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...
{ subtext } - deeper meaning of a character's actions or words; encourages viewer to read between the lines
Rất tiếc! Hình ảnh này không tuân theo hướng dẫn nội dung. Để tiếp tục đăng tải, vui lòng xóa hoặc tải lên một hình ảnh khác.
Maia and Presley? I knew it.
"I thought there was something going on!" I exclaim, taking Maia by surprise. She takes a step back, narrowing her eyes at me. "Come on, it's not like you two aren't obviously into each other. Maia. This is amazing. How could you possibly be jealous—"
"There's a million reasons. Firstly, while being gay is starting to become normalized in Hollywood—and I know that those I love and that matter to me will be one-hundred percent supportive—but being associated with the band and having my own media presence, there will be assholes out there that think they have an opinion on how I should live my life. And that shouldn't be a reason I'm holding back from being who I am, but people are cruel, Reese. Sure, people are going to bash you for dating Lennon because they wish he gave them even the tiniest sliver of what he gives you. Your name will get dragged in the dirt because of jealousy whereas mine will be dragged just because people think it's unnatural to love somebody with the same body parts.
"And I'm jealous that I suggested hiding our relationship from Emma and the world and Presley told me no. She said she didn't want to feel like a dirty little secret, and didn't want to make me feel like one, either. It's ninety-percent Emma's fault, anyways, for putting a bunch of untrue shit in Presley's head that makes her doubt herself. And because of that vile woman, Presley's going to quit, and then she'll leave. She's going to leave me."
There is no feasible way to string together the twenty-six letters of the alphabet in a statement that would make Maia feel better. She's spiraling—understandably—but I never stopped to think about what's going through her mind.
And I can't help but think we may have found our common ground.
Standing from her desk chair, I wrap my arms around her, crushing her to me in a hug that's meant for her. For me. For us. Her arms squeeze around my middle, pressing us impossibly closer together. Her hot breath fans my shoulder and her sweet perfume invades my senses, but I don't pull away.
I'm not sure which one of us breaks first.
Our shoulders rack with silent sobs; tears soaking each other's shoulders as we cry about the unknown of our romantic relationships, all the time we missed out on with each other, and—maybe—a little about not wanting to let me board that plane tomorrow. I miss my friends and my family, and I'm a few months away from earning my associate's degree, but I don't want to go home.
California has grown on me and there's still so much more to explore. There's still so much more I want to learn about Lennon—experience with Lennon. And Maia ... she had an entire itinerary planned with activities for the two of us to do. She might have brushed off my proposal earlier, but I wasn't getting on that plane tomorrow without spending some time with her.
