Lie to Me (Rising Star Book 1)

by Lee Piper

  Willow slides her back down the wall, crouching next to where I’m sitting on the floor. “You did well tonight.”

  My snort is huge. “Thanks.”

  “What? You don’t think so?” Willow shrugs one shoulder. “I loved your song. Felt bad about the guy who got hit with the shoe.” She winces. “He went down pretty hard. Don’t reckon it’ll impact your votes though.” There’s a pause. “Why have you banished yourself to the corner of the living room?”

  I exhale, rubbing one hand down my face. “I dunno. I’m just tired. It’s been a long day.”

  Willow stares at me, her forehead crinkling in concern. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

  “Fine. I’m totally fine.” My smile feels strange. I’m blaming junk food withdrawals. Scrambling to my feet, I brush the back of my pants with twitching hands. “Reckon I might head up to my room. You know, because I’m tired.”

  “Uh huh.”

  I inch away. “Thanks for the snack. It was thoughtful even if my brother is a turd.”

  “You sure you’re all right?” Yeah, she’s not buying my excuse.

  “Absolutely.” With a half-hearted wave, I nod. “Thanks for coming, I’ll see you later.”

  It’s hard to ignore her troubled expression as I push through the crowd and head upstairs. Once in my room, I tip my head back, breathing in the warm night air seeping through the open window.

  There’s a soft knock at my door. “Shiloh?”

  Opening it, I face my friend. “Wil, I said I’m fine.”

  She steps around me. “I know. Doesn’t mean I believe you though.” After making her way to my bed, she kicks off her shoes and sits cross-legged in the center of the mattress. Patting the comforter, she quirks her brow.

  Grudgingly, I sit opposite her, my legs tucked beneath me.

  “Wanna tell me what’s going on?”

  “Honestly?” I sigh. “No, not really.”

  She gives a gentle smile. “You know, I was in your situation once.”

  “I doubt it.”

  She nudges my knees. “Hear me out, okay?” When I nod, she continues. “You won’t remember this, but years ago, I went through some pretty heavy stuff. For a long time, I didn’t tell anyone, I didn’t let it show.” She glances out the window. “I guess I was ashamed of what happened. Like, if I said it out loud, people would judge me.” Her voice is soft. “People judge each other way too much.”

  I pat her shoulder, my movement cumbersome. “Sorry, I don’t…” Removing my hand, I look down at it, unsure what to do. “I’m really bad at the whole comforting thing.”

  She grins. “It’s fine.”

  I’m quiet for a moment. “So what did you do?”

  “I spoke to someone. A professional. I’m not telling you to see a shrink or anything. If you want to, that’s your call.” Her gaze is sincere. “But I found talking about my issues really helpful.” She squeezes my hand. “And I’m here for you, okay?”

  My fingers tease the material of my bedcovers, the cotton soft against my skin. It would be such a relief to have someone to confide in. Someone who isn’t part of my band, who won’t freak out because their future is at stake.

  “I’ve got enochlophobia.” The words pass my lips before I realize I’ve spoken.

  Willow blinks, confused.

  “It’s a fear of crowds.”

  It takes a moment to sink in, but when it does, her eyes bulge. “Since when?”

  “A while. It’s flipping inconvenient, let me tell you.”

  She shakes her head, bewildered. “Do the boys know?”

  “No.”

  “Not even your brother?”

  “Especially not my brother.”

  “Have you spoken to anyone about this?”

  Looking at the ceiling, I pray for guidance, like a sign telling me where to go from here. Nothing. To hell with it. “Reid is the only one who knows.”

  Willow’s eyebrows almost reach her hairline.

  “Trust me, I didn’t tell him by choice. He figured it out himself.”

  She’s quiet at first. “How did he find out?”

  I scratch the back of my neck. “He knows me pretty well.”

  “Huh.”

  “What?”

  “Makes sense.”

  “What does?”

  “You and Reid.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you two have always had this”—her hand flails in the space between us—“connection. It was there when we were kids.”

  “Yeah.”

  We’re silent for a moment.

