Page 23 of Lost in You

Anal Annapulls my hair. Not sure what hairstyle she’s going for, but she says it’s something she learned while I was gallivanting all over Jackson for three days. My head rears back, my mouth drops in a silent ouch as she tugs. This is pure torture, plain and simple. I want to turn around and pull her hair, just like I would’ve done in kindergarten. I bite the inside of my cheek to avoid a verbal confrontation with her.

I haven’t seen Ryan in almost a week and it’s been nothing but agony. Facetime isn’t cutting it. I’ve been trying to find a way to sneak to Brookfield, even if it’s only for a few hours, but to no avail. I’m booked solid and the slightest gap in my schedule is being filled by last-minute appearances or interviews.

Each time someone asks about my personal life I want to tell them about Ryan and how I might be in love. Definitely falling in love, but not sure if I’m there yet. Although, I know I’m lying to myself, I’m there, just not willing to admit it to myself for fear he doesn’t feel the same way.

Ryan tells me that the guys in his school have my picture hanging from their lockers and that it pisses him off how they talk about me. He says they act like they know me and I have to remind him that they only know the performer – the one they read about in the countless interviews and articles – that he is the only one who trulyknowsme.

Alex walks in, her face grim. I try to ask her with my eyes what her problem is, but she just shakes her head and eyesAnal Anna. I’m not sure I like the look on Alex’s face. It usually means something is up and that probably means I won’t like it. Who knows what my uncle has done now.

The thought of my uncle brings him into my dressing room. The door flies open, slamming against the wall, causing Anna to jump and poke me in the scalp with a bobby pin. I rub the spot, only for her to slap my hand away.

“Anna, I need to speak with Hadley in private.”

Anna nods, stops what she’s doing and leaves. Through the mirror I notice dissension between them. My eyes look to Ian. He’s showing no emotion as she walks by. Maybe they're having a super-secret lovers quarrel and trying to maintain professionalism.

Who am I kidding? Those two are anything but professional.

I spin my chair around just as Anna shuts my dressing room door. Ian looks at Alex and I shake my head. He knows better than to ask her to leave. I tell her everything and I hate repeating myself, so this saves me time. Plus she helps me figure out Ian and his erratic attitudes.

“Is there anything you need to tell me?” he sighs when he asks this question. He moves, slowly, toward the stool in the corner. He’s acting as if I’ve committed a crime. Maybe I have. Is kissing an underage boy a crime? Probably is, knowing my luck.

“No.”

Alex shifts closer, her elbows resting on her knees. She’s watching Ian, waiting for him to do or say something.

He clears his throat. It’s rough, like he’s getting sick or had too much to drink last night. I’m thinking it’s probably the latter. He pulls the stool into the center of the small room. He sits down, resting his feet on the pegs.

I cross my legs, staring at him, waiting.

“Are you sure?”

What kind of question is that? My parents used to do that to me when I’d bring home a bad grade or forget to turn in an assignment. Am I sure? Of course I am. If I was in trouble I’d think I’d know. Or at least have some sort of idea that I’ve done something wrong.

Ian looks at me as if he’s my father. His brows are furrowed, his eyes slanted. Really? If I weren’t trying to be respectful of his “managerial duties” I’d start swinging my feet just to piss him off. He pulls out a newspaper, one that he’s had tucked inside his coat. His antics are starting to bore me. I roll my eyes at Alex, who shakes her head.

I sit up a bit straighter and look at her. Her eyes, boring into mine, are telling me to behave and that this is serious. All I can think about is Ryan and that maybe he told the wrong person about us and I’m about to be sent to the county jail for child endangerment or something harsher.

Ian shakes the paper. The only thing missing is his orange juice and toast and I’d think this is a common morning at my parents’ house. By the look on his face, I know this is anything but. Something is in that paper, causing him more stress than usual.

“What’s going on, Ian?” I’m tired of waiting and of this beating-around-the-bush.

Ian stands and paces, one hand stuffed deep into his coat pocket, the other clutching the newspaper. He stops in front of me, hovering over me. “You made the paper the other day.”

“Okay.” I draw out the word. “I’m in the paper all the time.”

Ian shakes his head. He looks at Alex, who I swear slinks back into the sofa. What the hell? I stand up, my hands planted firmly on my hips.

“What is going on with you two? I’m starting to get pissed.”

Ian hands me the paper, his eyebrow cocked in defiance. He’s testing me. I know this. I open the paper carefully, my eyes slowly traveling up the page. I want to cry out when I see not only my shoes, but the shoes of the boy I was with when this picture was taken. My legs are pressing against his bent legs, his hands resting on my hips – that is what I’m looking at. Except I know in this moment that his fingers are digging into my flesh as his lips work against mine in nothing but pure temptation.

The memory of his tongue moving against mine overcomes my senses. I can feel every touch, every movement of his hands on my back, as if he’s holding me now.

“Explain yourself.”

Ian’s voice knocks me for six. Someone caught me… us. This wasn’t supposed to happen. We’re a secret, a dirty, forbidden tryst. Alex pulls the paper from my hands. Her hand rubs circles on my back as she directs me back to the chair. Ian huffs, shuffling back to the stool. His throat clears again as he prepares to lecture me on the do’s and don’ts of a public relationship. The problem isn’t that there’s a public picture, but his age.

“The last time you had a relationship that the public was aware of, it ended badly.”

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