Glass walls, framed by metal, surround Goldie. She's a confused mime in a labyrinth of her own making. The greasy headset of the phonebooth presses against her clean cheek and ear. Her index finger twists around the cord. She nervously tugs on the wires, so much so the plastic nearly rips from the base of the phone.

"The Clash is starting their tour in about two weeks. We'll edit your Orphans article and you can join them on tour." Daniel Ben, Goldie's editor at Rolling Stone, gives his orders. "This is a big shot for you, kid. Your article is amazing. And the magazine wants you on the road with all the up-and-coming bands."

"What about The Orphans recording the album?" Goldie peers through the thick glass of the phonebooth. Harry stands, with a grin stretched across his face, waving like a young boy. His cheeks are flush with excitement and innocent lust. Her heart sinks at the thought of leaving him and the band almost immediately as they dock back in southern California. "I thought you wanted me to document their journey back? The Midnight Special show? What I sent you was a draft and—"

"And a damn good draft at that," Daniel notes. "I had my doubts but you really gave us a good story here and we want more with different bands. We have a ticket ready for you leaving New York tonight. Are you having second thoughts, Goldie?"

"We're about to get on the bus. It doesn't feel right to end it here. Can I give you an answer when I get back to California? I just—"

"Fine," Daniel cuts her off again. How unattractive it is to be interrupted mid-sentence. Yet she takes the critique. This man holds her fate in his hands. It's her first time interacting with a serious magazine. "What do you want from us here, Goldie?"

"The Midnight Special is a big deal for these guys, understandably so," her sweet words spill into the small holes of the phone. A quaint knock rings from the other side of the glass. She looks to find Harry, complete with an innocent grin. He blows his hot breath onto the side of the phonebooth and draws a heart into the built-up steam. "I think following that part of their journey is an integral part to all of this. That's the real final show. It's a global audience."

"Okay," Daniel responds. "We'll see you back in California then?"

Niall and Matt join on either side of Harry. Niall uses both of his index fingers to stretch the sides of his mouth. He sticks his tongue out and licks the filthy phone booth. Matt lifts his shirt and presses his chest against the glass.

"I'll talk to you in a week and give you an answer in California," Goldie laughs. She slams the headset on the base of the phone. "You guys are so annoying!"

"GOLDIE!" Mitch runs down the New York City sidewalk. His arms flail with excitement. He breaks through the group, engulfing Goldie into his arms. He remembers the time he first interacted with her in that abandoned parking lot. How lost she looked. High heels slamming against the black and broken pavement. "You gotta drive us, Golds."

This seems all too right. She spent the entire tour as the passenger, but now she's the driver. The words of Fleetwood Mac run through her head. "But time makes you bolder. Even children get older and I'm gettin' older too."

Her shoes step onto the bus. The dirty floor pounds beneath her feet.

"Time to teach you how to drive Doris," Grimmy says, dusting off the driver seat. His arms widen, welcoming her to sit and take the captain's chair.

Her ass sits comfortably in the worn leather. Her shoe presses against the brake, turning the key in the ignition. She presses her thumb into the gear shift and moves it into drive. She pauses, her foot still on the brake, and looks back at the group for reassurance.

The look on their faces gives her the confidence to follow through. Letting her foot off the brake and slowly transitioning it to the gas, she moves forward. The journey is a perfect metaphor to the current state of her life. A young girl, taking on the new challenge of a large obstacle. She's never driven a vehicle before in her life, yet she stomped onto Doris with the mission of proving herself.

She feels the power of the gas beneath her. She weaves into the near-abandoned parking lot of their hotel. In and out of the white lines of each spot. The band shifts in reaction to the dramatic motions of the bus.

"IS THIS OKAY?" Goldie yells behind her as she bobs and weaves as she makes her way to traffic. She confidently turns the wheel ahead of her but brings out the nerves of everyone witnessing the journey.

"Okay, hold on one second," Harry's voice chimes in. His lanky arms stretch behind her shoulders as he slides his body beneath hers. He places each of his hands on either side of her hips and positions her in his lap. "Will you let me guide you? Take your time. It's fine. But let me help? If that's okay?" He knows Goldie's stubborn nature. She looks back at the handsome Brit behind her, gripping onto the steering wheel tighter. "You okay, darling?" Harry repositions himself so his crotch is pressed against her bottom.

Goldie soaks it in. She tries her hardest not to close her eyes and fade into oblivion at the feeling of Harry's erection pressed against her.

"I'm fine," she whispers, letting Harry guide her motions.

"You have nothing to be scared of," he whispers, his lips pursed against her ear lobe. "I'm right here if you need me."

* * *

The journey back across the states goes by in hyperspeed. Lush east-coast villages to dry open fields. Fields of long, brown grass. It's October, the closest the moon is to the sun. The end of all ends before the mission starts again.

The bus comes to a halt in a Colorado forest. One of the final stops before a hard push into the sunrise. The dense surroundings of the trees engulf the band. Grimmy grabs a packaged tent and turns to the band.

"Who needs to get the fuck off this bus?" Grimmy hugs the tarp material of the packaged camp. "I know my boys do!" Stinky and Pig run to his feet.

"I think we could use a night of relaxation," Harry says, wrapping his arm around Goldie. He nods to Grimmy as though they've come to some predestined agreement.

The stars above sprinkle across their beings, like salt on a soft pretzel. Goldie thinks about how insane it is that the stars she's seeing in the moment are already dead. How they're a metaphor for her experiences. Her fingers dance across the open sky, pushing against each beam of dead light. She plays as if it were a keyboard on each white piece, wishing each was a portal to a new world. An avenue that'll bring her to a universe undiscovered by man. Her Apollo 11.

She ducks her head into the tent. Harry lays, sprawled out and awaiting her appearance. Their tent was very purposefully separated from the rest of the group.

