Inspiring You Page 3

  “Yeah, it’s pretty cool. The sucky part is the award came with a scholarship, which I have no use for at the moment. My mom wasn’t very happy about it, which I guess I get. I mean, she’s an artist, and it’s pretty baffling to her that she has a daughter who’s turning down an art scholarship. I had to explain to her that while I love to draw, I’d much rather be singing and spreading my awesomeness through music, even if sometimes the thought of singing onstage makes me want to puke.”

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’ve been doing amazing with your stage fright.”

  “Yeah, I guess so.” She mulls over something, seeming reluctant. “Can I ask you something?”

  “You can ask me anything.”

  “What do you want to do?”

  His fingers trail down my neck to my chest. “What do you mean?”

  I roll on my side and hitch my leg over his hip. “I mean, when we graduate. Do you think you’ll go to college ever?”

  “Maybe . . . I actually haven’t really thought about it too much.”

  “Well, now that you are thinking about it, can you see yourself tied down with classes?” I ask, eager to hear his answer.

  “Not really.” He contemplates his answer. “I honestly just want to play my guitar. It makes me feel calm inside and happy.”

  I smile at that. “I don’t think you’ve ever said that before.”

  “Said what?”

  “That something makes you happy.”

  “You make me happy too,” he says softly.

  “It’s nice to hear you say that, Shy Boy. “ I wink at him. “My life is now complete, which makes me very, very happy.”

  A ghost smile rises on his lips. “Good, I’m glad you’re happy.”

  “Of course I’m happy. I get to be here with you.”

  I expect him to argue that there’s no way I could be happy with him, but surprisingly he doesn’t.

  Progress.

  We spend the rest of the night talking and stealing kisses until midnight rolls around and he leaves to go home. I watch him through my window as he rounds the fence and heads up his driveway, only turning away when he’s made it safely into the house.

  Like everyone else, I constantly worry that at any moment those creepy people who are after Ayden are going to slink from the shadows and steal him away. Every night when I close my eyes, I dream of the days when I won’t have to worry about losing him. That he’ll be safe. That he’ll be free of them.

  Because I know those days will come.

  I won’t let myself believe anything else.

  Sunday flies by quicker than I want it to, and before I know it, Monday arrives. Ayden’s appointment is after school, and I’m severely distracted during classes, stressing over what’s going to happen.

  “Why are you acting all twitchy?” Sage, the drummer in my band, asks during math class.

  “I’m not acting twitchy.” I lie, unsure what to tell him since he doesn’t know much about Ayden’s situation.

  He rakes his fingers through his blue hair, eyeballing the pen I’m tapping madly against the desk. “You aren’t, huh?”

  I cease the tapping and slump back in my seat. “There’s just some stuff going on, and I’m having a hard time handling it.”

  He shoves up the sleeves of his grey shirt, revealing the multiple tattoos on his arms. “That doesn’t sound like you. You always seem like you can handle anything.”

  “I try to, but I can’t always be perfect.” I flash him my pearly whites. “Everyone’s got to have their flaws, and while mine are super small, I do have them.”

  “I wasn’t saying you have to be perfect . . . I was just . . .” He studies me, fiddling with a piercing in his brow. “Is this about Ayden?”

  Sage used to have a crush on me so whenever he mentions Ayden, things get a little weird and uncomfortable. But right now, I’m more concerned he might know what’s been going on with Ayden. I have no idea how he’d know, but Ayden is a private person and would freak out if Sage or Nolan, the bassist of our band, found out.

  “No.” I glance at the clock. “Everything’s fine with Ayden.”

  “Are you sure?” he questions, staring me down. “I know you’ve been struggling with him leaving the band . . . You’ve been distant at tryouts. It’s got to be hard, trying to replace him.”

  “It’s not about that.” I chew on the end of my pen. “Well, it does kinda suck balls that we have to replace him, especially when everyone that’s tried out sucks balls too.”

