“Are you sure you and your father will be fine without me?” my mother asked. “I can cancel my meeting with Yearling and come back—”
“We’ll be fine, Mom,” I answered, my cell phone wedged between my head and shoulder and my hands busy with film equipment. “Dad’s just busy setting up the ‘perfect’ arrangement of couch pillows for the shot, and I’m just moving equipment around and pretending I belong.”
“That’s good to hear,” she said. “I can’t thank you enough for helping out your father today.”
“It’s no big deal, really,” I replied nonchalantly. “I’m basically an overpaid intern anyway.” I paused. “I’m getting paid, right?”
There was a curt chuckle from the speaker. “Room, board, clothing, and I think your father and I threw some love in on the side.” She paused. “Although, you should ask him because I’m not so sure about that.”
I rolled my eyes. “Very funny, Mom.” Our conversation slowed for a moment—long enough for me to set down a pair of light stands and watch as a production assistant set them up. “So what’cha meeting with Yearling about?”
“NDA,” she said with a slight chuckle.
I huffed. “Walked right into that one.”
“I’m kidding,” she explained. “Yearling’s still not a hundred percent sold on Spitfire, so I’m attempting to convince her that it’s just not viable for her to play the role herself, no matter how much she insists. I swear, the old hag won’t listen to reason when it comes to her work.”
“Didn’t you two go to college together?”
“Don’t think I didn’t catch what you were implying,” she shot back. “I’m her peer and best friend, so I can call her what I want. You’re my child, so you call me ‘Mom.’” She paused. “Wait, who told you?”
“Dad did on the drive here,” I answered, “but I’m kind of hurt that you didn’t tell me that my favorite author is your best friend.”
My mother sighed. “Yearling’s not easy to like, and that’s the nicest way I can put it. There’s a reason why they tell you to never meet your heroes.” She paused. “On that note, have you met Spitfire?”
“What do you mean by that?”
I could practically hear my mother shrug through the phone. “I don’t know,” she answered snarkily. “I think I might have been implying something.”
“I’m never going to win any of our conversations, aren’t I?”
She scoffed. “Well, not if you still see it as a game. It won’t help your confidence at all, dear.”
“Sure, okay,” I said, trailing off. “You weren’t serious about Spitfire, right?”
My mother laughed. “I was kidding. She’s a total sweetie, and you should actually meet her.”
“You’re not setting me up?”
“Me?” she asked facetiously. “Never. But seriously, you should probably meet her while the schedule allows it.”
Unsure if she was still joking, I thought about what she said while I dug around in my pockets until I found a neatly folded slip of paper. She was right. There was only a little over a half an hour before Spitfire was whisked away to makeup and then placed on set for the rest of the day.
“Hey, Mom,” I called. “If I were to sneak away to meet Spitfire, do you think my dad would notice?”
She hummed. “Probably not. What’s he going to do? Fire you? You’re not even on the payroll.”
“Wow,” I said, nonplussed. “Well, I’m gonna go before you rack up a few more points.”
“Bye, hun.”
“Bye, Mom. Love you.”
My mother chuckled. “I know, sweetie.”
Grimacing, I hung up. “She just always has to get the last word in,” I grumbled to myself.
•·.·´`·.·•·.·´`·.·☀·.·´`·.·•·.·´`·.·•
I stopped just short of Spitfire’s trailer, standing a little taller and taking deep breaths. I had met a few celebrities while working with my parents, but it didn’t keep me from being nervous. For every day spent discussing books and movies over tea with Coloratura, there were two days of waiting on her manager as he rants about how his coffee isn’t brewed at his preferred two-hundred and two degrees, as if the extra one-point-two degrees would scald his tongue. He even threatened to fire me a couple of times before he found out who my parents were.
Looking down, I eyed the schedule in my hands. There was about half an hour before Spitfire was needed on set, but I’d learned the hard way to prep the talent before. My parents actually had to pretend to fire me just to keep Blueblood from walking off set.
