The powers that be had decided that the tour needed a long break in Abu Dhabi before moving on to Europe, so they had a week there, even though they were only putting on two shows, three days apart, at the same venue, so the atmosphere was very relaxed, and MJ even unpacked a little bit, opening up her guitar stand and setting her well-used Martin out to rest on it. It had been a gift from her father when she graduated from eighth grade, and she'd always treasured it, thinking of how many burgers he'd had to flip, how many moussakas he'd had to bake at the diner to pay for it.

MJ looked out the window of her hotel room on the fifteenth floor, marveling that she was actually here in the capital of the UAE. The city that lay sprawled out before really looked like a city from the future, like a setting for a sci-fi adventure or something. The old glittered next to the new, palm trees waved next to shiny glass skyscrapers, and she could see a bit of indigo ocean and a rectangular pool in her field of vision. She'd never understood why someone would build a pool so close to such beautiful oceans.

MJ lay down on the bed for a quick nap, and slept through until the next day, simply because she was exhausted, and no one called or texted her until Meredith the next morning, asking where the hell she was?

She grabbed a quick bagel at the ubiquitous Starbucks in the lobby and ran out to the car.

"Good lord, MJ, did you sleep in your clothes?" Meredith asked.

"Yeah, I actually did," MJ answered. "Sorry to keep you waiting."

"Well, I guess we can let it go, since we're just going to be setting up, and we're coming back before the show, but as a rule, you can't run around looking like you got run over by a truck, you know?" Meredith said.

Meredith, of course, looked perfect in her size two Capri jeans and pink T-shirt. Her minimal make-up was perfectly applied, and her messy bun looked just the right amount of messy, not bed-head, couldn't-get-a-brush-through-it-if-she-tried messy like MJ's.

They got to the venue and ran into Heath backstage.

"Morning ladies," he called. He, too, looked absolutely beautiful to MJ, with a bit of dark scruff that he might or might not shave off for the show, ripped up cut-offs with the pockets showing and a tank top that showed off his biceps. His feet were shod in old Vans that were so perfectly distressed that it looked like he'd wrapped his feet neatly in rags.

"MJ, aren't those the same clothes you were wearing yesterday? Had a busy night, you naughty girl?" he teased, tugging at the hem of her shirt. He cocked his eyebrow at her while lifting the corner of his mouth in a suggestive grin.

"Oh, please, you think Moose Jugs here did anything but fall down in her own bed and oversleep?" Meredith interjected, shaking her head. "She couldn't find time to change, but you notice she did manage to find time to feed her face," she continued, gesturing to the bit of bagel MJ was still holding.

Heath turned to stare at Meredith, eyes wide, while MJ just stood, biting her lips and looking off to the side.

"Oh, what, you're allowed to make jokes but I'm not?" Meredith huffed, looking at Heath. "She knows I'm only teasing, don't you?" She looked at MJ and put an arm around her shoulders.

MJ looked back at her and smiled, nodding. "Sure, sure I do." She looked at Heath and nodded again. "It's okay, Heath. I'm fine."

"There, you see? She's fine." Meredith squeezed MJ's shoulder before releasing her. "She can take a joke, even if you can't, Heath Spencer."

The three of them turned and walked down the backstage corridor together, and Heath made a point of walking next to MJ and putting a hand on her back, though Meredith couldn't see it. He kept it there, rubbing from time to time, a friendly gesture of solidarity and comfort, a gesture MJ had said she didn't need, but felt gratitude for nonetheless.

They spent the day prepping for that night's show. Both Heath and Meredith did sound checks to make sure the levels were right, and Meredith again did her costume changes. Delilah, who was in charge of her wardrobe, had all of them ready on three gigantic racks offstage, and was a wizard at whipping them on and off Meredith's perfect body. Meredith wouldn't let anyone else handle her quick changes, and it was easy to see why; they worked together perfectly in sync, with no wasted movements. MJ had to admit, when it came to show time, Meredith put all her petulance aside and got it done. What she lacked in talent and depth she more than made up for in sheer diligence.

Whenever she needed something, she'd send MJ a text, or simply call out, if MJ was close enough; to MJ's embarrassment, however, she began calling her "Moose Jugs," or "Moose Jaw," or even "Moose Joints," though this one made no sense at all to MJ. And there wasn't much she could do about it. At least she could take comfort in the fact that no one else seemed to hear it. It was very busy, and unless the words were directed at them, no one really listened.

Except Heath, of course. He was aware every time, it seemed, and he was getting angrier and angrier.

He sent MJ a text around lunch time that simply said

MURDER. MURDER IS IN MY ❤️

MJ laughed and sent back:

Relax, kind sir. Who cares what she calls me, as long as she calls me? Its just a job. You do yours, she'll do hers, and I'll do mine, and that is all.

