Part 3Headliner: Rich, Single, and Obsessed

Saturday came, and I dragged myself, along with my professional camera gear, to Ethan’s event.

When I arrived, I realized just how well Ethan had "marketed" this to me.

"Showcase gig..."

It was basically a performance at a ribbon-cutting ceremony for a new big-box grocery store in the suburbs.

But I had to hand it to him; the scene was packed. Crowds of senior citizens and families were standing around, eager for free samples.

I found Ethan waiting backstage. He was wearing a simple black t-shirt and jeans. To be fair, he was incredibly handsome in person. Brooding, sharp jawline.

I pointed my lens at him, intending to snap a couple of test shots, but something felt off.

I walked over. "You're not wearing makeup?"

Seeing me, Ethan looked confused for a second before realizing who I was. "You... you must be Chloe. It’s just two songs. I didn't want to make a fuss."

"This isn't about making a fuss. I'm going to be taking high-resolution professional photos. You need to at least look alive."

Ethan looked embarrassed. "I'm sorry. No one has ever come to take professional photos of me before."

My heart broke for the kid again.

I figured a guy like him probably didn't carry a makeup kit around. "Where's your agent? Call him over. Tell him to get you a mirror and some basics."

Ethan’s expression somehow managed to get even more awkward. "I came alone."

"Our agency resources are pretty low. The gigs don't pay much. My agent... he actually started a side business as a drop-shipper to make ends meet. He’s away at a warehouse seminar today."

My god.

What kind of garbage management was this?

Honestly, Ethan was even... more pathetic than I imagined.

Years ago, I had spent a king's ransom on Tyler.

I had curated countless high-end opportunities for him.

If I had given even a tenth of that to Ethan, it probably would have sustained him for a year.

It was a shame. Tyler was such a waste of space—no matter how hard I pushed him, he never gained any real traction. And what he just did to us, his core fanbase, was unforgivable.

Thinking about Tyler just made me feel even more pity for Ethan.

I rolled up my sleeves. "Whatever. Sit down. I'll do it."

Ethan didn't say a word. He just obediently tilted his head back, waiting for me to work on his face.

That was when I noticed his skin was incredible. Naturally smooth.

His bone structure was perfect, too. All he needed was some foundation to even things out and it was flawless.

When it came time for lip balm, I realized I only had my own. Since I had already used it, I just swiped some onto my fingertip. "Do you mind if I just use my hands?"

Ethan shook his head.

I squatted down so we were eye-level. My finger lightly brushed against his lips, making sure it was even. Satisfied, I stood up. "Done."

But the kid didn't move.

I looked down and realized he was staring straight up at me, his eyes wide, and the tips of his ears were a deep, undeniable red.

"You're good to go," I repeated. "Check the mirror?"

Ethan snapped out of his daze, flustered. He looked away instantly, lowered his head, and murmured, "Thank you."

Oh my god. Was this kid actually blushing?

Are there actually male celebrities left in this industry who still have a pulse and blush?!

I had to suppress a laugh. "Get going. Break a leg."

I had originally planned to take a few photos and leave. I wasn't actually a fan of Ethan, after all.

I didn't expect that when Ethan started singing, his talent would be undeniable.

Even the grandpas and grandmas who were jostling for free eggs stopped what they were doing and began clapping along to the rhythm.

It was no wonder that even though Ethan was buried at the bottom of the B-list, Tyler was still obsessed with constantly talking trash about him.

This kid was a real threat.

I just didn't understand why the agency wouldn't promote a real asset like Ethan, preferring to pour resources into useless trust-fund kids who couldn't sing to save their lives.

I wasn't insulting my past choices, of course. Just an objective observation.

They say the best way to get over an old love is to find a new one.

Ethan was a stock that was about to blow up. I was thinking that maybe I could become his manager, or at least his top sponsor. It wasn't a bad idea.

At least the probability of him having a hidden girlfriend scandal was low right now.

But I usually prefer the sweet, cute types, and he... wasn't. So, should I invest or not?

While I was debating, the song ended.

Ethan instinctively looked toward me, lightly biting his lip. He gave a shy, almost sheepish smile. His eyes were shining, silently begging for approval, just like a golden retriever puppy.

Holy hell!

That's my exact weakness.

Fine. I'm investing. He’s mine!