Lost in You Read online

  LOST

  IN

  YOU

  Also by Heidi McLaughlin

  The Beaumont Series:

  Forever My Girl

  My Everything– Novella

  Copyright © 2013 by Heidi McLaughlin

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, distributed, stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form of by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, without express permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes, if done so constitutes a copyright violation.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used.

  Edited by:

  Fallon Clark at SnowEditing.com

  Alyssa Minger at Precision Copyediting & Proofreading

  Cover Designed by Sarah Hansen at © OkayCreations.net

  ISBN-13: 9780989373087

  FOR

  Ryan Michael

  Contents

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  CHAPTER 33

  CHAPTER 34

  CHAPTER 35

  CHAPTER 36

  CHAPTER 37

  CHAPTER 38

  CHAPTER 39

  CHAPTER 40

  CHAPTER 41

  CHAPTER 42

  CHAPTER 43

  CHAPTER 44

  CHAPTER 45

  SNEAK PEEK OF PRETTY LITTLE LIES BY DEBUT AUTHOR JENNIFER MILLER

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  CHAPTER 1

  Ryan

  Beads of sweat drip down my face. My shirt is soaked and filthy, but I can’t stop to change or find something else to wipe away the grime. The lawn needs to be mowed and raked before my dad comes home from work if I want any semblance of a weekend.

  It’s not like I have plans, but something may come up and I don’t want to give my dad an excuse to say no, not that he’d need one.

  My parents are strict. Well, my dad is. My mom is okay for the most part as long as my dad isn’t around. We live on the outskirts of town away from the high-traffic life of Brookfield. You know when you look in the magazines and see the town that time forgot? That’s us – except time didn’t forget, it just passed over, and when it did – my dad stayed with it. He said his life was simple when he was growing up and ours would be too.

  With the lawn finished, I pull out my pre-paid cell and look at the time. It’s all I can afford and half the time I don’t have any minutes on it. I use it strictly for emergencies or when I want to look like I belong.

  Neither of which happen very often.

  Scooping up the last of the grass clippings, I push the wheelbarrow to the back corner of our lawn. We have a pile of dead grass near the fence that my dad uses in the spring to reseed the yard. He refuses to haul it off to the dump or have the garbage company pick it up.

  Removing my shoes and grass-stained socks outside, I step into our sweltering house. I hate not having air conditioning, especially when the temperatures are over one hundred. If we’re lucky, the air will cool down enough and we can place the box fans in the window tonight and try to cool down the house. I’m not counting on it though. We’re in the middle of a heat wave and it’s not supposed to stop any time soon.

  My school is air-conditioned. Thank God. If it wasn’t I’m not sure how we’d survive. School starts in a few days and I’m probably the only kid in town who is looking forward to it. I’m counting the days until I’m done. I want out of here, away from the dirt and brown grass. Away from the quiet and almost desolate life my parents lead.

  I don’t know where I’m going. I just want to go. My plan is to catch the six o’clock bus one morning and never come back. I just need to make sure I have enough saved by then.

  I look around the house, making sure everything is picked up. The dishes are done and put away. The newspaper is centered on my dad’s placemat, just like he requires. I’m thankful I’m not asked to cook; flipping burgers at Stan’s three nights a week is enough kitchen time for me.

  I straighten out the pillows on the couch before heading to the shower. It’s just one less thing for my parents to look down on when they come home. I’m allowed five minutes in the shower. My dad says any more time is just wasteful.

  I set the egg timer and get in. I learned a long time ago to shower in the cold and enjoy the little warm water I can get toward the end of my allotted time. It’s just best this way. I’m done before the timer goes off; too bad I can’t accumulate the extra time and use it for my next shower. I would ask, but hearing no and receiving lectures all the time gets old.

  When I get out of the shower, my best friend, Dylan, is laying on my bed. Her long dark hair is spread across my pillow. Her right leg is propped up on her left, her foot bouncing. I know she’s listening to music; she always is. She peers at me over her leg, her foot stops bouncing as her eyes move up and down my body.

  “Damn, Ry.”

  “What?” I ask, suddenly self-conscious standing in my room naked except for the towel covering my lower half.

  She continues to stare. I have to look away when my cheeks become warm.

  “Damn, Ry.” This time when she says those words her voice is raspy. “For being almost eighteen you’re freaking hot.”

  I shake my head and grab some clean clothes and head back to the bathroom to get dressed. She’s never said that before, not sure why she’s saying it now. I’ve seen the guys she dates and I look nothing like them.

  I’ve lived in Brookfield all my life. So have my parents and their parents, too. I didn’t meet Dylan Ross until halfway through sixth grade. She found me eating alone one day and flat-out told me she felt sorry for me. It took me two months to say something to her, but once I did she never shut up. With her came other friends, but Dylan dubbed me her best one that year. The ironic thing is that her friends have known me for years, but we’ve never hung out. I’m on the wrong side of Brookfield. There is a small group of us that hang out, but most of the guys play sports and I don’t fit in, mostly due to my social status. I would like to play some sport, maybe football or basketball, but I have to work and there is no way my dad would ever agree to pay for something like basketball shoes. I don’t fit in, never have.