Breath held, I knocked on the door and waited for a response. There was none. I grimaced, knowing that she was most likely asleep in her trailer. Knocking again, I called out her name.
“Come in!”
As I walked inside, I caught Spitfire looking up from the corner of the room. Her hair was dyed shades of smoky gray and black. It was a sight some of her diehard fans would have called blasphemous, since it replaced her “iconic” fiery hair. But still, the hair color suited her really well and she was a near spitting image of Daring as described in the books.
She held a book in her hands, a copy of Daring Do and the Griffon’s Goblet with most of the page highlighted and annotated. Smiling, she sat up from her bed and set the book at her side.
“Um, Miss Spitfire,” I said politely. “I was just checking in to see if you needed anything before we start.”
Humming, she stretched out her arms and pressed at her back as if to straighten it some more. “Nah, I’m good. Just don’t call me ‘Miss.’ You’re making me feel old.” She cracked her neck and let out a groan. “It doesn’t help that all this stunt training and fight choreography is putting me through the wringer.”
“Sorry about that.” I stared down at my shoes. “We’ve sort of been rushing to get you up to speed before shooting begins.”
“Are you kidding me?” she asked with a bright lilt. “I’m having the time of my life. I haven’t been this sore since my first week at WCW.”
“WC...”
“Wonderbolt Championship Wrestling,” she answered with a singsong lilt. “I’ve got a lot of fun stories about training camp like the time I gave a moonsault to Moonsault herself.” She sighed, a smile plastered on her face. “Good ti—oh, hey, where are my manners?! I never got your name.”
“T-Twilight,” I answered, coughing out my name. “Twilight Sparkle.”
“Twilight Sparkle, eh?” she hummed, rubbing her chin. “It’ll look good on a titantron. You ever think of being a Wonderbolt?”
I laughed. Well, it wasn’t much of a laugh—more like an entertained exhale through the nose. “Please, there’s no way I’d make it. They’ll break me in half.”
“Oh, come on. You’re giving us too much credit, kid,” she said, laughing. “It’s not like we’re actually fighting. I could put you in a submission hold, and it wouldn’t hurt a bit.”
“And I believe you,” I said coolly, hoping to drop it there.
“Yeah, but you totally don’t, though.” Spitfire stood up from her bed. “Come on, I’ll show you.” She held her hands up and curled her fingers inward, gesturing for me to come closer.
Believe it or not, it wasn’t the strangest request I had ever received from a talent. That honor went to Sapphire Shores and her pre-performance ritual involving a bowl of only blue Skittles, a recently crocheted dolphin, and a karaoke machine full of her own songs.
Needless to say, I let Spitfire put me in a headlock because it was part of my thankless (and apparently pay-less) job. Though I wasn’t expecting her to sweep my leg and take me to the ground. I let out slight groan but was cut off as she sat on top of my back, holding my head up between her arms. Surprisingly, there was no pain—a little uncomfortable, sure—but it was harmless just like she had promised. Not too mention a bit disappointing.
“See?” Spitfire asked. ”It doesn’t hurt unless I apply pressure. Plus, my head’s right by your ear, so I can conveniently whisper sweet, sweet nothings.”
“Srsly?” My voice was muffled through her headlock.
“Sort of,” she said nonchalantly. “I mostly tell my ‘opponent’ what we’re gonna do next in terms of moves and spots. Although, Fleetfoot and I have a game going on to see if we can make each other laugh during our matches. She’s way better at keeping it in than I am.”
“C’n you let me go?”
“Oh, yeah, sorry,” she said sheepishly. “I spend so much time applying this during training that I forget I’m doing it half the time.”
She released the submission hold, and I wasted no time in getting back up. “Thanks,” I said, dusting off my clothes.
“No—thank you,” she responded, cracking her knuckles. “I honestly miss doing shows a li’l bit, but then again, how could I possibly turn down being Daring Do?”
“I’m glad you’re excited,” I said. “And we’re very happy to have you.”
