"It's right in front of you," a faint voice whispers in my left ear.

I snap my head to the side, but there's no one there. I swing around and look back into the forest behind me as a shiver trickles down my spine. All I can see are tree trunks, gnarled branches dripping with green, overgrown ivy thickets, shadowy nooks. If someone is out here with me, they could be hiding anywhere.

Don't be stupid. There's no one there. I'm just seeing things, like always.

I turn back to where Felix is sitting on the porch, watching me boredly across the clearing. A few seconds pass with me frozen in place by a fear I can't place, and Felix waiting still as a sphinx, measuring me with his stony gaze.

"I said, it's right in front of you," he says. "That's what you came for, right? Just take it and leave."

I look down at my feet. It takes me a moment to spot my BMX lying on its side in a tangle of mossy tree roots and leaves, just inches from where I'm standing.

Ok. I just need to grab my bike and get out of here. Get the bike and go. Easy.

Part of me wants to ask him why he even dragged my bike here in the first place. He could have just left it where he found it. He knew I'd go back for it. Maybe I just need to swallow my anxiety, march myself over to him and get everything off my chest. I'd feel much better knowing that I've explained to Felix why I'm backing out of the opportunity of a lifetime. Kitty could have told him absolutely anything, and I know I should make sure he knows the truth.

At the very least, I know I should say goodbye. I probably owe him that.

But I'm so tired of goodbyes.

I crouch down, avoiding Felix's piercing hazel gaze and trying not think about the phantom voice I heard behind me as I dust dried brown leaves off the bike. I'm about to grasp the handlebars when I notice something decidedly odd.

My bike is covered in a creeping carpet of moss.

Crusted around the pedals, and branching up along the saddle like a fine green embroidery. And it's not just moss – clumps of pale blue Forget-Me-Not flowers have sprouted up in the spaces between the front wheel's spokes. Countless dusty old spider webs glittering with dewdrops hang between the handlebars, the spokes, the brake. There's even a messy bundle of dried grass and leaves tucked in under the saddle, which looks a bit like an old field mouse nest.

This can't be real. Maybe I never woke up this morning.

I reach down to touch the cold, reassuring metal of the bicycle, and draw back my finger in pain.

A delicate rose branch has wound its way around the metal bars, all thorns and small tightly-wound rose buds.

I watch as a small crimson drop wells up on my finger.

The red paint is cracking off all over the bike, replaced by silvery lichen and wet rust.

It's a wreck.

This can't be my bicycle. Decay like this doesn't happen overnight. This thing's been out here for years. Maybe even decades.

Then I notice the Disney princess stickers just below the saddle. Zee and I stuck them on when we were in a particularly silly mood one afternoon last summer, and that's where they've stayed, despite various attempts over the past year to peel them off.

Aurora and Ariel smile up at me, challenging me to doubt.

This is my bike.

Impossible.

"What's wrong?" Felix's voice rings out across the clearing. "You're not taking it?"

I scrutinize his face, searching for any hint that this is some sort of elaborate set-up. He just stares boredly at me, raising an eyebrow in disdain.

"It's not funny," I say, pulling myself up to my full height. "Where's my bike?"

"Are you blind?" He says. "It's right in front of you."

"This is not my bike," I say, certain now that this is some sort of twisted prank. He must have peeled the stickers off my bike and put them on this one, which has clearly been lying out here getting eaten by the elements for years.

But then why didn't I see this bicycle when I came here yesterday? I was on the same path. I couldn't have missed it.

"Oh, I see," he says with a sigh. "When I went to get the pendant yesterday I saw it under a bush next to the tree. I assumed it was yours. Guess I was wrong. My mistake."

I'm about to ask him what he's getting out of this ridiculous little game, when I notice how still and unwavering his hazel eyes are as they hold my gaze. He's telling the truth. Whatever's going on, this isn't some twisted prank.

That really is my bike, half consumed by the forest.

It's too deteriorated for me to even think of taking it, so I walk out into the sunlit clearing and stop in front of the cabin steps. Felix's eyes never leave mine as I approach.

Closer up I can see he's wearing a black v-neck sweater and black jeans, and he's barefoot. He runs a hand idly through his dark disheveled hair, pushing it out of his eyes, and it strikes me again that I'm standing face to face with one of the most famous people in the world.

A few months ago Zee and I watched a full three-minute video compilation on YouTube just of Felix sweeping his hair back – various shots from movies, concerts, vlogs, red carpet interviews, music videos. It's his signature thing, sort of like Miley Cyrus's tongue or Taylor Swift's hand heart pose. We joked about how much we wished it was us running our hands through those dark locks.

Now I'm standing just a few feet from him and it's the last place on earth I want to be.

Millions of girls would kill to be in my position, and I'm about to turn it all down, and run away.

At the very least, I'll try to make him understand.

Felix doesn't say a word. He just glares at me from his spot on the steps, waiting for me to say something.

"I want to expl–" I start saying.

"O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo?" A singsong Irish voice shrills from above me. "Hast thou come a-courtin so early in the morning? Didst thou bring a breakfast offerin' perhaps?"

