Not Being the Secret Girlfriend

"Why don't you go first?"

"Okay, I got an offer from the University of Kansas today. Guess what? A full scholarship!" Abigail was genuinely excited.

"What good news do you have?"

"I'm about to sign with a record label."

"Oh, like Taylor? You're going to be a singer too?" Abigail didn't sound very excited over the phone.

"More or less."

"So, are you still coming over today? I..." She hesitated.

She'd been about to invite Ryan over to her house for dinner with her family, to celebrate her scholarship.

"I probably can't today. Once the deal's officially signed, we can all celebrate together," Ryan said after thinking it over.

"All right. Call me then."

When he returned to the recording studio, Ryan saw that everyone, including the producer, had already started packing up. Apparently, the day's recording session was over. Taylor, though, was moving more slowly than usual.

"See you later, Taylor. Don't forget to ask me to open for you on your tour," the singer said as she said goodbye.

"I can't exactly go on tour. I wouldn't sell any tickets, would I?" Taylor laughed and shook her head. She didn't think she had much drawing power yet.

"Stop being so modest. Your new album is going to be a huge hit," the singer said, her compliment laced with admiration.

"I hope so." Taylor walked her to the studio door.

Now, aside from a pile of instruments and equipment, only Ryan and Taylor remained in the recording studio.

"Did you hear her? She said I'm going on tour next year—a world tour, in stadiums full of tens of thousands of people!" Taylor couldn't keep the grin off her face.

"Come on, pack your things. I'll drive you home," Ryan said.

"Why the rush?" Taylor leaned back against the mixing console. With her long legs, it was an easy pose to strike.

"Are you paying for the parking ticket?"

"Sure. I can spare a little." Taylor didn't care in the slightest.

Then she got up, took Ryan by the wrist, and led him into the lounge connected to the studio.

"I haven't finished dealing with my work yet." With a gentle push, she sat Ryan down on the sofa.

"You'd better really mean 'work,'" Ryan said.

Taylor raised an eyebrow. "You wish."

Then she really did go back to the studio and return with a Taylor guitar. It wasn't one of Taylor's signature models; the name was just a coincidence. For the past two years, Taylor had performed almost exclusively with the 614ce.

The guitar in her hands had a glossy finish and a hand-polished sheen that gleamed under the lights. Its top was spruce, its back and sides were maple, and its fingerboard and bridge were ebony. Its tone was bright, clear, and pure. Of course, it was far from cheap.

She sat on the tall stool across from him, one leg supporting her while the other rested on the stool's footrest. She settled the guitar in her arms, and the country singer's aura immediately came through.

"I wanna be somewhere where you are

I wanna be where

You're here

Your eyes are lookin' into mine

So baby make me fly..."

Her fingers danced over the strings as she sang softly, swaying gently to the rhythm. Her voice still held a childlike clarity.

Not many people got a private performance from the CMA's Best New Artist, but Ryan's gaze stayed fixed on her long legs in the warm light.

If he were writing the song right then, it wouldn't be called Beautiful Eyes. He'd call it Beautiful Legs.

Taylor didn't sing any one song all the way through. Instead, she launched into a medley, singing whatever came to mind, and Ryan heard a lot of songs he'd never heard before.

"So, which one did you like best?" Taylor set down the guitar and tossed the pick onto the table.

"They were all good," Ryan said at once. How could he say they weren't? The truth was, he'd only half-listened to what she'd sung. His attention hadn't been on the songs.

"Of course they were." Taylor opened a bottle of Evian and took a couple of gulps.

"I mean, which song was better?"

"Hmm, the one with 'make me fly,'" Ryan said, pretending to think.

"You mean Beautiful Eyes?"

"Yeah."

"Great. That'll be the lead single on my upcoming EP, and I'll call the EP Beautiful Eyes." Taylor winked at Ryan, showing off the glittery eyeshadow she'd put on today.

"Huh? Shouldn't you ask Nathan Chapman for his opinion?" Ryan asked, feeling a little guilty.

"He's producing my new album, not my EP. It's not his job. Besides, this EP is exclusive to Walmart. That's part of the addendum to last year's sales agreement. If I put my really good songs on it, I'd be the one losing out, but I can't phone it in either, or the distributors won't be happy," Taylor explained.

Walmart was also one of the biggest retailers in the physical music market. Taylor had probably signed an additional clause stating that if Walmart ordered more than a certain number of copies, she'd provide them with an exclusive EP.

"By the way, have you written any new songs lately? I know the Harlem shake is huge, but I don't mean the kind of dance track with a heavy beat. I mean something gentle, like a country folk song," Taylor asked suddenly.

"I could be persuaded to sing it, and maybe we could put it on this EP. But it can't be garbage like Fire and Rain," Taylor added tentatively.

This was undoubtedly a great opportunity for Ryan, but unfortunately, all he had to offer right now was the kind of garbage Taylor couldn't stand.

"Then get writing. You've got a month!" Taylor reminded him.

"Can't you just give me one? You have so many songs," Ryan said. Taylor's request really was asking too much of him right now.

"Then I might as well give you all the money I earn."

"I wouldn't be opposed to that." Ryan had plenty of nerve, anyway.

"Hmph. Maybe in your next life." Taylor twirled a golden lock of hair.

"Just lend me one for now. I'll pay you back later."

"Lend it to me? What if I can't pay you back?"

"Then I can offer some assets as collateral. Like a few hundred million genetic cells."

"Stop!" Taylor shook her head and immediately changed her tune. "You can have the song. Pick whatever you want from my rejects!"

By then, Ryan had already stood up and started toward Taylor.

"Wait, there's someone outside!" Taylor pricked up her ears.

Ryan heard the noise outside too. He opened the lounge door and saw a janitor mopping the floor.

The next second, Taylor followed him out of the lounge and turned back to Ryan. "Take me home."

"Hey, Mom. Yeah, I'm out. Just got out. I hit a snag with a new song, so I'm on my way now. I'll be home soon." Taylor's hair was tousled. She held her phone in one hand and the gearshift in the other.

"Oh my God, look at what time it is!" Taylor glanced at the time on her phone and was startled.

Was that my fault?

Taylor had asked Ryan to take her home, and of course he'd done as she asked. He'd just taken a longer route... How could he let an opportunity like that pass him by?

Ryan adjusted the seat. Unlike the Toyota Sequoia last time, the Challenger was the two-door version of a Dodge Charger, jokingly called "the dog-hunching back seat." Taylor was tall, too, so there was hardly any room to move.

Once I've made some money, I'll buy a Cadillac. Not for any other reason—it's just comfortable to sit in.

"I'd already decided I was going to compete fairly with Abigail," Taylor said, fanning herself and blaming him.

"I've got a better solution," Ryan said with a smile.

Taylor immediately turned to look out the window and said coldly, "I'm not being the secret girlfriend. If anyone's going to be one, it'll be her."