“It’s funny because the email I got from Mrs. Velvet seemed like she was ready to get someone else at a moment’s notice. I never thought I’d get the gig.” Spitfire sat back down on her bed and took a deep breath. “It’s a little surreal, actually. I have no idea how in the world I got it.”
“Would it help if I told you that I kinda threw your name in during casting?” I couldn’t resist telling her. It just came out.
Her eyes went wide. “No way! How?!”
I shook my head. “It’s not that interesting. My parents were scouting people, and I felt you were a good fit.”
“I… owe you,” she said, her eyes still wide and a smile plastered over her face. She reached forward, grabbed my hands, and stared into my eyes. “Anything, just name it. Autographs, tickets to WCW, anything.”
I bit the inside of my cheek. “I don’t know. I’ll keep it in mind.”
“Please, it’s the least I can do,” she said, letting go. “So what are we doing today?” she asked, her voice rising. She clapped her hands together excitedly. “Are we filming the scene where I escape from the Fortress of Talacon as it crumbles around me, or are we doing the Tenochtitlan car chase?”
I fished around my pockets for my schedule and gave it short once over. “Neither, actually,” I said, ignoring her groan of protest. “We’re doing all the apartment scenes and interior shots this week. We can’t really take the filming out in public until we announce, so we’re keeping things discreet for now.”
“Boo,” Spitfire whined, falling backward onto her bed and staring up at the ceiling. “I haven’t even gotten to try on the costume yet.”
“There’s a very good reason for that,” I explained. “The costume from the Ne’er Do Well show kept getting stolen from the set, so we kind of have it under lock and key. Plus, the internet would go crazy if the costume leaked.”
“Everything’s so secretive,” Spitfire groaned, crossing her arms. “You know I’m not even allowed to tell my own mom what I’m doing? Heck, the studio hired a ghostwriter to take over my blog until the news is out.”
I stared down at my shoes. “Sorry about that, but hey, it won’t be for long. We’re prepping the announcement soon, so you won’t have to lie to your loved ones for much longer.”
“Good,” she said, sitting back up. “The sooner I can be an open book again, the better. But enough about me.” She shot a finger gun in my direction. “You do anything interesting? Sky diving, backpacking around the world, a hot date?”
I perked up at the last one, my heart leaping at the thought of Sunset. “Well, kinda.”
“Oh?” Spitfire purred. “Do tell. I’ve got time.”
•·.·´`·.·•·.·´`·.·☀·.·´`·.·•·.·´`·.·•
“You’re tired, stressed. You’ve just been told that your tenure is on the line if you don’t produce your thesis.” My father paused and looked down at his script notes. “But most of all, you’re frustrated because you know that the Sapphire Stone is hidden somewhere within the ruins of The Impossible City. All this potential, but here you are, stuck in a miserable apartment in the bad side of Manehattan.”
Spitfire nodded. “Got it, boss.” Smiling, she saluted enthusiastically before walking back towards the set, disappearing behind a prop door.
“Just go when you’re ready,” my father said. He made a quick gesture, raising a hand over his head. Just as he put his hand down, the lights dimmed and the surrounding chatter dissipated.
After a short pause, Spitfire entered the apartment, eyes sullen and breathing stiff. She kicked off her boots and tore off her jacket, not caring where either landed. She scanned the apartment, still dark, and sighed before slumping down on her couch, an ugly brown piece of junk that the set designers had picked up at a yardsale.
She turned on the TV and kicked her feet up on the coffee table, sitting there with an intense scowl before my father called for the lights to come back on.
“Alrighty!” my father cheered, clapping his hands. “That was good, Spitfire. Care to run it through again before we get the cameras set up and do it for real?”
Spitfire pursed her lips. “Mm, it wouldn’t hurt to get a few more reps through.”
My father nodded, raised his hand again, and Spitfire took position. About halfway through the movements, my phone rang, a loud, cheery chiptune.
