We finished high school online a year early because of tours, and we don’t go to parties like most people our age. For God’s sake, I can’t even go out in public without getting attacked by paparazzi.
I miss who I was before all the fame, but I also love my job now. I’m a confused mess.
One day, my dad got very fed up with me not being able to write songs and sent us out here. We all argued and tried to stay put in LA, but he wasn’t having it. He booked a flight and told us we had three hours to pack our bags for a couple of months.
I have to stay in this stupid town for who knows how long. I didn’t realize how much I enjoyed getting my food served to me before I moved here. Elijah and Amelia love it here. They love their independence, and I do too. But I know what’s expected of me here.
They are free to hang out with the hot girl next door they love, yet I have to write as many songs as I can before we leave—and make them Billboard-worthy.
Easy? I think not.
What Dad doesn’t understand is, I won’t be able to write excellent songs when I have no motivation at all, when all I want to do is sit on my ass and do absolutely nothing for once. The team is so controlling that I can’t willingly do that without being scolded. Not to mention, they made a set of rules for us living out here.
1. No one can know who we are.
2. No one can know where we’ve gone.
3. No social media.
4. No distractions.
Simple, right?
I beg to differ. I bet all our fans are freaking out because they don’t know where we are. All they seem to know is that we’ve disappeared. I kind of like that. It’s like we’re a mystery.
Since we came to town, I find myself driving to clear my thoughts. I spotted this opening in the forest and parked my car at the side of the road. I started walking through the tress and down the clear pathway. My eyes traveled along the luscious green leaves, trying to take in every single detail. In the distance, I spotted something. Walking closer, I stopped in my tracks once I was below it.
An abandoned tree house. By the looks of it, no one had been up there in years. It still looked stable, just forgotten.
Every day, I drive to that spot with my notebook in hand and try to write. Whenever I’m up there, tapping my pen against my leg and trying to get a good beat, I think about her.
Why is she in my head?
She’s just a girl … a weird girl who has no idea who we truly are—and I don’t plan on telling her.
Feeling normal isn’t something that I’ve felt in four years. I’m going to soak in this feeling. At first, when she rang my doorbell, I thought she was playing with me, but I can normally read someone through their eyes. I didn’t find an ounce of manipulation in her dark brown eyes that put me in a state of calmness.
Before her, I hadn’t had any patience with girls. I didn’t give them a second glance. My last relationship was the first year we signed with the record label. I found out months later that she was just with me to get fame. That was the last time I ever dated a girl. She’d broken my heart … and after that, I have had a hard time trusting people. Sure, I hook up with girls, flirt with them a bit, smash, a few texts back and forth, and then I leave. People think I’m heartless, and they’re right.
Trinity is the only girl who makes me so confused, where I feel like I’m going insane. She’s like a girl version of me. TheI don’t give a fuckvibe. Just by looking at her, I want to know about her more. She’s interesting. I want to explore her.
Nothing serious. I just want to know how she smells and how soft her lips feel.
“Earth to Leonidas.” My sister snaps her fingers in my face with a look of annoyance.
Moving away from her fingers, I scold, “What?”
“You spaced out when we were in the middle of an important conversation.” She rolls her eyes.
“It was obviously not that important if I—”
Elijah interrupts from where he sits across from me at the kitchen table, “Leonidas, dude, I love you, but we can’t play around out here. The team is watching us like we’re psychopaths outside for recess.”
Sighing because I know he’s right, I slouch in my seat while fiddling with a pen in hand. “Got it. We’re currently psychopaths out for recess. What are we planning?”
“We need to get our groove back,” Amelia states. “Leonidas, I know you feel a lot of pressure from the team, so maybe we can help you with writing—”
I wave her off. “Leave the writing to me, sis. I got it.”
