Lost in You (5 page)

Why can’t things in my life just go as I imagined? Ryan and I getting to know each other, finding out if this connection I’m feeling is real or just my imagination. No, it’s not my imagination. The pull is there. I feel it, that magnetic force that people always talk about. I felt it the moment we made eye contact from across the room.

Why does he have to be underage? Eighteen I can deal with, but not seventeen.

I left him sitting on the chair. Just upped and left. He must think I’m rude. I have this party as a front to get to know him. I stop him from leaving, knowing that if he did, I’d never see him again. I would never have the opportunity to hear his voice or experience the feelings going through me right now when he answers my questions. I knew sitting there that I wanted to keep him talking.

Now I stand at the other end of my balcony.
My head rests on my hands as I lean against the cold concrete wall – a wall that is currently preventing me from jumping over the side while I figure out what to do
. I need to talk to Alex, but she’s occupying the guests while I hit on Ryan. Or try to. Maybe he doesn’t even like me. Hell, he didn’t even know who I was until tonight.

I stare out into the night sky, the stars twinkling as I ask them for some sign on what I should do. Neve
r have I been in a relationship where I’ve felt this strongly about someone. I should be scared. I should be kicking him out of here and hopping on my bus to get out of dodge.

I know that starting something with him is wrong, but we can be friends. I can
be his friend. That’s what I tell myself as I walk back toward him. I remind myself that we’ll be friends, pen pals or texting buddies. We’ll keep things platonic until he’s eighteen and if he wants, then maybe we’ll share a kiss or hold hands.

Over and ov
er again, I say this as I round the corner and look at him. He sees me and stands up. His short, dark hair is now standing on end, likely from endless pulling, no doubt wondering where the crazed rock star ran off. My fingers like his hair like this. They twitch with desire to run through his locks. I close my eyes to remove the image of my lips pressed against his while he’s pulling me close, his hand guiding my leg over his hip.

My mind is saying get over him, but my heart is speaking loud and clear. I ne
ed to have him in my life. I want to know him.

With my game face on I take the last few steps back to the chaise lounge. Ryan steps back, his legs bumping into the chair. He wobbles a bit and I reach out to catch him.
Big mistake. My hands feel as if they are on fire. It’s small and manageable, yet I don’t want to let go for fear the sensation will stop. I know I have to. I’m an adult, I very sadly remind myself.

Letting go of his arm, I sit down in my same spot as before. I look at him, my head tilted bac
k as I take in his tall stature, his eyes never leaving mine as he sits back down. He’s tense, I can tell, his posture rigid and uncomfortable. I made him this way and now I need to fix it.

“I’m sorry about before, about leaving. That was rude.”

“It’s okay.” He says this so politely it makes me want to pull him into my arms and hug him.

“No, it’s not.” I lean forward so that I can peer into his eyes. They’re a beautiful combination of blue and green. I can’t help but want to get lost in them for hours.

I straighten when Ryan clears his throat. He looks down, clearly shy or surprised by my gawking. I need to control myself. I’m a professional and need to act like one. I sit back and extend my legs in the chaise, turning so I can look at him. I want to tell him to make himself at home, but he doesn’t seem like the type that would do that.

“Who is this singing?” he asks, effectively breaking the awkward silence. I pick up my phone and show him my picture. The song is a ballad I did two years ago. It never went
anywhere, but it’s always been one of my favorites.

“It’s me.”

“You’re very pretty.” He says this so quietly I almost didn’t hear him. His cheek turns a pleasing shade of pink. It’s a good thing I’m this far away from him because I want to run my fingers along his cheekbone. I want to feel the heat from his blush.

There is something seriously wrong with me. I tell myself to snap the hell out of it and come back down to reality. Friends, Hadley… that is all you can be. There will be no touching of any kind
.

“Thank you.” I say this in hopes to open some conversation, anything to hear his voice.

“You weren’t supposed to hear that,” he mumbles his reply. Ryan mirrors my position on his chaise, turning his body to look at me. I’m lost in his beauty. I hope he doesn’t mind me staring because I don’t think I can stop.

“I think you’re handsome.” He looks away. He starts picking at the hem of his shorts and I fear I’ve said the wrong thing. Everything has come so natural to me until now. “Is that the wrong thing to
say?”

Ryan shrugs. “No one has ever said that.”

“Girls don’t tell you that you’re hot?”

“No, definitely not.”

“That’s such a shame.”

Ryan looks away from me and I don’t like it. I get up and move to his chaise. I sit toward the
middle, where his knees are bent. With my legs under me, I lean toward him so that we’re touching. He doesn’t pull away or shift so we aren’t touching. But he’s still not looking at me.

“I’m sorry for embarrassing you. I just call things like I see it.”

Ryan shakes his head and stalls briefly before turning back to me. His eyes are focused and in control of my beating heart. How can one person make me feel this way after only knowing him for such a short time?

“You have a very nice voice. I like listening t
o you.”

“I’ll take that compliment any day, especially if it’s coming from you.” I expect Ryan to look away, but he doesn’t. He holds my gaze, driving home the fact that I’m already in too deep. There is no backing away from this.

For a moment I can see myself leaning in, him meeting me half way. Just a small touch of the lips, enough to quench my desire, is all I need. I imagine him pushing his hands into my hair, capturing me with soft lips.

I can hear muffled sounds, his lips are moving, but I can’t make
out the words. I clear my head of the lust-filled images. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“I said
, do you like what you do?”

“Oh yeah, I do actually. Performing has always been a passion for me. I started in county fairs when I was about twelve and got not
iced when I was fifteen. What about you, what’s your passion?”