  “I think that might be the meanest thing I’ve ever heard you say.” He seems amused by the fact.

  “Why? I don’t tell them they suck balls.” I sigh when he keeps grinning at me. “Okay, I know I’m being a total Debbie downer right now, but seriously, how are we supposed to rock this tour if our guitarist can’t carry a tune? We need to find someone spectacular. Or at least someone who can hit all the notes.”

  “Would you relax? We’ll find someone,” he reassures me, sitting back in the chair.

  I don’t want to find someone. I want Ayden.

  The idea of being on the road, touring, is freaking amazing, and I know I’ll go even if Ayden can’t. But being away from him for that long is going to be torturous. Plus, the people who’ve tried out are in no way as musically talented as Ayden.

  “But you might have to stop comparing everyone to Ayden,” Sage says. “We might just have to settle for someone who’s not as good as him.”

  “I know,” I say, even though it kills me. It’s time for me to start sucking it up and being the ever-so-amazing optimist I know I can be. “That one dude with the green hair might have potential.”

  He grins. “There’s the Lyric I know.”

  “She’s just a little tired.” I pretend to take a bow. “But she decided she needed to quit hiding being her exhaustion and make a grand appearance.

  We bust up laughing, but then the teacher forces us to quiet down.

  A half an hour later, the final bell rings, dismissing school for another day. I hurry out of the classroom and zigzag through the packed hallway, making a beeline for Ayden’s locker. I try not to freak out when he’s not there. While he promised me I could go with him to the therapy appointment, I worry he’ll pull a classic Ayden move and try to go without me, thinking he’s protecting me somehow.

  I bounce up and down on my toes, scanning the people lollygag through the halls, and then watch amusedly as Sage makes a U-turn when he spots my friend Maggie heading in his direction. The funny thing is, she does the same thing when she notices him. The two of them have acted so awkward since they almost hooked up. From what Maggie told me, they were both so wasted it ended up being a disaster, and they’ve barely been able to look each other in the eye ever since.

  “What are you smiling about?” Ayden asks, appearing by my side out of nowhere, like a freaking ninja.

  He’s wearing a pair of black jeans and a grey shirt, and strands of his dark hair hang in his eyes that carry so much sadness. Although not as much as they used to.

  “It’s nothing,” I say, shamelessly checking him out. “I was just laughing at Maggie and Sage and how they run away from each other every time they’re about to cross paths.”

  He spins the combination and opens his locker. “I told you it’d never work out between them.”

  “Yeah, I know, but I kind of hoped it would.” I slip my arm through the strap of my backpack and shrug when he shoots me a really look. “What can I say, I’m a dreamer.” I sing the last part. “Who wants everyone to find love.”

  He laughs, but his expression conveys his nerves.

  “How are you doing?” I recline against the locker beside his as I wait for him to put his books away. “I mean, are you nervous?” I shake my head. “Sorry, that’s a really lame question, isn’t it? Of course you’re nervous.”

  “No question you ask is lame.” He bumps the locker shut and slings his backpack over his shoulder. “I’m a little nervous, but at the
same time, I’m kind of not . . . It’s strange . . . I’ve been carrying so much pain and fear around with me ever since I came out of that house, but just the idea that maybe I’ll finally put some of this behind me makes the pain and fear feel less heavy . . . If that makes any sense.”

  “It makes perfect sense.” I lace our fingers as we make our way down the hallway toward the exit doors. “You’re going to let me hold your hand while you do the treatment, right?”

  “If Dr. Gardingdale will let you.” He dazes off, and God knows where his thoughts are headed. Probably somewhere dark and filled with self-torture.

  I need to distract him.

  “My parents are going on a trip to Paris with my aunt and uncle,” I say as we step outside into the sunlight. “They’re going while I’m on tour, though, so I don’t get to go.”

  “Sucks for them,” he says, looking at me. “They’re going to miss out on all the fun that would have come with bringing you.”

