STELLA YAWNS, STRETCHING from head to toe before sitting up and grabbing us both another muffin from the plate Shannon brought us this morning. “I’m so bummed that Adam didn’t kiss you.”

“Join the club,” I say dryly. Dylan dropped us off at Stella’s house on the way home last night and we stayed up late talking about Adam. And even though we’ve only been awake a little while, we’re already overanalyzing every part of the night all over again. “I could swear he was going to, but I don’t know. Maybe not. I mean, my brothers were right there. Maybe he was just going to—”

“He was going to kiss you,” Stella says, cutting me off. “Don’t overthink it.”

I sigh. “But then I had to tell him about not being on the album after all. I know a break like that would really boost his career, and I know that if Dan would just listen to his stuff he would love it. Ending the whole ‘almost date’ like that was the worst.”

Stella seems confused. “I thought you said it didn’t even faze him?”

“Yeah,” I say, chewing. “But still.”

My cell phone rings, and I sit straight up, hoping like crazy that it’s Adam. But then I slouch again when I see the caller ID. “Anita,” I say, holding the phone up to Stella.

“Take it,” she says, waving me off as she grabs her own phone and leans back against her pile of pillows.

“Hello?” I answer.

“Bird, you’ll never believe it,” Anita says by way of greeting.

“What?”

I hear her fingernails clacking away on a keyboard, which means that at nine thirty on a Saturday morning, Anita is already working.

“Jason Samuels’s publicist just called me and felt terrible that you two didn’t actually get to talk on set, what with his dedication to his craft,” she says wryly. “Anyway, they want to set up an outing: the two of them and the two of us. I really think this will be a wonderful step toward getting your song into the movie, don’t you?”

“Sure,” I say, rolling my eyes.

Stella raises her eyebrows questioningly.

“From what his publicist told me,” Anita continues, “Jason was quite taken with you.”

“Taken with me?” I ask. “He didn’t even talk to me.”

Who? Stella mouths.

I cover the speaker. “Your celebrity boyfriend.” Her eyes nearly pop out of her head, and I suppress a laugh.

“He’s an odd one, to be sure,” Anita says candidly, “but an outing like this will be great networking for you, Bird. A friendship with a power player like Jason Samuels could do a lot for your image, much more than that boy from the Pancake Pantry.”

My jaw drops. “What are you talking about?”

Anita sighs. “Bird, don’t be coy. It’s my job to know these things. And I’m not the only one. Someone posted a picture on your fan forum of the two of you having breakfast together.”

“I haven’t seen the photo,” I reply, thinking back to that morning. I glance up at Stella, who is trying desperately to piece together the conversation. “Why would anybody care who I eat pancakes with?”

“Your fans care,” Anita explains. “And it’s my job to care, I might add. And listen, Bird, although I ought to be hearing these things from you, it’s a good thing that you’ve got a fan forum. People are starting to know you.”

I pull my lucky rock pendant out from under my T-shirt and run it back and forth along its silver chain. So much has changed so fast.

“Anyway,” Anita continues, “the director is on the fence about using your song on the sound track, so if Jason’s people are reaching out, then meeting them is what we’re going to do.”

I sigh. “Of course. You’re right. Let’s meet ’em,” I say. “But should I call him Jason or General Whitfield?”

Anita actually laughs out loud, the first time I’ve ever heard her do that, and I finally catch a glimpse of the person behind the machine.

“We’ll be in the neighborhood,” my dad grumbles as he pulls up and double-parks in front of a coffee shop. He wasn’t crazy about this meet up, insisting that Anita was playing matchmaker for a boy who’s ten years older than me, but my mom reminded him that it’s business and that both of our publicists would be there. He relented, although not happily. “Just call us if you need anything, you hear?”

“Yes, Dad, I’ll be fine,” I say, exasperated.

As Mom and Dad drive off, I enter the coffee shop, a bustling neighborhood place called Fido, and look around for everybody. This place is much bigger than I expected, actually. The bar is backed up even though three baristas are attending to people’s orders, and as I wander slowly through the packed rooms, where people sit by the windows with their laptops and others chat around tables of four, I’m hoping Anita got here early and grabbed us a table.

I’ve just started to call her when I hear my name.

“Bird?”

I look up to see Jason standing right in front of me, his thick brown hair pulled back in a low ponytail. And I know that it’s silly, but I suck in air, fast. I mean, this is legit surreal. I’m about to have brunch with super famous heartthrob Jason Samuels. How is this my life?

“Oh, hey,” I say, holding out my hand to shake his. “Should I call you… Jason?” I ask hesitantly.

He smiles. “Yeah, sorry about that yesterday. I don’t ever break character when I’m on set. I totally commit.”