  Most of the guys we hang out with like Dylan and want to date her. A few of them have asked how many times I’ve been with her and think I’m bullshitting them when I tell them we are strictly friends. I’ve never looked at her that way. Don’t get me wrong, she’s beautiful and any guy will be lucky when she finally looks in his direction. But it’s hard for me to see Dylan as more than a friend
. Even if we did date, what would happen if things didn’t work out? Besides, I wouldn’t stand a chance with her. I’m her go-to guy when she’s having problems.

  I tap Dylan on the foot when I’m back in the room. She pretends to ignore me, likely waiting for her current song to finish. I sit on the edge of the bed and wait for her. I know this game – I’ve become the master. There is no interrupting Dylan and her love for music.

  She sits up, her eyes gleaming. I know this look – she’s up to something. She pulls out her ear buds. “Guess what I won?” she asks. I’m never going to guess so I shrug. Dylan wins everything even though her parents give her anything she wants.

  “Aren’t you going to guess?”

  “No, you’re going to tell me anyway,” I reply. I scoot back on my bed, crossing my ankles. Dylan moves closer, matching the way I’m sitting. Her long, tan legs are pressed against mine and I don’t like it; it’s too hot to be touching anyone. I shift slightly, only for her to put her hand on my leg.

  “I won tickets to the Hadley Carter concert and not just any tickets, but backstage passes and a meet and greet.”

  “Cool, but who is Hadley Carter?” Dylan knows I’m not up-to-date on the music scene. I don’t have a fancy music player like she does or even a computer where I know she gets most of her music. Sure we listen to music in her car, but I try not to get attached to something I can’t have. It’s the devil’s music, or so my mom says. Unless the band is on public access television, it’s not allowed.

  Dylan turns her body so she’s facing me. I can tell that she’s excited about these tickets she’s won. “Hadley is like the biggest music star out there right now and she’s coming to town. Well not here, but to Jackson and I’ve got us tickets!”

  “Us?”

  “Of course us! Who else would I want to go with?”

  “I don’t know, D, Rachel, Sarah, or Jill. I’m sure they’d all want to go with you. I don’t. Hell, even the new guy that moved here last week. I saw him watching you the other day when you were at Stan’s. I think he drooled on his burger when you bent over.” Dylan hits me in the arm. I act like it hurt, but it didn’t. She’s too tiny to cause much damage. “Come on, I don’t know any of this singer’s music. I’ll be bored.”

  Dylan sticks out her bottom lip and bats her eyes slowly. “Please, Ryan. It'll be a great night and I want to spend it with you. You’re my best friend and this is a once-in-a-lifetime experience. You’re the one I want to share it with.”

  When she gets like this I can’t say no. Even if I tried, she’d find a way to make me feel guilty and remind me of something she did for me or tell her I owe her a favor and that she’s collecting now. I’m in a no-win situation with her and I know it.

  “When’s the show?” I ask while rolling my eyes. She knows it’s pretend and that I’d do anything for her.

  Her face lights up and she starts clapping. I can’t help it. I smile too and look away from her so she doesn’t see it.

  “The show’s tonight, but don’t worry. I stopped by your mom’s office and asked her if you could go and she’s okay with me driving us to Jackson.”

  Dylan is like the daughter my mother always wanted and never had so I’m not surprised she said I could go. Had it been anyone else she would’ve made me ask my dad and that is usually an automatic no.

  I look at my alarm clock and cringe. My dad will be home in twenty-minutes; my mom not for another hour. I don’t have any money for dinner if I go to the concert.

  “I haven’t gotten paid yet, D. I don’t have any money.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about that. I got it. You can pay me back later.” She says this too eagerly. I owe her a million dollars already.

  “We should go before my dad gets home. Is what I’m wearing okay?”

  Dylan jumps off my bed, heads to my closet and pulls out one of my Sunday church shirts. Fear creeps up my spine – if I ruin it, I’m in trouble. She hands it to me with a huge smile on her face. Sometimes I wish she knew exactly how things were in my house. No, I take that back, I wish I had the carefree attitude and the ability to do whatever I wanted that she has. I wish that my check went to me and not my parents. Most of all, I wish my life was different.

  CHAPTER 2

  Hadley

  Alex braids my hair. She does this because she knows it pisses off Anal Anna and loves to watch her huff and puff while she’s trying to get out the kinks. I don’t understand why I can’t perform in a braid. It would be so much easier and would keep my hair out of my face. But what do I know? I’m just the talent surrounded by people paid to know what’s best for me.