“Sorry!” I piped, immediately silencing the phone. Rushing past the death-stares from the crew, I made my way out of the soundstage, still apologizing. I looked down at my phone, my heart lifting a little after seeing Sunset’s name across the screen. “Hey, Sunset.”
“This is not the Sunset you’re looking for,” she said, stifling a giggle.
“I see you’ve made it to Star Wars.” I was kind of looking forward to watching that with her; I didn’t think she’d get there that fast. At that rate, she’d burn through the rest of the flash drive in week or two.
“Eh,” she hummed. “I’ve been kind of skipping around. Though, I added the hours up, and I’m a little ashamed of myself, to say the least.”
“Oh, don’t be,” I dismissed, scratching at my head with my free hand. “I think I’ve watched each movie on that drive at least twice—three or four for some of them. Wow, that’s kind of sad now that I say that out loud.”
“I know, right?” Sunset asked. “I swear I felt my grip on reality fade a little bit.”
I laughed and leaned against the soundstage door. “That’s pretty much how my last summer went.”
“Speaking of summer,” she said coyly. “I found a little something special around the ‘S’ section.”
I froze. “Uh, what did you find?”
“Oh, nothing, I think just some school stuff, essays… and some more Summer Sun Pageant pictures.”
My face immediately heated up. “O-oh,” I stammered. “D-did you?”
“Oh yeah, totally.” She paused. “It’s a much better replacement to the photo we took on the Iron Pegasus.”
“H-heh, right.”
“You were a total cutie with braces,” she added.
“S-so! Why’d you call?” I asked, forcing a change in subject.
“Right,” she hummed. “Got a little distracted there. I was just wondering if you wanted to hang out later today.”
I bit my lip. “Um… I’m kind of tied up right now. I won’t be home until it’s late.”
“Oh, okay,” she said, her voice faltering.
I bit my cheek. “Yeah, sorry.”
“No biggie.” She let out a breathy chuckle. “It’s cool. We can do something another day then.”
“Yeah,” I said. “That sounds good. Maybe tomorrow.”
“Yeah, tomorrow.”
The conversation had hit a wall. “See you tomorrow then.”
“Bye, Twilight,” she said.
“Bye,” I said back. “Love you.”
Sunset squeaked. “Did you—”
I hung up.
By the time I realized what I had done, it was too late. I stood there, either in shock or just plain abject terror. It was a mistake, clearly a force a habit when it comes to phone conversations. But even then, it felt off to call it a mistake. I mean, it was a mistake, but still…
“Yo, Twilight!” a voice called.
I jumped, whipping my head around. “H-hey, Sp-Spitfire,” I said, the phone still pressed tightly against my ear. “What’s up?”
“You tell me, champ,” she said. “I just caught you frozen in place for the past minute. Is something wrong?”
She put her hand on my shoulder, but I pried myself away. “S-sorry,” I stammered. “I just need some time to think on my own.”
My phone buzzed again, but I immediately shut it off.
•·.·´`·.·•·.·´`·.·☀·.·´`·.·•·.·´`·.·•
Sunday mornings at Crystal Prep were spent one of two ways:
The first was to get as far away from the campus as possible after breakfast, wreaking havoc in downtown Canterlot. The second was to hide inside the dorms, only to come out for food and bathroom breaks.
Luckily, I could always count on fellow shut-ins to always be where I needed them.
"I need relationship advice," I announced the moment Sunny Flare opened the door. She only nodded and gestured for me to come in.
"When don't you?" called a voice with a low groan. In the far left corner of the room Sugarcoat clawed her way out of her bedsheets, stretching her arms and yawning. She lazily groped around the nearby drawer for her glasses before turning her attention back to me. "I don't know if it’s just me, but it's starting to get old."
"Don't mind her," Sunny Flare said. “She doesn't like to wake up until noon on weekends. Just sit down and tell us what happened.”
