AN: Okay, a few things, I'm sorry, I swore I was going to try to avoid ANs. ANYway. You guys have probably noticed a decided lack of smut in this story lol. That's by design, I swear! I'm doing it on purpose. I'm trying to see if I can write a story that will hold up without it, if I can build a romance that's just as compelling, just as imperative, where you feel their angst and emotions just as much. Don't get me wrong, it's coming lol, just not until later, probably like the UK Crush books, you know? Also, I'm trying not to "head-hop," so much. For those of you who don't know, "head-hopping" is where the POV (point of view) jumps around within the same chapter, sometimes from paragraph to paragraph, from one character to another. I do it all the time. Lots of "older" writers (mainly Stephen King, my god, ) do it, and it's considered out of fashion and very bad and weak. A writer is supposed to at least change chapters to change POVs. So up to now everything's been MJ's POV. So this chapter will be from Heath's. The truth is that if I were going to do this, I shouldn't have waited so long, but whatever, my work, my way, right? Okay, with that said, ever onward!
Wait, wait, two more things! 🌟1. Wattpad block party! Did you enter my giveaway?? Autographed copy of Pete & Daisy (or an Amazon gift card, whichever lol), and lots and lots of such cool stuff from so many other amazing Wattpad peeps! Add the book to your library and read it, it's all there! And 2. I was sitting behind a little girl on the bus the other day who had hair like how I imagined Clio's would be when she was very little, so I snuck a couple pics, and I'm going to stick them into chapter 6 of book two, Pete's Bouquet, where Daisy and Clio are on the bus, just as a cute visual aid, so go and look if you want!

🌸🛫🌸🛫🌸🛫🌸🛫🌸🛫🌸

Heath shifted his bag to his other shoulder and pulled his beanie lower over his hair, hoping he could make it through the airport unnoticed. He knew, though, that with his entourage, the chances of this happening were close to zero. For this latest tour, he'd had to up his security detail to two, plus the interpreter, who was necessary, even in cosmopolitan Japan, to get him through the numerous checkpoints at Narita airport, where security had been very tight, even before 9/11, he'd heard.

Not that he wasn't glad to have them, of course. His people were always very kind, very courteous to him and everyone they came into contact with; Heath insisted on this, and they knew it. There were many celebrities who didn't care, who were fine with fans being brushed aside with brusqueness and indifference by body guards and the like. Heath, however, had learned from watching other famous people, and the ones with staying power, the ones who really became international superstars, were the ones who were kind to everyone, all the time.

He could hear some fans up ahead, but thankfully, they were behind a barrier. Japanese fans weren't usually a problem, anyway. They were very polite, even when they were screaming, covering their mouths when they laughed, shaking their heads politely when asked a question.

In a way, Heath reflected, their responses, their body language, reminded him of MJ, Meredith's new PA, who always covered her mouth, for some strange reason, who always tried to hang back, tried to make herself small.

He ruminated on MJ while he waited in a very comfortable lounge for the crew to do something to the plane so he could board. It was supposed to be a sign of his status that he was alone, that he didn't have to wait with the rest of the rabble whilst they did whatever they were doing, but it was actually just dull, Heath reflected.

He worried about MJ, if the truth be told. She seemed so young to Heath, just way too guileless and ingenuous for the world and job into which she'd been thrust.

What had her father been thinking to just let her wander off into the world, literally, onto a world tour with a bitch like Meredith Renner?

Big, kind, clumsy, trusting, adorable MJ, whose huge, beautiful brown eyes would blink and fill with tears if a person even looked at her too long definitely should not be in the employee of a barracuda like Meredith Renner.

No way.

Heath had nearly fallen off his bed the other day when he'd played the guitar with her, and she'd begun to throw in  improvs. And they weren't simple little chord progressions, either, they were amazing ad libs that came from a place of knowledge and strength, that added to the depth of the song.

Then, when she'd opened her mouth and begun to sing—Heath smiled to himself as he sat in the airport lounge remembering his feeling of shock as he heard her voice propping up his own in harmony, her beautiful contralto grabbing his bass and entwining with it, the way the best kiss would just grab your mouth and join with it, turning it into something amazing.

