MJ made sure she was up bright and early the day they left to begin the tour. It was a huge tour, and she had no idea how many people were actually involved. They were leaving from LAX and flying to Australia first, and then to Singapore, the rest of Southeast Asia, and Japan, then across to the UAE, Africa, and Europe. They'd cross the Atlantic and hit South America, then, finally, after nearly eight months, they'd return to North America.

She reflected that she was actually very lucky that her father was so out of touch with pop culture, and had no idea how big the tour actually was. Heath Spencer and Meredith Renner were global phenoms, and their joint tour had been advertised all over LA, with massive billboards and ads that took up the sides of entire buses.

Her dad, however, didn't pay attention to much beyond the local news and the baseball scores, so all he told her the night before she left was to make sure she had clean underwear, and to call him as often as she could.

"I promise," she told him cheerfully. She successfully hid her fear of being on a plane for the first time in her life from her father.

"God, you're so beautiful," he proclaimed. "I wish your mama were alive to see you."

"Dad, stop," MJ begged, hugging him.

"Sorry, sorry," he said, kissing her cheeks. "I'll be quiet. And I won't cry in the morning, I promise."

And he'd been as good as his word, merely waving as she'd set off for the bus that would take her to the airport.

The first snafu of the trip occurred before they'd even boarded the flight. Something was wrong with their seats, it seemed.

MJ and Meredith had been put in coach instead of first class.

Oh no.

Sally, the tour manager, went up to the ticket counter at the boarding gate and argued with the flight officer for nearly half an hour, but nothing could be done. Meredith, who was standing next to MJ holding the handle of her designer carry on luggage in one hand and her Starbucks in the other, was turning interesting shades of red.

Finally, Sally came scurrying back to where MJ and Meredith were waiting.

"I'm sorry, love, there's nothing to be done," she began, addressing her remarks to Meredith. Sally had an adorable accent, MJ felt, like Anna from Downton Abbey. MJ felt bad for her. "On the bright side, it's only for this first leg of the tour. From Sydney on, it's all private charters, okay? I promise, this is not going to happen again."

"But this first leg's like sixteen fucking hours long, isn't it?" Meredith retorted, nostrils flaring. "There's no fucking way I'm sitting in fucking coach for all that fucking time, okay?" She handed her Starbucks cup to MJ and crossed her arms. "We're going to be crammed together like fucking sardines!"

"Please, Meredith, don't make a scene, yeah?" Sally pleaded. "Nearly the whole flight's people associated with the tour, you're going to be surrounded by people you know, it'll be grand, I promise--"

"If that's the case, then it shouldn't be a problem finding someone in first class to switch with me, then," Meredith retorted. She turned away as if the matter were closed.

Sally, too, turned away, as if hoping the walls of the terminal would provide inspiration. The rest of the people were silent, their embarrassment palpable.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, she can have my seat," someone spoke up.

Everyone standing parted in an effort to see the owner of the voice, and there were a few gasps as he rose, pulling his earbuds out as he did so.

MJ's eyes widened as she laid eyes on Heath Spencer in the flesh for the first time.

He was as good looking as his photographs advertised. He was tall, even taller than she was, which was saying something, nearly to the point of lankiness. He had blue eyes and dark hair that had a tendency to curl when it got long, which could be why he kept it cut so short.

He'd been part of a band until a few years ago, when they'd "taken a break;" MJ suspected, however, that the break was of a permanent nature, and they were just calling it a "break" so that young female hearts wouldn't be broken. Heath had always been MJ's favorite, and she considered him to have the best voice, to be the most talented. Not that she'd ever, ever, be brave enough to tell him that.

Ever.

He was making his way through the musicians, the back up singers, the crew, the publicists, and other people who MJ didn't even know to stand next to Sally, a look of impatience on his face.

"Oh god, Heath, no, you don't have to do that," Meredith protested with a smile, face palming, shaking her head, lovely blonde hair moving smoothly. "I never, ever meant that you of all people had to give up your seat, no way!" She looked around. "There's gotta be someone else, right?"

But no one else would meet her gaze, and MJ was embarrassed for her.

"Come on, this is ridiculous," Meredith declared, her voice getting a little strident. She turned to Sally. "Please, just pick someone."

But Sally was shaking her head. "He's volunteered, I don't see a reason to spend any more time on this, honestly," she said. She turned to the ground attendant. "We're all sorted, I think, let's board, please?"

Heath just stood through all of this, completely relaxed, fiddling with his earbuds. A slight smile played about his mouth.

