“We have to cut after every single angle,” Shawn explains.
“But it’s going to look sick when we’re done.” A few cheers fly out from the crowd, brightening Adam’s electric smile. “By the time you reach the crowd that’s going to form around this pond here”—Adam gestures to the water surrounding the platform—“you’re going to be in full bright color, and you are going to be rocking out. By the time you get from there”—he points to the trees—“to here”—he points to a random girl at the edge of the water, who looks like she seriously might faint—“we want you to be out of your mind excited.”
“Big smiles,” Shawn illustrates. “Hands in the air, jumping up and down.”
“Rocking the fuck out,” Adam finishes, and when I glance back at Mike, a big contagious smile is on his face. I find myself mirroring it, my excitement for him washing over me. Even though I didn’t know him when he was younger, I know how hard he worked for this. I can tell by the way he plays those drums, like he used to practice even in his dreams.
“Still good?” Shawn asks the producer, getting another thumbs-up.
“So when we’re performing for the video,” Adam says, “it’s just going to be for show. You’ll hear the song, through the loudspeakers, but we won’t be live.”
A murmur goes through the crowd, and Adam shakes his head at Shawn. “They have so little faith.” Shawn grins, and Adam looks back at the crowd. “I haven’t even gotten to the best part yet.”
“You should probably get to it,” Shawn advises with a chuckle, and Adam smiles.
“We’re going to have to get some shots of us playing, but then after that, this whole fucking clearing”—he spins around again, playing to the giant crowd surrounding him on every side—“is going to be transformed into the biggest rager you’ve ever fucking seen.”
I flinch when excitement consumes the crowd, causing a deafening cacophony of screams and cheers. Over the roar, Shawn says, “We’ve got trucks coming that are going to be loaded with kegs and food and glow shit.”
“And we’re going to perform two songs from our next album for you guys, so you’ll get to hear them before anyone else,” Adam adds, and the screaming grows even more insane. I look back at Mike, my heart skipping a beat when I realize he’s found me in the crowd. He smiles wide, and then, in spite of all the screaming, he starts twirling the drumstick between his fingers, showing me that he’s mastered the trick I taught him.
With my cheeks blushing red, I giggle—giggle. And then I thank God he can’t hear me.
“This guy over here is going to give you more direction as we shoot,” Shawn says, pointing to the director. “So listen to what he has to say. If you haven’t already signed your release form, head to that lady over there because you need to sign it in order to be in the video.” Shawn points to a woman standing further back in the clearing, who waves. “And if you got a card from the costume crew, head back the way you came and let them fix you up.”
I frown down at my boring hoodie, jeans, and boots, but Dee nudges me with her elbow and shakes her head, telling me not to worry.
“And give yourselves a big hand for coming out tonight,” Adam praises, ever the energetic frontman. “You’re going to be in a music video for The Last Ones to fucking Know!”
Chapter 29
My outfit is a perfect combination of Dee and Rowan.
My zippered black ankle boots: Dee. My solid black leggings: Rowan. My I-don’t-even-want-to-know-how-expensive leather jacket: Dee. My finger-curled hair: Rowan.
And my dress . . . my dress. The soft layers of tulle remind me of Rowan, but the bright, bright bloodred color is all Dee. And it’s strange, how all of this together feels like me. Like a version of me I never knew existed, but which I’d like to get to know.
Standing in front of a full-length mirror in the band’s personal trailer, I’ve never felt prettier in my entire life.
“I can’t even get over how gorgeous you look,” Dee praises, lifting the delicate red tulle away from my knees and watching the way it falls. Rowan brushes my bangs away from my face and smiles at me in the mirror.
“I can’t believe you made this dress,” I counter, and Dee’s gaze lifts from the skirt of it, finding my reflection.
“You need to let me borrow it so I can get a grade on it for school,” she says, “but after that, you can have it.”
“I can?”
The question comes out as a squeak, and Dee smiles. “Of course. I made it for you.”
“And you can have the shoes and leggings and jacket too,” Rowan adds, and when I frown, she assures me, “Mosh Records paid for those.”
“We put in a special request,” Dee explains with a smirk.
“How’d you know my shoe size?”
“I checked your boots after you fell in the pond,” Rowan confesses, and the girls both laugh, but I’m busy trying not to drown in emotion.
Even back then, they were planning this for me. Our scouting trip to the pond was two weeks ago, and it must have taken Dee even longer than that to make something this stunning. I can see her hard work in every stitch, every impossibly delicate layer of material. She sees my eyes welling with tears in the mirror, and she sternly shakes her head.
“Don’t you dare, Hailey. If you mess up your makeup—”
Rowan laughs and fans my face with her hands. “She means you’re welcome. Now calm down.”
“I’m sorry—” I start, but Rowan only fans me harder.
“Don’t be sorry. Just don’t cry. I don’t want you to mess up your makeup either. You look so pretty.”
“Mike is going to die,” Dee says, reminding me that I have to go back out there. I have to go back out in front of everyone—thousands of people, and one in particular—in a bloodred dress that’s impossible not to notice.
“Are you sure he’s going to like it?” I worry, and Dee raises an eyebrow at me in the mirror.
“What part of ‘He is going to freaking die’ did you not understand?”
Walking back toward the pond, I’m not convinced Mike is the one who’s going to die. My knees are week, my heart is racing, and I’m pretty sure that Rowan’s elbow linked with mine is the only thing keeping me moving.
“If this doesn’t make him proclaim his undying love for you,” Rowan says, “nothing will.”
I reply with a nervous chuckle, because I skipped over that little part when I told the girls about Danica bursting into his house the morning after I spent the night. His words just felt too big to repeat out loud.
I’m in love with you.
And he hasn’t said them since. Sometimes I wonder if he ever really said them at all, if maybe I imagined the whole thing.
As Rowan, Dee, and I walk back into the clearing, I can feel more than a few pairs of eyes on us—on Dee’s mini dress and long legs, on Rowan’s pretty blonde hair and blue eyes, on my bloodred dress and the black boots I’m desperately trying not to trip in.