  Alex moves from my hair to my shoulders and massages them. My head falls forward as she works the muscles in my neck. Having my best friend on tour has so many perks, this being one of them. And I have someone to talk to when I'm lonely. Which is all the time. She ends up being my everything – my confidant, my shopping buddy and even my date to the movies when I want to see something. I lean on her for everything.

  She taps me on the shoulder to let me know I’m done. I open my eyes and look at her. The bright lights surrounding my vanity mirror are making her dark skin pale. I hate that because her dark complexion and caramel-colored eyes are beautiful.

  Alex and I switch spots and I do her make-up. This has become our ritual. Not that anyone is going to see us like this. She’ll remove the make-up before we leave the bus and head into the arena. This is the only time I can be a kid again, even though at twenty-two, those days are over. I just missed them by performing and sometimes I want them back. I miss the days where I didn’t have to do anything. I didn’t have to be “on”. When I could go to the mall and hang out, eating at the food court and not having to worry if paparazzi are lurking in the dressing room next to me. Those days have been gone for so long, I wish for one moment I can be normal again.

  A knock on the bus door makes us both groan. Sometimes performing every other night and traveling in between is too much. I long for my soft bed and stuffed animals. Yes, I know, I’m too old for stuffed animals, but every so often I need them.

  Alex goes to get the door. She sashays as she walks, flipping her hair over her shoulder every few steps, mimicking Anal Anna. It’s something we’ve practiced night after night either on the tour bus or in our hotel room.

  “Oh look, if it isn’t the hair dresser.” Alex walks back toward me, rolling her eyes. When Anna spots my hair braided she sighs heavily causing Alex to laugh. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling.

  They have a love/hate relationship. Actually, I think it is more hate/hate because I don’t remember them every really loving each other.

  “Are you ready?” she asks.

  I don’t answer her. I fall into step behind her, Alex behind me. Outside my bus is a security guard. He’s not mine, but someone that the venue hired to stand here and block my door. He looks me up and down and smirks. Not sure why. Maybe he’s a hard-core rocker fan or something. Alex mutters something under her breath and starts laughing, earning us a look from Anna. I swear she thinks we’re twelve years old.

  The venue is bursting with people. The opening act is about to go on. They are an up-and-coming boy band that has been traveling with me for a few months now. One of them, the lead singer, Smith Michaelson, hits on me after every show. At first I was flattered, but it quickly got old. If I don’t buy what he’s selling, he moves on to some bopper that somehow made it into our after-party. I’ve been with only one musician and that was enough to last me a lifetime. They're nothing but trouble. Pure heartbreak waiting to happen, that’s what it is. When men have women throwing themselves at you night after night you seem to forget about the commitment you made to someone else. I swore off relationships like that, which is why I’m single. I want “normal” but “normal” definitely isn’t knocking on my door.

  He’s persistent though. I’ll give him credit for trying, but if seeing him talk to me and then walk to the first willing girl is supposed
to make me want him more, it doesn’t. It makes me feel sorry for him. I’ve taken to carrying handiwipes with me so after he touches my hand I can disinfect my skin.

  Anal Anna opens the door to my dressing room. I have a bouquet of sunflowers sitting on the table along with magazines for Alex. My rack of possible outfits sits in the corner and all of Anna’s make-up is stacked on the table in front of the full-length mirror. I sit down and plaster on a fake smile so Anna knows I’m ready. The last thing I need is for her to tell my uncle Ian, who doubles as my manager, that I don’t have my game face on. A lecture from him is something I can do without.

  There are more flowers, roses this time, on each side of this vanity, no doubt set up by Ian. I don’t know why he insists on having more flowers. They go to waste each and every night. It’s not like we can take them with us when we leave, so why have them here? This is supposed to be my sanctuary.

  Alex lounges on the couch, reading the newest People magazine. I’m in this issue as one of the top one hundred most beautiful people. I wanted them to use Alex, but she’s not famous enough. She mocks me when she comes to my page and reads the quote from Smith, “Being with Hadley on tour has been an amazing experience. When we aren’t on stage, we are together. She’s such a lovely and sweet girl.”

  I glare at her through my mirror. Anna has my hair in big rollers, the pins digging into my scalp. While my hair sets, she does my make-up. She’s only been with me for two months. She was highly recommended by some tart that was dating my uncle. When the tart got kicked to the curb, Anna stayed. I suspect she's doing my uncle, but I don’t ask. I think if I knew, I’d fire her and that would piss him off.

  Anna picks out my outfits for tonight. A couple of dresses, which I love because I can wear my cowboy boots with them; a pair of jeans with rhinestone tank tops in various colors; and my least favorite is an uncomfortable leather number with stiletto heels. I hate the leather outfit, but Ian says it gives me sex appeal, which apparently I need. I refuse to have my shows staged. I hate it. I want my fans to expect the unexpected and that includes my clothes. Wearing the same thing over and over, night after night, is boring and lacks creativity. I want my shows to be fresh.