“To leave Brookfield,” he says with such sadness it makes me wonder why he’d want to leave.

“How long have you lived there?”

“All my life,” he says. His fingers go back to pulling on his short
s. For the first time I get a good look at him. His shorts aren’t new and the edges are frayed. He wears generic sneakers that look old. His black dress shirt is the only thing that looks new.

“Why don’t you like it?”

Ryan adjusts so he’s sitting up a bit more, but doesn’t move his leg from touching my arm. I like that he made sure we were still touching. “What’s to like? The town is divided. Half is these upper-class mansions and the other half is industrial with a working mill and small clapboard homes that were built to house the millworkers.”

Without even asking I know that is where Ryan lives and, while that would matter in my group of friends (Alex not included), it doesn’t matter to me. If he lived under a bridge I’d still want to know him.

“So what do you want to do when you graduate?”

“I’m going to leave. Get on a bus and not look back. I want my life to be different from my parents’. My dad, he expects me to start at the mill when I finish school and work my way into becoming the fourth-generation S
tone crowned foreman, but that’s not me.” Ryan gets up and moves over to the wall, peering over the side. I spin so that my eyes are on him, afraid to miss a moment.

“I want to live in a place that is loud and busy. Somewhere where I can walk down the str
eet at night and not need a flash light.”

“Like New York City?” I ask, hoping the answer is yes.

“Exactly like New York City or Las Vegas. Any place as long as the town never sleeps. I get so tired of listening to the cicadas and the coyotes in the middle of the night. I want to hear horns honking and people yelling.”

“That can be annoying too,” I add. Even though I love the city and wouldn’t want to live any place else, there is something to say for the solitude of a small town.

Ryan turns and looks at me, his arms resting on the wall. If I was brave, I’d stand and walk up to him and live out one of the many fantasies I’ve started to have about him, but I’m not there yet. Ryan pushes off the wall and comes back over to the chaise we’ve been sharing, albeit for a few brief minutes. He sits, his legs touching mine. He places his hand down on the cushion, centimeters from my bare leg and looks at me.

“I’ve never met someone famous before. Why are you spending the night out here with me when you could be insid
e with your fans?”

Ryan

I don’t know where this small bit of confidence came from, but watching her sit there, the way the moonlight is shining off of her, makes me want to be next to her. Never have I had the notion to sit this close to a girl. No, that’s not right, Hadley is anything but a girl. She’s a woman and she wants to talk to me. For the life of me I can’t fathom why.              

Someone like Hadley Carter can have anyone she wants. She’s having this aft
er-party and yet she’s out here on her balcony keeping someone like me company. For all I know she’s taking pity on me because I was alone and about to leave. I suppose leaving her party would’ve made her look like a fool.

I’m close to her, so close that
I can touch her if I wanted. I could move my fingers slightly and let her skin light mine on fire. I want to ask her what it feels like for her when we touch because for me it’s as if her skin is full of electricity and my body wants to know what it’s like to be touched by her repeatedly.

Hadley shifts, her knee brushing lightly against my fingers. I don’t move, afraid that she’ll notice. There is a light tingling sensation coursing from her to me. I look down, briefly. She moves closer.

“I shouldn’t tell you this since we just met, but when I saw you across the room I knew I had to know you.”

“Is that a line you use to pick up people?” I blurt this out without thinking. Talking to a beautiful woman is all new to me. I know I’ve offended her when she pulls
away from me, making sure we are no longer touching. Hadley adjusts herself so she’s turned away from me. I can no longer see her soulful brown eyes, just her golden hair, which is pulled tight into a ponytail.

“I’m sorry,” I say, hoping to diffuse the sit
uation. Normally my response would be to clam up and ignore the person next to me. Find something to tinker with or just look away. But with Hadley, for some reason I hate knowing that I’ve upset her and I don’t even know her. It’s not like I’ll see her after tonight.

“It’s okay. I’m sure that is what a lot of people think of celebrities.” She turns back, gracing me once again with her beauty. “But no, Ryan, it wasn’t a line. I don’t show emotion because a lot of people want to take advantage of that weakne
ss. I’ve never done a lot of the things I’ve done tonight.”

“Like what?” I’m asking purely out of curiosity.

“Like throw a party so I could get to know someone.” Hadley adjusts so her leg is touching my fingers again. They twitch when her skin touches mine. If she notices, she doesn’t say anything. I swallow hard.

“Is that what you did tonight?”

Hadley nods, leaning closer. “I wanted to talk to you away from everyone else. Earlier, you were in the corner and we were pressed for time, so I decided to have this party. The only problem is I only wanted to invite you, but that would’ve looked awkward. Would you have come?”

“No.” I shake my head.

“Why not?”

I run my hand through the back of my hair. I’m not really sure how to answer her without hurting her fee
lings. “I came here with Dylan.” This is the answer I give her, which is apparently the wrong one because we’re no longer touching.

“I didn’t realize Dylan was your girlfriend. I thought she said she was your friend.”

I move closer, determined to keep touching her. “She’s my best friend, but we aren’t dating or anything like that. I don’t have a girlfriend, never have.”

I wish I hadn’t said that because the look on her face is definitely one of pity. Her eyes
study me, likely curious as to why I would say something stupid like that. I turn away, only to have her fingertips pull my chin toward her. I should’ve told her that I haven’t found anyone interesting enough to spend time with aside from Dylan and she’s the only one because she made the effort. The rest of the girls just look at you, wondering if you’re going to be the one that they end up with after a prom night mishap.