  I press my hand to my heart, giving him my best playful grin. “Hey, that’s what I said too. But they just don’t get it.” I lower my hand to my side. “It’s good, though, that my dad’s spending time with his half-sister. And I have cousins now, so that’s cool. There was just too much pressure being the only child in the entire extended family.”

  “Pressure?” he asks as we reach his car.

  “Yeah, you know, to carry on the family name as awesomely as my rock star dad did. My grandma’s said it to me a couple of times.” I don’t really feel that pressured. My parents and grandparents have always been cool about not pressuring me to be anything other than myself. I’m just trying to talk about anything other than the treatment and the tour.

  “I’m sure you’ll do fine.” He opens the passenger door for me. “You’re already going on a tour and you’re only eighteen. That’s a pretty amazing accomplishment.” He smiles, but it’s forced.

  I know he wants to go on the tour. Wants to live a normal life. Well, as normal of a life as any other band member.

  Hurts, hurts, hurts,

  All the time.

  Watching him silently hurt.

  The pain, the despair

  He carries inside

  It’s got to be making him lose his mind.

  Driving him to the edge

  Of a place I can’t let him go.

  “Yeah, I know.” My mood goes kerplunk as I climb into the car.

  Only a few more hours and then it’s time. Only a few more hours and I might lose him.

  Ayden suddenly freezes as he ducks to get in, and his gaze sweeps the grassy area across from the parking lot.

  “Is everything okay?” I track his gaze to a woman wearing a red raincoat, standing in the midst of a sea of people dressed in summer attire. “Do you know her?”

  He stares at her a beat longer, only looking away when the woman turns and gets swallowed up by the crowd. “Stay here.” He closes the door and jogs back to the cop vehicle parked a few spaces behind us.

  He says something to the officer before walking back to the car and climbing in.

  “What was that about?” I ask as he shuts the door.

  “I’m not sure, but the woman who chased me into the woods . . . She was wearing a red raincoat.” He starts up the engine and locks the doors. “I don’t think it was her, but I still thought I’d tell the officer.”

  My muscles ravel into knots as I skim the people around the quad and the parking lot. “What if it is her?”

  “It’s going to be okay.” He places a shaky hand on my knee. “But we need to wait here until the officer comes back.”

  I gulp. “How long do you think it’ll take him to check everything out?”

  He shrugs, looking out the window. “That all depends on if he can find the woman or not.” His jaw tightens as he shakes his head in dismay. “Lyric, I’m so sorry for putting you through this.”

  “Don’t start,” I warn. “You’re not putting me through anything. It’s not your fault those people are insane and won’t leave you alone.”

  “It’s kind of my fault, though, if it’s my father who’s in charge of their group,” he utters quietly.

  I reach over and set a hand on his scruffy cheek. “None of this is your fault. Trust me. Kids aren’t responsible for the bad stuff our parents do. If that were the case, then I’d be responsible for every time my mom gets a speeding ticket when she decides she’s going to race some dude in a sports car. Or when my dad secretly smokes in his office.”

  “Smoking and speeding tickets aren’t really the same as kidnapping and murder.”

  “Ay.” My heart is breaking for him. “You’re the sweetest guy I’ve ever met in my entire life. You’d do anything for the people you love, so trust me when I say you’re in no way responsible for anything that your father does. You need to stop being so hard on yourself.”

  He blows out a breath. “Maybe you’re right.”

  “Of course I’m right.” And a little shocked that I convinced him. “I’m always right, even when I’m wrong.”

  A half smile surfaces. “There you go again. Making up your own rules.”

  I open my mouth to keep going, but the officer knocks on the window, scaring the bejesus out of me. Ayden jumps too and quickly rolls down the window.

  “It’s all clear,” the officer, who’s probably in his mid-twenties, says as he leans down and looks inside the car.

  “You found the woman in the red rain coat, then?” Ayden asks, still tense.