"I can't believe this is all coming to an end soon," Goldie notes, laying her head against Harry's chest.

"What do you mean?" Harry caresses his fingers through her blonde locks. He cradles her. She melts into it.

"In a few hours, we'll be back in California. We'll have The Midnight Special. I'll finish the article. And that will be it." A droplet of salty moisture falls from her eye, seeping through Harry's dirty Ramones shirt that she wore forever ago when she first took drugs with The Orphans. When she first kissed Harry. When she first experienced life. "This has been the most incredible experience I've ever taken part of. I never want it to end."

"And it doesn't have to." Harry feeds his hand through the bottom of his shirt. He stretches the hem up to her eyes and wipes away her unnecessary tears. "Me and you, Goldie. We're destiny. Not destined to be together. We're the very definition of destiny. There's a big difference. Do you get that? I saw you walking through the parking lot in those bell bottoms, mere hours after seeing you in the crowd, and I told myself 'she is mine.' I hope you understand how much I mean that."

Her heart pounds beneath the thin skin of her chest. Blood pumps through her veins. Her fingertips twitch with the need to write and her lungs contract with the desire to sing. Harry managed to bring out a piece of her that she never seemed to find. And it wasn't that she wasn't looking. But he sent her on a scavenger hunt for a treasure she never realized she needed. A portion of her soul she didn't realize was imperative to going on. The X on the dirty treasure map of her psyche.

"Harry, what do you want from this exactly?" Goldie points back and forth from him and her, like she did under the sheet in the hotel.

Harry grabs her knuckles, stopping her hand. Stopping her doubt. "I want nothing more than for you to realize," he kisses her cheek. "What you mean to me." He kisses her eyebrow. "And I need you to know," he wiggles himself down to her clavicle, "That you are worth the world." His lips trickle down her chest bone, between her breasts, to her navel. Her nipples stand on end in response to the sensation of his lips.

Young love. It's something that cannot be defined. It's sweet enough to be felt in the very depth of the soul. It's raw. An open wound.

We all walk through this world with a harsh, superiority complex. We know better. We know how to dodge pain. We know how to avoid what is inevitable for everyone else. Yet someone eventually introduces themselves into our lives and we begrudgingly open our arms with a closed heart. A cold and frigid moon. A piece of rock in the sky that's never felt the heat of any other entities around it.

Then we feel the heat of a distant star. We feel the stifled flames of someone that's been hurt just as must as us. We soak it in. We let our pores absorb the sweet sadness and fain to remember how our goal was to avoid tragedy. Remaining the darkness and letting our tears frigidly freeze. Is it worth it?

"I've never felt closer to you..." Harry nuzzles into Goldie's neck. Her skin is hot against his cold. His chapped lips purse against her soft goosebumps and he realizes he'll never be able to forget her presence. She'll remain there forever. In the crevices of his brain. In the corners of his cranium. There to teach him much needed lessons and love him in a way he's never been loved before. "I never realized how cold I felt before. You've completely warmed my heart."

"Harry," Goldie whispers in response. Her bottom lip brushes against his earlobe, sending a sweet chill down his spine. "I've never loved anything as much as I love you. You make me feel whole. For the first time in a very long time, I feel like I have an escape with you."

Memories flash before her eyes. Visions of her mom dancing up and down the aisle of her dad's record store. Blindly working in the ice cream shop. Digging her toes into the sand that she'd emersed her feet into so many times before. Harry kissing her forehead. Harry's fingertips against her forearms. His tongue between her legs. His chest pressed against hers. His voice singing to her.

Their short period of time together had somehow taken the majority of her thoughts. But she's a realist. She's aware it's ending.

The tears begin to stream down her face. This is it. They're a few short hours from California and that's it. The bittersweet end. The "Beast of Burden" to their "God Only Knows."

She cries as Harry's kisses spill across her flesh. The last moments she can soak in. She resolved that Sarah Lawrence was no longer an option but Rolling Stone presented something new. A full career. Exactly what she wanted. Or at least what she thought she wanted.

"Your voice, Belle," Harry kisses up her neck. "And your intuition. I talked to Grimmy and the band. They're all on board if you are."

She soaks in the feeling of Harry's tongue against her neck. Her eyes blink slowly. A detrimental scene in a movie you don't want to come to a close. Her toes curl in.

Goldie is the sun. She sits in the center, unaware of the effect she has on all those around her. She soaks them. She pulls them into her gravitational pull. The Orphans are lost without her at this point in their career. They need the guidance of a sweet angel willing to give a piece of herself to make a point about the world. But more than anything, they'd never seen anything so bright as her on stage. Goldie was the sun on stage. She was the brightest of everything in the galaxy. And no one could blame the surrounding constellations for falling into line in her presence.

"What do you mean?" she moans.

"Do you want to come on tour with us?" Harry asks, kissing up Goldie's thigh. His tongue presses against her clit almost immediately, unable to contain himself. She widens her legs in response, digging her fingers into his scalp.

He massages gently. She welcomes the sensation. Her eyes dart up to the opening of the tent. She takes in the sight of the night sky. The vulnerability of the absent air. The sweet smell of dewy grass. Her pupils roll back into her head at the intense feeling of his mouth pushed against her bundle of nerves.

Just as much as Rolling Stone expected an answer in the moment, so does Harry.

"Harry," Goldie says breathily.

"Michelle," his lips press harder against her. "You mean everything to me. I don't want anything but you. You're so talented."

Goldie tilts her head back in ecstasy and takes in every sensation. They are just a few hours away from their ultimate destination.

"Harry, what do you want?" She stops, pulling on his hair to look up at her eyes.

Harry rests his chin below her navel. His green eyes stare up at hers. "Well... what do you want?"

— End of Act 3 —