Page 77 of Lance

Lance

As I make my way into the recording studio on Monday, I’m feeling pretty damn good. The trip to Disney was much more fun than I would have imagined. Who knew that hanging out with a six-year-old at a theme park could be such a good time? In fact, things with Simon seem to be looking up in general. Willa and I talked some more about the upcoming San Diego trip and we agreed that the two of them would join us. I’m actually really looking forward to showing him around. I don’t feel nearly so awkward when we’re together lately, and I’m managing to keep the panicky feeling at bay even when I’m once again struck by the knowledge that this kid is depending on me to take care of him—a realization that seems to hit me anew pretty much every time I look athim.

I don’t kid myself that these improvements have much to do with any skill on my part. We’re obviously getting along so well because ofWilla.

I pause outside the studio when her name enters my thoughts. I have a feeling I’m grinning like an idiot, which I do pretty much whenever I think about her. Or about the fact that she’s been sharing my bed for more than a week now, practically living in my house. I’ve never considered myself a domestic person. My mom and I moved around from apartment to apartment whenever the rent increased. Since I moved out on my own, I pretty much always prefer to be out on the road with my band instead of being settled somewhere. Settled always felt like stuck. Settled always felt likesettling.

So why do I get such a kick out of coming home to her everyday?

I shake my head, reminding myself that her older brother is in the next room and that he’s a lot bigger than me. Fixing my face in what I’m sure is a neutral expression, I head into the studio, confident that no one could guess the direction of mythoughts.

“Are you whistling?” Layla asks the moment I appear in the doorway, staring atme.

Okay, maybe not as neutral as I thought. “Yeah, I guess Iam.”

“Well stop,” she says, scrunching up her nose in disgust. “It’sweird.”

“A guy can’twhistle?”

“Not when that guy is you,” she says. “You’re not supposed to be the cheerful whistlingtype.”

I grin at her. “I guess I’m just in a goodmood.”

“Well it’s freaking meout.”

“What’s freaking you out?” Dylan says, joining us in the room with a coffee in hishand.

“Lance iswhistling.”

Dylan frowns at me. “That’s kind ofweird.”

I roll my eyes, flopping down onto the couch. “Look, if you guys want to be grumpy assholes, feel free. But some of us are actually enjoyinglife.”

Dylan shoots me a worried glance. “Are you going to start singingnow?”

“Maybe,” I tell him, grabbing the coffee cup from his hand as he passes and taking a long sip. “I am a musician, you know. Aren’t I supposed to have a song in myheart?”

“Definitely freaking me out,” Laylamutters.

“What’s freaking youout?”

I look up to see Haylee standing in the doorway. The sight of her feels an awful lot like being doused in ice water. The smile slides from my face.She knows.I don’t know why I feel so sure, but I do. After she appeared outside the restroom on Saturday I wasn’t sure how much she’d seen. Her expression had been kind of closed off. But then Simon had flipped out so much over the Jedi thing and, to be honest, I was having so much fun I kind of forgot to worry about Haylee and what she might have witnessed. But the way she’s looking at me now, there’s no doubt in my mind. She saw the wholething.

“That looks more like your normal face,” Dylan says, pointing atme.

“Yeah,” Layla agrees. “Kinda pissy andanxious.”

“Thanks,” I mutter, handing Dylan his coffee. “So, uh, where’s James? Shouldn’t we bestarting?”

“Can I talk to you?” Haylee asks, folding herarms.

Shit.

“Well, I mean, sure,but—”

Louis walks in at that moment and I swear I could kiss him. I’ve never been so happy to see our manager in my entire life. “Lou,” I say, too brightly. “How’s it going,buddy?”

He stops mid-stride to stare at me. “What’s wrong withyou?”