“If that’s what you think you saw, then you’re blind.”
“No, I’m seeing more clearly than ever.” I gave her the full force of everything I was feeling. “The ugliest you, Lex? It’s this, right here. You not believing in your own worth and refusing to hear otherwise.” I was quiet, calm, but I knew my words cut like a knife. “I see it, Lex. I see you.”
“You don’t. You can’t.”
“I do, and I can.” I cradled her face, brushed tears away with my thumbs. “I see the ugliest you, and I still care.” I swallowed hard. Said it. “Still fuckin’ love you, Lex.”
A ragged, raw, agonized sob tore out of her. “You can’t!” she screamed. “You don’t know!”
“What?” I shouted back. “What don’t I know?”
“Everything,” she choked out. “Fucking everything.”
And then she fled, turning a corner and vanishing into the crowd of techs and stagehands and the whole small army of people it takes to put on a show of this scale. I wove and pushed my way through the crowd, a few steps behind her. And then, in a moment straight out of Hollywood, a taxi appeared from nowhere, stopped, she got in, and was gone in a moment.
Without her purse.
Without her phone.
Without money, cards, or ID…
With no clue which hotel we were staying in.
In a city she’d never been to, in a country whose language she spoke not a single word.
Whatever demon was she was fighting, the thing had her on her heels.
I managed to get a taxi not long after, but by then she was long gone and I had no idea where or how to go about finding her.
Lexie
This was stupid…it was beyond stupid.
Maybe one of the most stupid things I’d ever done in my life.
Coming to Tokyo, sure; getting on that stage, absolutely. Not to mention calling Charlie to rescue me in the first place, and ending up at that festival, in the back of a semi-trailer with my biggest celebrity crush, doing wildly inappropriate things with a total stranger. That was definitely a dumb move, not to mention falling hard and fast for my celebrity crush.
And then, running away like this?
Fucking idiotic.
My entire life was a mistake.
I was a mistake.
Here I was, alone, in the middle of Tokyo without a single thing—no purse, no phone, no money, not even the name of the hotel we’d been staying at.
I was fighting a panic attack.
And losing…big time.
After managing to get out of the taxi without paying, I ended up just walking aimlessly, looking in store windows, stopping here and there to rest my feet, sitting on a bench watching the rush of humanity that filled the streets even at this late hour.
Wishing Myles was here to save me, and simultaneously dreading seeing him again. Having to face down another epic blowup.
He’d seen right through the fake.
He’d said the L word.
Fuck.
I got choked up and angry and panicked all over again just thinking about it.
I couldn’t even read the street signs or the names of businesses. Couldn’t understand anything anyone was saying.
How would I find him?
How would he find me?
I could strip naked and stop traffic, get myself arrested and hope they could somehow get him to come bail me out. It was a tempting thought.
All you’re good for, that evil little voice inside said.
I hated that voice.
I had been so alive on that stage. He’d pinpointed it with scary accuracy. It was as if I’d finally taken my first full breath after a lifetime of never truly opening my lungs all the way. As if I’d been asleep my whole life, and performing had finally woke me up. The greatest rush, the greatest high.
I felt it all in spite of the fear and the nerves.
God, standing at the front of that stage, watching fifty thousand people scream…for me. My name. For my music. My voice. Me.
It had been, legitimately, the greatest moment of my life.
And that evil little voice of doubt had stolen that fragment of joy.
From me. And from Myles.
And he’d still found the wherewithal to give me the raw, courageous truth of his feelings for me—knowing exactly how I’d react.
That cut me to the bone.
Yet I couldn’t penetrate my own emotional walls. I couldn’t fathom giving him that emotion back.
I couldn’t tell him my secret.
It was too painful. Too dark. Too horrifying.
I was sitting on a bench and massaging my blistered feet, not paying much attention to the people walking past.
“Lexie?” a small female voice asked in a thick accent. “You singer?”
I looked over, and a teenage girl was standing off to one side, phone in her hand, and a hopeful, joyful expression on her face. I had no clue how to react. I managed a small smile and said “Um. Yeah—yes, I’m Lexie.”
“Selfie?” She held up her phone. “Please? You take selfie?”
God, it was embarrassing—she knew more of my language than I did hers. I knew “Domo arigato, Mr. Roboto” and that was about it, and only a vague idea that domo arigato might mean thank you. Possibly.
She could communicate with me.
I smiled. “Um. Sure?”
She squealed, waved at a group of girls standing nearby, giggling and taking photos. They all hustled to stand near me and the girl snapped about fifty photos in several bursts. “Thank you!” she said, facing me and giving me a short bow.
“You’re…you’re welcome.” Baffled at the interaction, I almost missed the opportunity. “Wait!”
The girl, now in the ring of her friends, turned around. “Hai?”
“Um.” I had no idea how much English she’d understand, but I knew this was my only chance. “Can you tag Myles?”
“Tag?” She held up the phone. “Twitter?”
I nodded. “Tag Myles North.”
She lit up. “Okay!”
I pointed at the nearby intersection. “And a photo of the street signs?”
She was baffled, but agreeable “Okay?” it sounded like ohh-KEHH. She took a photo of the
