sincerely, asher

ten

ASHER

Driving for four hours down through Connecticut all the way to New York City with four idiots sitting behind me and my older hungover brother in the passenger's seat wasn't the ideal way to spend my morning. My music was drowned out by Sketch and Titus catching up and Dianna, Maze, and Ron arguing about how they all lost the bet they made about Sketch. But, it wasn't just them that drowned out my music. My own thoughts did. 

For most of the drive, I was trying to understand how I could go from kissing Harley on the bench to her blocking me from contacting her within a span of two hours max. Fortunately for me, no one knew about Harley except for Titus, so no one asked me questions. My attitude around everyone else had never changed, so they had no reason to question me relentlessly. 

After four hours of a hideous headache, a big sign and an even bigger building finally came into view. I was dying to get out of the barriers of the car, so as soon as I saw an available parking spot, I pulled in as fast as possible. I didn't hesitate to get out and lock the car as soon as everyone else stumbles out. 

I begin walking across the street, keeping my eyes on the building in front of me. It screams seriousness, strictness, and money, everything I need in my life to keep me sane. Glass lines the outside of the building, tall windows scaling from the bottom up. A bold sign, sitting in front of a large fountain, reads Reign Music Agency. 

"I don't think I dressed properly for this," Sketch says, walking up beside me. He's dressed in black, ripped skin tight jeans and an old ACDC tee shirt. I turn around and look at everyone else. We look fucking wrecked. If they're wanting the wasted, washed up teenager vibe, they're sure as hell about to get it.

I shake my head and take a deep breath, looking back at them, "If they don't want us at our worst, that's their loss," Maze says, walking up toward Sketch and I, "But, I think we're fucking fantastic as we are right now." Leave it to Maze to start some sentimental shit right before a big meeting which might change our lives as we know it.

"Are we going to get in there or stay out here all day," Dianna asks, making her way to the door and opening it wide open for the rest of us. I watch as Maze, Ron, and Sketch file in the door. I stay behind and wait for Titus to stumble his way in front of me.

As Titus gets to me, I think he's going to say some dumb hungover shit, but he grabs my shoulder and looks at me with the most sincere look and says, "Remember, if they don't choose you, you're still everything to me and mum, always." He releases my shoulder and walks in front of me, following behind Sketch. I walk through the door and follow slowly behind them.

I bite my tongue as I walk far behind Titus. His mouth is full of lies. I'm nothing to him or mum. I'm nothing to no one. If this agency chooses us, I'm still a no one. If they don't, I'll always be a no one. I won't win in this world. I'll continuously be seen as the boy that could've but never did because he ran away.

I snap out of my thoughts before I lose control of myself. I take a quick look around me and realize I might be able to get used to this building. It's all black and grey, fits nicely with my soul. I look around for Sketch to make the joke that this building is as dark as my soul, but he's nowhere to be found. I make a complete 360 only to see unfamiliar faces. Fuck. I've lost the hungover maniacs.

"Can I help you," I hear a soft voice ask from behind me. I turn around, very annoyed, to see a short black haired girl standing in front of me. She's wearing a black and white polka dotted dress with red flats and she's got this porcelain doll-like face. She's very attractive, I give her that, but she screams innocent. "Sir, do you need help finding someone?"

I blink and nod my head, sticking my hands in my pockets, "Yeah, I was just with a group of people and I lost them. I don't really know how." Man I must've really been lost in my thoughts, I think as my eyes wander by instinct to her chest, where the buttons on her dress are pulled tightly.