“Of course,” I say. “No worries.”

“Like, for example,” he goes on, “this movie starts in the hospital where my character wakes up and discovers he lost an arm in his last battle.” He squeezes my shoulder, almost in a reassuring way. “It’s sad, I know.” Once he realizes that I’m emotionally stable after hearing this news, he continues, “So even on lunch or dinner breaks, I make sure to eat with my left arm only. Or I have someone feed me.”

I laugh out loud before I realize he’s not kidding. He drops his hand and looks away. “Wow,” I say, clearing my throat. “That’s serious dedication.”

“Well, people have come to expect a certain level of craft from Jason Samuels,” Jason Samuels says. I cringe when he refers to himself in the third person, but I congratulate myself for not rolling my eyes. I don’t know what Anita expects from me, but I really am doing the best I can here.

“Well,” I say, “whatever you’re doing, it works. I can’t wait to see the movie.” At least that’s honest.

“Thank you, Bird,” he replies. “And I’m a big fan of your music.”

I cock my head, taken aback. “You know my song?”

“I’m kind of a music connoisseur,” he says quite seriously. “Plus, it’s on the radio, like, every other second.”

Jason freaking Samuels knows my song.

“I guess,” I say sheepishly. “I’m still getting used to that, actually.”

“Yeah,” he says dramatically, staring off into the distance. “The limelight is a tricky place to live.”

There is a small lull in the conversation, and I check my phone. Still no word from Anita. I watch the front door, starting to get worried.

“Should we get in line?” Jason asks.

“Sure,” I say. “Let me just text my publicist. It’s really not like her to be late.”

Jason smirks. “Do you actually think she’s coming?”

I whip my head up. “Of course she’s coming.”

He shrugs. “Mine isn’t.”

“What?” I ask, incredulous.

“I’m guessing it’s a setup,” he says matter-of-factly.

“No way.” I fire off a quick text to Anita. Now I’m really worried:

Hello? Jason is here. We r waiting 4 u.

“Let’s at least get in line,” Jason says, yawning. “We shot until three in the morning, and I could really use some caffeine.”

“Oh my gosh, that’s brutal.”

“The cost of the craft,” he says.

We join the line and stand next to each other, both studying the menu and neither with much to say. I remind myself of the reason for all of this: getting my song in his movie. So I take a deep breath, force a smile, and get down to the business of making Jason Samuels like me enough to influence his director.

“It’s crazy how crowded it is in here, right?” I ask, trying to make conversation. Jason yawns again, and I cringe overdramatically. “Yeah, I know. My small talk needs work.”

This actually makes him laugh out loud. “No! Oh my God, no.” He slaps his face with his hands and shakes his head, trying to wake up. “It’s this movie schedule. It’s killing me.”

“Uh-huh,” I say sarcastically. “That Bird Barrett. Yawn.”

He laughs out loud again, really looking at me for the first time today, almost as if pleasantly surprised. I grin—now we’re getting somewhere.

“Okay, seriously, let me try again.” He straightens an imaginary tie and puts on a stuffy British accent. “Why yes, Bird. It is quite crowded in here. I believe it is the overflow of people who thought they were die-hard enough to wait in that Pancake Pantry line, but forty-one degrees is colder than they realized, and alas, they were not.”

I laugh. “Those pancakes are pretty good,” I say. Then I blush, thinking about what’s even better after said pancakes.

“Yeah, they rock.” He nods, putting his hands in the pocket of his hoodie and stepping forward with the line. “But Fido has great food. I’m going to get a burger—I mean, if you have time.”

“Oh yeah, sure,” I say, checking the time on my phone. Still no word from Anita, who is now twenty minutes late.

Just then a woman about my mom’s age approaches Jason. “I loved you in Cupid on Earth,” she says in a thick Spanish accent.

“Oh, thank you,” he says, joining his hands like a yogi and bowing a little.

“Would you sign my coffee cup?” she asks, the tray of to-go coffees in her hand shaking. Bless her heart, she’s so nervous that I’m afraid the whole thing’s going to spill. But Jason is gracious. He takes the pen from her and autographs her coffee-cup sleeve with a flourish. Her eyes shine.

But before he gives it back to her, he passes the pen to me and asks, “Do you know my friend Bird Barrett? She’s a big star, too.”

I blanch, completely uncomfortable. The lady studies me but is totally thrown for a loop. That’s the moment when I realize that the only thing more humbling than being approached by fans is not being approached by fans. Still, the lovely woman wants to be polite in front of Jason Samuels, so she flashes me a big smile. “Hi,” she says.

“Hi,” I reply, totally awkward.

