Lost in You

her head, telling me to keep quiet. I look back at Ian as he watches our silent exchange. I know he doesn’t like Alex, never has, but I don’t care. She’s not here to appease him, but to accompany me. “Ryan won’t be joining us on tour, Ian.”
    He looks at his watch and walks over to the door. He opens it and I half expect Anal Anna to fall through from pressing her ear against the door. Ian looks back at me and shakes his head. I know what he’s thinking; he’s worried. Worried that I’m going to screw up again and he’ll have to do damage control. The only problem is if I screw up, I’m pretty much done. Damage control or not, I’ll never sing again if we get caught.
    Ian pulls the door shut, loudly. I jump as the metal door bangs against the door casing. I look at Alex, the realization that I’m in deep shit evident in her eyes. “What are you going to do?” she asks. It’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it? I’ve done this to myself, created this mess. Ryan was an innocent party until I needed to talk to him. He’s going to be dragged through the mud, any and all skeletons exposed. He’s going to hate me.
    “I don’t know.” I move away from her, needing space to think. There’s a knock on the door before Anna is back in, ready to finish my hair. I go on in thirty minutes and for the first time in a long time, I don’t want to. Right now, all I want to do is pick up the phone and apologize to Ryan for this mess I’ve put him in.
    Anna motions for me to sit down. I sulk over to my chair and sit. Her hair-pulling begins immediately. Alex hands me a tissue for my tears and I can’t help but wonder if she knows they're for Ryan or because she sees Anna destroying my hair.

CHAPTER 15
    Ryan
     
     
    School sucks.
    It’s always sucked, but now all I do is watch the clock for the bell to ring so I can text Hadley. This newly-formed habit makes my day drag out longer. The one, maybe two, texts in between classes do nothing to curb my desire to speak with her.
    It’s been over a week now since I’ve seen her and probably one of the longest weeks of my life. Although, I’ve never counted time that way until now. I’ve been caught daydreaming a few times. A few slaps on my back from classmates to get my attention while a teacher stands at the front of the room, glaring. I’ve always answered when called upon, but that was before.
    In a matter of one week I’ve gone from that dependent student – the one who turns in all his work, stays for extra credit and never says a word without raising his hand – to a zombie teen who isn’t sleeping at night and is forgetting simple things, like putting my name on the top of my paper.
    It’s Hadley’s fault. I’m not strong enough to tell her that with the time difference, I should be sleeping instead of waiting for her to call after her show. I wouldn’t tell her anyway, I need to hear her voice. It doesn’t matter what time it is or if I’m asleep. She’s all that matters.
    And it scares me.
    Everything about being in her life scares the shit out of me. I don’t know what to do about the emotions I’m feeling. I can’t talk to my dad and talking to Dylan is out of the question. There’s no way I can talk to Hadley about what I’m feeling. What if she doesn’t feel the same? Then I’d look like some lovesick teenager. I already feel weak around her. Never in a million years did I think I’d fall for someone famous, yet I did and she’s interested in me. But the feeling of inadequacy nags at me. What if I’m not enough for her?
    When the bell rings, I’m up and out of my seat before the rest of the class puts away their binders. My phone is out of my pocket just as I step over the imaginary line separating the classroom from the hallway. I have thirty minutes to talk to Hadley and I don’t want to waste a single second.
    I push open the door leading to the courtyard. I’ve eaten lunch out here every day so I can be on the phone. I’d never be able to talk to her and sit in the cafeteria, especially with Dylan glaring at me.
    “Hi.” The way she says hi makes me weak. Who knew a simple one-syllable word could bring me to my knees.
    “Hi,” I say back to her, probably not as eloquent as her, but I try. I sit down and lean up against the tree. The ground is uncomfortable because of the overgrown roots, but this little privacy is enough for me.
    “How’s school?”
    “It’s dragging. I’m ready for winter