How Long Is The Super Bowl Show Halftime Performance?

"Please, stop pushing. I can't take this anymore." The concert venue is packed tight. A man behind me keeps pressing into my backside. I'm wearing a mini skirt today with a thong underneath, and it only makes the situation worse. He lifts my skirt and presses himself against my hips. As the atmosphere heats up, someone in front of me slams into me, and I stumble back a step. My body stiffens as I feel like something just slid inside me.

Ophelia Lane, an emerging singer/songwriter who recently relocated to Nashville to pursue her dreams, found herself ghost-singing for Camila to afford her mother's medical treatment. She endured bullying from Camila and others for her mother and willingly hid her own talent until she met Asher, the Ozarks quarterback. Asher encouraged her singing and Ophelia wondered if she’d found true support in the athlete everyone called playboy. At their next concert, Camila humiliated Ophelia once more in front of everyone, and even prompting extreme fans to publicly assault her. "Loser?" Ophelia wondered, who was the real loser here? "I hope you regret messing with me." Soon, she found herself on stage, exposing the falsehood of Camila, being signed by an agent, receiving flowers, applause, and fortune, and trampling on those who once bullied her. On top of all this, Asher wants to take her on a date! But will Ophelia be able to juggle handling her newfound success alongside trusting him? "I like you," Asher said. Ophelia begins to question if their worlds are too vastly different. Asher comes from a completely different background than her own and while their passion is exciting, is it enough? Can they make it through the pressures of fame, career, and jealous ex-girlfriends? The Pop Star and the Playboy Quarterback is created by Cate Mattison, an eGlobal Creative Publishing signed author.

Nubia has her life planned out. She is working on her master's degree in post colonial studies. She has a quiet apartment and a schedule she sticks to. Every Wednesday night she finishes class at nine thirty, walks to the bus stop, and waits. The bus is always late. There is always a stranger sitting on the bench. He wears headphones and draws in a sketchbook. He never speaks. She calls him Pencil Boy in her phone and does not think much about it. Then one October night the bus is delayed by forty three minutes. Eli studies architecture but he draws people instead of buildings. He has been sketching Nubia for six weeks without ever saying a word. He is quiet and pays close attention to things. He has learned to keep people at a distance because it feels safer that way. But when the cold night gets to Nubia and he gives her his hoodie, the silence between them finally breaks. What begins as pie at a late night diner turns into a Wednesday night tradition. Then a friendship. Then something much deeper. As Nubia and Eli grow closer, they must face the things that make them different. Race. Class. The dreams they are chasing. The families they come from. And the strong pull of a connection neither of them can ignore. Set over one school year, 43 Minutes is a warm and sensual love story about two people learning to truly see each other. It is about letting yourself be seen. And it is about the moments that change your life in less than an hour but stay with you forever.

Studying abroad can be incredibly lonely at times. That night, I was in my room, indulging in a little treat for myself, when my best friend suddenly burst through the door. "Doing it yourself is no fun. Come on. There's a super cool cabaret show going on. Let's go see it together!" On stage, my friend was reclining in a chair behind the curtain, with two strong-looking men on top of her. "Come on. Join us for a group dance..."

After my song was cut short at karaoke, I found myself back at the song selection machine. I just had to wait for 28 more songs until it would finally be my turn again. The next song was called "The Answer". My boyfriend, John Aldama, and my best friend, Selena Summers, gave each other a look of mild disdain but decided to sing the duet to prevent an awkward silence. Their voices, one cool and one sweet, complemented each other perfectly. Ever since high school, they'd been neck and neck on the honor roll, always vying for first and second place. Even after joining a top-tier company, they'd constantly bicker over projects. Even years after graduation, the people in our high school group chat were still "shipping" their "love-hate dynamic". No matter how hard I tried, I always remained the forgotten third person, an overlooked backdrop. Listening to them sing, I suddenly felt so tired. I no longer felt like singing the song that I had to wait endlessly for. I quietly deleted the song I'd selected and sent a confirmation to the email that asked me to be relocated abroad for work.

I was the most troublesome six-year-old little tyrant in Aviator Gardens, Silverpine, Franklin. My dad was an airline captain, and my mom was the principal dancer of the Silverpine Ballet Company. I was the proof of their love. Whenever Dad returned from a flight, the first thing he did was rub his stubbled cheek against mine; Mom even insured her hands for a fortune because she used them to braid my hair. I could cover the walls with paint and refuse every part of a pork rib except the crunchy cartilage. Then last night, while hiding in the closet during hide-and-seek, I suddenly heard a strange countdown announcement. [Only a few days remain before the host's parents confess their divorce.] [Prepare yourself. Because the host is excessively unruly, male lead Adrian Johnston has decided to leave the marriage with nothing, while female lead Elena Johnston has already contacted a boarding school.] [They will soon build separate families and welcome obedient new babies.] In the dark closet, I covered my mouth with both hands while tears soaked my face. The next morning, Mom brought me warm milk, and Dad waited with a hairbrush. I did not roll across the bed shouting that I refused to go to preschool. I pulled on the hardest pair of uniform overalls by myself and silently drank every drop of milk without leaving a stain. Then I walked to Dad, looked up, twisted the edge of my shirt in both hands, and spoke through a trembling voice. "Mommy, Daddy, I won't draw on the walls anymore. I won't ask for rib cartilage. I'll wash my own socks... When you go to your new homes, can you...can you take me with you?"