Electric Moonlight Shuffle

10. Do You Believe in Magic?

Let the magic in I did.

At the end of the Waterfall day, after Tanner gives us the rehearsal schedule (we have dance rehearsal all week, but no more shoots until next Friday, when we're all taking a stretch limo up to a mansion in the mountains and spending the weekend shooting), Jason magically appears at my side.

"Can I walk you to your car?" says Jason.

"If you must."

Our hands bump into each other's while we walk up the hill.

I get to the car, fiddle with my keys.

"Maybe next time you'll stay dry," he says, winking.

"Maybe I don't want to," I say.

"Good." Jason grins, presses me against the car, kisses me. A real kiss, even more electric than the first.

"Whoah," he says, pulling away. "That's some serious chemicals in the brain."

"Meh," I say, casually. "Chocolate is better."

Jason smiles, bumps me playfully. "I disagree."

He pulls out his phone. "Hey take a picture with me. I want to hold onto this day, even though you'll say that's like totally impossible, right Nietzsche?"

I shrug. "Impossible but part of the human condition. Who doesn't want to stop time?"

Jason angles the phone over our faces, and puts on the dog filter. "No, you look better without it." He takes off the filter, lets us be natural. "I want you in my story," he says, "Cool?"

"Cool," I say.

"Cool," he says.

I also want to freeze time and linger on this moment forever, but Jamie is coming up over the hill, and I'm his ride home, so I open the car door and say, cooly, "See you around."

"Around," says Jason, "At rehearsal. Wear your tutu. There will be dance."

"Will do."

I get in the car, and Jamie follows.

"Bye delinquent," says Jason.

"Bye Australia."

And Jason Moon watches me drive away.

When I get home, I have 5,032 new followers on Instagram. Just like that. The power of a little picture!

***

For the next week, I am madly, forehead-over-feet in love with Jason Moon.

For one week, I'm on top of the world. 

Here's how it goes:

I show up at school on Monday like a big shot. Everyone knows me as "the girl who got JASON MOON," even the kids I've never seen before. Strangers stop and ask for my autograph in the halls. Hell, Mr. Prue asks for my autograph. (Apparently Electric Moon has a bigger demographic than I thought!) I get a few glares, as usual, but all of a sudden most of the girls want to be my friend. People are jealous, yeah, but they're also curious. And the curiosity seems to trump the jealousy. Even Mia Thermopolis softens, asks me if I have any notes to pass. I tell her no.

Mid-calc-class, Jason texts me:

JASON: Hey delinquent, wanna be in a quick promo pic?

ME: (internally) FUCK YES OH MY GOD!!!

ME: (what I actually say) Gotta check my schedule, australia. Can probably squeeze you in.

JASON: Cool beans, mofo.

ME: (internally) I AM IN LOVE WITH YOU.

ME: (what I actually say) When we shooting?

JASON: Right now.

JASON: Down for a few more detentions?

ME: (internally) SQUEALS LIKE AN ACTUAL PIGLET.

ME: Always. Meet you outside in 10.

JASON: We're taking the Mustang

I don't even have to sneak out. All I have to do is raise my hand and tell Mr. Prue I've got "important music-video-related business," and he lets me peace out if I promise him an autograph.

***

Jason drives us to an actual garage. The rest of the band is set up already. They stand on a white shag carpet with a disco ball overhead. They all have tattoos and luscious dark hair, but I'm still in love with Jason.

Jason introduces me to the rest of the guys. "That's Anthony (the drummer), Liam (the bassist), and Fajita (the keyboardist)."

"Hey guys," I say, "I'm Wren."

They all smile. "We know," says Liam.

Jason puts a starburst Les Paul over my neck.

"Pretend you're playing," he says, putting a sparkly blue Les Paul over his own neck and coming in close to me.

I put my fingers on the frets. "All the world's a stage, right?"

"Now you're catching on," he says. "This should only take a minute."

And it does. Click, click, click, and then we're back in the Mustang, heading for the mall.

***

Jason brings me to all the stores, even the expensive ones--I'm talking Jimmy Choo, Versace, Henri Bendel--and tells me to buy whatever I want.

"Seriously," he says, steering me to an Alexander McQueen boutique. "I'm not paying for it. It's a business expense."

I model all my new outfits for Jason and he tells me I look "super hot."

I get four new dresses, three pairs of pumps, two pairs of sandals, ripped skinny jeans, and diamond earrings that cost approximately as much as a small island.

Then we get cheap Chinese food in the food court, surrounded by our bags, and share a soda.

***

When get go back out to the Mustang, we make out for an hour until we have to go to dance rehearsal.

Dance rehearsal is in a small wood-floored room with walls made of mirrors. Our instructors, Jasmine and Oscar, are so high-energy I'm tired just from watching them.

Yeah, Flynn, Joe, Jamie and the American girls are all there too, but Jason doesn't take his eyes off me the whole time.

We dance close. He steps on my feet, jokingly, but keeps pulling me closer.

On our breaks, we slump next to the mirror. I scroll through my Instafeed. "Looks like someone got like a billion new followers," says Jason.

"I wonder why," I say.

"You're famous kid," says Jason. "It's because they think it can happen to them. The you and me thing. You're a normal girl. I mean, you're amazing, but they think you're normal. It's like Kate and the Prince. Everyone wants to be a princess. You're the bona fide American princess."

I can't help but smile.

"All right everyone!" says Jasmine. "Back to work!"

***

When I finally head home, I fall into bed. Fall asleep smiling. Wake up to a good-morning text from Jason.

Rinse, lather, repeat.

Who said you can't stop time?

For that one beautiful week, each day is exactly the same and exactly a billion times better than the last.