Passing college is a difficult task on its own, but imagine what it's like when your final grade rests in the hands of the worlds' favorite rock-star.
As graduation from her local community college approaches, Reese Taylors yearns for some answers...
{ strobe lighting } - a device used to produce regular flashes of light
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Two encore songs later and the band finally leaves the stage for the last time. Presley sprints off once she's behind the curtain, Maia trailing behind her as they push through the bustling stagehands to reach the bathroom. My heart aches for Presley and the pain she's forced through, but I can't find it in me to follow after her to make sure she's okay.
And I doubt Maia would appreciate my kind gesture.
The only person that I want to see is, of course, the last to exit the stage.
I don't care that the most bodily contact we've shared is a brief hand touch and shoulder brush when we sat beside each other on that roller coaster over the weekend.
I don't care that my feelings for Lennon have surpassed platonic.
I don't care that, come tomorrow, I'll be breaking my promise to not avoid him. Especially since he won't know why I'm avoiding him this time.
I don't care that on Sunday, I'll hop on my plane, and I might never see him in person again.
I don't care about any of that.
All I want is for someone to wrap their arms around me, not ask questions, and allow me to let go.
As soon as he's offstage, I walk over to him and throw my arms around his neck, pulling his body into mine. He's damp and reeks of sweat. He's frozen for a moment, not knowing how to react. I feel his head tilt as he holds out his guitar, silently asking Logan to take it.
Less than a second later, his strong arms wrap around me. He pulls me flush against his hard chest, closer than I thought possible. I let out a breath of relief.
He holds me for a beat or two before he softly speaks in my ear, "are you alright?"
The traditional female response of I'm fine! rests on the tip of my tongue, but I can't bring myself to say it. I shake my head. "Not really."
"Wanna talk about it?"
I bite my cheek. "I was just...worried. When your platform didn't rise and you missed your entrance. And then having to perform with that giant hole in the floor..."
"You were worried about me?" I can tell he's smiling as he nods. "Yeah, that was insane. But it all turned out okay. I'm okay."
I rest my cheek on his chest and listen to the rapid beat of his heart. "Yeah, I know."
"Is that why you disappeared?" he asks, softly, "because leaving is the best way to make sure I'm okay."
My eyes widen. "You noticed I left?"
"Of course I did," he says, as a matter of fact.
"I didn't realize you looked over as much," I mention, "and I just figured you were too lost in the moment to notice I left."
