34
“Just one thing before we leave,” I say, applying a layer of gloss to my lips. “Don’t forget to call me Grace.” In the two weeks since I told Ash who I am, she’s been calling me Viv at home, and I’m scared she’s going to slip up and out me to our friends and the band.
“Can I be honest?” she asks, as she finishes applying eyeliner. She looks at me through the mirror.
“No, please lie to me,” I joke, fluffing out the soft curls in my hair.
“I think you should just tell everyone who you are. They will understand why you wanted to keep your identity a secret, and they won’t hold it against you.”
“I don’t want anyone to know, Ash.” I lean back against the tile, sighing. “I don’t want to see pitying looks in their eyes or give the guys any more ammunition to make fun of me.”
“They’ve really made a bad impression, haven’t they?” she murmurs, rubbing some product into her short hair.
“Conor and Ronan haven’t.”
“Jamie made his peace with you the morning after he stayed over, and Dillon has promised he’ll be on his best behavior tonight.”
I’ll believe it when I see it. “I don’t want them to know,” I repeat, because this is important to me. I’m still not sure if Dillon saw the photos by my bed, but I guess I’ll find out tonight. If he knows who I am, he will need little encouragement to reveal my secrets and embarrass the shit out of me.
“Celebrities aren’t a big deal in Ireland, and not many people are up to speed on Hollywood gossip. I honestly don’t think anyone will know who you are, and you can trust my friends not to tell anyone. Wouldn’t you rather just be yourself?”
“I know you mean well, Ash, but you have no clue the shit I had to put up with in L.A. I’m loving it here because no one knows any of that. I’m not ready to face it, and I’m not ready to talk about it. If I tell everyone to call me Viv, I’ll have to explain, and I can’t.” The words project from my mouth like vomit.
“I’m sorry.” She grabs my arm. “I didn’t mean to upset you. You’re right. I have no idea how bad things were for you before you came here. I just hate that you don’t feel like you can be yourself with us.”
“I’m still me, Ash. Just because I’m using my middle name and choosing not to tell people about my ex and my famous parents doesn’t mean I’m fake.”
“I wasn’t suggesting you were.” She wraps her arms around me. “Can we just rewind the last five minutes and forget I said anything? You look sexy as fuck, and you’ve finally agreed to come to Whelans again, and I don’t want anything to ruin tonight. We’re going to paint the town red and wash those dicks right out of our hair.”
* * *
Eyes bore into my back, and I feel his potent stare without the need to turn around. I knew Dillon was in the bar somewhere, but we’ve been here for over an hour, and he hasn’t shown his face. Jamie is giving Ash the cold shoulder, like usual, and Aoife is hanging all over him. The bitch Dillon was with at our party has been shooting me daggers for the past hour, and I’m close to saying fuck it and leaving.
I only agreed to come out because I know Ash feels torn leaving me at home every Friday night, and I don’t want her to have to choose between me and the band.
Personally, I don’t know how she can subject herself to this torture every week. I know she comes to support her brothers, but watching Jamie with different girls must be killing her. “How do you stand it?” I ask, taking a sip of my pink gin as I subtly gesture in Jamie and Aoife’s direction.
“Alcohol helps. Fucking other guys does too. I haven’t done that in a while, so I think it’s time I found someone to bang tonight. His behavior reminds me why I need to stay away from him. I slipped up at our party but never again. Watching him with other girls helps strengthen my resolve.” She drinks some of her beer. “I’ve thought a lot about what you said. Idodeserve someone who would fight for me. If Jamie truly cared, he’d talk to Dillon and make it right. I’m done being second best.”
“Amen to that, sister.” I raise my glass to her beer bottle, and we say “Sláinte.”
I rub the back of my neck, feeling tingles all over from Dillon’s intrusive gaze, and I wish he’d focus on one of his groupies instead.
“You do know he’s staring at you, right?” Ash says.
“Unfortunately, yes.” Giving in, I angle my head to the side, and our gazes connect. My heart skips a beat, like always.
Tonight, Dillon is wearing a tight white T-shirt under a black leather jacket and blue jeans that hug his muscular thighs. The usual chains and bands adorn his neck and wrists. He fiddles with his eyebrow piercing as his eyes drift up and down my body, drinking in my one-shouldered silk pink top, formfitting black leather pants, and kick-ass knee-high boots. I let Ash do my makeup and style my hair, and I know I look good. I haven’t missed the ardent stares of men in the vicinity though I’ve been avoiding making eye contact with anyone. I’m still not ready to cross that bridge.
“Holy fuck, Grace. You look gorgeous,” Ronan says, snaking his arms around me from behind, forcing me to break my face-off with his older brother.
“Thanks, Ro.” I beam at him while gently removing his arms. He’s getting braver, and it’s making me uncomfortable. “Where were you?”
“Dillon and I were being interviewed forHot Pressmagazine. It’s a pretty big deal.”
Pride suffuses his tone, and I twist around in my chair. “That’s awesome.”
“I love how you say that,” he says, winding his fingers through my hair.