Reassured, I nodded before slumping down on Sunny Flare’s bed. Once again, I found myself in a familiar position of dealing with the fallout of one of my many mistakes. Maybe I was just cursed to constantly screw up.
“I told Sunset that I love her.” It came out quick, like ripping off a bandage.
Sunny smiled. “That’s great!” She put her arm around my shoulder. “What’d she say?”
I turned away. “Um, I don’t know. I kind of… hung up.”
“Oh,” was all Sunny Flare said. “That’s, um… well, did you mean it?”
I stared at the ground, following the carpet’s pattern down the room. “I don’t know. It was one of those goodbye-on-the-phone kind of things.”
Sugarcoat shifted in her bed. “Right.” She paused. “But would you take it back?”
“I...” The words wouldn’t come out. Instead I just sat there, doing nothing but letting my mouth hang open as I tried to form together any string of syllables. When I realized it was going nowhere, I decided it was better to just stay silent. “Should I?”
“Listen, Twilight,” Sugarcoat said, “we’re not going to be around to give you the right answer all the time. You have to decide this on your own.”
I knew she was right, but it wasn’t what I wanted to hear. Then again, I didn’t really know what I wanted to hear. I bit into my cheek, racking my brain for something to say.
The lump in my throat got bigger, refusing to go down. I tried to speak up, but I found myself trailing off.
“W-what if she—”
“It doesn’t matter what she thinks if you keep beating yourself up for everything you do.” Sugarcoat rubbed the bridge of her nose. “I get that you’re scared and all, but if she’s anything like you told us, she’ll understand.”
Sunny Flare chuckled and then patted my back.
“What?” I asked.
“It’s sort of cliche, isn’t it?” Sunny smiled. “I mean, it’s in all the sitcoms, and it’s been done to death in movies, but it’s a real experience. No one’s ever sure when it’s the right time to say those three little words.”
“It’s just words,” Sugarcoat remarked. “You do realize that we, as the abstract thinking apes we are, arbitrarily assigned all this weight and meaning to those words, right?”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
Sugarcoat scoffed. “It means that ‘I love you’ doesn’t really mean more than ‘cyborg chicken attack’ or any other stupid sequence of syllables unless you want it to.”
I forced a chuckle. “I guess you’re right.”
“Of course I’m right,” Sugarcoat cut in. “But still, you’re going to have to decide if those three words mean anything.” She paused. “Do they?”
“I don’t…”
She sighed. “Okay, we’ll take things smaller. Just answer me with simple yes or no. Nothing more, got it?”
“I don’t—”
“I said yes or no,” Sugarcoat snapped.
“Yes.”
“Okay, good,” she said, clapping her hands together. She looked around before digging in her bedside table, pulling out a notepad. “Do you find yourself wanting to spend more time with her?”
“Yes.”
“Even now?” She raised an eyebrow.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded. “Yes.”
“Do you care for her?”
“Yes.” I didn’t hesitate.
“Do you see yourself growing old with her in the Prench Riviera?”
“Where’s this going, Sug?” Sunny Flare cut in, scowling.
Sugarcoat pursed her lips and adjusted her glasses. “Just trust me.” She turned back to me. “Do you?”
I thought about it for a bit. “Yes.”
“How about mildly successful artisanal winemakers in the Roam?”
“Yes?” I bit my lip. “I don’t see how this ties into anything.”
“Shut up,” she said, still writing. “How about running a terrible bed and breakfast in the bad side of Detrot?”
“Okay, “ Sunny interrupted. “We get it. Just move on.”
“Fine, fine.” Sugarcoat grumbled as she scribbled down in her notes. She looked to Sunny Flare and stuck out her tongue. After she was finished writing, she turned back to me. “Are you and her close?”
“Yes.”
Sugarcoat bit on her pen. “Would you call it intimate?”
“I guess.”
Sugarcoat paused for a moment, looked at her notes, and the and turned back to me, still stone faced. “Are you physically intimate?”
I hesitated, suddenly choking on my words. “N-no.”
