STELLA, WHO IS waiting for me in the lobby of the discount movie theater, throws the glass door open as I approach. “I cannot believe…” she states dramatically. “You just met”—she pauses, then drags his name out—“Jason Samuels! The Jason Samuels. Hot as hell, sexy as sin, you can play tic-tac-toe on his abs Jason Samuels.”

I’ve spent more time in the studio this week than I have at my own house, so I’m excited about a night off to hang with Stella. I didn’t record today, but I was still working. Anita pulled some strings, and we visited the set of a major motion picture, our goal to meet the director and some of the cast in the hope that one of my songs will make its way onto the sound track. Yes, it was insane being on set. Yes, it was unbelievable to be at arm’s length from the stunning Hollywood faces I usually only see in the tabloids. And yes, I cried after the first three takes of Jason Samuels’s death scene (spoiler alert). But while hanging out with movie stars is fun and all, nothing beats a Friday night out with your bestie.

“Well, I hate to disappoint you, but I didn’t actually meet him,” I confess.

“What?” Her face falls.

“Yeah, Anita was livid,” I say as we walk through the crowded lobby and join the concessions line. “It’s a historical romance set in the 1800s or something. So when we walked over during a break to introduce ourselves, his publicist cut us off and said he never drops character and meeting me would be like ‘stepping back into an alternate world.’ ” I raise one eyebrow. “That’s a direct quote. I think your celebrity boyfriend is crazy town.”

“Not crazy—dedicated,” she defends him, starry-eyed. She links an elbow through mine as we consider the menu. “Do you remember him from that vampire show where he fell in love with every girl he was about to kill, so he couldn’t bring himself to drink their blood and finally had to suck only the blood of dudes so he wouldn’t starve to death? I loved that show. Brilliant. He’s so freaking hot. I can’t believe you almost met him.”

“I slipped his makeup artist your number,” I joke, unwrapping my scarf. “Of course, the only way Jason Samuels can have hair and makeup people around him is if they pretend to be nurses checking on him between takes.”

She looks at me skeptically.

I raise both palms in defense. “I can’t make this stuff up.”

“Okay, so my future husband may have a few quirks. What about yours? Have you talked to Adam lately?” she asks.

“We’ve texted. He had rehearsal yesterday for that gig with Kayelee Ford.” I sigh heavily.

“Yuck.”

“Exactly.”

“So you haven’t seen him since last Friday’s… breakfast?” she asks, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

“No,” I respond, blushing.

Stella grabs my phone, pulling up the camera. “Okay, so get your gloss and use the phone as a mirror,” she commands, aiming the screen toward me so that I see my own reflection. I look okay, thanks to Amanda sending over an outfit and Anita touching up my makeup in her car right before we went onto the movie set today, but Stella clearly has something up her sleeve.

“Why?” I ask slowly, while following directions. I grab my lip gloss from my purse and smear it on, totally nervous about the mischievous gleam in her eyes. “What?” I ask. “What is it?”

“I got you a present,” she says mysteriously.

“Stella!” I hear a familiar voice call. Dylan is across the theater, walking toward us with her big purse in his hands.

“My brother is here?” I ask, completely surprised.

“Brothers,” she corrects. “But that’s not the present.”

I frown. “I hope not.”

“But when Dylan texted me earlier to ask if I’d heard about the James Bond marathon here,” she says, “and to ask if I wanted to come along tonight with him and Jacob and their ‘good buddy from the road,’ ” she continues, making air quotes, “I suggested that we go to the one that started after you got off work.” Her eyes gleam, and my own go wide as saucers. “So,” she says, clearly satisfied, “the gang’s all here. They’re saving seats for us inside.”

Stupefied, I stare at her. Then I have a tiny freak-out, squealing as I throw both arms around her. “Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh! I cannot freaking believe this.” I spin us both around as Dylan approaches.

“Tell me you’re not as hung up on that tool Jason Samuels as Stella is,” he moans, totally misinterpreting my excitement. “If I have to hear about his gorgeous eyes one more time…”

Stella hip-checks him. “Don’t be jealous, Dylan. If you’d rather, I could talk about his butt. It’s a masterpiece, like it was carved out of stone.”

