Lost in You

some voodoo sect.
    After I convinced Ryan that I wanted to attend church, he finally relented. He probably thinks of me as some stalker willing to attend a service just so I can see him. I’m not, at least not yet. I think as long as I figure out a schedule that works, I’ll be okay.
    What worries me is the rest of my tour. I’m not sure how I’m going to handle the next month. I’ll be on the west coast, a place that I used to love and look forward to visiting, until now. Alex asked me on the way here, “why Ryan?” And all I could say was, “why not?” I can’t describe how he makes me feel and I’m not talking about when he touches me, but when he looks at me. It’s like we were meant to know each other. Maybe not be together, but definitely be part of each other’s lives forever.
    Although, not being with him isn’t an option for me, at least not right now. Last night when he was with Alex, I felt anxious and uncomfortable being in that room full of people. In a matter of twenty-four hours I’ve become dependent on someone. Someone that society says I can’t have.
    I spot the back of Ryan and tug on Alex’s sleeve as I start moving toward him. This part isn’t planned. We didn’t talk about what I’d do when I got here. We walk around the back of the church, staying clear of the center aisle. My eyes are trained on Ryan as he sits forward, either mesmerized by the choir or asleep. If it were me I’d be sleeping. I walk in first, my movements catching his eye. His expression is one of shock and quickly changes into the smile I’ve grown so quickly to love.
    I sit next to him and look at his parents, but keep a safe gap between us. This is as close as I can get. His mom wears her blonde hair down, the top pulled back into a barrette. Her dress is gray, solid in color and she holds a Bible in her hands. His father is in an old, brown suit jacket. The color is so faded the elbows look almost white. I look around and see others similarly dressed on this side of the church, but on the other, people are dressed in new, flashy clothes.
    I jump slightly when his fingers touch mine. I wasn’t expecting a display of affection and I’m a bit sad when he pulls his hand back. He looks at his parents before turning his attention back to the preacher.
    There is distance between us during the sermon, which I expected. What I didn’t expect was the tingling sensation coursing through my body. When the service ends, his mom looks at me. She doesn’t smile, but appraises me. Her eyes travel up and down as if she’s never seen another female before.  
    “Mom, I’d like you to meet my friends, Hadley and Alex.” Ryan looks at me and smiles. “This is my mom, Sally Stone.”
    “Mrs. Stone,” she says, without offering her hand. Alex pinches my side briefly.
    “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Stone.” I offer her my hand and should’ve taken her hint that we weren’t going to shake hands. She looks down at my hand as if I’ve dipped it in meat sauce. I drop my hand and smile. I’m a performer, winning her over shouldn’t be this hard.
    “Are you new in town?”
    “No, ma’am, we’re just visiting. I met Ryan –”
    “You just met Ryan and were already touching him?” The way his mother looks at him makes his head drop. I want to ask her if she believes in love at first sight or that instant connection you feel with someone that makes you do crazy things, but I don’t dare.
    “Mom?” Ryan’s voice is soft, questioning. Nothing like the voice I’ve been playing over and over in my head since we’ve met.
    “I’ll see you downstairs, Ryan.” She turns and walks away from us. I watch her retreat to people she must know. A few of them point, but she shakes her head, not even turning around to see if we are watching her as she blatantly talks about us behind our backs. 
    “I’m sorry about my mom.” His words are quiet, meant only for me. I wonder if Alex makes him nervous or if he’s just always this shy. I’ve seen glimpses of someone different underneath, someone that I fully want to explore if given the opportunity. I have a feeling that he’s saving that side of him for a rainy day.
    “Don’t be,” I say, placing my hand in his. I need to touch him, especially when he’s this close. “She’s a mom and protective of her boy. I get that.”
    Ryan runs his free hand through his hair, creating a mess of waves. I’m curious if he always keep it this shaggy or if he wears it