Page 53 of #Moonstruck

So please give, give me ...

One more night

Just to be with you alone

One more night

Let the music take us home

One more night

To pretend we’re in control

All I need is one more, one more,

One more, baby,

One more night

He looked into my eyes as he played the final notes of the song. That moment, onstage with him, was transcendent. Like my spirit left my body and was watching everything happening from twenty feet in the air. I couldn’t feel my arms or hands or face. My fingers played solely from muscle memory because I wasn’t controlling them.

When I originally recorded this song, I’d been thinking of my mother. I wasn’t now. There was only the music surrounding us, binding us together. Everyone around us faded away. There was no stage, no crowd of screaming women.

Just Ryan and me.

His soul spoke directly to mine, saying, “I found you.” Two halves fusing into a whole.

The last note faded, and the audience screamed. I wanted to say something to him. To tell him how important this moment felt. That something had just shifted between us.

When he leaned over, I thought he would say it first. “I practiced with your video.” That explained how it had gone so well.

It was not what I had hoped he would say.

I discovered it wasn’t what I wanted him to say, either.

Because he hadn’t felt it. I’d been alone in what I’d experienced. So I smiled and again waved to the crowd as Ryan said, “Give it up one more time for Maisy Harrison!”

I needed to accept the reality of our situation. I was a paid, fake girlfriend.

But given what had just happened onstage, he made it hard for me to remember.

The next day, just before we reached Seattle, I woke up from a nap with a raging thirst and started for the front of the bus to grab a bottle of water. As I climbed out of the bunk, I heard the far door open and saw Ryan enter the bunk alley.

Which meant I had to pass him. He again had his shirt off. I was starting to wonder if there was some kind of De Luna vendetta against crew necks.

We met in the middle, but instead of turning and passing, he stood in front of me. “Hey.”

“Hi. Move, please.”

He turned his body to one side, but he took up too much space.

Just as I realized there was no way to move past without brushing up against him, the bus swerved violently to the left. The motion threw me against Ryan and knocked both of us to the floor. Somehow he twisted and took the brunt of the fall, letting out anoofsound as I collapsed on top of him.

There was a thumping noise, and I looked up to see that DJ Anton had rolled out of his bed and landed in the alley.

He didn’t even wake up.

“What just happened?” I asked, breathing heavily. Whether that was because of whatever the bus had just done or because I was currently flush against Ryan, I wasn’t sure.

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