“Ha!” I laugh out loud at the same time as my brother covers his ears.

“This is exactly what I was talking about,” he says, shaking his head. “That dude needs to get an action flick on lockdown stat or he might as well turn in his man card.”

Stella rolls her eyes, but after being on set today, I kind of agree with Dylan.

“Hey,” Dylan says, uncomfortably holding out her orange purse like it might bite him. “You missed a phone call and I didn’t want to go through your bag so… here.”

“Oh, it was probably just me,” I say.

“Probably, but thank you, anyway,” Stella says, taking her bag from him and fishing through its contents. Then she looks up at my brother as if inspiration has just struck. “Actually, now that you’re here, why don’t you help me carry all the popcorn and drinks? Sorry, Bird, but he’s stronger. Go save our seats?”

“Yep, totally,” I say, itching to see Adam again. I slap my brother on the back. “Butter on mine? Please and thank you.”

And oh so quickly, I’m walking across the lobby toward the theater, my mind racing and my pulse beating just as fast. Adam is here. Ever since the Pancake Pantry, I’ve been on a roller coaster of feelings, on a total high when I think about our kiss and on a complete low when I think about having to tell him that he can’t play on my album after all. And even right now, as I open the door to the dark theater, I’m equal parts apprehensive and eager to see him.

As my eyes adjust, I scan the shadows and pull out my cell phone to find the guys, but then I hear my name.

“Bird!” Adam calls, standing up awkwardly and waving one arm.

I flash a big smile and wave in return as I carefully make my way up to where he and Jacob are saving seats. For a brief second, I worry about where I’m expected to sit, but Adam moves Stella’s coat over, freeing up the seat next to him, and I’m relieved. I get a cold chill as I head toward them.

“So basically, the next time we play Black Ops, you need to get a better headset, man,” Jacob continues, obviously talking about their new gaming obsession as I slide past him. “Hey, Bird.”

“Hey, guys,” I say, trying to play it cool as I step over Adam’s legs and settle in.

“You got here just in time,” Adam says, turning toward me, his face just inches from my own. “The previews haven’t even started.”

“Oh, good,” I say. I swing my hair over one shoulder and nervously finger-comb it, trying to distract myself from his full pink lips and what it would feel like to kiss them again. My pulse is racing. “I love the previews.”

“Me too,” he says, smiling.

I can’t believe I’m on another date with Adam.

“Did you see Dylan?” Jacob asks, leaning forward.

Okay, a date with Adam and my brothers.

“He’s got it so bad for your friend Stella,” Jacob continues. Adam shakes his head and chuckles, which spurs Jacob on. “Seriously, he was carrying her purse. Did you see him? It’s ten times worse than with Whitney.”

I look at him in disbelief. “I think they’re just friends, Jacob.”

“They are,” he says, “because she’s not into him. I mean, she’s got this artsy, cool vibe, and he’s like, I don’t know, square. It’d never work.”

“What he means is,” Adam translates, “he thinks she ought to go out with him instead.”

Jacob looks at Adam like he’s wounded, starts to protest, but then cracks up instead, his neck reddening the slightest bit. He shrugs, owning it. “She’s hot.”

They laugh together, so I join in, but from this exchange, I can’t tell what’s real and what’s them joking around. Does Dylan actually like Stella, or is Jacob just giving him a hard time about carrying her purse? And does Jacob really like her, or is Adam just teasing him, too?

The theater is full by the time Stella and Dylan show up. They file down the row and get situated as the opening scene rolls, James Bond in a tuxedo and in what seems to be an impossible escape situation. They pass everybody their snacks, and I watch them both closely to see if there are any signs of a budding relationship, but Dylan acts normal, checking that the ringer is off on his phone before putting it in his pocket, and Stella, who, thankfully, sat next to me and kicked Dylan to the end, seems more excited about my quasi-date with Adam than about either of my brothers being here.

“You didn’t get a drink?” Adam whispers on my other side, taking a sip of his gigantic beverage.

“Guess not,” I answer, frowning. “I told Dylan about the popcorn and forgot all about the Coke.”

