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Gavin’s eyes drift back to Marcos with a look that’s saturated with the fear of losing him. “I can’t put this off. I really don’t want this on my mind during our friend’s wedding.”

“Whatever works for you.” My eyes lower to the grass, the blades spiking like the back of a green porcupine. I can’t let my selfish side take over. “You and Marcos don’t need to be in this photo anymore.”

Gavin raises his eyebrows. “What, why?”

“Clearly, you guys need to talk. And I know this is a big conversation. I don’t want you to feel pressured doing this when you have other things on your mind.”

“No, Emilyn, we want to do this. We know this competition means a lot to you.” His head swivels to Marcos, who taps his phone to end the call. “Let’s just see how this goes, okay?”

“I can head back to my car. Maybe text me to let me know how it went?”

Gavin shakes his head and waves this offer away. “I think I need the moral support.”

“I’ll be here.” I point to a tree and hide behind it. Gavin gives me a thumbs up, confirming I’m hidden enough, and heads towards Marcos.

“Were you hiding?” Marcos teases. “Stop being so shy in front of the camera.”

Nora and Marcos may have a lot of differences, but when it comes to encouraging the people they care about to be in the picture, they share the same enthusiasm.

Gavin replies with a nervous chuckle. Nerves pinch my stomach, my fingers curling into my hands. I hold in my breath, my eyes locking onto the bark of the tree, the ridges the same shape as broken Kit Kats.

“Everything okay?” Marcos tilts his head to the side.

A sigh escapes Gavin’s mouth. I tear my eyes away from the bark and narrow them to him with a look that says, Come on, Gavin, you got this! He may not be looking my way, but I hope he can feel my encouragement.

“Marcos, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you,” Gavin says. “I want to transfer to UCLA.”

He tells Marcos what he told me earlier but with vivid detail. Like how he enjoyed seeing the L.A. streets filled with cars, the sidewalks populated with people striding and hurrying over to their jobs. How all the fun events like Anime Expo and pop rock concerts always take place in L.A. How the buildings shimmer with light, and everywhere you pass, there’s a party of sounds that makes you want to join.

“It doesn’t matter that we’ve yet to see a movie star or a pop star,” Gavin continues. “I feel like I’m among the stars just being there.”

I’ve only been to L.A. a few times—my parents prefer traveling to San Francisco to visit Aprilette, a request insistently made by my mom—but Gavin’s inspiring me to take a longer trip in the City of Stars.

“We’ll be miles apart, but I’ll do anything to make this work,” Gavin finishes, his eyes glowing with a look that says, Please stay with me.

Marcos stares at Gavin with a face I can’t decode. “Gavin, please don’t tell me you’ve submitted your application.”

My stomach plunges, my mouth suddenly dry. Maybe I should look away.

“I haven’t had a chance to look over it.”

As I process these words, my stomach suddenly relaxes. Am I hearing Marcos correctly?

“I’m really sorry, I—” Gavin pauses, processing Marcos’s words the same way I am. “What?”

“Babe, you know writing isn’t your forte,” Marcos says lightheartedly. “I want you to get into UCLA. I’ll check your application a million times if it means increasing your chances of getting in.”

Gavin’s mouth falls open, nothing but a pause spilling out. When he regains composure, he says, “Wait, you’re okay with me moving to L.A.?”

“Of course! You don’t have to mold your path so it works out with mine. I want you to follow the one that speaks to your heart.” A smirk flashes across Marcos’s face. “I was wondering when you were going to tell me you wanted to move to La La Land.”

“You knew?”

“Babe, I see how you look at that place every time we go there. You look at every building and every spot like magic’s happening before your eyes. I know it’d make you happy to feel that every day.”

Gavin exhales in relief. “That means so much to me. Why didn’t you tell me you already figured it out?

“I wanted you to tell me at your own pace, your own time.”