Almost immediately she got another text:

You're a much better person than me.

Followed almost immediately by:

Or do I mean 'You're a much better person than *I*'??

MJ laughed and sent back:

Oh boy, are you opening a can of worms! If you mean 'than' as a conjunction, you want 'I,' but if you mean 'than' as a preposition, you want 'me,' lol--so which is it??

Heath read the text and laughed out loud onstage, apologizing to his bandmates. He quickly typed out:

Fuck me, are you serious right now? I didn't think I meant either one of those things??

MJ, too, laughed out loud from her place backstage, and sent:

Okay, okay, how about if we just forget the whole thing, then?

Heath quickly sent:

Yes, yes, please! 🙏🏻👍🏻

MJ laughed again and put her phone away.

It was only a few minutes later that Heath realized MJ had successfully shut him down regarding getting back at Meredith somehow for her appalling treatment of her PA.

🌴🌙🌴🌙🌴🌙🌴🌙🌴

MJ washed her face, brushed her teeth, and crawled gratefully into bed. She had just turned the lamp off when her phone pinged with a text. She was surprised, because she really thought she'd set it to silent.

She was honestly tempted to just ignore it because she was exhausted. Who knew that catering to the whims of a spoiled, twenty-something year old girl child would be so tiring? But a day spent fetching chai iced teas and make-up bags, taking her jacket to the bathroom to get a stain out with toothpaste, was delirium inducing after a few hours.

MJ sighed and picked up her phone, squinting at it.

You awake? Can I come over?

As she read it, she heard knocking on her door.

She smiled and got out of bed, turning on the lamp again on her way to the door.

She opened the door to find Heath, garbed in Peppa Pig PJs, carrying a bottle of wine and the biggest bag of Oreos she'd ever seen.

"Good evening," she said, letting him in.

"Hi," he replied. He went straight to her bed and plopped down on it, saying nothing about the fact that it had obviously been recently slept in. "Cute nightie, MJ, you look very fetching, I must say."

"I'm surprised you're here," MJ said, ignoring his remark about her nightshirt. She joined him on the bed.

"Why?" Heath answered, happily oblivious to her sarcasm, opening the Oreos and offering them to her. "The night's still young, as are we," he said, taking a glug from the bottle.

"Well, last time I saw you, you were in the clutches of three or four very attractive young ladies who had somehow made their way backstage. They were talking about taking you to some of Abu Dhabi's more colorful night clubs, if I'm not mistaken," MJ said, taking an Oreo from the proffered bag.

Heath made a face. "Those slags," he said succinctly. "Why in the world would I want to spend time with them?"

MJ was surprised.

"Those girls were pretty, though," she objected, getting serious. She took a drink from the bottle. "I mean, isn't that they way things are done? On tour?" She blinked at Heath in the dim light, shrugging. "Everything I've seen, everything I've read, you know, about groupies or whatever--" she broke off, then continued. "It's a mutually beneficial arrangement. They get to be with their idol, you get anonymous, no strings attached sex with pretty faces and good bodies?"

Heath was staring at MJ.

"Good lord, MJ, is that what you think of me? That all I'm after is 'anonymous sex with pretty faces and good bodies'?"

MJ leaned back a little.

"Well--I mean--I guess not, but--I mean--" she stuttered, unsure of herself. "Not just you, all men, right?"

MJ stopped and took another long drink from the bottle.

"All men?" Heath repeated. "What about your father? Or President Obama?"

MJ smiled a little in spite of herself.

"Okay, I'm sorry, not all men," she conceded. "All young, good-looking men, men who could have anyone, men in your position." She shook her head. "This is coming out all wrong," she said. "But don't pretend you don't know what I mean. We both know what's what, right?" She leaned forward, her words becoming intense. "Everyone talks a good game, but all other things being equal, all men choose the pretty girl, every fucking time, don't they?"

She hadn't intended for her words to come out sounding quite so bitter. She tried to smile to mitigate them, though she didn't know if she was successful.

"And that's fine," she rushed on, tripping over her words. "I get that. I mean, if you have two girls who are equally nice, equally funny, equally smart, and one looks like Meredith, and one looks like me, why wouldn't you pick her, right?"

MJ sat back to indicate she was finished speaking, handing back the bottle.

"Just for the record," Heath said, taking a deep breath. "I'm not going to lie, there was a time, years ago, when I did the whole groupie thing, but that's long been over. I learned long ago that the cheap approach gets the cheap payout, and I'm not interested in those people. I'm not interested in anonymous sex with pretty faces and good bodies, and I'm hurt that you'd think that about me."

He continued before MJ could say anything.