Sugarcoat kept writing. “Do you want to be?”
The question caught me off guard. I hadn’t thought about it much before. Sure, physical intimacy was important in relationships, but I wasn’t exactly sure if I was ready. The thought of actually doing any sort of physical contact was intimidating on its own.
“I don’t…” I looked away, choosing to focus on the wall on the other side of the dorm.
“Whoomp, there it is,” Sugarcoat remarked. “You’re scared of intimacy, Twilight. Which, in hindsight, makes a lot of sense. You try to avoid it, but you’re just making things tougher for yourself.”
I gritted my teeth. “Oh.”
“Don’t get me wrong; it’s perfectly fine to be nervous about intimacy,” Sugarcoat reassured. “But eventually, you’re going to have to take the jump, or else she’s going to feel like the relationship isn’t serious.”
Sunny Flare nodded. “She’s right, Twilight.”
I sighed. “I guess, but I don’t really know how to be intimate.”
Sugarcoat smirked. “Have you tried consulting the Kama Sutra?”
“Seriously?!” Glaring, Sunny backhanded Sugarcoat’s arm, connecting with a dull thud.
“Come on, just let me have this one,” Sugarcoat said, holding back a laugh
Scoffing, Sunny rolled her eyes before turning back towards me. “Instead of referring to a literal sex manual, Twilight, you could try something small, like holding hands, or even just a peck on the cheek. You know, baby steps.”
“The thing is,” I said, trailing off. I crossed my arms, my nails digging into my skin. “I’ve never really kissed anyone before.” There was no response. Instead, the two turned and glanced at each other. I balled my hands into fists. “What?” My voice cracked.
“Were we supposed to flip out or something?” Sugarcoat asked. “Honestly, I’d be surprised if you did anything beyond a friendly pat on the back.”
I pursed my lips, holding back a frown “Yeah, but I still don’t know what to do.”
Sugarcoat huffed. “Twilight, we’ve been your training wheels for what, a month now? It’s about time we take them off and see if you can ride on your own.” She paused. “Or you know, you could also just crash into a fire hydrant across the street, which is perfectly fine too.”
“Right…” I said.
“I wouldn’t be so discouraged,” Sunny reassured me. “At least you know a bit more about yourself, and knowing is half the battle.”
“The other half is actual warfare, if you think about it,” Sugarcoat quipped, tapping her pen against her cheek. “They never tell you that in the cartoon or on the toy boxes, but—“
“Okay!” I interrupted as I shot up from the bed and began to make my way out the dorm. “Thanks for everything, I guess. It was fun and all, but I think I need to mentally prepare for the inevitable fallout that stems from my accidental profession of love and my inability to deal with intimacy.”
“Atta girl,” Sugarcoat cheered. “But seriously—and I’m not being facetious this time—answer one last question for me. It's a simple yes or no. You don’t even have to say it out loud. Just consider everything else I asked as well.”
I stopped just short of the door and turned around. “Okay, fine.”
“Do you love her?”
I thought about it for a moment and then opened my mouth to respond.
There was a short buzz in my pocket, and I jumped, immediately grasping for it. Sunset’s name came across the little notification box, along with a message that read, “Are we still on for tonight?”
I thought about it for a moment and then sent in my response.
•·.·´`·.·•·.·´`·.·☀·.·´`·.·•·.·´`·.·•
“Hey, Mom, can I ask you something?”
My mother stopped and turned to me. She looked like she was dressing up in a hurry, but she dropped everything the moment I spoke up. “Is something wrong?” she asked, taking a seat next to me on the living room couch.
I shook my head. “I just wanted to ask when was the first time my dad told you that he loved you.”
“Huh.” She pursed her lips. “I think he told me via cocktail napkin.”
“Seriously, Mom,” I groaned, lightly punching at her arm.
“Oh, alright,” she hummed. “I believe I was working on my second novel at the time. It took me quite longer than the first because your father would often steal me away.”
“What’d he do?”
