Our relationship was meant to be short, maybe three months. We’d date openly, and then when I went on tour in April, we’d stay together for a month or so and then break-up. But we’d stay friends so it looked good for both of us. It was all a choreographed dance that I’d be a part of. And I’d probably make a new friend in the process.
It did afford me the right to not have to date anyone new. I wasn’t kidding when I said I was taking myself off the market. I was done with guys for at least a while, and until I could get over Ryder, I didn’t think dating someone else would even be an option. Unfortunately, the feelings that had surfaced so suddenly on New Year’s Eve hadn’t gone away. If anything they’d multiplied ten-fold since then, and I wasn’t exactly sure what I was supposed to do to move past him.
“I’m not ignoring Dillon,” I argued. “He went to go call his girlfriend, and I got another drink.”
“He’s over there talking to Camden and Phillip. It looks like you’re in a fight.”
I sighed. “We’re not in a fight. It’s not possible to be in a fight when we’re not really together.”
O-kay, so maybe I was more bitter about fake dating Dillon than I’d originally thought. Or maybe I was just on edge because a part of me was finally feeling the effects of not having talked to my best friend in a month and a half. I just missed him.
“I know, but it looks like you’re fighting, and to everyone here, you are with Dillon,” Laurie reminded me, her mind always on what the outside world saw when they looked at me.
“Laurie, I’m exhausted. I just want to go home.”
I figured leveling with her might get me what I wanted, which was a long hot bath and my bed.
But she shook her head. “Syd, you won two Grammys tonight. This is the time for you to celebrate, have the time of your life. If you don’t, people are going to start asking questions. So go live it up.”
Four months ago, I would have done just that. I would have been dancing with Dillon, Camden, Phillip and Van, the guys from Westside. I would have been mingling and flirting harmlessly with other people I knew, but I just didn’t have it in me. Ryder had done a serious number on me.
But, I was nothing if not professional, and if Laurie needed me to go have fun, I’d do just that. I’d smile for the cameras, glow about my wins and look like I couldn’t have been happier. So without another thought, I smiled, walked over to Dillon, tucked my arm into his and leaned my head on his shoulder. I saw camera flashes take record of our adorable scene like I knew they would. If nothing else, I knew how to survive in this world, and until I could sort out my feelings for Ryder, I was going to have to do just that.
* * *
After we’d dropped off Dillon and the other guys from Westside at the house they were renting in Redondo Beach, I had the limo driver take me back to my house in Malibu. I’d bought it the year before after deciding to move out of my parents’ house in Beverly Hills. It was right on the beach and had a spectacular view that I was trying to enjoy as much as possible before I’d be gone again for six months.
I changed out of the short green dress I’d worn to the after party and put on sweatpants and a hoodie. It was still chilly in L.A., especially on the beach. On my back porch, I sat in relative darkness and watched the waves roll up on the shore, my cell phone clutched in my hand. I hadn’t looked at it all night for fear of what might not be there.
Ryder always texted me after he saw one of my performances or interviews – and he watched them all. I was pretty sure he had his DVR programmed to record anything with me in it, which I’d always loved. Getting a congratulations text from him was always the highlight of my day, because it felt like he’d been right there with me, if not in person, then at least in spirit.
Finally working up the courage to look at my phone, I saw that I had a few text messages. Most were from family members and a few friends I had in the industry who hadn’t been in attendance that night, but there was nothing from Ryder. And even though I’d known deep down that he probably wouldn’t send me anything, my heart still sank. I’d been hoping, even if it was a hope that was full of emptiness.
Staring out at the dark ocean, I pulled my knees up to my chest and wondered if I shouldn’t just call him. It was late on the East Coast, but he might still be up. Although I wasn’t sure what I would say. In the end, I just decided to go for it and dialed his number before I could talk myself out of it.
“Hello?” he said after several rings, his voice sleepy and gravelly and oh, so freaking sexy.
“Ry?” I asked, my voice sounding childlike.
“Syd?” he questioned, and hearing him use my nickname was so sweet to my ears.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” he replied.
Apparently we were being monosyllabic. I needed to rectify that.
“What are you doing?”
“I was sleeping,” he said and punctuated his statement with a yawn.
Did even his yawns have to be so sexy? Seriously!
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“It’s okay. How are you?”
“I’m okay – hanging in there. I just, I guess I missed you.”
“Yeah?”
I was not lost on the fact that he didn’t say he missed me too.
“Yeah. So, did you watch the show tonight?”
“No, I didn’t catch it,” he said, and my heart sank a little more. He’d never missed one of my performances before. “How was it?”
“Good, I guess. I mean, I won two awards, and Chris said the performance was great.”
Chris was my manager, and he was always quick to tell me if something went well or not. He’d been grinning from ear-to-ear when I came off-stage earlier in the night, telling me how awesome I’d done.
“Congratulations,” Ryder said, yawning once more. “I’m happy for you.”
“Thanks,” I said, my heart warming just a little, even if his tone was more passive than I wanted it to be.
I waited for him to say more, but he didn’t. I finally decided to just let him get back to sleep.