  “I tracked her into the school,” he says, nodding. “She’s actually the art teacher, Miss Merrybellton, or something like that.”

  “And she was wearing a raincoat?” Ayden gapes at the officer in disbelief.

  “I’m actually not surprised,” I tell Ayden. “Miss Merrybellton can be a little,” I circle my finger around my temple, “off her rocker sometimes. She’s always trying all these new styles. Today must be inappropriate weather attire day.”

  “Well thanks for checking on it,” Ayden says to the officer, his eyes still wide with fear and worry.

  “That’s what I’m here for. And it’s good you told me. We need to check out all suspicious activity,” the officer replies then steps back. “Now you should probably head home.”

  Ayden rolls up the window, pushes the shifter into reverse, and backs out of the parking space.

  He’s silent for most of the drive, which instantly puts me into worry mode. But every time I strike up a conversation, he gives me one or two word responses that lead to nowhere, and I worry he might be regressing.

  My thoughts drift to my life before Ayden. I’ve always been a happy, positive person who’s had a good life. My mom and dad have been the rock stars of parents, always showing me unconditional love. I’ve always been able to chase my dreams. I’ve always had a roof over my head. But even with everything, I still felt something was missing. That something was Ayden.

  I didn’t know it back then. Didn’t realize it when we first met. It took me time to get there—took us both time. And now that I have it, there’s no way I’m going to lose it.

  When we get home, Ayden parks the car in front of the garage then twists in his seat to face me. “We have to leave in a half an hour.” He chews on his bottom lip as he glances at the door of his house. “I’m not sure what to tell Lila since I normally don’t go to appointments on Monday’s.”

  “Just tell her you’re stressed and need to talk to someone,” I suggest, unbuckling my seatbelt.

  “But how do I explain why you’re coming with me? And why we’re going to a doctor’s office instead of the normal therapy office building.”

  My jaw just about smacks the floor. “We’re going to a doctor’s office?”

  He slips the keys out of the ignition and opens the door. “It’s just a precautionary measure in case something unexpected happens.”

  “I read a little about this treatment, and from what the articles said, you’ll be put under sedation. Is that true?”
<
br />   “I’ll be under but I’ll still be able to talk, at least from what I understand. But I think I’ll be really out of it.” When he sees the panic in my eyes, he cups my face between his hands. “Everything’s going to be okay. Nothing’s going to happen to me.”

  I swallow the lump wedged in my throat. The last thing he needs to be doing is worrying about me. I need to chill on the freaking out. “I’m okay. It’s just a little scary thinking about what they’re going to do to you.”

  He presses his lips together. “Are you sure you’re okay? Because if it’s too much for you, you don’t have to go—”

  I put a finger to his lips, shushing him. “I’m going with you. There’s no way you’re talking me out of it.” I lower my hand to my lap. “And just tell Lila I need to spend as much time with you as I can before I leave for the tour.”

  “But what about the doctor’s office thing?” He points over his shoulder at the cop car that’s been tailing us since we left school. “Because they’re going to follow us and report where we went the moment we park the damn car in front of the office.”

  I peek back at the cop car. “Are you sure you just can’t tell Aunt Lila what we’re doing?” Aunt Lila isn’t really my aunt, just like Uncle Ethan really isn’t my uncle. My family was just so close with the Gregorys from the moment I was born that I started calling them that.

  “If I tell her then she’ll never let me go through with it,” he says with heavy remorse. “And I have to do this.”

  I try to bring out my sunshine and positivity as I rack my brain for a solution to our problem. “Just tell her you’re taking me to a doctor’s appointment. That I have to get a shot and need you to hold my hand.”

  “And what happens when she talks to your mom and finds out that was a lie?” he asks warily.

  I shrug. “We’ll face the music when it happens, but right now, let’s just get through this one appointment.”

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” he double checks. “Because everyone’s going to be pissed when they find out we lied.”

  “Of course I’m sure.” I wink at him. “I got your back, dude. Always and forever.”