Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 66518 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66518 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
“There were other things that happened, too. This one time when I was sixteen, a bunch of us went to an all-ages nightclub in New York after a runway show. Drugs were getting passed around like they were candy, but that wasn’t the worst part. These two drunk guys started aggressively hitting on my friend Lacey, who was fifteen at the time, and they weren’t taking no for an answer. When I got between Lacey and these thugs and tried to defuse the situation, one of them pulled a gun on me.”
Ryder was horrified. “Oh my god! What did you do?”
“I just froze. Fortunately, a bouncer saw what was happening, so he stepped in and tried to talk the guys down while someone else called the police. My friend and I were okay, but I’d never been so scared.”
“Didn’t you have any adults with you?”
“We did. Everyone who was under eighteen traveled with a guardian, parent, or manager. A couple of chaperones had come along to the club that night, but it was crowded, and Lacey and I had gotten separated from the rest of the group. They didn’t realize what was happening until the police showed up.”
So many painful memories were pushing to the surface. I just kept talking, because they needed to be let out. “It really hurt when I told my parents what happened, and they yelled at me for being in that club in the first place. That didn’t seem fair. I went out because I was trying to be a part of the group for once, instead of isolating myself in my hotel room. I wasn’t smoking, or drinking, or taking drugs. I didn’t do anything wrong. All I did was try to help my friend.”
“I hate the fact that they yelled at you,” he muttered. “You were scared, and you probably reached out to them because you needed to be comforted.”
I didn’t want Ryder to think my parents were terrible people, so I tried to smooth it over by saying, “I’m sure they were scared too when they found out what happened. They probably yelled because they felt helpless and couldn’t do anything else.”
“Maybe, but it still hurt you.” I nodded and looked away, and he asked, “Who used to travel with you to those runway shows?”
“My agent. Both my parents were working full-time, so they couldn’t come along.”
“Did he look out for you?”
“Not really.” I smiled, but there was no joy in it. “And here’s the kicker. The money that I earned over the course of my career is all gone.”
“Where did it go?”
“Part of it was set aside for my college tuition. Not enough, which is why I’m currently working two jobs and scrimping to make ends meet. But at least I didn’t have to take out a bunch of student loans.”
“That’s good, but where did the rest of the money go?”
“My parents made some bad investments on my behalf and ended up losing it.” Ryder swore under his breath, and I said, “So, after all of that, the best I can say is that I’m graduating debt-free. I don’t know if that’s worth what I went through.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything. I just… I don’t know. I wanted you to hear my story, I guess.” I needed to bail out of this conversation before I started crying. “Anyway, it’s late and you must be exhausted, so we should probably wrap this up.”
“Text me tomorrow, okay?” He tried to smile and lighten things up, even though his eyes were full of emotion. “And the day after that, and the one after that, and so on.”
“Oh, believe me,” I said, “that’s definitely happening.”
6
Hal
Over the next few weeks, Ryder and I became a part of each other’s day-to-day lives. There were a lot of texts and video calls, including a good morning message first thing every day and another to say good night before we fell asleep. In between, there were check-ins, ongoing conversations, and plenty of silly little things. Ryder loved sending me memes, cat videos, cartoons—anything he thought might put a smile on my face.
I was chuckling at his latest offering as I stepped through the door of my on-campus studio. It was early February, a week into my final semester, and I still needed to get going on the collection for my senior project. So far, I’d had a few vague ideas, but none of them were very good.
Since I wasn’t paying attention, I nearly collided with Kit, who shared the studio with me. He’d been carrying a huge roll of fabric, and he dropped it with an, “Oopsie,” as he did a quick sidestep to avoid me. Somehow, he was here every time I came to the studio.
“Sorry about that,” I said, as I tried to help him. “I wasn’t paying attention.”