Getting over your first crush seems impossible - especially when he's the star of the world's biggest movie franchise.
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Jess Wheeler is happily single and perfectly content with her simple life in Hemlock Landing, South Carolina, where all she kn...
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I remember learning about Beatlemania in my high school Music History class.
Back in the '60's, hundreds of thousands of girls would pack into arenas and concert venues to see their idols, The Beatles, perform live. Supposedly, at one of their shows in America, the noise generated from their screams reached decibel levels higher than that of a jumbo jet and the band weren't even able to hear themselves perform. When I first learned that fact, I didn't believe that it could possibly be true. I figured it was just another one of Mrs. Mahoney's exaggerations to illustrate the impact of the British Invasion.
Now, trapped in the middle of an ocean of Bay Connor fans that are taking their vocal chords to the absolute limit, I can't believe I ever doubted the power of teenage fanaticism. I mean, there's loud and then there's so loud that I feel like I might have a seizure. The craziest part is that the fire truck carrying Bay hasn't even reached this part of the street yet; he's still a tiny speck at the very end of the road, at least half a mile away, waving at the fans that are nearest to him like a princess in a Disney parade.
That doesn't seem to matter to the fans in front of me, though, who grab at each other and sob and tremble at just the sight of him, ignoring the poor group of second grade flag-twirlers currently performing their hearts out on the parade route. The B&B flyers completely forgotten, I observe the fans nearest to me with open curiosity, awe, and a little fear.
It's not that I've never had anything in my life that I enjoyed: I enjoy a lot of things. But living with Kayley has taught me that there's a whole other level of enjoyment that I've never experienced. And yeah, it can be annoying, but I also wonder what it feels like to care about something—or someone—so much that you start to hyperventilate even when they're a mile away from you. Maybe that's what real love is supposed to feel like, and maybe that's the reason none of my relationships have ever worked out. God knows I never felt that way about my ex, Dylan.
Is that the way Bay feels about Sylvia Loreno?
The thought pokes itself into my mind like a needle, sharp and difficult to remove. I ignore it at first, but then it becomes an itch that demands to be scratched. As I wait for Bay's fire truck to reach this part of the parade route, I pull out my phone and Google bay connor sylvia loreno.
The first thing that pops up is the link to Bay's Instagram account. I sheepishly click it, and ... Jesus. The first thing that assaults my eyes is his most recent post, an ultra-steamy shirtless picture from his GQ photoshoot with no caption. It has over three million likes and — no surprise — a shit-ton of thirsty comments. I move on to the next picture, hoping that the sudden redness in my cheeks will go away soon, and realize that it's a candid photo of Bay and Sylvia.
They're both sitting side-by-side in directors' chairs on the set of some late night talk show, and it looks like Sylvia is laughing so hard at something Bay said that she's doubled over on top of him. The caption reads "I love sharing these moments with you ❤️" My eyes narrow. It's a suggestive post, but is it actual, indisputable proof of something more than friendship?
