I looked at myself in the mirror. They weren’t lying. I looked amazing. So. Damned. Happy.
It was a little ridiculous.
“I’m just glad we’re getting a break,” I said. “And that we get to start working on your album soon.”
“Your album,” Harriet corrected.
I snorted. “Please. I’m doing the easy part—you’re the one writing all the songs.” I reached my hand out—her fingers found mine and we intertwined them. “I can’t wait for everyone to hear your music.”
She grinned at me in the mirror, but her smile faltered a bit.
“Is that really the reason you’re so happy right now?” she asked.
My smile dropped off. Harriet was too observant for her own good.
“Yep,” I said, but didn’t look her in the eye.
She waited until the makeup artist was done and we were alone. Then she dropped down into the chair next to mine, swiveling it so she was facing me.
“What is going on?” she asked.
I tried to ignore her, leaning forward to check my eyelashes. My lip liner. Anything.
“Kathleen,” she said.
“It’s nothing,” I said.
But she grabbed the arms of my chair and forced me to turn toward her.
“It’s not nothing,” she said. “I haven’t seen you this happy since…I don’t know…since you got your first record deal.”
That couldn’t be possible. I’d been happy other times. Really happy.
Ryan had made me happy. Sometimes. Most of the time.
“Did something happen?” Harriet asked.
I didn’t say anything, but of course, that was enough of an answer.
“Oh my god,” she said. “What happened?”
I gestured for her to be quiet.
“Nothing,” I said. Lie.
She knew it.
“I’ll figure it out,” she said. “You’re terrible with secrets.”
Was that true? The thought scared me. Would Ryan be able to know what had happened the moment he looked at me? Maybe I should tell him now, before the show.
But no. That would guarantee a bad performance. Plus, I still hadn’t decided exactly what I was going to say.
“Kathleen,” Harriet whined. “Tell me! Come on! I’m your best friend!”
“Fine,” I said.
I had to tell someone.
I scootched my chair and leaned over, bringing my forehead close enough that it could touch hers. I took a deep breath. She took a deeper one.
“Cal and I—”
“Omigod!” she screeched before I could say anything else. “Did you? You didn’t! You did? You did!”
“Shut up!” I grabbed her hands. “Shhhhh.”
“Omigod,” she whispered. “You did.”
I nodded. “Last night.”
Harriet’s eyes were the size of spotlights.
“Oh woooooooow,” she said. “What did Ryan say?”
I hung my head.
“You’re kidding,” Harriet said.
I could hear the disappointment in her voice.
“I didn’t plan it,” I said.
“Yeah, clearly,” she said.
“Hey!”
She wasn’t wrong, but it hurt anyway.
“It was a mistake,” I said.
Harriet raised an eyebrow, and I blushed, thinking about last night. About Cal’s mouth. His throat. His hands.
“Okay, not a mistake,” I said. “Just. Not good. Not good planning.”
“Definitely not good planning,” she said. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know!”
We both sat there. The show would be starting in thirty minutes. One more show and then the tour was over. One more show and then I could sit down with Ryan and talk to him. Explain to him.
Hopefully.
Harriet leaned even closer toward me. Our foreheads did touch.
“And Cal?” she asked, the question barely above a whisper. “Was he…? Are you guys…?”
“I don’t know,” I said.
Harriet frowned. I knew she was on Team Cal, and I was too, but it was all really confusing and overwhelming. I wanted to be with Cal. I did. I just wasn’t sure what to do next—I didn’t want to hurt Ryan. I didn’t want to hurt anyone.
I was such an idiot. I’d done this all wrong.
“Kathleen,” Harriet chided.
“I know,” I said. “It’s just…it’s just complicated.”
She gave me a look worthy of that understatement. I deserved it.
I pulled back and checked my hair in the mirror.
“I’ll figure it out,” I said. “It will be fine.”
I tried to sound more confident than I felt.
“Okay,” Harriet said.
“I just have to get through the show,” I said.
“Okay,” Harriet said.
“Okay,” I said.
* * *
It was an incredible show. The crowd loved every second of it and so had I. It was the perfect ending to a very, very long tour, giving me a necessary burst of excitement and pride. I’d done it.
I chugged almost an entire bottle of water as soon as I got offstage. My skin was soaked with sweat, my extensions sticking to the back of my neck and my temples. I needed a shower, a bath, and a massage. And chicken fingers. With fries.
“Got them ready for you,” I told the guys as they gathered in the wings.
Mason and LC were warming up, one of them rubbing the other’s shoulders before swapping. Wyatt had a water bottle that I was pretty sure didn’t have any water in it from the way he was drinking and wincing and drinking and wincing with each swallow.
I couldn’t look directly at Cal. I’d left while he was in the bathroom that morning, just snuck out, which I knew wasn’t cool, but I didn’t want to get caught in his room.
“A good luck kiss?” Ryan asked.
He pulled me close, arms wrapped around my waist, holding me there in front of him.