Lost in You (30 page)

We step outside an
d the flashbulbs are instant. People yell my name and grab at my clothes, startling me. The media isn’t supposed to be back here and I can’t help but think Ian set this up because of what Cole said to him.

Questions are flying at me right and left about C
ole, which I’ve learned to ignore, but when one says Ryan’s name, I freeze. Cameras go off, the constant clicking sound of the shutter irritating me.

“Who’s Ryan Stone?” a reporter asks. I’m dumbfounded, unable to move. I feel Alex pushing me, her other ar
m blocking my line of sight, but I don’t move. He told them. Ian told the reporters his name. Something he promised he’d never do. Ryan’s name is repeated over and over again as if my silence is answering all their questions. It won’t matter what I say from here on out, they will hunt him down like vultures until they find out who he is.

I’m lifted off the ground and carried onto the bus. I bury my face into Cole’s neck as he mutters death threats and Ian’s name. He carries me to our room, the room we’ve be
en sharing on the bus under the pretense that we’re a couple because Ian says you can never trust your own crew. He lays me down and slides in behind me.

Alex walks in and hands him something. “Here, get her to take this; it will help her sleep and maybe
forget.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” he says.

The door clicks quietly. I sigh and wonder where the tears are. How come I’m not crying?

“Can you sit up?” he asks as he adjusts behind me.

“I’ll be okay.”

“I have no doubt, but you need some sleep and your mind wi
ll race all night and I need sleep, too, so your tossing and turning will just piss me off.”

“You’re so kind,” I say as I sit up and take the pill and glass of water from him. He smiles as he downs the rest of my water. Jerk. He leans over and kisses me on
the forehead. He lingers there for a moment before pulling away. I know he wants more, but I can’t. Not with him.

He turns his head slightly and looks at me. “I’m sorry I fucked us up.” With that he gets up and leaves me alone in the room. I hear the bus
start up and wonder if Cole has decided to drive it himself, leaving Ian behind. Wouldn’t that be such a nice surprise?

I lie back down and close my eyes. I hope that I don’t dream, because if I do it will be nothing but a nightmare until I wake up.

When
the sun blasts through the window I think Cole forgot to shut the curtains. I roll over, only to find he isn’t in bed and hasn’t been according to the untouched sheets on his side. I look around and realize we aren’t on the bus anymore, but in a hotel room. I get out of bed and hit the bathroom, brushing my hair and teeth and washing my face. My eyes are red and puffy from too much crying and not enough water before going to bed. I’m going to end up paying for it tonight.

I open my door quietly and step ou
t of the room. The suite is smaller than what we usually stay in. Alex is up and reading in the chair by the window. She smiles at me before continuing to read.

“Where’s Cole?”

“His room is across the hall.”

“How’d we get here?” I ask as I pour myself a gl
ass of orange juice.

“The bus broke down last night. You were passed out cold. Cole carried you up here.”

“Where’s Ian?”

“He’s meeting us at the venue later. He decided to fly.”

I nod. “Must be nice of me to pay that bill for him.”

I sit down on the non-de
script brown couch that is uncomfortable against my bare legs. I pull out my phone and look at my calendar alert,
Ryan’s Birthday
. I should’ve deleted it when I removed him from my life, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

“I’m going to go take a shower
,” I announce. I don’t wait for Alex to acknowledge me before I’m up and moving back to my room. I shut the door and lock it. Pulling out my phone I look up the contact information for my cell account. I turn on some music so no one can hear me talking. When customer service comes on I ask them to activate Ryan’s number and as easy as that is, I feel apprehensive about what I’m doing.

I jump in the shower quickly so I don’t cause suspicion. I change into shorts and a t-shirt and let my hair air-dry. I have
no idea where we are or how much longer we’ll be here, but I don’t care. The press saw me at my worst last night; I’m done caring. When I come out of my room, Cole is standing at the bar, making his breakfast. It doesn’t escape my notice that he’s shirtless, his sweatpants hanging way too low to be legal.

Alex is napping in the chair with her book resting on her chest. I can’t imagine she got much sleep last night. I’m such a great friend, not. I take this opportunity to pull up Ryan’s name and hit send.
It rings and rings, but no voicemail. Maybe he never set it up or more likely I never showed him how to so why would he bother with such a thing? I text
Happy Birthday, Ryan.
I want to add more, but I don’t think we can adjust back into any type of relationship. I watch as my text says delivered and know he’ll get it when he has a chance to look at his phone. I hope that wherever he ran away to, he brought his charger. He had to know once this day came, I’d reach out to him, even if I didn’t know it myself.

“Who are you are calling?”

I look up at Cole and send my phone into sleep mode. “No one. I was just texting my mom.”

He looks at my questioningly, but doesn’t say anything as he walks to the table to sit down. I walk over to the balcony and look out the w
indow and watch cars pass. We must be near the highway.

“Why are you eating in here?”

“Your room is bigger and has what they consider
room service
.”

“Where are we?”

“About two-hours from Jackson.”

“Lovely.”

I bring my phone to life and look at my text. He still hasn’t read it, but I can be patient. It was stupid of me to call anyway, maybe he’s found a job in his new town and he’s working. Of course that’s why he didn’t answer, because he wants to hear from me, especially today, even though I broke his heart and left without telling him why.

Yeah, keep telling yourself that, Hadley. Of course he’s waiting for you to call and ruin his life some more. 

