Lost in You

knowing that she’s two hours away and that I can’t be with her. I pace my room, listening for my parents. I’ve grown weary of them since the incident at church. They didn’t ask me about Hadley, I wish they did. I wanted to be able to say I’ve met someone that I want to get to know better.
    But they don’t ask.
    They just stare.
    They walk around and look at me out of the corner of their eyes. My dad will shake his head or mumble something under his breath as he walks by, but nothing else. Don’t they care? I held a girl’s - no, a woman’s – hand in church. Someone they don’t know and have never seen and they can’t be bothered to ask me who she is.
    My mom, aside from Dylan coming over, hasn’t said anything to me. She hasn’t asked about my homework or my work schedule. She hasn’t even asked me how school is going. It’s like I don’t exist. I’m afraid to interrupt her. If she’s not cooking, her nose is buried in her Bible and I know not to bug her while she’s reading. Yet, she’s always reading and probably praying for my salvation.
    I look at my phone; she hasn’t texted back. I wish I knew where she was staying because I would go there. I don’t care how long it takes me to walk. Knowing Hadley is at the end of the road waiting for me makes it all worth it.
    But is she waiting? I second-guess her and myself. What if she’s here to tell me we can’t be anything but friends, especially after her manager saw the pictures of us? Pictures I still haven’t seen and would like to. I’d like to have at least one picture of us together. A memory.
    The thought of her not wanting to be with me eats away at me, like a thousand fire ants biting and pinching into my skin. The itch is there, the desire to be something to her, yet I’m afraid to scratch because of who she is.
    Guys at school talk about her. I hear all about the things they want to do to her. I don’t know if this is normal, I’ve never liked a celebrity before. The only person I can ask is Dylan, but I’m afraid of what she might say. I know she doesn’t like me talking to Hadley. The look Dylan gave me in the courtyard was evidence enough. I wonder if Dylan feels like this is her fault. Does she not want me to be happy?
    Hadley can make me happy. I know this deep down in my heart. I don’t care about the girl all the guys are fawning over. They don’t know the real Hadley. They only think they know the one who stands on stage night after night singing her heart out.
    They don’t know that she likes to be held or how soft her hair is. They don’t know what her lips taste like or how they mold and fit perfectly against mine. These are secrets that I know about her and intend to keep.
    When my parents’ door shuts, I know this is my cue. I have to text her. I can’t wait any longer. Tomorrow is too far away. I need to see her now.
    I need to see you.
    I pace back and forth, no doubt wearing a hole into the carpet with my hand in my hair, tugging at the ends. I keep looking at my phone, counting the seconds, minutes, until I see her name appear on my screen.
    What’s taking her so long?
    She doesn’t drive. Or maybe she does. I’ve only ever seen her get into a car and Alex was driving, but maybe Alex isn’t with her this trip. No, I’m sure she is. They are inseparable. Why isn’t she texting me back?
    I look at my message, it says delivered . I know she got it. Unless her phone is off. No, her phone is never off. Maybe her manager came with her and is keeping her busy.
    I don’t know. I don’t know anything right now. 
    My parents’ door opens and closes again. There are faint footsteps. They stop in front of my door. I step carefully to my bed and sit on the edge. I slide as quietly as I can onto my mattress, cautious of alerting whoever is standing at my door that I’m awake.
    They’ve never done this. At least, that I’m aware of. I can’t tell if someone is still at my door or not. My phone vibrates in my hand. Hadley is calling me, her gorgeous face lighting up my screen. I can’t answer it, not now.
    I hit ignore and immediately feel my stomach drop. She’s going to think I don’t want to talk to her and that’s not true. I need to tell her before she has these thoughts.
    Parents are up and standing at my door.
    She’s going to run for the hills. I would if I received a text like that. There are more footsteps and another door opens and closes. I can make out some movement. A light comes