  “What are you going to do about your enochlophobia? Is Reid helping you work through it?”

  I swallow. “In a way, yes. We’ve, ah, tried immersion therapy and distraction therapy. Both seem to work pretty well.”

  “I see.”

  I sure as hell hope not.

  Confused, she asks, “Shiloh, I don’t mean to sound rude or anything, but why is he helping you? I mean, we’re in competing bands, and up until a few weeks ago, he would leave the room whenever anyone said your name. Why is he doing this?”

  My gaze takes in the shadows flitting across the ceiling. I exhale. “I have no idea. The trouble is, the closer we get to finals, the larger the crowds are getting.” I shrug. “I need him.”

  “You worried about it?”

  “Terrified.”

  A smile lights up her face. “I’m glad Reid is helping you. He’s a good guy. An enigma but”—she smiles—“you know, solid.”

  I nod.

  Willow watches me, her head tilted. “Oh my God, there’s more.”

  “What?”

  “You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

  “What? No! Are you crazy?”

  She continues staring, unconvinced.

  “Willow, I’m not—” I choke on the words. “In love with Reid. Jesus Christ.”

  More staring.

  “It would be suicide for my heart, you know that, right?”

  Blink.

  “He hates me. He said so right before we—” I stop. “Can we change the subject already?”

  “Shiloh.” Her eyes turn pitying.

  I can’t deal. “Look, it’s getting late. I should get some sleep.” I move to the bedroom door and open it.

  But before she leaves, Willow puts her hand on my arm. “Remember, I’m always here for you. Okay?”

  Despite the whirlwind in my mind and the tension seizing my body, I smile. “Thanks.”

  The next morning, I slowly make my way downstairs. The house is quiet, though the evidence of last night’s party is everywhere. Empty bottles, pizza boxes, even discarded clothing is scattered throughout the house.

  “Gross,” I mutter, sidestepping a hot pink G-string left in the hallway.

  “Morning.” Tobias is at the kitchen table, sipping coffee. “I crashed on the couch. Hope you don’t mind.”

  I gesture to the hookerwear on the floor. “Please tell me you didn’t have a hand in that.”

  “Do you mean literally or figuratively?”

  I gag. He smirks.

  “That’s your brother’s handiwork, not mine.”

  Shaking my head, I stomp over to the cupboard and make myself some Pop-Tarts. Once done, I collapse into the chair next to Tobias.

  A small smile plays about his lips.

  “What?”

  “Your hair.”

  Swearing under my breath, I do my best to rectify what is an impossible situation. It’s only when one of my fingers gets lost in the Amazon that is my matted locks that I admit defeat.

  “Here.” With gentle hands, Tobias extricates me.

  I’m about to offer my thanks when I notice a softness in his expression. Oh no. He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, his callused fingers tracing the outer shell.

  He’s never done this before.

  I don’t want to know why he’s doing it now.

  Thankfully, Tobias’s phone lights up, so I d
on’t have to worry. Retracting his hand, he picks up the device from where it is on the table. After reading the message, he scowls. So predictable.

  “Trouble in paradise?”

  Shoving the phone into the pocket of his jeans, Tobias narrows his eyes at me. It’s becoming a thing. “She’s impossible.”

  I snort. He glares. Holding my hands up in surrender, I counter, “Hey, you already know my thoughts on the subject. Let’s not pretend you don’t.”

  Scrubbing the twelve o’clock shadow on his jaw, Tobias mutters, “She keeps telling me I’m not putting enough effort into our relationship, that I’m not prioritizing her.”

  “Color me surprised.”

  I didn’t think it was possible for Tobias to scowl even further, but alas, I was wrong.

  “Sorry not sorry.”

  More glowering.

  “Okay, okay.” Adopting a serious expression, I take a deep breath. “Tiffany knows you’re in the middle of a nationwide music competition, right? That this is a massive opportunity and rather than accuse you of”—my air quotation marks are spectacular—“not prioritising her, maybe she could be happy for you? Hell, maybe she could even take a step back and let music be a priority right now?”

