The buffet laid out by craft services was huge. It would have to be, MJ supposed, to feed all of the people necessary to put on two stage shows, but still. Her eyes grew large trying to take in the rows upon rows of food.

She'd been given a laminate to wear around her neck that would get her access anywhere backstage at all the venues for the duration of the tour. The hardest part for her, she could already tell, would be to act as if she belonged there; all-access laminate notwithstanding, she'd already been challenged twice today because she looked suspicious, like she didn't belong. She'd had to lift her pass and show it to security, who checked her name on a clipboard to confirm her identity. Things would get better once people knew she was, probably, and vice versa.

She could hear Heath, who was onstage, going through his show. He sounded amazing, as usual, his voice ranging from dreamy falsetto to a swoon-inducing scratchy basso-profundo.

Meredith had a friend from New York visiting her, so she'd excused MJ after having her bring them some food, and MJ, after grabbing a sandwich for herself, sat down off to the side out in the house so she could enjoy watching Heath. She sat in the near darkness, reflecting that she was actually living a dream come true for most of the female population of the entire world. Actually, never mind female, Heath's popularity crossed all boundaries.

She nearly spat out her food when Heath spoke her name into the microphone.

"MJ?"

She sat up in alarm. Could he see her?

He laughed as he looked at her.

"Relax, you're not in trouble or anything," he continued. "You're the only one sitting out there, at the moment, so I thought I'd ask how it sounded to you, that's all, honest." He looked at her expectantly, eyebrows raised.

MJ finally gave him a thumbs up and a nod with an embarrassed smile, which made him laugh again.

"Wonderful, thanks loads," he said, shaking his head at her. He turned to the band. "Apparently everything's good, guys," he said, which made them laugh as well.

MJ wanted to disappear into her seat. As soon as Heath began his next song, she grabbed her sandwich and climbed to the highest level of the arena, where she once again sat, this time putting in her earbuds as extra insulation against her environment. The air-conditioning was stronger up here, which felt nice. She finished her sandwich, then leaned back, eyes closed, letting the air-conditioning cool her off as she listened to the music.

Someone sat next to her with a whoosh, making her jump and let out a little scream. She yanked her earbuds out.

"Hey, why'd you disappear way up here?" Heath asked with an easy smile. "Took me ages to find you."

"Oh, sorry. It's, uh, cooler up here."

"Yeah, I suppose so." Heath looked around. "Wow, it's really high, isn't it? You can see the whole place. Sort of amazing."

MJ looked at Heath, smiling at his pleasure. "Are you already finished rehearsing?"

"Well, it's not a rehearsal per se," he told her. "It's more of a sound check, you know? Just so tech can get the levels?" He gestured toward the stage, where Meredith was singing. "She needs more time than I do. Her stuff is more, erm, involved, I guess you could say?" he finished with a grin.

MJ watched Meredith along with Heath for a minute.

Meredith had dancers onstage with her, and they were doing some complicated choreography, with lots of twirling and kicking. Meredith had a headset on, with a mouthpiece. More dancers waited just offstage.

"Mer's got costume changes, the whole bit, so she's got a lot more to practice, to make sure everything goes smoothly, you know? She needs more stage time."

Heath gestured toward MJ's earbuds and phone. "What were you listening to?" he asked. "You were miles away."

"Oh, just music," MJ said.

"I know it was music," Heath responded, smiling and shaking his head as if she were slow. "What kind?" He gestured in a "hand it over" motion.

MJ swallowed as she passed him her phone.

He cocked one eyebrow as he read her playlist. "The Ramones, the Clash, Echo and the Bunnymen? My my my, exemplary taste in music, MJ."

"I was feeling kind of punk today," MJ said with an embarrassed smile.

"I can see," Heath murmured, lifting one side of his mouth in a sexy smile. "Let's have a look at some of your other playlists, shall we?"

MJ sat in quiet agony while Heath scrolled through her phone, looking up at her from time to time, startled re-evaluation in his eyes.

"You, MJ, have amazingly good taste in music."

MJ let out her breath. "You really think so? Even, like, Hanson? The Bay City Rollers?"

He grinned at her. "I happen to love Hanson," he informed her, nudging her shoulder with his own. "The Bay City Rollers I could maybe do without," he added with a shrug.

"No," MJ interrupted, "You just haven't really listened, I bet. Let me play you something, you'll see. Please?"

She couldn't believe talking to a boy could be this easy. And not just any boy, but the boy, the man, one of the most eligible and sought after men in the universe.

Wow.

They stayed up there while Meredith got all of her costume changes and dance moves down, listening to songs and laughing about nothing in particular.

"How old are you?" Heath asked. "I only ask because you remind me of my sister, Poppy," he added.

"I'm twenty-two," MJ responded.

"Poppy's just twenty," Heath went on. "She's at Uni now."

"Would it be weird if I told you that I already knew that?" MJ said, making a little face. She covered her face with her hand, shaking it. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I know it's so weird, but I didn't want to lie, you know?"

"No, it's fine," Heath said, pulling her hand from her face as he smiled. "I don't want you to feel like you have to act different around me, I don't."

"Okay," MJ said, looking straight ahead. "So I know you have a sister, Penelope, who goes by Poppy, who's twenty, who goes to Cambridge, who's studying Linguistics. And I know you have a younger brother, Archie, who's fifteen, who goes to Harrow, which is where you went until you joined the Jacks and quit school." MJ took a deep breath. "I know you're twenty-five, and you're really smart, and you could've gone to college wherever you wanted, probably, but you didn't so you could pursue your career, and I know you're probably still good friends with the guys you were in the band with, but you're probably never going to get back together."

She risked looking over at Heath, who was smiling.

"How'd I do?" she asked, taking a deep breath. "You want me to leave and never talk to you again?"

Heath shook his head, continuing to smile. "No, of course not, don't be an idiot, MJ." He looked over at her. "I know who I am, how famous I am. I hate it when I meet people and they try to act like they don't know who I am. It's completely fake and artificial in a different way than the other."

He sat up and let out his breath, making his cheeks big. "So good, this was good, you know? I think we're going to be friends, okay?"

MJ nodded.

Friends?

With Heath Spencer?

No way.

She heard Meredith calling her over the sound system.

"MJ? MJ, can you hear me?"

"Yeah. Yes, I can!" she shouted back as loudly as she could. She pulled out her phone, ready to send a text if Meredith couldn't hear her from the top of the arena.

"She's up here," Heath shouted.

"Oh my god, Heath, are you with her?"

Meredith shaded her eyes, trying to see where MJ and Heath's voices were coming from.

"Yeah?"

"Jesus, Heath, what are you doing with her?" Meredith's derisive laugh carried, loud and clear, over the microphone. She looked around at other people onstage, shrugging, as if asking why on earth?

MJ wanted to die.

"Oh my god, Heath, don't get too close, she might eat you or something," Meredith said, and again, her words echoed through the entire stadium.

"Sorry, for those of you who've never met my P.A., just wait until you see, her, you'll understand," Meredith continued.

Oh my god.

Next to her, Heath shook his head and moved closer to her, lifting an arm as if he were going to put it around her.

MJ took a couple of steps away from Heath and just waited for Meredith's instructions. She spoke again, after the laughter had died down.

"Anyway, MJ, please go back to the hotel and bring my blue bag, it's sitting on the counter in my bathroom, okay? Not the bag next to my bed, the one ON THE BATHROOM COUNTER, got it?"

MJ just left through a side exit and found the driver, Winston, who took her back to the hotel. She made sure the privacy screen was up between her and Winston, before she began to cry, and she made sure her cheeks were dry before they got to the hotel.