"More than a Crush" tells the story of Nora, a 26-year-old Franco-Moroccan actress and playwright living in Paris, who has idolized Zac Efron for twenty years. Determined to make her mark, she creates a tribute show featuring scenes from Zac's films...
I sit on my couch, surrounded by an unholy mess of scripts and notebooks, the aftermath of countless weeks of planning, dreaming, and second-guessing. The late afternoon sun streams through the window, bathing the room in a soft, warm glow, but my mind is far from peaceful. My foot taps nervously on the wooden floor as I wait for Lena's call, stomach churning with anticipation.
It's been days since I sent her the last draft of my script, days since she promised to reach out to Zac's agent one last time. My hope flickers between wild optimism and crushing doubt. I've lost count of how many emails I've sent to his team, how many polite rejections I've received in return. But this time is different—Lena has connections. If anyone can get a message through, it's her.
I glance at my phone for what feels like the hundredth time, willing it to buzz. I can't concentrate on anything, not even on the final touches I need to make to the show. All I can think about is whether or not Zac Efron will get my invitation. Whether he'll show up for the one night I've worked my entire life for.
Finally, the phone buzzes. My heart leaps as I see Lena's name pop up on the screen. I answer in a flash. "Hey, Lena! Did you manage to get in touch with Zac's team?"
There's a brief pause on the other end of the line, and my stomach twists, bracing for bad news. Then Lena's voice breaks through, cheerful and a little breathless. "Nora, you're not going to believe this—I actually convinced Zac's agent to pass the message on! They're giving him the script. Can you believe it?"
I stand up from the couch, my legs shaky with adrenaline. "Are you serious?" I ask, practically yelling into the phone. "Lena, you're a genius! I can't believe it!"
I pace back and forth across the room, excitement bubbling up inside me, unable to contain the hope surging through me. Zac Efron might actually read my script. The idea seems surreal, like something out of a dream I haven't fully woken up from.
Lena's voice, always the bearer of both good and bad news, softens. "Well... there's just one thing."
I stop pacing, suddenly worried. "What's that?"
"He's in the middle of filming right now," she explains carefully. "His schedule is pretty packed, so they said he might not be able to make it to the premiere."
My heart drops a little at the news. "Oh..." I mutter, feeling that familiar sting of disappointment creeping back in. Of course, it was too good to be true. Why would Zac Efron, with his crazy schedule, take the time to come to my little show?
"But listen," Lena says quickly, "they didn't say no. They said it's possible. And who knows? Maybe he'll surprise us. Even if he can't make it, you're going to blow everyone away with that show. I'll be there, front row, no matter what."
I take a deep breath, letting her words sink in. It's true—Zac or no Zac, this show is mine. I've put my heart into it. This is my dream, and no rejection is going to take that away from me.
I manage a small smile, feeling a mixture of excitement and nerves. "Thanks, Lena. Really, I appreciate it. I guess I just have to keep hoping, right?"
"Exactly!" she replies, her voice brimming with encouragement. "You've worked so hard for this. And who knows? Zac might just surprise you."
I nod, more to myself than to her, as I look around the chaotic room full of reminders of all the work I've done. "Yeah... maybe he will."
After we hang up, I sit back down, staring at my laptop. The show isn't just about Zac Efron being there. It's about my story, my dedication, my passion. Zac or no Zac, I'm determined to make this night count.
Still, as the excitement lingers in the back of my mind, I realize there's so much to do. I glance at the chaotic room around me and think about how I want everything to be perfect. Not just the performance, but every detail—including the way I present myself. I've got to make this show an unforgettable experience from the moment the audience walks in until the curtain closes. And that starts with the right outfits.
I immediately grab my phone again and scroll through my contacts. I stop when I see her name—Mindy Cho. Mindy is the most brilliant costume designer I know. She's been with me through every project, and this one is going to need something extraordinary.
The phone rings only twice before she picks up, her voice as energetic as ever. "Nora! To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Mindy, I need your magic," I say with a grin, leaning back into the couch. "I'm officially starting the preparations for the show, and I need all the outfits ready. And not just for the performances. I need something to present the show in—a gown, something striking. Plus, I'll need an outfit for a video I'm preparing as part of the introduction."
Mindy chuckles. "Oh, honey, I love it. You're going big, huh?"
"Biggest show of my life, Mindy," I reply, a note of seriousness slipping into my voice. "This has to be perfect."
"Don't worry. I've got you. I'll sketch some ideas tonight, and we'll meet tomorrow to go over fabrics. Sound good?"
"Perfect," I say, already feeling a little lighter. "Thank you, Mindy. You're a lifesaver."
After hanging up, I sit back and breathe a little deeper. Everything is coming together—slowly, yes—but coming together nonetheless.
Still, I glance once more at the empty seat reserved for him in my mind's eye and allow myself a tiny flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, this dream isn't as impossible as it seems.
