Lost in You

home in silence, mostly because I don’t have anything to say. This morning when I woke up, I had a girlfriend. Now, I have nothing. I’m back to where I was in December.
    When we walk in, Mrs. Ross is baking cookies and she’s singing. This means she has good news. Dylan and I sit down at the table and pull out our homework. Mrs. Ross sets a plate of cookies in between us and stands there with her hands folded in front of her.
    Dylan and I both look at her. Our heads move in slow motion. Mrs. Ross looks funny, like she has a plastic smile. She looks at Dylan, then to me.
    “Ryan, would you like to invite your girlfriend over tonight for dinner?”
    Dylan chokes on her cookie, which makes Mrs. Ross pat her back. Nothing like being put on the spot.
    “No thank you, Mrs. Ross, she’s not really my girlfriend.” Dylan kicks me lightly under the table. I look at her, raising my eyebrows. What was I supposed to say?
    “Okay. Dylan, would you like to tell me why you applied to NYU?”
    Now I’m the one looking at Dylan, my eyes wide. She’s never mentioned going to New York for college. In fact, she’s never mentioned college at all.
    “I… um… I sent in an application with the essay that won first place last year. I didn’t think I’d have a chance.”
    “Well, it seems not only did you get in, but they gave you a full scholarship.” Mrs. Ross pulls an envelope out of her pocket and sets it down in front of Dylan. She looks from the envelope to me and to her mom before jumping into her mom’s arms.
    I’m happy for her. I am, but wish it were me.
    When they’re done celebrating, I give her a hug.
    “Will you go with me?” she asks when I release her.
    “Seriously?”
    “Yeah, I can’t go to New York without you.”
    I close my eyes and nod. I pick her up and spin her around. She laughs, holding my neck tightly. When I set her down, Mrs. Ross hugs the both of us.
    “I’m okay with Dylan going as long as you’re there with her, Ryan.”
    “Yeah, I’ll go,” I shout loudly.

CHAPTER 40
    Hadley
     
     
    I throw down my headphones and push the microphone out of my way. My producer stands, his hands pressing down on the table that holds his mixing board. He’s leaning over it, staring at me through the glass. If the look on his face is supposed to be menacing, he’s missing it by a mile. I can’t do this anymore. These songs, the ones I thought I wanted to sing for my new album, aren’t cutting it. I wrote them shortly after I left Ryan. Putting my feelings down on paper helped a little, but I never thought I’d be standing here in a studio recording them.
    I’m not sure I can do it. There is so much anger. Pain and sadness fills my lyrics, but when I say the words, I hate them. I hate myself for letting Ryan go. In my mind, he was going to wait. He was going to be ready to take me back, forgive me for my stupidity and everything would be perfect.
    He was the smart one. He moved on. I can’t blame him, even though I want to. How come he didn’t know I’d be back? Because I didn’t know I’d be back, that’s why.
    I can’t do this, not today. I pick up my bag and sling it over my shoulder. I open the door only to find Ian standing there with his arms against the doorframe, blocking me from leaving. He’s shaking his head and his lips are curled into a sneer.
    “Get back in there and get this done.”
    “I’m not feeling it today. I need to leave.”
    Ian straightens. This is his ‘I’m the boss’ stance. It works with the media and others who cower to him, but not me, not anymore. Not after everything that has gone down in the past few months. He’s supposed to be my friend, my confidant. I should be able to trust him, but he showed his true colors, repeatedly.
    “I don’t think you understand.”
    “No, Ian, I don’t think you understand. Your contract with me is up in a couple of months. If I was you, I’d start kissing my ass in the hope that I’m willing to re-sign with you.”
    “Excuse me?” He steps back, which I don’t expect. I figured he’d push me into the room and shut the door so he can read me the riot act.
    I step forward, finding a bit of confidence within. “You heard me. Don’t act so shocked. Yes, I know your contract is due for renewal and you bet your ass that I’m shopping around. You work for me, not the other way around.”
    “You wouldn’t fire me. We’re family.”
    I scoff. “You can’t throw the word ‘family’ around when it’s