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Jase lasers a look at Andy, a grin breaking his face. I just give Nora a look that says, But I like distracting him.
Turning back to me, Jase says, “I have time for one more.”
“You just want to spend more time with me.”
“Don’t I always?”
Joy flutters in my chest. I reach over and wrap my fingers around Jase’s hand. He folds his over mine.
On his phone, I tap on a song titled “Reconsideration.” The song starts slowly, thoughtfully, deliberately, building with an alteration of light and heavy strokes that last forty seconds.
“Reconsideration,” Jase says, “thinking about a choice again.”
“Yup!” I say. “I hope you make a reconsideration to finish writing this song.”
He chuckles and kisses the back of my hand. “I will, I promise.”
Our fingers intertwine as we throw away our drinks and make our way to the stage.
“Excited to perform in front of my parents?” I ask Jase, glancing at the chairs and seeing my mom and dad talk to Mrs. Rivers. Jordan’s beside her, slurping a pistachio drink.
It took time for me and Jase to patch things up, but once we did, and after taking it slow, we became official. Seeing my parents admire my photos, I decided to stop keeping secrets, especially anything (photography, arts school, Jase) that’s dear to me. If something makes me happy, I should tell my family. So when Jase met my parents, I introduced him as my boyfriend, nervous about how they’d feel but adamant they’d have to accept the boy who has my heart. Luckily, they love him. He won them over with his kindness and charming sense of humor, earning bonus points with my dad for sharing the same adoration for AC/DC. They could tell he really cares about me. Aprilette met Jase via FaceTime, and on top of earning her approval, she appreciated that he listens to all her favorite emo bands.
“Stoked,” Jase affirms. “Your dad’s musically intelligent, after all.”
“Great minds think alike.”
Jase envelops me in his arms, and on my tiptoes, I reach up to kiss him.
“Aw!” Nora coos.
“Soundcheck!” Andy teases.
Jase presses his lips deeper against mine, kissing me longer, before parting for soundcheck duty.
I join my parents just as they FaceTime Aprilette, who’s sitting on her couch with Piolo. While my Atè updates them on work, I crane my camera—I left it with my mom while I practiced vocabulary with Jase—out of my bag.
No matter how many prestigious arts schools I detail to my parents, their answer—to pursuing a major and career in photography—is still no. It hurts my heart, but when I think about the day they said my photographs were beautiful, it gives me hope. Maybe they’ll change their minds, maybe they won’t. It’s scary, especially since, unlike Aprilette in her senior year of high school, I don’t have a plan. Guess I can’t always come prepared. Sometimes I need to figure things out along the way. Though I’m terrified, I’m also excited, because the possibilities are endless.
The door sways open and in comes, to my surprise, Ms. Choi.
“I’ll be back,” I tell my parents, and they respond with a nod.
Ms. Choi beams when she sees me. “Emilyn, so good to see you outside of the classroom!”
“Likewise,” I say.
“I was just getting an espresso before I drop my parents off at the airport.”
“The drinks here are really good.” I thread my fingers together. “I entered the competition you told us about.”
I tell her everything, from my photos to my presentations. And that I placed third while Sandra and Aaliyah tied for second.
“I’m so happy to hear that!” Ms. Choi says. “Congratulations to you all!”
“Thank you! I’m glad you told us about it. Thanks to the competition, I had a lot of fun this summer.”
“Wonderful! Sounds like you put everything you learned to good use.”