Heath could only stare at her and continue to sing.

And when they finally made eye contact, Heath had felt something go through him, like a jolt of electricity. It was something he only felt when the music was exceptional. He wondered if MJ had felt it, too.

And the guitar, which was his instrument, which he loved, was limited, limiting, he knew.

He wanted to play the guitar while MJ played the piano, to see what it was like, to see if it was just as amazing, just as marvelous. But he could tell that this was a lot for MJ, and he didn't want to push too hard, so he hadn't.

He could wait.

All these thoughts went through his head as he sat in the airport lounge.

"So sorry, Mr. Spencer, the plane is ready, if you'll please follow," an airport employee said, bowing and gesturing at the door that connected to the walkway.

Heath rose and followed him, hoping that Sally remembered to seat Meredith somewhere else. He was very professional, and he had agreed to all the photo ops without a murmur, and would continue to do so, but this didn't mean he had to spend one minute extra with her behind the scenes.

He was looking forward to the next leg of their tour, which would be Europe, nice easy to navigate by bus Europe. He saw MJ sitting in a window seat next to an empty chair and brightened.

"You ready for this monster flight?" he asked as he slid into the seat.

"What do you mean?" MJ asked. "Someone said it was about the same as the one from Singapore to here. Is that not right?"

"Oh, no, someone was yanking your chain, MJ, this flight's about twice as long as that one," Heath told her. "We're going to be in the air about twelve hours."

MJ's eyes widened. "What?" She leaned toward Heath a little bit. "How? Can the plane even fly that long? What if we—what if we—you know, run out of fuel?"

Heath leaned back a little so he could really see her face. "Are you joking?"

He put a pacifying hand on her shoulder when he saw the look on her face. "Okay, okay, you're not joking, sorry, sorry I asked, honest. MJ, don't worry, we won't run out of fuel, some very smart people calculated the entire thing, I promise."

He chuckled as he leaned back and buckled his seat belt, accepting a glass of champagne from a passing flight attendant, grabbing an extra glass for MJ as well. He shrugged when she shook her head and began drinking from both glasses.

"Oh, guess what?" he began, trying to distract MJ during the take off. She was already grasping the arm rests very tightly, Heath could see.

"What?" she asked, peering through the window to see if they were moving yet.

"You're going to have a brush with greatness," he declared.

As he hoped, she looked away from the window and at him, pretty brown eyes huge.

He nodded, grinning. "You're going to meet one of the most glamorous and famous people in the world, MJ, you lucky girl!"

MJ grinned back, and Heath noticed that she had a tiny dimple on the right side of her mouth.

"More famous than you?" she teased.

The plane was taxiing down the runway now, gathering speed, but MJ didn't seem to have noticed.

His plan was working.

Heath nodded.

"Nigel's coming to Abu Dhabi for a few days," he told her, eyebrows raised.

MJ drew in a breath, her smile huge. "Nigel? As in Nigel Cunningham? Your old bandmate from The Jacks?"

Heath nodded.

"Oh my god, you weren't kidding, were you?" MJ asked. "He was even more popular than you were!"

"I know!" Heath agreed enthusiastically. He settled back as the plane rose in the sky. "I'm trying to arrange for all four of us to get together when we're in New York, but it's a bit harder when it's all of us, you know? But Charlie lives there, so I'm hoping."

MJ turned to him. "But even if that happened, there would be no earthly reason for me to be there, right?" She shook her head, making her curly hair sway prettily. "I mean, even this time, with Nigel, why would I even meet him? I'm Meredith's assistant, and he's coming to see you, you know?"

"Of course you're going to meet him," Heath contradicted with energy. "I want him to hear you play and sing, for one thing.

"No, now, stop," he continued, when she began to protest, like he'd known she would. "Shh, shh, just shut it!" he finally said, covering her mouth with his hands. Her eyes grew huge with surprise, making him smile. "You should see how offended and upset you look, it's so cute," he said as he uncovered her mouth.

