Page 109 of Wish Upon A Star

I loved her before…

Now?

She is…within me. All of me. Such a short time, I’ve known her. In a book, it would be Insta-love. Ridiculous. Fantastical nonsense. But…time is relative, right? The time I’ve spent with Jolene Park has been…compressed and concentrated. Every moment has been replete with meaning and intensity. We’ve thrown ourselves into this with no regard for the consequences, no thought for the impossibility of falling in love with someone you’ve just met.

Reality be damned.

I love her.

The helicopter carries us back to LA, and the limo is there to greet us, with bagels and coffee for breakfast.

She’s wearing her dress again. I love the way that dress makes her smile brighter, and the way it brings out the wild green of her eyes and makes her cream skin even more beautiful.

We go to the sound stage, instead of home.

She holds my hand as we find the crew preparing, and the director flipping through his notebook full of scribbled ideas, and the crew just off set.

Eyes are on us, but she just looks around in wonder—we’re filming “You Were Meant For Me.”

I get her a chair near the director and introduce them, and then I’m whisked off to costume and hair and makeup, and I go over my lines and murmur the song under my breath.

I get back to the stage, and Shania and Jolene are talking. I rehearse my blocking a few times, and then Adam calls for quiet on the set and Shania and I take our places.

I have to put yesterday out of my mind. Channel the character, the story. It’s all there, and I take last night and the love and the wonder, and use it.

Only, Shania drops a step—cut, from the top.

I forget the lyrics—cut.

We both miss our turn and bump into each other.

Again and again.

Half of the takes, I barely make it through the opening of the song and into the dance number.

Or, if we do, one of us goofs a step or a turn.

After half the day and twenty-some takes, Adam calls a break.

The crew scatters, and Adam pulls me aside. “We need to talk, Westley.”

I nod, and catch Jo’s eyes. She smiles, waves at me. I had Jen bring her ukulele and meet us at the sound stage with it, in case Jo got bored and needed something to do—there are a thousand quiet corners where she could sit and play and sing, or read on her phone.

Adam and I confer outside for a few minutes, going over the scene and basically Adam politely telling me to get my shit together.

We head back in, and I’m mentally going over my blocking, going over the steps, the holds, the turns. Not paying attention.

Adam grabs my arm and squeezes,hard. I stop, look up, and tune into the world around me.

Jolene is on the set, alone. I don’t know if she’s noticed the single spotlight some enterprising, thoughtful lighting tech has trained on her. She’s on the edge of the smoke machine, ukulele in hand, fingering the melody to “You Were Meant For Me” and singing the song.

The whole crew and cast are clustered just off set, out of the pool of light bathing her.

Everyone is recording this.

Her eyes are closed, brow furrowed as she focuses on the melody, the words, the emotions.

“…ButI'm content