“So you don’t know her?” he asks. The woman shakes her head. “Oh, well, Bird is visiting Nashville from her native country of Russia, where she is an enormous success,” Jason says seriously. “You’ve heard of Cher? Bird is the Cher of Russia.”

The lady’s eyes widen and she gasps. I turn toward nutcase Jason Samuels, worried that he might be losing his mind right here in front of me, but when I see the mischief in his no-longer-sleepy eyes, I realize he’s just having a little fun with this lady. I’m so stunned that I nearly laugh out loud.

“Bird,” he says, raising his voice and overenunciating each word as if I’m deaf, “how are you lik-ing A-mer-i-ca?”

I certainly did not peg Jason Samuels as a jokester, but looking at him now, I consider him with new eyes. Slowly, I turn toward his fan, happy to play along. “Rrrrreally verrrry much,” I say, nodding energetically.

In my peripheral vision, I see Jason swallow what would’ve been a hearty laugh, and I can barely keep a straight face myself. He hands me her cup, and I sign my name next to his, hoping the giggle that escapes won’t blow my cover.

“It was really nice meeting you,” Jason says as he hands the coffee cup back to her, quite clearly concluding our interaction. She nods and gives him her biggest smile one last time before walking to the front door, where her husband and teenage sons wait.

“Nice accent,” Jason says as we move forward a little more in line.

“You’re crazy,” I say, finally able to let out a good laugh. “But you probably just made her entire vacation.”

Jason shrugs. “What can I say? Cougars love me.”

I nearly lose it.

We get our food (a burger and a triple-shot soy latte for him and a jasmine tea and coconut muffin for me) and find seats. Now that the ice has been broken, we actually settle into a surprisingly comfortable conversation. Considering what a weirdo he was on set the other day, I was completely convinced that we’d have absolutely nothing to talk about, so Stella and I had role-played questions before I came, although every scenario ended with her asking if she could be the mother of my children. But even though all the characters Jason plays in movies make him seem like just a pretty face, now that we’re two regular people hanging out in a coffee shop, I realize there’s a little more depth to him than I’d figured. He’s really a nice, if slightly quirky, guy.

My phone beeps in my pocket.

“That better be my publicist,” I say. Jason shakes his head, and as I check the text from Anita—Something came up. Can’t make it. Call me after.—I get the sinking feeling that he was right all along. “She can’t make it,” I say sheepishly.

He grins. “Shocker,” he says, before taking another big bite of his burger.

I feel so stupid, so naive. I thought this whole thing was about getting one of my songs in a blockbuster movie, but apparently Anita had a secret agenda. This woman expects me to trust her and then does something shady like this. I’m fuming.

“You okay?” Jason asks.

“Oh, yeah,” I lie. I take a deep breath and force a small smile. After all, it’s not Jason’s fault, and in all honesty, I’m having an okay time.

As we eat, it becomes obvious that everyone in the entire building knows Jason Samuels is here. I thought he would be the kind of guy to milk all the attention he could get, but he chose to sit facing the wall and keeps his eyes on our table, even though there are more than a few people who would like to get his autograph or take a picture with him. I’m about to ask him how he got into acting when two tweens walk by our table, singing my song and breaking into a fit of giggles the minute they are past us.

“So,” Jason says, leaning in low and jerking his head back toward them, “how are you handling all the fame?”

I consider it. “Well, it’s really new, you know? My song’s only been out for a few weeks. I’m not at the level you are or anything, so it’s fine.”

“You will be,” he says confidently, taking a small sip of his latte. “And listen, the spotlight can be so strong, it blinds. You almost become, like, two people. The famous version of yourself and then the one only your friends and family know.”

I nod vigorously. “Oh my gosh, you’re totally right. I mean, I’ve already felt that a little.”

“You’ll find a balance,” he says, “but it’s tough at first. The best advice I can give you is to carve out a little space each week for Me Time.”

“I wish,” I say. “I practically live in the studio.”

“You’ll burn out,” he says, shaking his head. “Trust me. That’s why I kite surf every weekend. I love the beach, even if not much else about LA.”

“You don’t like Los Angeles?”

Jason shrugs. “I like it okay, I guess. It’s just that the business can beat you down. Hollywood is so fake.”

I take another drink, not really sure what to say. Only a half hour ago I thought Jason Samuels was the phoniest guy I’d ever met, so I just nod.

“Sorry,” he says. “I found out yesterday that I got passed over for this action movie, and honestly, I really wanted it.”

“But you play a general in this movie,” I say. “So there must be some fierce war scenes or something.”