"You asked me about Meredith once," Heath said. "And I didn't want to tell you at the time. I'll tell you now, okay?" He took a swallow of wine. "We dated, she cheated on me, I found out and confronted her, she lied to my face about it, and we broke up." He leaned back on his elbows. "Up until she lied to me, it was the cheating that hurt. After she lied, though, it became about the lying, you know?

"People who look like her," he went on. "People who use it, who never learn to get past it, it becomes like a crutch, it cripples them or something. And it ends up making them ugly." He shook his head. "I wouldn't touch her again with a ten foot barge pole."

"She still has feelings for you, though," MJ said, wondering how they'd gotten on this topic, when moments before, they'd been talking about his pretty groupies.

She had the feeling they were both pretty drunk already.

Heath was nodding. "I know," he said. "It's getting a little awkward." He sat up and took another drink, and ate a few cookies.

"I like to keep my life pretty compartmentalized," he told MJ. He ticked them off on his fingers. "First, there's my professional life, onstage. It's my work, it's what I show my fans. Then there's what I call my media life, Twitter, gossip rags, paps, all that crap. It's meaningless, anyone who believes it is so stupid they deserve to be lied to, you know? Then there's my personal life, what I have with my friends and family. That's private and real, and important to me." He smiled at MJ, looking so handsome in the lamplight MJ was sure she was growing wings and flying away. "Like what we're doing right here."

He ate another cookie. "Meredith has been relegated to the second category, she has been for years. Sometimes we do something in the first category, if we perform together, but never, ever, the third." He looked grimly at MJ. "She did that to herself when she lied to me."

MJ nodded. "I get it, I do."

She drank some more wine.

"So where does Nigel fall?" she asked.

"Nigel is definitely one and three," Heath grinned. "He's the most amazing person, MJ. He quit school to be in The Jacks, then, after we went on hiatus, he decided to go back, and got in to Oxford, just like that. He's our golden boy, you know?"

MJ nodded. He was the tallest in the band, the only blond, with surfer good looks.

"I can't wait for you to meet him, I really can't," Heath enthused. "He's going to lose his mind when he hears you play and sing, he really is." Heath nodded and grabbed MJ's foot, which was near his head.

Heath sat up and switched around, so he was lying next to MJ, his head on the pillow next to hers.

She lay down and they continued to talk, and eventually Heath just reached up and turned off the lamp. They continued talking in the dark.

"Oh god," Heath said, laughing.

"What?"

"MJ, we drank the whole fucking bottle!"

"Huh? No! We couldn't have!"

Heath groped and handed her the bottle in the dark. "I'm not shitting you, here, take it, feel! It's fucking empty!"

"Oh my god!"

Heath laughed again. "I know! And it was one of those huge buggers, too!" He took it back from her and carefully set it on the floor next to the bed.

"Heath?"

"Yeah?"

"This is the first time I've ever been drunk, I think!"

"Really?"

He could feel her nodding in the dark.

"Except for maybe at my cousin Minodora's wedding," MJ mused.

Heath burst out laughing. "That's not a real name," he said.

"It is so," she insisted, joining him in laughing.

"I'd better get back to my room and get some sleep," he said finally.

"I guess so," she agreed. "What time is it, anyway?" She looked at her phone. "Wow, after 3:00," she answered her own question.

"Unless I stay here...?" Heath suggested.

MJ considered. "Like a slumber party?" she asked finally. "Um, okay."

"Okay," Heath agreed, nodding in the dark.

"Uh, what are you doing?"

"Oh, well, I was going to kiss you goodnight...is that okay?"

Silence.

"Sure."

"MJ?"

"Yeah?"

"Have you ever kissed anyone before?"

Silence.

"I think you just shook your head. Did you?"

"Yes."

"Oh. Well, that's okay. Do you want me to kiss you goodnight? I mean, is it okay? Or would you rather I not?"

"It's okay."

"Great! Ace. Okay, then, ready?"

MJ nodded, then felt his lips pressing on hers. They were so soft, and warm. Hot, even. They came and went, opening and closing a little, pressing and releasing, and she could feel his tongue swiping along her lower lip, like he was asking her to open up.

So she did, and then his tongue was inside her mouth. Not far, not so she was choking on it or anything, but he was leaning into her, pressing, like he was liking it, liking her, liking being close to her, sliding his hands up her back, lifting his leg over hers so he could pull her body closer.

Oh wow.

Then his hand was cupping her cheek, his fingers were brushing her face, and MJ made a noise, half way between a moan and a whimper, because she couldn't help it, and she felt his lips lift in a smile because he liked it, and at that moment her life was as perfect as it had ever been.

And then he was pulling back, and it was over.

He pressed a soft kiss into her forehead, and pulled her close, and MJ realized that he intended for them to fall asleep like this.

"Good night, MJ."

"Good night, Heath."