It is well after two o'clock in the morning when I get back to my apartment. Paul insisted on walking me to my car with security guards for safety, and he shook my hand with one last "think about it, kid," before sliding his business card into my hand. The card now sits on my kitchen counter with my purse and Harry's jacket which I forgot to return to him.
It is late and I am exhausted, but my mind won't relax. I know, I know that I cannot take this job. I cannot uproot everything here and live a life on the move. I cannot leave my mother and I cannot be away from Ryan.
Why not? A voice in my head asks. Why? Why can't you do something for yourself for once? I shut the voice up, that is the selfish part of my mind speaking.
I spend an hour sitting on my couch, waging an internal battle on myself. Before I can reach any type of conclusion, exhaustion overtakes me again and I lay back on the couch, too tired to even make it to the bedroom. As I am drifting off to sleep, I have a fleeting thought: Maybe it was not the selfish part of me speaking. Maybe it was the hopeful dreamer that has been shut away for so long.
When daylight breaks through my window, I am momentarily disoriented. Daylight! I overslept!
I must have been so exhausted that not even my body clock could make a dent in my slumber. I jump off the couch and run to the kitchen, grabbing my phone off the charger. I have two missed calls from Catherine, and a two texts from her.
*Where are you?* came at 5:30. I glance at the clock, it is 8:07 now. The next message came at 6:00.
*Guessing you overslept...don't worry about it, we can cover for you. Text me when you get this so I know that you're okay.*
I text her back, apologizing profusely. I have never missed a shift at the station, and paranoia creeps in. I can feel my credibility slipping away. Catherine assures me that I do not need to come in today, and guilt twists in my stomach. I thank her again, still apologizing.
Since I fell asleep on the couch last night, I didn't take a shower. I feel gross from the smoky concert atmosphere and the late night walk around the city with Harry. I shake my head, not believing that any of that could have been real. I am virtually immune to being starstruck, but I am not nonchalant about celebrities. Especially celebrities who are so...charming. And handsome. I shake my head again and decide to pretend that I hadn't just thought that.
The shower water relaxes my tense muscles, and for the first time I fully appreciate my bed. I have never slept on that couch before, and with the way I feel this morning, I don't think I ever will again.
Standing under the hot water, a solution to my tour question forms in my head. I cannot go. I will not go. The thought comes with resolve, but I still feel a sharp stab of disappointment in my stomach. I push it away. It was a stupid fantasy to entertain, that I could leave this town for a life like that.
Not only am I unable to uproot, but I am not that brave. That life is not one that I could lead. I make my mind up not to tell my mom or Ryan about the offer, knowing that they would feel guilty. My mother already worries so much about holding me back, I know this would send her into a frenzy.
It's a Saturday, so I know that my mom and Ryan will both be home. I drive over there at one o'clock and see an unfamiliar car in the driveway. Visitors? We never have visitors. My stomach leaps as a thought crosses my mind, but it couldn't be...
I hear voices from the kitchen when I walk in. My mother's voice is loud and giddy, the tone she uses when she is flustered or flattered by guests. I hear Ryan speak and another burst of laughter, this time from someone else. A voice I recognize, but a voice that doesn't belong here.
I walk through the kitchen doorway to see my mom and Ryan, sitting at the kitchen table along with the source of the voice: Catherine.
Seeing her here is disorienting, and I am more confused than I have ever been. Not only is she here, at the kitchen table in the house that I grew up in, but she is wearing jeans and a purple T-shirt. Her blonde hair is down, cascading onto her shoulders, and she is laughing harder than I've ever seen her laugh. Even more disconcerting, she has a beer in her hand.
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Written
Fanfiction"Written" follows the story of 20-year-old Hayley Reid, a fiery young woman who never realized her potential in the music business until she was recruited to work on the biggest concert tour of the year. Hayley's passion immediately draws the attent...