He grins ruefully. “Nah, the whole thing takes place after I’ve been injured. It’s more a love story between a wounded soldier and an unhappily married nurse, but I’m sick of doing chick flick after chick flick. No offense.”

“None taken.”

“I want to drive a getaway car or blow up a prison or do something totally badass.” He sighs, picking up his burger again. “But hey, it’s work. At least this time we get to shoot on location. Nashville is a great town.”

“Oh, yeah,” I agree. “I love it.”

We finish up our food and I feel myself relax as we get to know each other. When he tells me that he took his grandmother as his date to his first awards show, I realize that there’s a heart of gold under all those muscles. I’m completely astonished, but I feel like Jason Samuels is someone I could actually be friends with.

“Should we go?”

“Yeah,” I say, standing up and slipping on my coat.

“Oh, you’ve got an eyelash,” Jason says, shocking me by leaning in close. His thumb is an inch from my eyeball before I even register what’s happening, so I close my eyes instinctively. His thumb brushes under my lashes and then the touch is gone.

“Make a wish.” He grins, holding up a lash thickly coated in mascara.

“I wish there was more time in the day.” I sigh.

“Amen, sister,” he says, offering a high five. We walk through the coffee shop, him smiling and nodding to the people he catches ogling him on the way out but walking with purpose to minimize the chances of getting stopped.

“You need a ride?” he asks at the glass doors.

“My folks are waiting,” I admit self-consciously. “My dad wasn’t happy about me getting brunch with an older guy, especially one who happens to have been voted Sexiest Man Alive.”

Jason smiles, holding the door open for me. “You worry about bringing guys home to your dad. I worry about bringing girls home to my publicist.”

I laugh.

“Sad but true,” he says, and I can tell he really means it.

When we step out onto the sidewalk, though, my happy-shiny feeling disappears. From out of nowhere, flashbulbs go off, and three men with big cameras start shouting my name. “Bird! Over here! Jason, is this your new girlfriend? Bird! Bird!”

Unfazed, Jason puts on his sunglasses and pulls up his hood. The flashes keep going off, and without even realizing it, I’ve got my arm up shielding my eyes. Jason takes charge, slipping a strong arm around my waist and leading me toward a black SUV with tinted windows parked nearby. I just want to get out of here, so when Jason holds the passenger door open for me, I get in.

“What the heck?” I ask when he gets behind the wheel after pushing past some guys taking my picture through the windshield. “How’d they know you were here?”

“We,” Jason corrects.

The three paparazzi are standing outside the car, still snapping away when Jason starts to slowly pull out of his parking space. I’m on edge, worried we might run over someone, but Jason is totally calm. Like dogs who bark at cars, the photographers manage to walk away in one piece.

“I’ll go around the block,” he says, glancing over at me. “We’ll circle back, if you want to tell your parents.”

“Thanks,” I say, pulling out my phone and texting them. “This is insane.” I shake my head and put on my seat belt, totally flustered, while Jason is the picture of peace. “I still don’t get how they just showed up like that,” I say.

“Bird,” he replies patiently, “I’m sure your publicist called them. Or mine. Who knows?”

“Anita?” I say, surprised. “I don’t think she would do that.”

He looks amused. “She’s the one who set up the meeting in the first place.”

I gawk at him. The first thought that comes to my mind is her saying that Jason was “taken” with me. Fuming, I feel my face burn. I can’t believe she lied to me. I can’t believe I believed her.

“Classic setup,” he says. “But don’t sweat it. I’m glad she did. That was a pretty good burger… and the company was okay.”

“Ha-ha,” I say dryly.

He pulls up in front of a bookstore and double-parks behind my parents, switching on his emergency lights. “It was nice to meet you, Bird Barrett,” Jason says, offering his hand and shaking mine exaggeratedly.

I grin. “Eet woz rrrreally my plez-ure,” I reply in my bad Russian accent.

He laughs pretty hard as I open my door. When I step out, he calls, “Hey, I really do hope we use your song in the movie.”

I lean down before closing the door. “Me too. See ya later, alligator.”

“Oh,” he says, wincing. “Now I know I have met the real Bird Barrett. After a while, crocodile,” he says mockingly.

I stick my tongue out and slam the door. Within seconds, hip-hop music booms from his pimped-out ride and he joins the flow of traffic on Twenty-First Avenue. Hurrying the few steps to where my parents wait, I get in the backseat, grateful for the warmth and for the normalcy of Gramma’s old sedan.

“How was it?” my mom asks, turning around in her seat as I buckle up.

I catch my dad’s eye in the rearview mirror and know better than to tell the truth. My beef is with Anita, and I can handle it myself.

“Fine,” I say, plastering on a smile for them both. “It was just fine.”