Me. Boys. No sleep. Equipment. I’ve been wearing the same clothes for a week. Jack and I are leaning against each other, staring out the window at a desolate landscape, an endless desert, red-painted rocks, and a cloudless sky. I wish I could fly. Life is good. Right?We’re holding hands. An ear-bud in his ear, one in mine. We’re listening to the Swedish brother/sister duo The Knife. Digital shivers. We kind of smell. Town after town after. Town after town. Party. Sing. Pack. Bus. Go. It’s strange how this is everything I’ve ever wanted. It’s weird when you get your desires. I mean it’s great, and then it’s also exhausting. And then there’s the radio shows, press interviews, photo ops, free designer clothes, fittings, fan signings, and creepy stalker fans. I don’t know. I shouldn’t be complaining. I love it. But I’d love a break from the insanity.“You ok, Hayley?” Jack’s head leans against mine.He’s been around a little more than a lot lately – ever since that crazy, New York City, fashion week debacle – and is keeping an eye on me.
