Jordan ran her fingers through her short blonde hair. She didn't mean to sleep so long. Reaching over to the nightstand, she grabbed her vibrating cell phone. It was a text from Lucky saying that she and Kat were going to some house party.

She understood all of this was huge for Lucky, but she couldn't help feeling left out. Knowing how Lucky was, she couldn't blame her, she had to blame Kat. Jordan was sure Kat was trouble.

Going to a stranger's house party didn't sound like Lucky at all. But maybe it did. Lucky never spoke much about how she felt about her overprotective parents. Jordan often wondered if Lucky threw herself so completely into her music as an escape. Jordan wished she had that kind of escape. Any escape really.

She came on tour with Lucky for exactly that reason--to get away. Lucky was like a sister and she'd do anything for her, but when she asked if Jordan would tag along on the tour, Jordan said yes more out of selfishness than anything.

Teasing Lucky about how her parents constantly called her was really her being jealous. Not that she wanted someone hovering over her every moment of the day. She just wanted her parents to notice her.

"Mom, I can't do this anymore. I'm moving out," Jordan said sheepishly to her mother.

"It's okay. I know it's been hard on you here. I'm surprised you lasted this long. When are you going?"

"I don't know. I'll start looking for a place after I get back from Lucky's tour."

Hearing her mother's words of understanding shocked Jordan, and she briefly wondered if things could change at home.

After her parents divorced when she was five, Jordan's mom neglected her daughter. As best as Jordan could figure, Betty was embarrassed not only because she was a divorced woman in her twenties, but also because she had a child.

Once Betty remarried though, she didn't return to her motherly duties. She passed along all responsibility to Jordan's new stepfather, who resented her. To call her life hard was an understatement. She wouldn't wish her life on anyone.

An hour later, she was in her room folding her laundry when her mother entered.

"You don't have to leave." Her mother's voice was filled with venom. "You have it great here. You've never been anything but an irresponsible, ungrateful shit. You'll never do anything with your life."

"I guess you spoke to Tim," Jordan said.

Betty didn't respond. Jordan wished her mother's words surprised her, but she was used to it. They wounded her each and every time. Normally she wouldn't say anything, she'd be the good girl and keep her mouth shut. But her mother's sudden change stung more than usual.

"How am I irresponsible?" Jordan asked. Her nerves made her feel cold and she shook both out of fear and the chill. "I've been buying groceries for the family, paying utilities, and giving you money for years now. I never even asked for a thank you." The tears stung her eyes and spilled onto her cheeks. She angrily swiped at them with her sleeve. "You're my mother. You should have protected me!"

Betty stared blankly at Jordan. "I love him and when you love someone, you support them. He's the man of the house and he can do whatever he wants."

"But I'm your daughter," Jordan whispered as her mother turned her back and walked away.

Jordan pushed the door closed and leaned her back against it, hoping no one would try to come in. She let her tears fall as her sobs wracked her small frame. She promised herself that once she left, she would live on the streets before ever coming back home again.

* * *

A knock on her bedroom door woke her the next morning. 7am. It was Sunday, why were they waking her so early? She heard another knock then Tim's voice.

"Get up," Tim said. "Your uncle is going to be here any minute with his truck. You're moving out. I got boxes for you."

Jordan quickly packed her things. It all belonged to her. She bought her own bedroom furniture in high school. She had been supporting herself and her family while attending college and working. She didn't know what they would do for money without her, but she didn't care.

After finding a cheap storage unit, she realized this was probably the best thing that could happen to her. She felt free, weightless. She just needed a place to stay until Lucky's tour started.

"Hey, when do we go on tour?" she asked Lucky on the phone.

"I have to leave for LA tomorrow to start recording, and then the tour starts around two weeks later."

"Want some company in LA?"

"I'd love it! But don't you have to work?"

"Don't worry about it. I'll arrange for the time off. Mind if I sleep over tonight?" Jordan asked.

"Of course not! My parents would love to see you."

Jordan didn't tell anyone she was homeless, not even Lucky. She knew she should open up more and tell Lucky what was going on, but she didn't want to talk about it. She could pretend she had a normal life if she didn't have to talk about it. Talking made the bad stuff too real. Lucky wouldn't understand, her life was different. Her parents cared and called her every day.

"That's what happens when someone loves you, they make sure you're okay," she said to herself.

Jordan left her mother's house three weeks ago and still hadn't heard from them. She considered reaching out to her father, but her mother made sure she never had a relationship with him, so she didn't know what to expect. Not that her father was bad, she just didn't know him.

She picked up the phone and called room service.

"Hi, how long would it take to get food delivered to my room?" she asked.

"We're a bit shorthanded right now, so at least two hours. I suggest you head to the restaurant, they're still open."

"Okay, thanks."

Grabbing her room key, wallet, and cell phone, she thought about texting Lucky back but didn't see the point in it. She was glad she was getting out. Lucky deserved it after working so hard. She couldn't help feeling neglected though, she was raised that way.