Adam’s expression is pained. “How could you forget?”

I laugh. “Well, I didn’t know you were going to be here,” I say. “And it’s not technically after a gig, so…”

“You’re right.” He nods. “This isn’t business; it’s pleasure.” He is definitely flirting. I am definitely in heaven. “If you give me a few bites of that popcorn, though, I’ll let you have a few sips of my Coke. Deal?”

I envision our fingertips brushing in the cardboard tub, imagine his lips on the same straw that I’ll be using, wish more than anything that my brother wasn’t sitting on the other side of him. I haven’t stopped thinking about that first kiss since it happened, and sitting next to him in a dark theater isn’t helping matters. I focus, flash Adam my warmest smile, and agree. “Deal.”

By the time M has given Bond his mission, my forearm is touching Adam’s as we share the armrest. He glances over at me with a sideways smile when I laugh at Bond’s cheeky banter with a statuesque beauty. After about an hour, Adam shifts his body so that he’s leaning my way, and I, as nonchalantly as possible, lean toward him. He’s so close I can smell that fresh-laundry scent of his that I love—I can actually feel heat coming off his body—and this closeness is all I can think about as James Bond runs across buildings and smashes sports cars. When the credits finally roll, I can’t even tell you what Bond’s mission was. I was too focused on the few moments when Adam chanced brushing his pinkie against mine.

The lights come up, and we join the rest of the crowd, slowly filing out of the theater, stepping on popcorn kernels and sticky mystery liquid. In the packed lobby, Dylan breaks away from the group to use the bathroom.

“I need to go, too,” Jacob says, joining him.

“Oh! Me too,” Stella adds, clearly spotting a golden opportunity for me. “Bird, hold my coat?”

And just like that, Adam and I are alone—finally.

My stomach flips.

“Oh, I love these things,” he says, gesturing toward a photo booth behind me. I hadn’t even noticed it. “Here,” he says, reaching for his wallet. “Let’s do it.”

“Fun,” I say, trying to play it cool, when in reality I’m ecstatic.

Adam holds the red curtain back, and I duck inside, with him right behind me. I toss my coat and Stella’s at our feet as he feeds money into the machine, and then we don’t have much time to get situated before we see the countdown.

“Okay, funny face,” he commands, crossing his eyes. I don’t have time to pose before the flash goes off because I’m laughing so hard at how goofy he looks.

“Serious!” he calls, scrunching his eyebrows together. I follow suit, my mouth pursed tightly but unable to completely erase my smile.

“Ummm…” he says, searching for a fun idea.

“Hair mustache!” I offer, holding up a long red lock. He nods enthusiastically and presses the side of his face against mine as we drape my hair over our puckered lips. I fight the urge to turn mine toward his. Surely he’s going to kiss me again. Please kiss me again.

“Normal one,” he says this time, pulling his face away and throwing his arm around my shoulders. We lean our foreheads close and smile into the camera.

My heart feels so full it could spill over. I know I’m not, but I feel like Adam’s girlfriend.

After the last flash pops, he doesn’t hurry to leave the photo booth, and he doesn’t move his arm. He faces me, and I gulp hard. His lips are inches away. His eyes look back and forth at each of mine. He’s going to kiss me again.

“Where’d they go?” I hear Dylan ask.

Adam and I both flinch just the tiniest bit, and the moment is gone.

“I don’t know,” Stella says, her voice abnormally loud. “Maybe they went out to the car,” she suggests.

“Wait, isn’t that your coat?”

I break eye contact and look out the bottom of the curtain where Dylan’s sneakers appear next to Stella’s coat, the arm of which is peeking out. Adam drops his arm and takes a deep breath before exiting the photo booth.

“Oh, hey, guys,” he says. “You want to go next?”

I grab the coats and slide out of the booth behind Adam, handing Stella hers as we wait for the pictures to process. Sorry, she mouths when I catch her eye. I shrug. I don’t want her to feel bad—it was still an amazing night—but we were so close. He wanted to kiss me. He totally wanted to kiss me. I mean, I think he wanted to kiss me.