“So, I know you’re tired. I’ll let you go, but call me if you want to catch up. I want to hear about what’s going on with you.”
“Sure thing, Syd. I’ll call you soon.”
“Okay. Bye Ryder.”
As soon as I hung up the phone I burst into tears. It was bad enough that I had feelings for Ryder since I couldn’t have him, but after that phone call and the time and distance that separated us, I was pretty sure I’d also lost him as a friend.
Chapter Four
Ryder
“Dude, who called you last night?” Jake asked as we walked back from the Microeconomics class we had together.
“What are you talking about?”
“Your phone rang at like three in the morning, and you talked to someone for five minutes. Was it that Zeta chick booty calling you? I heard them say they were going to The Swamp when they left the house, and considering the fact that she was practically chewing your face off while she sat on your lap like you were freaking Santa Claus, I figured she might have come back for her present and a candy cane.”
The Swamp was a restaurant/bar close to campus that was always packed on the weekends. It figured the Zetas had ended up there.
I laughed. “You’re so full of shit, man.”
“No way, dude. She totally wanted you, and you could have had her.”
I shrugged. The girl had been cute, and kissing her had been a nice distraction, but my heart hadn’t been in it. I wasn’t the kind of guy who slept with girls just for the sake of it. I’d done that a few times before deciding casual sex wasn’t for me.
Jake mimicked my shrug. “What does that mean?”
“It means shut up before I deck you.”
“Ooh, I’m scared,” he said, fake ducking away from me when I raised my fist at him. “So who was on the phone?”
“I don’t remember talking to anyone,” I said, as I hiked my b
ackpack higher on my shoulder. “You probably dreamed it.”
“Trust me. I didn’t dream shit. Check your phone. And if it’s that Zeta girl, you need to call her tonight and invite her over to watch a movie. I’ll clear out, give you some space.”
‘Watch a movie’ was code for come over and hook up. It was a college thing. But I wasn’t ‘watching a movie’ with the Zeta. I couldn’t even remember her name, and she’d been way too handsy for my taste. She kept trying to grab my junk as we’d been making out on the porch with like ten other people around. I definitely wouldn’t be seeing her again. Of course I didn’t tell Jake any of this since he would have called me a pussy for not taking the opportunity when a girl was so obviously willing to spread her legs for me.
“Fine, I’ll check my phone,” I grumbled, just to shut Jake up.
I pulled my phone out of my back pocket and checked the call log. Then I tripped over my shoes when I saw her name. Jake was looking at me in question as I righted myself.
I looked up and met his gaze. “It was Sydney.”
“Ha! You talked to Sydney, and you don’t even remember it? That’s hilarious.”
No, it was not hilarious.
I should give him a flying elbow to the head just to shut him up. My mind was reeling as I tried to remember any piece of the conversation I’d apparently had with Syd, but it alluded me. I’d always been a heavy sleeper. Could I have had a full conversation and not remembered any of it? I wondered what we talked about.
“How long did I talk to her?” I asked Jake.
He shrugged. “I don’t know. A few minutes. Your chick ringtone woke me up.”
My ringtone for Sydney was the song she wrote for Shameless. It reminded me of how I felt about her. I loved that song. I hadn’t heard it in so long, though, refusing to listen to anything of hers while I forced myself to move on. I don’t think Jake realized the ringtone was hers or he would have known who had called.
“What did I say to her?” I asked him.
“Not much. I could only make out a few words through the wall, but it didn’t sound like all that exciting of a conversation.”
Damn. That sucked. I was kicking myself for not being able to remember. My heart was pounding from the sheer fact that she’d called me. She’d reached out after all this time. Maybe all wasn’t lost. Maybe I missed her more than I wanted to admit, and maybe, even if she didn’t want to be with me, the fact that she was calling gave me hope that we could be friends again. At this point, missing her voice and hurting from the fact that our friendship had been severed, I’d take what I could get.
When I got back to my room, I called her, but the call went straight to voicemail. I was on pins and needles the whole night, all through our chapter meeting, not paying attention to anything our president, Darren, was saying. Afterward, Jake asked me to go running with him, and I figured I would go just to take my mind off of the fact that Sydney hadn’t returned my call. It had been six hours. Not that I was counting.
I knew she had a busy schedule. She was getting ready for her worldwide tour, but she’d always made time to call in the past.
While I was running, I had my iPod on shuffle, and it just happened to flip over to that damn song from Shameless. Apparently the universe wanted me to hear that song, and because I was weak and missing her, and even though it didn’t have the right beat to run to by a long shot, I still let it play out while my feet pounded on the sidewalk just so I could hear her voice. I liked to think that she wrote the song about me, but I knew that was as far from the truth as it could get. It was probably about one of her douchebag ex-boyfriends. I hated all of them.
When Jake and I got back to our room, I glanced at my phone before getting in the shower. No missed calls. It was the same when I got out of the shower and later that night and the next morning. Three days later I still hadn’t heard back, so I called again. This time I left a message.
Hey Syd. It’s Ryder. I was just calling to say hi. Call me back.