“He’d throw a pebble at my window. That always really annoyed Yearling, who was still my roommate at that point. She was also my editor, you know… even after college and up until your father and I moved in with each other.”
I crossed my arms. “Focus, Mom.”
“Okay, okay. Serves me right for trying to tell a story.” She smiled, her eyes lighting up. “We always went to see movies. He’d claim it was for research for his next film, but he just really liked taking me to see all the sappy movies at the time because of how I would just gush about it afterward.”
“You still haven’t answered my question.”
“I’m getting to it,” she reassured, waving her hand around dismissively. “After the movie, we took a walk in the park.” She paused and stared off into the wall for a moment. “We were holding hands, sitting on the edge of the fountain when he said, ‘Vel, I think I love you.’”
“What’d you do?” I asked, leaning in.
“I pushed him into the fountain,” she said with a light chuckle.
“No.”
“Yes,” she said. “He pulled me in right after, and we were splashing each other. He made me feel like a giddy high schooler even though we were in our late twenties. I honestly thought we’d be taken home to our parents. Imagine my surprise when we got to the police station.”
I felt my eyes widen and my jaw drop. “You spent the night in jail?”
“Well, not really. Yearling posted the bail, but she wasn’t too happy about it.”
“And you never bothered to tell me any of this?”
She laughed. “Well, it didn’t have a moral then, but now it does.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Your father said ‘I love you’, and we were both jailed for disorderly conduct,” she answered facetiously. “As long as I don’t get a call from the police saying that they have you in custody, you’re doing better than your father and I.”
I laughed. “Thanks, Mom. You don’t know how much it means.”
“Glad to hear it,” she hummed, standing up from the couch. “You don’t even want to know what happened when he proposed.”
“Quit while you’re ahead, Mom.”
“Alright, fine.” She laughed before ruffling my hair. There was a slight beep that caused her to grimace and check her phone. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I should probably get going. Your father and I have a dinner meeting to woo investors with the Daring Do theme park ride rights.”
“So I’m home alone, again?” I asked. “How convenient.”
“I heard that,” she snapped, holding back a laugh. “I’m onto you, young lady. Don’t do anything that will get me a call from the police.”
“I’ll make no promises,” I shot back. She only smiled and planted a kiss on my forehead before making her way toward the front door.
After she left, I found myself sitting in silence. I checked my phone and grimaced. The string of short text messages said she’d be here in a half-hour, and I found myself with an uncomfortable amount of free time.
But I still had no idea what to do.
•·.·´`·.·•·.·´`·.·☀·.·´`·.·•·.·´`·.·•
We stood at the doorway, completely silent. She smiled, albeit weakly, and I tried to do the same. I didn’t know why, but it was reassuring to just stand there for a moment. As far as I knew, Sunset didn’t even care about what I said over the phone. It never happened. We were back to where we were.
But it didn’t feel quite right. It wasn’t enough anymore. Then again, I wasn’t sure what I wanted or what even was right. It was all just confusing. Do I apologize? Do I even bring it up? Do I double down and put everything out there?
Forcing the thoughts out of my head, I invited her inside, and we both sat in silence for another minute. Neither of us addressed the elephant in the room, instead choosing to let it sit in the corner and in the back of our minds. Eventually, the elephant began to grow, encroaching on the rest of the room and pushing us out of the way.
I took a sharp breath and held it, my lungs nearly collapsing as the elephant pinned me against the wall.
“Is that a new jacket?” I finally asked in a short gasp. It wasn’t. I just needed something to talk about. Thankfully, I could breathe again, but it was forced.
“No,” she said. “Same as always.”
“Oh,” I hummed, as if I were surprised. “Cause from this angle it looked—“
“Twilight,” she said curtly. She put her arm on my shoulder, and I flinched. With a slight nod, she backed off, giving me some space to breathe. “Do you want to talk about it?”
I held my breath. “I don’t know…” I trailed off. “I know it sounds stupid, but I’m not sure if I meant what I said or not.”
