Page 29 of When I Picture You
I’ll never stop loving you.
Tell me what you want and I’ll do it. I always have.
How could you do this to me?
Lola squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her palms to her face. When would it stop hurting? It had been a year. A year and three weeks.
SHE’D FIRST SEENAva onstage at a movie awards show, presenting the award for, of all things, Best Kiss. Her blonde hair was huge and wild, and a fishhook grin exposed the famous gap in her front teeth. Lola was transfixed. Somehow, even from so far away, Ava had known. Her gaze lingered on Lola with the ghost of an invitation. Moments later, Lola won for Best Movie Song, and Ava was waiting backstage. It set off a year of secret dating: stealing weekends to spend in eachother’s arms, wearing the same perfume so they’d smell like each other, walking red carpets knowing that later their gowns would be puddled on the floor.
Lola had never been infatuated with anyone like she was with Ava. It was like being plunged underwater—unexpected and completely engulfing. Just thinking of her made Lola feel electric—and she thought of Ava constantly, especially in the long weeks they spent apart when Lola channeled her fixation into her music. She wrote Ava dozens of songs. Some were tales of lust and Ava’s ice-blue eyes and all the things Lola wanted to do to her, but others told the story of a whirlwind romance, of being swept away in a secret love affair.
Lola had truly believed they were falling in love.
After all, Lola had always been a romantic. When she was young and things were chaotic at home, she escaped into stories where love was powerful enough to change the world. Love was supposed to be grand and demanding and even painful. Maybe that was why she missed all the red flags.
Like how when they were apart, Ava could be so bad at keeping in touch that Lola sometimes wondered if she missed her at all. Or how, when they were in bed, Ava was always the focus of attention, and never Lola.
Or how when Lola pressed that she wanted to spend more time together, Ava would invite her to a DJ gig or to come as her date to an awards show—things she knew Lola couldn’t do. Lola tried not to be hurt by it, to convince herself that Ava wanted to go public because she loved her, even if she’d never said so. Already, Ava pushed her boundaries, tugged her into the bathroom at an event, gave her a “friendly” kiss on a red carpet.
Real love required sacrifices. And if Lola wanted this to be forever-love, the kind that lasted a lifetime, she would have to make some.
She’d sat down with Gloriana and told her she was ready to gopublic with everything: her sexuality, her relationship, and an album of songs about Ava that she was ready to take to her producer. Gloriana had slowly adjusted the thick frames of her glasses, then said, “Let’s talk it through.”
Gloriana had sketched out a full media plan, tell-all interviews, a couples photoshoot in a major magazine, a color story for her Instagram in the colors of the bisexual flag, a special line of merch. And more serious issues—the business impact of losing part of her fan base: conservatives, outraged parents of eight-year-old Lo-Lites, and fans who lived in countries where same-sex relationships were illegal. Then Gloriana had put her hand on Lola’s knee and told her, “Just do one thing for me before we move forward. We can spin you coming out because you’re in love, but if things fall apart, the narrative gets more challenging. We don’t want to handle a breakup on top of all this. Just make sure Ava’s committed.”
“Don’t worry,” Lola had said.
It felt so stupid now to remember how excited she’d been to tell Ava her new plan.
“I know you want more from me, from our relationship,” Lola had begun.
“Oh, Lolly, I—” Ava interrupted.
Afterward, Lola would always wish she’d just let Ava say her piece. Instead, Lola grabbed her hands and squeezed. “No, I want that too! What we have is just—it’s so special, it feels almost like magic, you know? I don’t want to hide it anymore.”
“Lolly—”
“Gloriana is already on board. My team will know the best way to debut the relationship—and there’s going to be so much to deal with me coming out. But we can get through it. I’m going to record those songs so my whole next album can be about you! Wouldn’t that be perfect?
“There’s just this one thing—Gloriana wants me to make sure we’re really committed to each other, just because there’s going to be so much attention on our relationship. We are, right? I know I am. Honestly, I’m in love with you, Ava.”
It was the first time she’d said that.
“Lola.”
Lola could never describe how it felt when Ava said her name like that. The sensation of pins and needles, half numbness, half pain. The sudden lightheadedness, like the world slipping out from under her. Ava was wearing this horrible, pitying look, and Lola was the object of that pity.
“God, this is really awkward.” Ava extricated her hands from Lola’s grasp. “I totally support you coming out and releasing those songs and all that, but when it comes to our relationship, I’m not in the same place.”
LOLA CLOSED THEpiano’s key lid and cast her eyes to the cabinet of her old journals, full of words that came straight from her heart. Writing was so easy when love was an adventure that lay ahead, heartbreak seemed glamorous, and just thinking about the girl next door could pull a song out of her. Would she ever find that ease again?
Lola drafted a text to Cassidy:
Let’s reschedule the producer session for after the festival next month. I want to focus on that performance.
She hesitated. Normally she’d run that by Gloriana, and there was filming to consider. But the thought of showing up to her producer’s studio with nothing made Lola genuinely feel like she might puke.
She hit send and headed to the kitchen. She needed tea. Tea would help.
