Page 66 of Lost in You

Deception.

Pain.

I turn it on and wait for the apple symbol to disappear. I hold it in my hands waiting for that distinct chime to alert me that I have a message. The chime – her ringtone – her song – doesn’t sound.

I pull up her name, the only contact I ever put in here. The only person I ever wanted to talk to with this phone. Her porcelain face stares back at me. Before today I thought she was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen, but now I see flaws. I see someone who used me to make herself feel better. I see someone who took advantage of me because I didn’t know any better, but not anymore.

Dylan has taught me in this past month what it’s like to care for someone simply because you can. Her father taught me to speak my mind and not be afraid to answer when asked a question.

I want to tell Hadley that I’ll never forgive her for what she’s done, but I’ll never see her so why do I need to say that to her? Fact is, she’s not even watching. I’m not stupid, at least not anymore. I know she shut off my phone. As easy as it was for her to give it to me, it was just as easy for her to take it away. She’s treated me like a petulant child and not the lover she said I was.

I get out of bed and move quietly down the hall, careful not to wake anyone. The stairs to the basement creak with my weight. They're old and in need of repair. Mr. Ross and I plan to do this over winter vacation. It’s the least I can do to return their hospitality and love.

I turn on the overhead light. It sways back and forth casting shadows along the walls. Chills wash over me. I get the feeling that someone is watching me, lurking in the corner waiting to pounce. I take a deep breath, calming my nerves. There isn’t anyone down here, just an old basement. I’m an adult now. I shouldn’t be scared of the boogeyman. I walk carefully into Mr. Ross’s workshop and pull the cord to turn on the light. This time I hold the bulb from moving back and forth so I can focus on what I need. The black handle is easy to spot. I pull out the hammer, turning it from side to side, inspecting the large metal object before laying it on the table.

My phone feels heavy in my pocket, but after I’m done it won’t. I won’t have to see it anymore. I drop it onto the table and bring it to life. Her smiling face mocks me, reminding me what her lips felt like against mine. I pick up the hammer and bring it down once, hard. The crack is satisfying, but it’s not enough. I can still see her. Her brown eyes sparkle as if she’s telling me a story. Her kissable lips make her face light up with her bright smile.

I fell hard for her and she let me, encouraged me, but no more. I bring down the hammer hard, hitting the picture dead on. The glass spider webs making her invisible, but I can still see her, feel her on my skin. Again and again I pound my phone until nothing is left. It’s in pieces. My life is in pieces because of her.

A soft hand rubs up and down on my arm, a head resting on my shoulder. She whispers in my ear that everything will be okay. How does she know? I lift my head slightly to look at her. Her dark hair is pulled back in a loose ponytail. She doesn’t wear make-up or worry about what she looks like when she wakes up in the morning. For the first time I’m really looking at her and she’s pretty, beautiful.

Her thumb dances along my cheekbones and I sigh into her, telling myself she’ll never have to see my so broken again. From here on out, I’ll be strong. She grins when my hand reaches out and touches her hip. I didn’t plan for that to happen; it was natural, as if I needed to touch her.

“Happy Birthday, Ryan,” she whispers.

My lips crash onto hers. She gasps before she kisses me back. Her mouth opens slightly, but enough to let me taste her. I pick her up and set her down on the worktable. Now she’s my height and I like that. My hands cup her face as she moves her hands over my arms, igniting my flesh. This is different from the way I’ve felt before. Dylan locks her legs around my waist, pulling me closer. My hands move on their own volition, from her face to her shoulders, down her arms, resting on her hips and finally I cave, allowing myself to touch her under her nightshirt.

Her mouth leaves mine. She marks my skin as hers, leaving a path of energy coursing through my body. Her hands tug at my shirt, lifting it. I step back and raise my arms and let her take it off of me. Her fingers glide over my skin, her lips follow leaving a trail of goose bumps.

My fingers run through her hair. I don’t want her to stop. She’s making me feel good, making me forget.

“You’re so beautiful, Ryan,” she says against my skin.

A loud bang above us breaks our reverie. We jump and she pulls away before I can touch her or return the sentiment. Someone’s awake and in the kitchen. We’re busted, both of us downstairs, Dylan half-dressed.

Dylan unlocks her legs so I can pick up my shirt. I slide it over my head without breaking eye contact with her. She looks away, her face falls. I’m not sure what I just did, but I do know that I don’t like seeing her look sad. I pull her chin toward me and kiss her deeply.

We hold hands walking down the hall. I made the contact first. I wanted to feel what I felt this morning with her in the basement. Maybe she gives me a newfound confidence that I never had with Hadley, or maybe it’s just that she’s different and understands me better than anyone.

A few of her girlfriends wink at us as we walk to our lockers and each time Dylan pulls me close and kisses me on the cheek. I walk her to class – also a first for me – and let my lips linger on hers longer than allowed in school.

“See you at lunch.” I take a step back, then another as she watches me. I’m bumped into, sorry’s are muttered, but I never take my eyes off of her as she stands there watching me. Her smile is infectious. For the first time I look at her,reallylook at who Dylan Ross is, and I’m very thankful that she’s in my life.

I sit down at my desk and pull out my book. When I open it, there’s a sticky note stuck to my assignment.Happy Birthdayis all it says and I know it’s from Dylan. I take out my wallet and place it in there carefully. That’s something I’ll save forever.

“’Sup, Ryan.”

I look over at Jake Miller, who just sat down. We’ve never spoken before, at least not in casual conversation. “Not much,” I answer as I put away my wallet.

“So, party at Dylan’s tonight?”

Mr. and Mrs. Ross are out of town this weekend for a police convention, but I didn’t think Dylan would invite people over.

“It’s your birthday, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah all right, party. Happy Birthday, man.” He pats me on the back and prepares for class.

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