She chuckled and then averted her eyes. “I get it. It’s fine.”
“You do?” I asked. I leaned forward from the couch.
“Yeah,” she sighed. “I made a similar mistake like that a while ago.”
“Please,” I dismissed. “What I did was stupid. As if you’d do something like—”
“I accidentally called Celestia ‘Mom’ once,” she said, cutting me off. “I was so afraid of what she might say that I avoided her any chance I could.”
“You? Scared?” I almost scoffed.
“Oh, I’m scared of a lot of things,” Sunset said nonchalantly. “I just try not to let it get to me anymore. It’s better for me to grit my teeth and face it. If I didn’t, I would be a nervous wreck by now.”
And here I was, too afraid to talk about my feelings.
Gosh, I’m such a coward. I stared at the ground, wishing I could have vacuumed the living room before Sunset came over. Fighting the urge to hug my knees, I forced myself to speak up. “I… Ugh, it was easier thinking about it in my head. I swear I had something to say, but it’s all coming out like… word vomit”
“Look, Twilight,” Sunset continued, “you don’t have to say anything if—“
“But I want to,” I cut in, “and I don’t. I don’t know. It’s all so overwhelming.” More silence. My fingers locked, and I found myself quickly playing with my thumbs. I took deep breaths.
“If it makes you uncomf—“
“I care about you,” I said, laying it out in the open. “I want you to know that I really, really want to be with you.” I felt my face heat up. “And whenever I think about you, I get all flustered.” She kept quiet, and I wasn’t sure if I should have continued. “I want to hold you close, and I want to whisper all the… um... sweet nothings I can think of into your ear, but the thought of actually doing it makes me… queasy and anxious.”
My heart was racing, chest aching. I gritted my teeth and kept my eyes planted on the ground.
She put her hand on my side again, and I managed to keep myself from flinching this time. Without a word she squeezed my shoulder, slowly massaging my back with her thumb. My breathing finally began to slow, and she rubbed down my arm and locked hands with me, gently rubbing her thumb on the back of my hand.
“Twi,” she said, moving in closer. “I don’t want you to feel that way. I’m willing to go as fast as you think you’re ready to go. Just don’t overthink it too much, okay?”
I nodded and processed what she had said. When I finally looked back up, we met eyes, and her lips curled in a reassuring smile. We held hands some more, finally enjoying the silence of the room again.
Just don’t think about it. Do what feels right.
Then I kissed her.
And a thousand violins began to play.
I wanted them to play forever, to be stuck in the perfect moment as the strings resonated throughout my heart, mind, and soul. The perfect end to a chapter. A satisfying cut to black. I’d even take a commercial break.
But no, life never has any perfect endings. In all the movies, the moment ends and the credits roll, but life goes on. The movies just never show the heroes go back home and live the rest of their lives.
We broke away. Sunset smiled, let out a breathy little laugh, and bit her bottom lip. “So that’s where we are.”
“Yeah,” I hummed dreamily, feeling completely weightless. “I guess so.”
“So... what now?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I didn’t really think about it all that much.”
“Good.” She dug her head into the side of my arm, laying down on the rest of the couch and getting comfortable. “Although, since I’m here, I guess we could hang out and watch a movie or something.”
“S-sounds good,” I said, still recovering from my high.
Refusing to get up from the couch and ruin a good thing, I grasped around for the TV remote with my free hand. Sunset curled in closer as I turned on the TV and switched it over to the DVD player, letting it play whatever was inside. She kept her head against my side, cradling my arm.
“You know,” she spoke up, her voice soft, “for stumbling around in the dark a lot, I think we’re doing good.”
“Y-yeah,” I said, holding back a laugh.
“Though,” she started, “there’s just one thing that I’m a little curious about.”
“Go for it,” I responded confidently. “It feels good being an open book for a little bit.”
I looked over to her, and she smiled back.
“What’s ‘The Sunlight Project?’”