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I wiggled my toes in the damp grass in my tiny back yard. The warmth of that particular patch of lawn was fading with the sun. It had been an unseasonably warm day, 85 in late April, and I was loving every minute of it. I longed for summer, even if it meant I'd have to work my ass off to keep saving money for college. The only thing I could say my parents ever did for me was to be poor enough that I would be getting some financial assistance for college, and I had myself to thank for my good grades and scholarships. But I wasn't counting on a full ride from any of the colleges I'd applied to. So that meant I would always be a working student.

My back was getting soaked from the dew, but I just wanted to fall asleep right there in the waning sunshine because I knew it was almost gone. As soon as the sun set, it would be quite chilly. I was well on my way to dozing when Leo's voice abruptly shattered my moment of peace.

"Nora!"

"What?"I asked, my eyes still closed as I savored the last few moments of calm before I would have to get inside the house and do my chores.

"I asked why you got grounded this time," Leo repeated.

"I forgot to unload the dishwasher," I grumbled.

"Seriously?"He asked, then lowered his voice to just above a whisper. "Your parents are tyrants."

"Tell me something I don't know."

"My mom has only grounded me twice in my whole life – once when I gave my brother a black eye, and another time when I missed curfew by an hour and a half."

"I know this," I complained. "What's your point?"

"I just wish your parents weren't so hard on you," he said, and he sounded genuinely concerned.

"You and me both," I answered, finally opening my eyes and sitting up. Just as I'd predicted, the sun was starting to dip below the horizon and a chill swept through my body from the cold wetness now saturating my back. "One more year and I'm outta here," I proclaimed. And I meant it. I'd been waiting to leave home since I was 12. My parents were only tuned in to one of two channels when relating to me – ignoring me completely or nagging me to death about the most mundane things like vacuuming the living room or cleaning the hair out of the drain in the shower. I was a pretty good kid, for the most part, so they couldn't really come up with a reason to discipline me more harshly, yet they acted like I was dating a gangbanger or breaking into convenience stores.

Honestly, the only truly illegal things I've done have been smoking pot with Leo's next door neighbor and occasionally drinking with friends. I'd never even been drunk. Now, I was seriously considering becoming the actual rebel they thought I was. Might as well have some fun if I was still going to get the same punishment, right?

As if she could hear our conversation - or read my mind - my mother glanced out the window of her salon, which was attached to the back of our house. She gave me a particular stare that meant I'd better get inside or she would extend my grounding until I graduated.

"Yeah, I gotta get home anyway," he said, noticing the visual warning from my mother. But his face betrayed him, letting me know that he wasn't quite ready to leave. Without his permission, the look appeared on his face, the one that a little kid makes when he has a secret but you know he's mere seconds away from spilling it,as the edges of his mouth turn up into an uncontainable, mischievous smile. The look that gave away Leo's secrets every time.

"What is it?" I laughed, giving his chest a friendly poke. "You're hiding something."

"No, I'm not," he stated, and he rolled his lower lip into his mouth,which was another tell. He was definitely holding on to something secretive, but he was practically dying to tell me. His ears took on reddish tint, while a pink undertone spread out beneath his normally his copper skin.

"Just tell me," I urged. "You'll probably spontaneously combust if you don't get it out."

"Fine,"he agreed and let out a breath he'd been holding for way too long. "But you have to promise not to tell anyone."

"I swear." Unlike him, I was great at keeping secrets. My resolve was rock solid.

"Tito Rod wants me to call him about a possible job this summer."

I wondered why he felt he had to keep that a secret. "Wait, what about your job at Herbie's market? You practically run the place." He'd started working as a bagger at 13, and he'd become an assistant manager by the time he was 16. Herbie loved him, and he'd probably hand Leo the keys to the store if he ever retired.

And then, before he could answer, I realized that the job wasn't the only thing he had wanted to keep from me. "Wait, if you work for your uncle, does that mean you'd be. . .gone. . . for the summer?" My stomach suddenly twisted with unhappy anticipation. Tito Rod was just launching a management company. I'd met him a few times, but his name always brought excitement since he'd met and occasionally worked with some of the biggest names in the music business.

But Tito Rod lived in LA, approximately 2000 miles from our hometown, a small suburb of Chicago.

I waited for Leo's answer with tears pricking at my eyes. He was hesitating because he didn't want to upset me. Finally,he quietly said, "Yeah, I might be able to work with him for the summer. In LA." And then he quickly added, "This would be such a great opportunity for me. You know I've wanted to get into the music business since I was five, and this would be a perfect opportunity to get my feet wet. I know it would be hard for you but-"

"Leo!"I cut him off. "Of course it will be hard for me. I might actually die." He cringed and I realized I shouldn't have been so blunt. I tried my hardest to smash my emotions back into my heart. "But you can't pass this up, obviously. You have to do what's best for your future. What does your mom say about it?"