Lyall is leaning out of the window of an upstairs room, the wooden window shutters creaking as he pushes them wider open. His reddish-brown cinnamon hair's a mess as always, and from what I can see, it looks like he's wearing pajamas with ducks on them. He flashes me a cheeky grin as he swoons, hanging precariously over the window ledge.

"Wilst thou g-"

"Shut up Lyall," Felix says without even glancing up.

"Ash, fair maiden, whilst th-"

"I said shut up you dolt," Felix snaps, glaring upwards. "It's not the time to be joking around. Ashling's going to explain exactly why it is that she's turning us down."

Lyall's smile immediately disappears. He's gone from the window in an instant, and there are sounds like loud crashing inside the house as he barges down the stairs. A few seconds later, he bursts through the front door.

He stops abruptly on the porch, just behind Felix.

His expression is suddenly veiled and hesitant, worlds away from the merry prankster mood he was in moments ago.

"I thought yer were here 'cause yer reconsidered," he says softly. "When Kitty said yer weren't interested in helpin' us 'cause yer want ter spend time with yer boyfriend over summer... I thought that sounded kinda weird. Is yer man de jealous type?"

My man? What the–

"I don't have a boyfriend," I say, feeling a blush creep up my cheeks. Lyall's face twists in confusion; Felix raises an enquiring eyebrow.

"I don't know exactly what Kitty told you, but I just want to set the record straight," I say. "The only reason I'm not going take up this whole crazy offer of helping you guys is because it's not what I need in my life right now. I realized that I've been a bit..." how do I say this without sounding like a nutcase? "... I've been a bit... um... obses- I mean preoccupied, I guess, with your band the past few years."

"Well ter be fair love, not ter be vain or nothin’, but that describes most teenaged girls in de world right now," Lyall says. "Why's that a problem?"

How am I meant to make them understand, when I don't even fully understand it myself?

"I've just... got some important things to do right now," I say.

"More important than helping the world's most popular band created a guaranteed platinum album?" Felix asks. "Seriously?"

He shakes his head, making a soft sound of disgust.

"You know, I don't actually care anymore about your reasons," he continues. "There's just one thing I need to check though."

He leans closer to me, his hazel eyes scrutinizing my own pale green ones. "Look me in the eyes and tell me that Kitty didn't say something to scare you away."

I'm caught by his intense gaze. He knows.

"Hm. Just like I thought," he says, his mouth curling up in a crooked grin. "She's the one responsible for this stupid decision of yours."

"No, it wasn't–" I start to lie, but Felix talks over me, his face stern again.

"Ashling, forget anything she told you. Whatever she said, it's bull. Make up your own mind."

I want to speak but I don't know what to say. How could I possibly explain that it wasn't so much what Kitty said, but more what she made me realize? I decided for myself that I need to move on with my life and quit obsessing over the band.

"Look, it's really complicated," I say. "If you still need someone in Portland to play acoustic guitar for the album, I'm sure I can find someone you can trust."

Well that's a lie. But I can at least try.

Felix's expression darkens and he dips his head down for a moment, running his hand through his hair again. When he raises his head, the eyes that meet mine are brimming with raw, seething anger.

Somehow, for a moment the irises look shadowed, closer to a dark storm-cloud grey, deepening into black before flickering back to his usual gold-flecked brownish-green. I flinch as the scar on my ribcage twinges for just a second, like someone pricked me under the skin with a needle.

No way did his eyes just change color. I'm seeing things again. Dr. Martel's going to have a field day with me when I tell her all this.

"You honestly think that's enough?" He says. "That's your solution?"

"Fee, go easy on her, it's not like–" Lyall begins before Felix interrupts him.

"Ashling, if you say no to us now, we're leaving. We'll go back to London. We came here because I want to work with you, and only you, not some random guitarist you pull off the street."

"Admittedly, that is true Ash," Lyall says. "We came here ‘cause Fee reckoned there was somethin' special about yer music. Somethin' we're needin'."

"You're the only reason we're here Ashling. If you refuse to work with us now, you're sending us away," Felix says. "This is your final chance. What will it be? Are you running away from this, or not?"

I look from his face to Lyall's. One set of stern hazel eyes and one set of soft caramel-colored eyes scrutinizes me, waiting for my answer.

What should I do?

I can't concentrate. My thoughts feel suddenly slow, thick and slippery. The perfume of the roses twined around the cabin's wooden pillars is so heady and distracting that it blocks out any thought, any resistance. I feel lulled, and there's a growing sensation of swaying on a gentle current, embraced by the deep red sultry fragrance that's prying at my senses. I can hear distant singing, probably just in my mind, or maybe coming from the forest behind me. A woman's voice. It's spellbinding. I feel light. I feel calm. I feel... sleepy?

"Ok," I half-yawn, not fully realizing what I'm saying. "I'll do it. I'll help you create your album. But first, I need to... sit down... or... someth–"

I feel my knees give way. The last thing I see is Felix leaping off the porch towards me, a streak of black as I crash down into the darkness.