Don't Let Go Read Free Page A

is close quarters, to say the least.
    “You had a visitor today,” she says, beaming over at me.
    “Who?” I question. I don’t know very many people here.
    “Well, I’ll give you two hints.” She starts climbing down from her loft. “He is fucking hot and two, he is fucking hot. What else matters?” She grabs a water bottle out of the fridge.
    “Okay. I don’t know any hot guys, so I’m at a loss.” I plop my bag down and grab a bottle for myself before sitting in my chair.
    “Think really hard,” she says, sitting next to me. “He left something for you. I put it on your dresser.” She motions with her hand.
    I stand up and lying on my dresser is my iPod with a sticky note attached.
    “May I say, he is so beyond fuckable, Sadie. If you don’t jump on that, I will,” Jessa continues talking as I pull the note off.
    Since you left without seeing my show,
    I’m leaving you to your own private listening pleasure.
    - B
    “Brady Carsen?” I question, picking up my iPod. I thumb through the albums and spot The Invisibles listed. “How did he know where to find me?” I whisper to myself.
    “You should have seen how upset he was you weren’t here. He hung around for a while, but said he had somewhere to be,” Jessa reveals, coming up behind me.
    “Huh,” I mumble to myself. I grab my ear buds and climb up to my loft.
    A couple minutes later, I hear the door shut and Jessa is gone. I curl up on top of my blankets listening to Brady sing to me. Surprisingly, there are quite a few love songs. I assumed they would mostly be loud and fast. I love how you can hear Brady’s breath suck in at the end of the lyrics. A particular slow song comes on and Brady’s soft voice starts singing, I thought I would be enough but I guess I was wrong. I never thought it was possible to miss someone for so long but you just keep walking away. When it gets back to the chorus my eyes start drooping and eventually I’m lulled to sleep with Brady’s voice filling my ears.
     

Chapter 3
     
    In the last two days, I have listened to The Invisibles at least thirty times. It plays when I walk to class, when I study at the library, and when I fall asleep. Brady Carsen’s voice has an effect on me that I have never felt before. Even the faster songs bring a calming sensation over me.
    Even though I know nothing about him, he consumes my every thought. I find myself doing a double take with every guy that sports a small Mohawk, checking if it’s him. I don’t even know if he is a student; he could very well be trying to make it to stardom as a musician.
    I curse myself when my stomach fills with butterflies just imagining his face when he winked at me on stage that night. As much as I tell myself he’s trouble with a capital T, I can’t stop the thoughts. I know I should change my music, take The Invisibles off my iPod, but every time my finger hovers over that delete button it chooses cancel instead.
    Since today is Thursday, I have a three hour gap between classes. Jessa had company when I woke up this morning, so I decide to head to the library instead of the dorm. I need the quiet study time anyway.
    I walk through the doors of the library and make my way directly to the elevators. I ride the elevator by myself up to the sixth floor. I select my spot at a table for four in my usual area, close to the bathroom and elevator. Then I notice a guy sitting a few seats over by himself with his laptop out, typing so hard it sounds like the keys are going to pop off the keyboard. I debate leaving for a second, but decide I’m going to fight for my spot. I found it the first week of classes and I’m not giving it up easily. I put my ear buds in and turn my music up loud with the hope that it will annoy the angry typist.
    Five minutes later my plan worked, except he now stands on the other side of the table from me. I pretend to concentrate on my book in front of me, but I see his pressed khaki slacks out of the corner of my eye. I