The ‘I love you and I miss you’ I wanted to say were pretty much implied. We always ended out messages with that phrase, but I couldn’t say it out loud. I was afraid my voice might crack if I did.
Of course she didn’t call back. After two weeks, I just gave up hope that I’d ever hear from her again. Maybe she’d been drunk after The Grammys. Maybe she had no recollection of calling me or if she did, maybe she regretted it. Either way, I decided I wouldn’t try again. This time, I was really done.
Chapter Five
Sydney
“Oh my God! Stop it, Paul,” I said, smacking the lead singer on the leg as he let me see the chewed up red goo in his mouth. “You’re so disgusting.”
I’d been hanging with the guys from Star Finger, the band opening for us on the tour stops we had in the U.S., and munching on Twizzlers, since they were all I could eat before a performance – you know, nerves and all. I’d shared them with Paul and his band mates, and they’d eaten almost the whole bag.
“You adore me, love,” Paul said in his Australian accent that I could seriously listen to all day.
After rehearsing for the tour for a few weeks, it had finally started. Our first show in Columbia, South Carolina was in just two hours. I was glad to get out of L.A. for a while and glad to be busy. If I was busy, I wouldn’t have time to think about Ryder.
He’d called me twice after our awful phone conversation back in February. I knew he probably felt bad for being such a jerk, but I didn’t care. I needed to just move on, and if I called him back, it would make me feel worse. He’d obviously severed our friendship, and it would be wise for me to do the same.
At least I had people on this tour who were fun. I liked Paul and the other guys. I’d met them a few years back when a friend of mine had dated Nick, the drummer. They were a good band who just never seemed to get the break they needed to make it big, so when we were discussing opening acts for the tour, I’d suggested them. Chris had agreed after going to see them perform live.
Paul was a good guy, and we’d gotten close over the years. And his band mates were entertaining and kept things interesting. Well, except when they were showing me the food they’d eaten. I wasn’t sure why boys insisted on doing things like that. It was gross, but what sucked is that it made me miss Ryder even more, because it was something he would have done. Of course the smallest and strangest things always made me miss him.
An hour and a half before the show, I had to get ready for a meet-and-greet with some of my fans. There were always about fifty fans who’d either won a contest or purchased meet-and-greet passes through my website, but they each got to meet me and take a picture. It was fun since they were mostly young girls who were so excited to see the show, and many times it was their first concert. I liked being a part of something they’d always remember. It was why I’d become an entertainer in the first place. After going to a Britney concert when I was just ten, I’d been hooked.
The meet-and-greet flew by, and soon Paul and his guys were on stage. Then before I knew it, I was in front of the crowd. It had been just nine months since I’d wrapped up my last tour, and I’d put out my new album just a month after that tour ended. I’d worked my ass off recording in between shows because my management team had wanted to strike while the iron was hot. And it had paid off. We’d sold out every show on this worldwide tour in just a few minutes.
This latest album was my third in four years that had been a whirlwind of craziness that I loved, but there was nothing I loved more about my job than being in front of a crowd. It felt like coming home. I’d always loved being on stage, singing and dancing and making people smile. There was seriously nothing better than ten thousand people screaming just for you and singing your lyrics back to you. Talk about an unparalleled high.
I bounced out from under the stage, having been launched into the air, which never seemed to get any less scary no matter how many times we’d practiced it. I could hear the noise of the crowd as the opening chords to the ti
tle track off of the album, Bulletproof, started. It was a power anthem about standing up when people were putting you down and not letting them get the best of you. It had become a hit overnight since it resonated with so many people, including me.
It was the same song I’d sung at The Grammy’s, but we’d varied the dance routine and the costumes to fit the colors and theme of the tour. For this particular song, I was dressed mostly in black, but it was a fairly small outfit of hot pants, a strapless top, a silver belt and silver knee-high boots. It was sexy, but still reserved enough for my fans under the age of eighteen. In my hand was a silver umbrella that I used in a variation of a step routine. All of my back-up dancers had umbrellas in black, silver or white to coordinate with mine as I sung and led them through the dance.
My adrenaline was already in high gear when I walked to the end of the stage to finish out the song. As I did, I leaned forward and passed the umbrella, which I’d signed earlier, to a fan in the front row. She was a little girl who looked no older than eight, but she was cheering and singing along to the lyrics the whole time. I’d noticed her when I’d been in the middle of the song and figured she’d appreciate it the most.
Then I stood up and stepped back as thousands of people screamed and yelled and held up signs. Although it was my third time touring, it was an incredibly surreal experience that I never took for granted. I stood there for a few seconds just watching everything and taking it all in.
“Hi everyone!” I finally said, and the crowd cheered even louder. “I’m Sydney. It’s so nice to be hanging out with you all here in Columbia!”
More cheers.
“So, I was thinking of doing a song or two more. How would you feel about that?”
The crowd went nuts, and I smiled widely as I stepped up to a microphone and a stagehand passed me my guitar. From there I launched into the next song, and things pretty much became a blur as I went through the motions that I’d done so many times already that they felt like second nature.
Only With You Page 4
