:

(roughly nine hours earlier)

I didn't sleep last night. I tossed and turned, running every thing that happened with Magnolia in my mind. I needed to speak with her, but she was like a modern Cinderella, gone as soon as she walked off that stage. I spent hours looking for her around the party only to come up empty handed.

So here I stood, dressed in a suit holding flowers, outside her dorm room. I undoubtedly looked like shit from lack of sleep. But... I tried. I'm trying. I'm doing everything in my power to win her back. How could I not want to? She ruled my world even when she wasn't in it.

No, that wasn't right. She was my world.

She was everything to me, from the sway of her hips, the toss of that golden blonde hair, and the constant look of mischief in her green eyes.

I was utterly and completely in love with her, and I intended on telling her.

I raised my hand and knocked quickly on the door. Less than a second later, India threw the door open with a wild look in her eye.

"Where is Magnolia?" We both asked at the same time. A look of horror drew across her face that was no doubt mirrored in mine.

"She-she-" India sputtered, confusion in her face.

"I thought she was with you."

"No- I woke up, and she's gone!" India ushered me into their dorm room. Magnolia's bed was made up nicely, and her side of the room was completely in order, which was very unusual for her.

I picked up my phone, and frantically dialed Caspian's number. India seemed to do the same but with Ivy's.

As I listened to the annoying ring, waiting for Caspian to pick up, I overheard India and Ivy talking.

"Nola's gone! I just woke up and she's nowhere to be found!" India paced around the room, until she came to a dead stop in front of Magnolia's bed. She picked something up that looked like a piece of paper. I rushed over to look over her shoulder.

India-

I have gone home for fall break. I'm sorry I didn't tell you, I just needed... space from all this. From this world. I'll be back.

Love,

Nola

I stared at the note, processing what it said. A voice nagging at the back of my mind told me this was my fault. It was my fault she couldn't take it, so she ran away.

I set my teeth in determination and ignored the voice of Caspian on the phone, asking me what was wrong.

I knew what I had to do. I had to go get her.

I spun around on my heel, rushed up to my dorm to grab my passport and wallet as I dialed the number of the Family's AMEX member who organized all trips for us. I asked for the first direct flight to Nashville and for one first class seat.

It was time to go back to the place that started it all, back to the place where I first laid eyes on the love of my life, and I would be an idiot to let her get away.

Hell, I was an idiot for letting her go so long without confronting her and telling her the truth.

The press are going to have a hay day over this, I thought to myself with a smirk and I climbed into my car- the porsche not the volkswagen minibus, and speed of to the airport.

I don't care if she rejected me on sight, I needed to get to her.

Well, actually I do care if she rejected me on sight, but I knew deep down she didn't completely hate me. That she was holding onto some level of trust, of hope that it was alright.

And I was too. I hoped more than anything I wasn't too late. I couldn't be too late.

If she rejected me, obviously I would stop bothering her, but I could never move on. She had entranced me, bewitched me, and I was hers and only hers, body and soul.

All I could think was thoughts about her. Every song I wrote, it was about her.

She was my muse, lover and friend. She was everything.

The flight to Nashville was another form of hell. Every moment seemed to last an eternity as I kept checking my watch, waiting to be there. I'd get there a day later than her, but hell it was the best I could do.

In retrospect, I probably should have chartered a plane, but in all honesty they aren't significantly faster than a commercial plane. More secluded, but not faster.

Everything felt wrong without her. My clothes felt as if they were made for another man to wear, my shoes felt like someone else had walked in them. A big gaping Nola-sized hole was in my heart, and I couldn't live if I didn't fill it.

Before I met her, I was another person. Taking no shit or prisoners, fucking whoever I pleased whenever I wanted, but she made me feel... like me. Like the person I always had been deep down inside.

Every kiss I had with her was the best kiss I had ever had. Nothing felt better than the lingering feeling of her on my lips, the traces of her perfume on my jacket.

I felt like I was going into withdrawal because of how addicted I was to her. Her touch was my drug, and without it I could barely function. I needed her. And maybe that was something I never thought I'd say about anyone or anything, but it was the truth.

She was the Joan Baez to my Bob Dylan, the Emmylou Harris to my Gram Parsons, the June Carter to my Johnny Cash. She was the words and music to every day I lived.

I passion I felt while doing anything with music I thought could never be recreated. But with her- everything felt possible. She was better than all the music in the world. She was that nirvana musicians try to strive for. She was that perfect song.

So yeah, I was going to go get my girl back.