  Tobias looks at me funny.

  “What?” I pat my hair.

  “That’s what you’d do, isn’t it?”

  Dropping my hand, I nod. “Well, yeah. I mean, this is a big fucking deal. I’d never take that away from anyone, especially the person I’m supposedly in love with.” I shake my head. “Not cool.”

  There’s that look again. Tobias swallows. “There, ah, there might be a reason why she thinks I’m not prioritizing her.”

  My stomach clenches as if it’s preparing to be punched by someone wearing killer knuckledusters.

  Tobias is watching me closely, expecting a response.

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah.” He exhales.

  He stares at the table, no doubt hoping it will write out what he should say. I really want it to tell him to say nothing at all.

  “Shiloh, I…” He swallows again, scrunching his eyes closed before opening them and pinning them on me. “I need to tell you something.”

  “You really don’t.”

  “But you don’t know what I’m about to say.”

  My voice is soft. “I think I do.”

  “And you don’t want me to say it?”

  I shake my head.

  His features harden. A part of him which was always reserved for me shuts off. Gone. It hurts worse than I imagined. “Is it because of Reid?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I’m not stupid. I know you two are fucking.”

  Oh hell no. I hold up my index finger. “First of all, I’ve never called you stupid. A pain in my ass, sure, but never stupid.” Holding up my middle finger, I continue. “And secondly, what Reid and I are doing is none of your damn business. You’ve got a girlfriend. She’s a shit one, there’s no doubt about it, but she’s yours nonetheless. So don’t insult either of us by continuing this conversation.”

  “You think my feelings for you are insulting?”

  I rear back. “What? No, of course not.”

  He stands, the wooden chair toppling to the ground in his haste. “I’m not good enough for you, is that it? I don’t have tattoos, a fucking smoldering stare, and the same ability behind a drum kit?”

  “That’s not what I meant!” I try to grasp his hand, but he steps back, glaring.

  “I think it is. And all that talk about me deserving better, that’s all it was, wasn’t it? Talk.”

  “Of course not! If you would shut up for a minute—”

  “No! You shut up!” He leans forward, his eyes cold. “I thought you were everything Tiff isn’t. I thought you were everything good in this world.” Shaking his head, his voice is bitter. “Fuck, was I wrong. You’re exactly like her.” He twists the dagger piercing my heart. “You’re exactly the same.”

  Tobias disappears down the hallway, and a moment later, the front door slams. I stare at the emptiness mocking the space where my best friend used to be. My eyes blur as tears freefall down my cheeks, uncaring when they land in my lap.

  Only when hours have passed and I need to get to work do I stand, wipe my face with the back of my hand, and put one foot in front of the other.

  It’s a miracle we make it through to the semi-finals. I have no idea how it happens; I’m simply thankful for the votes. Moving through the days, I oscillate between freaking out about the upcoming song and hoping to God no one picks up on the tension between Tobias and me.

  It doesn’t work.

  Band practices are stilted, production meetings are awkward, and by the time we make it to performance night, I’m ready to scream.

  “Would you stop already? Your pacing is making me dizzy.”

  I face my brother. “Fourteen steps. Did you know it takes exactly fourteen steps to move from one side of the greenroom to the other?”

  “The fuck?” Jasper gapes at me. “Is this stage one of a mental breakdown?”

  A fair question.

  With a loud thump, Tobias slips from the worn leather couch onto the floor. He gives a low laugh. It’s bitter and cold, a far cry from his usual cheerfulness.

  I glare at my brother. “I’m so fucking pissed with you right now.”

  “He’s been PMSing all week. I thought it would loosen him up.”

  “Before the semi-finals? Are you fucking crazy?”

  He throws his arms out to the sides. “How was I to know he’d drink the whole bottle of bourbon? Don’t stress, it won’t affect his drumming. Remember the last time this happened? He was a beast on stage.”

  “I’m trying hard to forget.” I plant fisted hands on my hips. “It’s wrong for our band to benefit from his drunkenness. That’s not what friends do.”