"She doesn't exactly know yet," he admitted. "Tito Rod is going to talk to both of us tonight when I call him."

"It won't be easy for her to let you go either," I commented. Leo, his younger brother Max, and his mother were a small but very close family. Their dad had left when the boys were in preschool, maybe. Leo only has vague memories of him, but for all practical purposes, it's only been his mom, his brother and him. Leo had become the man of the house at a young age and he took care of many things for his mom while she worked two jobs to support them.

"I know," he answered, and he sounded almost ashamed.

"No!"I quickly corrected myself. "I didn't mean you shouldn't go. And you shouldn't feel guilty about this opportunity. It's just...."

"I know," he said again. "She depends on me so much. So I don't know what I'm going to do. But I have to get going so we can call him before Mama has to go to work. Besides," he nodded towards the salon window, "your mom is starting to get mad."

I rolled my eyes. "She gets mad when I breathe," I sighed. "Okay,but please text me later to tell me how it goes. I'm going to go crazy until I know what you're going to do."

"Okay,"he agreed, leaning in for an air kiss on my cheek.

As soon as he disappeared from view, I turned and climbed the concrete steps to the salon.

"Hello, Sweetie," my mom called as soon as the door opened. "How was your day?"

"Great, thank you," I answered diligently as I hastily made my way through to the kitchen and closed the door behind me.

My mom only acts like that when she has someone in her chair. She wants to appear as the perfect doting mother or some nonsense, I guess. If she hadn't had a client, she would likely have either pretended I wasn't even there, or she would have nagged me about all the chores I had to do before dinner. The woman seemed to forget that I was in the honors program at school and that I always had mountains of homework to do.

And that I almost always did my chores.

Luckily, I'd trained myself to get all the jobs done in less than half an hour. Once dinner was finished and warming on the stove, I entered my sanctuary. My parents had miraculously let me have free reign over my bedroom in terms of decorating, and I took great pride in my space. I had stripped one wall down to the raw brick and painted the rest a calming, soft, mossy green. My bed was a feather mattress on a pallet foundation, covered with a thick patchwork quilt. I had made a tie-dyed canopy to coordinate with some of the main colors on the quilt, and it hung softly, creating a further retreat when I was in my bed. The walls were sparsely decorated, except the one against which my desk rested. I didn't care for clutter, but that wall was my shrine to my favorite singer of all time.

Adam Hayes.

How could I put into words the kind of effect Adam Hayes had on me? He was truly gifted with a strong, baritone voice, although he could comfortably reach a much higher range. The quality of his voice soothed me in a way I'd never experienced with any other singer; it was familiar and comforting. And his songwriting ability was nothing short of genius, stringing words together like archaic poetry but somehow relating to modern life at the same time. All of his songs spoke to me, almost as if they'd been written about me. Imagine Adam Hayes writing a song about me! I would surely die of happiness.

 Adam had been a particularly popular YouTube sensation until he was discovered and offered a recording contract about four years ago, but I can proudly say that I was a loyal follower since Day 1. Okay, maybe not from the very beginning, but I started following him and his music when he only had a few thousand followers.

I used to comment on his songs all the time.

And he always said "Thank you!"

I doubt he would even remember my name now, but I still love him more than anything in the world. And yes, I realize that hundreds and thousands of girls say this about him, just like they do about Harry Styles or Shawn Mendes. But I meant it.

I'm in love with Adam Hayes. I think I know enough about his personality and his innermost thoughts from being his dedicated fan for five years, three months, and nineteen days. (Not that I'm keeping track.) I doubt I will ever love another person as much as I love him, and I realize our paths will likely never cross, but that's okay. I don't have any particular yearning to find the perfect man and become Mrs. Right.

Unless it's Adam Hayes.

Once my homework was finished, I got ready for bed. Leo never did text me about the phone call with his uncle, but I was too tired to care at that point. I climbed into my bed and turned out all the lights except for the small string of fairy lights that hung around the poster-sized picture I'd taken of Adam Hayes at one of his concerts two years ago. Finally, I said good-night. Please believe me, I'm really not delusional and I know he probably no longer has any idea that I exist – but it's a bedtime ritual and it would feel strange to sleep without having done it.

Good-night, Adam Hayes.

Sweet dreams.

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I'm not entirely happy with this first chapter. I've been working on it for a while, and I just can't seem to get it right.

I have been suffering from major writer's block, mostly due to depression and discouragement. But I need to write; it has always helped me out of dark places.

I have tons of ideas, but when it comes to bringing the words to life, I'm having such a hard time. But I want to keep trying.

Was this enough to make you want to keep reading? Please tell me what you thought of this chapter. Honestly and kindly :)

love, Jen