Page 67 of New Year's Faye

? Stop adding new slides!!!

POTENTIAL COMPLICATIONS:

1. Technical difficulties

2. Emotional overload

3. Sam's smile

4. Sam's eyes

5. Sam

Note: FOCUS ON PRESENTATION

CONTINGENCY PLANS:

A) Backup PowerPoint on phone

B) Hard copies of key slides

C) Emergency exit routes mapped

D) Cardiac resuscitation plan

KEY PRESENTATION POINTS:

- Statistical evidence of compatibility

- Future projection models

- Risk/reward analysis

- The way he makes my heart race

Note: EMPHASIZE LAST ITEM

Current Status: T-minus 2 minutes to revelation

Threat Level: MAXIMUM

Personal Note: Just tell him you love him

The thing about controlling everything is that sometimes the most powerful moments come when you finally let go.

I’d watched Sam up there on that stage tonight and the whole world had faded into the background as he stepped into the spotlight, alone but for the guitar in his hands.

I’d seen the look in his eyes—focused, intense, like he was about to pour every part of himself into the song. And when he started to play, every chord, every lyric, I’d know it was written just for me.

I was in awe of his courage—how he’d stood there, putting everything on the line, without knowing if I’d feel the same way. He’d spent years quietly loving me, supporting me, waiting for the moment when I’d finally be ready to let him in. Tonight, evenknowing he might lose me, he’d taken that leap, baring his heart in front of thousands of people, just to make sure I knew what I meant to him.

He made me realize just how afraid I’d been. How many years I’d spent building walls, creating a life that was so carefully curated, so meticulously planned, because deep down, I was terrified of being vulnerable. I was terrified of letting someone see the real me, the messy parts, the parts that didn’t have all the answers.

But Sam… he already knew. And he loved me in spite of it all. Despite of it all. Or maybebecauseof it all.

I pulled Sam into his trailer, my laptop clutched in my free hand, my heart thundering against my ribs. He looked beautiful and uncertain in the soft lighting, still wearing his stage clothes—dark jeans and a black button-down with the sleeves rolled up. His hair was damp with sweat, his eyes wide with something between hope and hurt.

"Faye—"

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