Lost in You (Lost in You 1)

“So tell me about yourself, Ryan.”

I look at her questioningly. “How do you know my name? I didn’t introduce myself?”

She bites her bottom lip and looks away from me. Her cheeks turn pink and I can’t tell for sure, but I think she’s trying not to laugh. “Alex told me,” she says without looking at me.

“Oh.” I’m not sure how I should feel about that. Do I like it that she asked or what? I’m not sure what I’m supposed to tell her. What does one tell someone when he or she says “tell me about yourself”? Are they looking for a specific answer? “Um, well, Dylan is my best friend. We live in Brookfield, which is about two hours from here. On Monday I’ll be a senior in high school.”

When I say high school her head snaps up. She studies me as if I’m joking, her eyes moving around my features. My hands rest on the side of the chair and wait for her to say something.

“How old are you?” she asks.

“I’m seventeen.”

“When will you be eighteen?”

“In December.”

“Oh wow, I didn’t think… Crap this isn’t good.”

The awkwardness increases tenfold. She moves away from me. I scramble to catch the plate before it tumbles to the ground.

“Shit,” she says. “I’ll be right back.”

She gets up, leaving me, with a plate of half-eaten food and her phone playing music.

CHAPTER 6

Hadley

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. Never 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 over 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 need 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 adul

t, 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 back 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.