Adam turns to me as the photo strips print out. “I thought we’d have to fight over who gets which pics, but it prints two sets, so we both get one.”

He hands a photo strip to me gingerly, and I look at the images, as does the rest of our crew hovering around. We all laugh, pointing out our favorites.

“Dude, sweet ’stache,” Jacob teases Adam, pointing to the third pic.

“Okay, I need food,” Dylan announces, clapping his hands once. “Who’s with me?”

I open my purse as the group meanders toward the front doors. Before we go out into the cold, I slip my strip of pictures into my songwriting journal, not wanting them to get bent or torn. Adam tucks his into his shirt pocket and then zips up his fleece.

“Um, are you Bird Barrett?” a girl about my age asks as she approaches.

“I am,” I say, smiling, slightly embarrassed still when I’m recognized in public.

“Can I have your autograph?” she asks, holding out her ticket stub and a pen. Her friends whip out their camera phones behind her.

“Wow, a whole two and a half hours before getting spotted,” Dylan cracks once the girls have left. “That’s a record these days.”

Stella swats him. “Come on, boys,” she says, linking her arms through my brothers’. “Let’s go get the car.”

Adam stays behind. I notice more people glancing our way, trying to decide whether they should come over to me. I love my fans, but Stella has just given me another opportunity to be alone with Adam, so I pop my hat on my head and duck my chin under my scarf, making a beeline for the doors and the parking lot. Adam follows me out.

“That was fun,” he says as I lead him away from the box-office window and the crowd under the marquee.

“Yeah, it really was,” I agree, zipping up my coat. I smile. “And now, we eat.”

“Ugh,” he says, hanging his head. “I wish. The movie went a little longer than I’d expected, and the band backing me for my show on Thursday is probably already showing up for practice.”

“Oh,” I say, bummed.

“Yeah,” he says, seemingly just as bummed.

I don’t want to add to the disappointment, but I also know I need to tell him about my conversation with Dan. I feel a knot in the pit of my stomach.

“Um, so I talked to my label about you playing on the album with me,” I say, hating myself as the words come out. I don’t flat-out lie, but I certainly don’t tell him that we recorded the song I’d wanted him on this past week. I just deliver the blow as softly as possible. “Apparently they’ve already booked all the musicians we’ll need for this album.”

“Oh yeah?” Adam comments, running his hand through his hair. “That’s too bad, but I kind of figured. I mean, it was cool of you to ask, but I knew it was a long shot.”

“Yeah,” I say, shifting my weight. “I should’ve asked Dan before even bringing it up.”

He shrugs. “I mean, it would’ve been awesome, Bird, don’t get me wrong. But I know that I still have to prove myself. That’s what’s great about landing this gig with Kayelee. She likes my sound and—”

“I love your sound,” I cut in.

He puts a hand on my shoulder, looking me right in the eyes. “Please don’t stress about me not being on your album, Bird. Okay?”

I bite my lip and nod. “Well, for what it’s worth, I totally wish it were you.”

He smiles sweetly and steps closer. My pulse picks up.

But then his phone beeps, and he pulls it from his jeans pocket, one more moment gone. “Speak of the…” He trails off, texting back a quick reply. “That’s Kayelee’s people now,” he says, holding up the phone. “Details about her release party next weekend. Things are happening for me, Bird. They just take time.”

I nod, force a supportive smile.

“And speaking of time, I really do have to go. It was good to see you again, Lady Bird,” he says, his eyes twinkling in the streetlights as he leans in for a hug.

“Yeah, you too, Adam,” I say over his shoulder. He holds the embrace just a fraction of a second longer than normal, even gives me a small squeeze, but then he pulls away and is waving his good-byes to Stella and my brothers as they pull up to the curb. He jogs to his truck in the parking lot.

I watch him for a few seconds before a young girl notices me and asks me to sign her pack of Milk Duds. I do, grateful for fans like her, but even her enthusiasm about my single can’t brighten my mood. Although Adam seemed cool about it, I made a stupid promise that I couldn’t keep, and as I get in the car, I can’t help but think that maybe I ruined a perfect night.