  “Well, help me get his ass back on the sofa then.”

  Jasper and I wrestle Tobias back onto the couch. I murmur soft encouragement while Jasper’s grunts are interspersed with some of the most colorful variations of the word dick I’ve ever heard.

  We manage to get him upright as Willow enters the room. Drake and Reid stroll in behind her.

  “Hey, guys,” she says. “We wanted to wish you luck.”

  “And sabotage whatever we can get our hands on.” Drake winks.

  Reid is silent.

  If I wasn’t so distracted by the hornets’ nest in my stomach and the drunk fool on the couch, I’d congratulate them on making it through to the semi-finals too. As a compromise, I smile. However, judging by the way Drake eyes me as if I’m a shock treatment away from certified insanity, I’m doing a rubbish job at it. Sighing, I take the last six steps to the far wall. After turning on my heel, I lean my back against the frigid brick and close my eyes. Fuck, I wish I was anywhere else.

  I sense rather than hear him approach. It is the way the air crackles and fizzes whenever he’s nearby. Steeling myself, I peek one eye open. “Hey.”

  Silence.

  Everything fades into soft focus. The voices, the laughter, the chaos, they blur and mute. Our world consists purely of him, me, and the energy sparking between us.

  I open my other eye. Reid steps closer, and for the first time in hours, I can breathe. I inhale, relishing the way my ribs expand with the movement. Reid’s gaze is fixed on mine, searching, penetrating, concerned. It’s the concern that’s my undoing.

  Damn it, now I’m gonna cry.

  I swear on all that is holy, if he keeps looking at me as though he cares, I’m going to break down in this greenroom. There will be racking sobs, puffy eyes, and snot. Lots and lots of snot. It will be the ultimate ugly cry.

  “You’re unhappy.” Reid’s voice is soft, deep. I pretend it’s a warm blanket I can wrap around myself.

  “Yes.”

  He nods. There is no pretense with Reid, no platitudes or ill-timed jokes. It’s just him nodding and me about to lose a gallon of water from my lacri
mal glands.

  “What am I going to do?” I whisper. I’m not even sure if I’m talking about tonight’s performance anymore.

  “You’re gonna sing.”

  “Reid—”

  He moves closer until his shoes touch mine. “You’re gonna sing. That’s the answer. That’s the only answer.”

  Nibbling my bottom lip, I gaze into his eyes and take a leap of faith. Fuck, I hope he catches me. “I’m scared.”

  Warm hands cup my face, his thumbs brushing my cheeks. “I know.”

  “Tobias hates me, there are so many people out there, and I am so fucking scared of—”

  He kisses me.

  Reid Tate presses the entirety of his body against mine and kisses me. His hands cradle my face, angling my head to the side for greater depth. His hips press against my stomach, and despite my anxiety-riddled brain, I still manage to register him hardening against me.

  Yes.

  A million times yes.

  All of the yeses.

  It is only when my hands are clawing at his shoulders and I’m literally climbing the man that the catcalls and wolf whistles filter through my subconscious.

  Greenroom.

  Bandmates.

  Shit.

  I gasp, pulling back.

  However, Reid refuses to let me go. Instead, he wraps my legs around his waist and forces my eyes on him. “No.”

  “But—”

  “You’ve got a show to play. That’s your priority, nothing else.”

  “What about Tobias?”

  Before I can search the room for him, Reid repositions his body so he’s both blocking my view and pressed firmly against me. Damn, he feels good.

  “No distractions, Shiloh. You can sort shit out with him later. Right now, you need to get your head straight and your ass on stage.”

  He’s right. It doesn’t stop my stomach from plummeting though.

  Reid must notice my despondency because he leans forward and sucks my bottom lip into his mouth. “You’ve got this.”

  “Okay.”

  He smiles. It’s so beautiful it hurts. “That’s my girl.”

  “Am I?”

  Jesus. I said it out loud. I have no idea where the question came from, and I don’t know why I’m holding my breath either. For some reason, my body is unresponsive during the whole “asking a poignant question at the most inconvenient time” thing.