Dressed in skinny jeans, a pair of Uggs, and an oversized dark purple t-shirt, she slipped into the elevator and hit the lobby button. As the elevator doors closed, she saw Dylan, his light brown hair covering his face as he ran towards the elevator.

"Hold the elevator!"

She hit the door open button. As the doors retracted, Dylan entered the elevator and leaned against the back wall as he caught his breath. Taking a side glance at him, Jordan reminded herself not to drool. He was that hot. He swept his shoulder-length hair back from his face, revealing the light scruff of a goatee and blue tinted sunglasses.

She appreciated the unique appearance of his black jeans, maroon striped button-down shirt, black vest, and the blue scarf casually draped around his neck. On anyone else the combination would have looked ridiculous, but on Dylan, it made him look even more like a rock star.

"You getting something to eat?" Dylan asked.

Startled by the question, Jordan didn't reply right away. She took a moment to secretly pinch herself to make sure she really was awake.

"Umm yes, I am. What about you?"

"Yup. Damned room service takes too long." He smiled at her. "Want to join me?"

Jordan smiled and nodded, unsure what else to say. The elevator started its descent and she caught Dylan looking at her.

"What is it?" she asked.

He grinned at her, his face angled down at the floor as his eyes looked over to her.

"I have a confession to make," he said. "I knew you would call room service so I told them to give you a long wait time and then to suggest the restaurant. They called me so I knew, or hoped, that you were going down there."

"For real? Why?"

"Because I wanted to get to know you better," he said.

Exiting the elevator, he put his hand on her back, between her shoulders, his fingers resting on the bare skin of her neck. The heat of his hand on her bare skin traveled through her body, and it gave her tiny chills up and down her spine.

The restaurant was a mixture of wood molding and tall windows which reflected back the glamour of the large room. With only two tables taken, the maître d' could have seated them anywhere but chose to place them in a secluded corner.

As they walked to their table, they passed a long, glossy wooden bar with mirrors behind the bottles. Paul, the band's drummer, sat at the end of the bar drinking with his head hung low and a cigarette burning between his fingers despite the hotel being non-smoking.

Jordan sat back and gave Dylan a suspicious look. She eyed the wait staff, who looked ready to pounce at any request, then noticed the maître d' slip what looked like cash into his pocket.

"What the hell is going on here?" Jordan asked.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't give me that. Just because I'm blonde doesn't mean I'm dumb. I wasn't locked away like Lucky. Now what is all this?"

Dylan laughed. "I've had my eye on you since LA. I like you and like I said, I wanted to get to know you better."

"Yeah, I've heard about you bass players," Jordan said playfully. "Everyone always says to watch out for the lead guitarist, but it's really the bass player who needs to be watched."

"Ha. You caught me." He smiled and waved over a waiter. "What would you like to drink?"

"I'll have a Coke."

"And...?"

"And? How many drinks should I have?"

"No, a Coke and...?"

"Ice?"

He laughed as he shook his head. "Amazing. I'll have the same. Guess there goes that plan."

"A plan? Spill it," she said.

"My diabolical plan was to get you drunk and have my way with you." He raised his eyebrows and gave her a lopsided grin.

"Well, who said you had to get me drunk?"

They spent the evening talking about whatever came to mind. Jordan counted it as the best date of her life. Time flew by and before either of them realized it, the staff was cleaning the restaurant around them.

"I'm glad you had dinner with me," he said. "We should make this a regular thing. I meant what I said before. I want to get to know you."

"I'd love that."

As the elevator doors closed, Dylan leaned back against the elevator wall again, this time holding her hand. Jordan gave him a sly glance as she waited for him to kiss her but then decided she shouldn't have to wait.

Turning towards him, he met her halfway and their lips locked. He was so much taller than her that she stood on tiptoes until he picked her up, and she wrapped her legs around his waist.

Her heart raced as he pushed her against the wall and pressed himself against her. She ran her fingers over his stubbled cheek and into his hair as he pressed her tighter against him.

Reaching for the elevator buttons, he hoped to stop it and not interrupt their moment, but then he heard a loud ding. The elevator slowed and opened its doors. He was too late, they were at their floor. He eased her down gently and they stood there looking at each other.

He slid his fingers between hers and they held hands. She didn't think her heart would stop pounding. As they walked down the hall, she tried to quietly control her breathing since she was still excited from their kiss.

He pulled her closer and wrapped his arms around her, slowing their walk but not saying a word. When they got to her room, she thought about inviting him in but quickly changed her mind. She was sharing a bus with Dylan for the next couple of weeks. If they slept together too soon, it could ruin everything.

"I'm not even going to ask," he said before smiling at her then slowly kissing her lips. "We have plenty of time. I'll see you in the morning."

Her heart skipped as she listened to him. She made a mental note to ask him about his strange accent, which sounded like a combination of places yet somehow suited him.

Grabbing him, she gave him one final deep kiss before she slowly, regretfully entered her hotel room by herself.