balcony overlooking the ballroom. “Alex is up there hoarding food for us.”

“We saw the little girls all over you,” the dark-haired cousin says. “We thought we’d rescue you.”

Will shoots me a cautious glance. “It probably is quieter up there,” he says, then scowls. “But we’ll have to talk to these assholes, so it might not be any better.”

“Hey.” Rose smacks his arm but Will ignores her, leaning closer so only I can hear.

“Seriously, Eva. If this is overwhelming to you, we don’t have to go. We can find a quiet table down here.”

Normally, I would avoid this kind of situation like the plague. If there’s anything worse for my mental state than spending time in a crowded ballroom, it’s being forced to interact one-on-one with strangers.

But looking at Will, the normal worry doesn’t flood my system. I like this, I realize, getting a peak at his loud, crazy family. And I definitely don’t want to say goodbye to him yet.

“I’ll just text Marissa and tell her where I am.”

He nods, taking a deep breath, as if bracing himself. “Ignore like, seventy percent of whatever they say,” he mutters, gesturing at his cousins.

I laugh. “Oh, I’m definitely going to get the dirt on you tonight.”

“I can hardly wait,” he says drily. But he places his big, warm hand at the base of spine and leaves it there as we follow his cousins from the ballroom.