The light that filtered through the stained glass windows of the chapel perfectly illuminated the golden reflections. Our breath escaped our bodies as we watched them take the bottle of whiskey as they brought it to their mouths to taste. We watched with a kind of twisted excitement, almost wishing someone would come in and see us drinking with one of the camp counselors. It was mesmerizing to watch them and the way they threw their heads back every time they laughed, and how they had to take a sip of the almost empty bottle before finishing the stories they told about their school holiday getaways. It was one of the most dangerous things we've ever done. Say no to plagiarism. Get a tailor-made essay on "Why Violent Video Games Shouldn't Be Banned"? Get an original essay. Taylor and I had been best friends since birth, thanks to our mothers' long-standing friendship. We had stolen cartons of strawberry milk from the cafeteria and books from the book fair, but nothing compared to this. We were learning all about getting to know one of the hottest camp counselors. We would have done anything to say that we knew them on a different level than the other kids at camp knew them. We didn't know their favorite color, or their favorite food, but we knew their favorite drink and how many they would have to drink to start dancing shirtless. We knew their favorite bars and how many bartenders they had slept with. We knew their questions about God and whether He was real. We also knew their favorite hiding place near the tall oak tree, and how much they would like to secretly drink their whiskey and wait for the other counselors to let them taste their whiskey lips in the dark. “What's so great anyway?” Taylor blurted out, staring intently at the whiskey bottle. “It makes you see the world differently,” the counselor replied in the sweetest voice in the world. “Why would you do that?” Taylor asked, to which the counselor responded by arguing that the world would be a much better place with open-minded people who didn't place such heavy restrictions on their lives because of age or gender. Returning to our bunk, this was the only thing we repeated in our heads. I wondered why the counselor would ever want to see God's perfect Earth in a different light. Maybe it would make the relationship between me and them more acceptable. I didn't know, and neither did Taylor. We stayed up for hours debating who the counselor would end up with and whether or not our mother would accept the relationship. “I always hear about how 'love is love,'” Taylor whispered, letting the words pierce the silence that had remained unbroken for some time as we contemplated our feelings toward the counselor, “but it's just talk, no one actually it feels that way. " I let this sink into my brain, really soaking in the meaning. I felt like there was no true love beyond what I felt towards the counselor, but if it was so real and true, why was it wrong? Because I wasn't allowed to express my love towards my mentor? Why couldn't I kiss them? Why couldn't I hug them? It was more than just the fact that Taylor was in love with the same person as me, because my love was bigger and truer than what Taylor felt Taylor around saying that the counselor liked me more because they always offered me whiskey before tipping the bottle back to Taylor. Taylor knew this was my way of making what we were doing with the counselor more acceptable, but yeah it offended every time anyway. I would make a comment like that.