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Play the part. Be who the fans need you to be.
Nobody wanted to see the man behind the pop star mask. They came to see a show, to experience Heartthrob Warfare’s very own heartthrob, Landon Paige.
And that’s what they’d get.
He sure as hell wasn’t about to give them a glimpse of the real man. The man with glaring faults, humiliating deficiencies, and a secret.
Only a handful of people knew his secret, and that’s how it had to stay.
He squinted, blocking the bright lights with his hand, and focused on the fans holding up a sea of signs. He scanned the jumble of letters, once, twice, and then for a third time before landing on one he recognized.
Landon Paige, marry me.
He could decipher this one. It had been a staple since the beginning.
Playing the part of the pop star, he pointed toward the ladies holding the sign. “Marry, you? I wouldn’t dare. You’re too good for me,” he crooned as the women lost their minds, screaming and jumping up and down as the people around them held up their phones, recording the exchange.
The “dare” bit was his go-to dreamboat bullshit act. It always made the audience go wild. It used to make Trey and Leighton laugh their asses off once they were offstage.
But it wasn’t total bullshit. Marriage would never be in the cards for him.
But make no mistake. He was no monk.
He’d screwed his fair share of women. He was the world’s heartthrob. Supermodels threw themselves at him. But it never lasted, because he couldn’t let them in. He couldn’t reveal the heartbreaking secret behind the heartthrob.
Just as the thought crossed his mind, he pictured a pair of hazel eyes—eyes that glinted with mischief and seemed to change color with her mood. Not quite brown, not quite blue, and not quite gray with flecks of green and gold, these chameleon eyes belonged to the woman who’d become the absolute bane of his existence.
Harper Presley.