Ryan

When I open the door to my mom’s office she stands and shouts, “happy birthday!” I’ve
never seen her like this and for a moment I wonder if she’s been drinking. I can’t hide the grin on my face as she rushes over and envelopes me in a hug. I hold her tight, not wanting to let her go and trying to savor this moment and embed it where I’ll remember it most.

She steps back. There are tears in her eyes. Something changed for her and I don’t know what it is. “I can’t believe this day is finally here.” She pulls my hand into hers and takes me into the conference room. When I walk in, her co-work
ers yell out “Surprise!” scaring the crap out of me.

“Wow,” I say as I look around the room. There are streamers hanging from the ceiling and everyone is wearing party hats. There’s a cake on the table, too. Everyone starts singing. I feel my cheeks heat u
p. I must be as red as a tomato right now. My mom puts her arm around me, leads me to the chair and motions for me to sit down. She lights the eighteen candles and I blow each one out, making a wish like Dylan used to when we were little. I can’t remember the last time I did this. I look up at her and silently thank her for making my day special.

Mom cuts and serves cake to everyone, giving me an extra-large piece. I anxiously dig my fork in and take a big bite causing her to laugh. It’s the second most be
autiful thing I’ve ever heard. I close my eyes and clear my head. I won’t think about
her
anymore, not like that. I don’t need her to survive. Besides, I like how things are with Dylan and that’s definitely something I want to explore.

“This is great, Mom,
thank you.”

She pulls out the chair next to me and sits down. Most of her co-workers have gone back to their offices. I’m curious what she had to do to get them in here. I suppose the offer of free cake was enough.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t get you anything.”

I set my hand down on hers. “This is perfect,” I say, because it is. I never expected this – especially from her – and I’m going to enjoy every moment that I can with my mom.

I stay and chat until I’m dangerously close to being late for work. She sends the rest of the cake with me, making it incredibly hard to run down the street, but I’ll manage. I want to share this cake with Dylan tonight so I need to make sure I’m not wearing it all over the front of my shirt.

Work goes slowly. For a Friday night, we’re dead. I keep hoping my boss will let me cutout early, but since I’m the one who always asks to stay late, he never gives me a second thought. He does offer me a ride home, so that’s nice. It’s about an hour walk from the restaurant to Dylan’s house.

W
alking up the driveway I can feel the house vibrating. The music is so loud. I’m surprised the neighbors haven’t called the police. Although I suppose when it’s a police officer’s house, the town turns a blind eye. I open the door and find people dancing. Some are holding red cups while others hold bottles. I knew Dylan liked to drink, but never really took her for someone who would bring it into her parents’ home.

I make my way through the crowd and into the kitchen. Only a few people linger in here, aroun
d the food table of course. I don’t know very many of these people and a lot of them I’ve never seen before. I put the rest of my birthday cake into the refrigerator. I don’t know if it should go in there or not, but I don’t want anyone eating it and I’m certainly not going to stand guard over it all night.

As I come around the corner, Dylan jumps into my arms. I stagger back as I catch her. We hit the wall behind us and she instantly starts laughing. I wonder if she’s been drinking. My curiosity is cleared
the moment her mouth touches mine. She tastes sweet. Her tongue is cold, but welcome as it moves against mine.

She pulls away and smiles. “How was your mom?”

I beam at her. I love that she’s asking about my mom and encouraging me to maintain a relationship with her. I could so easily avoid her and forget about everything, but Dylan tells me I’ll regret it in the future if I act like that now. She’s right, of course.

“We had a party,” I say. “There was cake and her co-workers sang to me.” I put her down,
not because I’m tired of holding her, but it seems awkward holding her like that with people staring. “I brought the rest of the cake home. Maybe we can have some later.”

“I’d like that,” she says as she straightens out my shirt, slipping her hand undernea
th. I lean down and kiss her on her forehead; I don’t know why, but it feels like the most natural thing in the world for me to do. Before, I felt like I was always blundering when I was with Hadley. How can things be so different? How can everything feel so natural with Dylan, who I’ve known for most of my life, than with Hadley, who I have no doubt that I was…still am in love with? I’m comfortable with Dylan. I don’t have to try and be someone I’m not when I’m with her. With Hadley, I felt like I was always on edge, like I needed to be this down-and-out kid she was trying to save. Maybe what I had with Hadley was simply lust. First-time attraction and raging hormones and she was my outlet.

I know I want things with Dylan to be different. They have to be.
I can’t compare her to Hadley. There’s no comparison. She’s been my best friend for years and maybe we were meant to happen. It should’ve been sooner, in my opinion. I wish I had never met Hadley Carter. The pain I’ve endured because of her is enough to last me a lifetime and it’s something I could’ve done without.

Dylan hands me a cup and promises me that I’ll like it. Thing is, I’m not really interested in getting drunk. I’d rather keep my senses and spend the rest of my birthday with her in my arms. She
takes me around and introduces me to people I don’t know. There are kids here from other schools as well. I’ve heard about parties getting out of hand, but for the most part this one seems mellow.

We dance. I get to hold her in my arms and feel her up agai
nst my body. She’s not shy and I’m not sure if I like that or not. She has one hand underneath my shirt, her fingers dance along my waistband giving me just enough satisfaction. She pulls me down closer to her so she can press her lips against my neck. Each movement she choreographs as if she’s the conductor and our bodies are the orchestra.

As the night goes on, people come and go. Only once do I hear glass break, which leaves me standing in the middle of the room while Dylan rushes off to make sure nothi
ng valuable has been ruined. My arms felt empty and cold without her in them. When she returns she looks frantic, crazy almost.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing, I just think it’s time for people to start leaving, if you’re okay with that.”