MJ was impressed.

Meredith finally gave up, though she looked as angry as before, and ready to spit nails.

"Thank you, Heath," she said to Heath, who waved her words away with a smile.

"If I need you during the flight I'll text you, I guess," Meredith said to MJ as they were walking down the walkway.

"Oh, I'm sorry, but your seat, the first class seat you switched for? It's up at the very front, on the upper level," the flight attendant said. "And her seat is at the very back, on the lower level. She won't be able to go to you during the flight."

"Great, that's just wonderful," Meredith responded.

"Oh god, I'm so sorry," MJ said.

"It's not your fault," Meredith told her. "I'll manage."

MJ stood and watched Meredith climb the stairs to the upper level until Heath nudged her in the back with his suitcase. "Carry on," he said. "Don't worry, she'll manage," he repeated with a grin.

MJ just gave him a look as she got moving.

As the flight attendant said, her seat was at the very back, in front of the bulk head, but they had very kindly left the middle seat empty, so she and Heath had three seats between the two of them.

"It was very nice of you to switch with her," MJ volunteered as they stowed their luggage.

Heath shrugged as he closed the overhead bin. "Just wanted to get on the blasted plane already," he said. He gestured toward the seats. "Window or aisle?" he asked.

"Oh, uh, which do you prefer?" MJ asked.

"No, no, I asked you first," he chided.

"Oh, um, window, then," MJ decided, moving to take her seat. She hoped she wouldn't throw up in front of Heath Spencer.

So they sat down and buckled themselves into their seats. MJ pulled out her current book, The Goldfinch, and settled down to read, to try to distract herself from the fact that she was on a big, scary airplane.

"A person who reads actual books, how wonderful," Heath said from next to her.

She turned to him, embarrassed. "Yeah," she said. "I can't afford a Kindle, and my uncle Yanni owns a used book store, and he gives me a 100 percent family discount, so who could say no to that, right?" She smiled.

Heath smiled back. "You know, I just realized we've never been introduced." He held out his hand. "I'm Heath. Heath Michael Spencer."

MJ nearly laughed out loud, but managed not to. She nodded, and held her hand out, hoping it wasn't sweaty. "I'm MJ," she responded.

She tried to pull her hand out of his, and was surprised when he wouldn't release it.

"No, now, wait a minute, you're cheating," he said, his smile growing. "What's your actual name? Middle name and all?"

"Oh. Okay. You asked for it." MJ took a deep breath. "My name, middle name and all, is Meadow Rain Jassemolada." She shook his hand firmly and once again tried to pull her hand out, but again, he wouldn't release it.

Oh no. She knew it was getting sweaty by now.

Around her, the jet engine got louder as they prepared for take off.

Oh dear lord.

"You're joking." His blue eyes were merry.

"I'm not." She shook her head. "Look at me. I'm a Greek girl from head to toe."

He finally released her hand, and MJ resisted the urge to wipe it on her leg.

"But your first name? And--and your middle name?" He leaned closer so he could peer into her eyes. "Meadow Rain?"

"What about your name?" she countered. "Heath? I mean, our first names basically mean the same thing, don't they?"

He leaned back, eyes narrowing, nodding with new found respect. "Clever girl," he said.

The plane lurched forward as it accelerated for take off, and MJ gripped the arms of her seat, swallowing and closing her eyes.

"Meadow? I mean, MJ? Are you okay?" she heard Heath ask.

She was going to pretend, but she realized that, even though he was Heath Spencer, she couldn't, and she just shook her head.

"It's my first time on a plane," she admitted, her voice defeated. She could feel nervous perspiration at her hairline and in her armpits, and she knew she looked even more awful than usual.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she heard. She felt him shift to the seat next to hers, and the next thing she knew, his arm was around her shoulder. "It's okay, look, we're off the ground already, see?" And, incredibly, she felt his forehead leaning against hers. Couldn't he feel how sweaty and gross she was? Didn't he care? Then she felt him grasping her moist, clammy hand in his own.

What?

"Look, MJ, look, open your eyes," he encouraged.

She did, and she could see the buildings of Los Angeles glinting in the morning sun out the tiny, oval window.

"See? No worries, up, up and away, all the way to Australia, safe as houses, or however the saying goes," Heath said with a laugh.

He released her hand, and took his arm away from her shoulder, but remained in the seat next to hers.

MJ had never been this close to a boy before, let alone a world famous rock star.

She hoped she didn't smell bad.