"Anyway, if we do manage to all get together in New York, of course you're going to be there as well," he told her firmly. "I want you to meet Charlie and his bird, Jane, and Johnny as well."

"Did you just call Charlie's girlfriend a 'bird'?" MJ asked.

Heath smiled. "Yeah, just to mess with you," he admitted.

The plane had leveled off at last, and Heath felt he could relax and not worry about MJ quite so much.

"You guys were formed through a contest, right?" she asked.

Heath nodded. "Through the same company that created UK Crush," he told her. "They were trying to recreate the same success again, you know, capture lightning in a bottle twice sort of thing? They were marginally successful, I guess," he went on, shrugging.

"What do you mean, 'marginally successful',?" MJ asked. "You guys were crazy successful, and now you're all really popular as solo artists, too."

Heath nodded and sighed. "I suppose so, but that's almost in spite of everything. You don't know the whole story."
"Tell me," MJ requested. "Just the broad strokes, if you want," she amended.

Heath nodded. "Well, they were really into trying to put us into the UK Crush mold at the beginning, like making us just like those guys? I mean, don't get me wrong, those guys are great, and so fucking talented, you know? And even though they were strangers when they met, they became so close, like tighter than an actual family, I think, and it shows in their music.

"So I love the guys, but we're not UK Crush, and we never will be. But that's what management wanted.

"For example, when they picked Johnny? All they knew about him was that he could sing really well, dance like a maniac, was really good looking, and his last name was Ezekwesili. They wanted one of us to have that immigrant, street cred thing, and they thought Johnny was him, you know? So they hired him, signed the contracts and everything, then they find out that his last name is actually 'Darling-Ezekwesili,' it's a hyphenate, his father's like, a third generation immigrant from Nigeria, that no one from his family's even lived there for ages, that he's related to the fucking royal family, they're aristocracy, the whole bit."

Heath scooted companionably closer to MJ so he could rest his head on her shoulder, and began twirling some of her hair around his finger.

"So they had to keep him, even though he had absolutely nothing to do with the mean streets of London or whatever, and was practically a blue-blood. They decided they could make him work, even though he was practically a baron. You know what called him? Because of his initials? J. D. E.?"

Next to him, MJ shook her head.

"Just Dark Enough. Can you believe it? Isn't that terrible? Johnny almost walked when he found out," Heath told her. "But by then he'd met the rest of us, and we all got on, and he really wanted to do it. So we all decided the best way to get back at them would be to get as successful as possible and walk away. And that's what we did.

"None of us were diverse, which was what they wanted," Heath concluded with a laugh. "Not that UK Crush were particularly diverse. I mean, Matthew Campbell's parents were both doctors, for fuck's sake, you know?"

MJ nodded again.

"But, Gethin Wren's parents were sheep farmers in Wales, and I think Ronan Donohue's parents ran a grocery or something, so at least they were working class, I suppose. None of us were, though, and that upset them so much," Heath said with a little laugh. "But that sure as shit wasn't our fault, was it? I mean, we couldn't help it if we were gentry, or whatever the fuck the correct term is, right?"

He felt MJ nodding next to him, and let go of her hair.

"You don't mind that I asked to sit next to you again?" he asked, looking at her carefully.

MJ shook her head. "Why would I mind? she asked, though Heath noticed that she did not look at him when she did.

He shrugged. "I don't know, maybe you'd rather sit by someone else."

Even in the dim light of the cabin, he could tell she was blushing. "Who are we kidding? You wouldn't tell me even if you hated sitting next to me, would you?"

MJ finally looked over at him. "You think I can answer that?" she asked.

Heath smiled, shaking his head. "Luckily, I believe you're telling the truth," he said, flicking her hair.

"You're so confident," she said with a smile, making the tiny dimple pop. It was very dear.

"Ah, MJ, let's get a little sleep before they try to feed us some of that delicious airplane food."

He settled back and pulled her curly head down on his shoulder. "I'll even let you dribble on my shoulder, how's that?" he asked rhetorically, patting her hair.