“Honey, he’s always been a little sweet on you,” Joanna had said, the phone lines crackling between our hotel and her parents’ house in Houston.

“You’re making that up.” In our group of friends, I always considered Edie the delicate and elfin cute girl and Joanna the intelligent beauty. Either of them would’ve been the better pick if I were in Alex’s shoes.

“Never. Still, I’m amazed he’s switching schools for you. What happens when you go on another tour?”

“Mm, don’t know,” I’d said. “He’ll probably stay put. He’s only along with us right now because it’s summer break.”

“And your album? It drops soon?”

“On the third,” I’d said. It was a good thing Big Disc had thrown that incredible party for our first single because we worked without breaks during the album release. The big machine had hummed in the background, pressing discs, printing covers, stocking boxes, and shipping to stores while we were dancing and singing on the road with Illuminated Eyes. And just a week after our conversation, the album had been unleashed in the real world; but in our little bubble on the bus, in hotels, in the bowels of stadiums, we didn’t get to witness its ascension.

“I can’t seem to ever get a hold of Edie,” I had added, before we’d ended the call. “If you reach her, tell her I said hi.”

This morning, in Chicago, Alex took my hand as I got off of the bus and said excitedly, “I asked Ian if I could show you around before tonight’s performance and he’s giving us the afternoon. Come on.”

He and I sat on the Blue Line for a little while, hip to hip, our fingers intertwined. We didn’t talk much, nor did we kiss. I liked this. I liked his reassuring heat against my thigh. I liked his presence. We exited at Grant Park and walked hand in hand toward the lake.

“It’s so beautiful compared to Houston, right?”

I took a deep breath of the air, which was light and honeysuckle scented. Houston in June gives the uncomfortable feeling of breathing hot water into your lungs; this was a refreshing and crisp change, even if it was over ninety degrees out. A breeze swept over the lake and ruffled our hair.

“I might be willing to overlook snowstorms and cold weather if the summers feel this good,” I joked.

“Oh, Cass, don’t even say that,” he said, shaking his head wearily. “Cold weather is the worst. I spent every day last winter huddled up next to my radiator and cursing when I had to go to my microeconomics class. Come on.” He tugged at my hand and guided me toward a looming bronze lion, green with patina, flanking the entry steps of a gorgeous beige building. “The Art Institute,” he said, while pulling out a pocket-size camera. He pulled me in close, large warm hand at my back, and tried to aim the lens so that we’d fit into the shot. Click. The camera advanced to the next frame automatically with a little whirr.

“Your parents will be happy to get some confirmation that you’re not just working all the time,” Alex said, wrapping the camera’s hand strap around his forearm and rubbing my shoulder. “Here, I’ll take one of just you now.” He stepped away and squinted through the viewfinder.

“Yeah,” I said, smiling at him, but feeling oddly hollow.

We continued on our mini tour of Chicago, wandering around Grant Park and seeing the construction of Pritzker Pavilion. A kiosk nearby sold snow cones in paper cups and Alex paid for two.

Hand in hand, slurping our melting ice, we passed a gaggle of teen girls on the sidewalk heading in the opposite direction. One did a double take. In a plain tee and jeans and without the other three girls, I’d been comfortable thinking that I could blend into the crowd, but she’d recognized me.

Alex drank the last of his grape slush while we stood at a crosswalk. “Incoming,” he said, smiling. I glanced back. They had switched course and were following us indiscreetly, whispering and giggling. When they caught me looking, they burst into shrieks and charged forward.

“Omigod, are you Sassy Gloss?!”

I turned on my signature Sassy Cassy smirk and nodded. The girls dissolved into more screaming. Can we get a picture with you? Will you sign my shirt?

Alex grinned and brandished his camera. “Cass, it’s your first time being mobbed in a public place! You gotta take a photo.” I acquiesced, but while he took a photo with both his and one of the girls’ disposable cameras, I felt like I was outside of my body watching the entire interaction. My mouth stretched the way it should, my hands floated to the girls’ shoulders like a friendly pop star’s would. But I wasn’t really there.

Now, in the dressing room of the stadium, Merry sighed and leaned over Yumi. “That must’ve been nice,” she said. It was even nicer, I thought, that Alex had met up with one of the friends he’d made while at school and was missing the concert. I didn’t want him to feel obligated to be next to me all the time.

The others were still riding the buoyant wave that the crowd had given us, but my feet had reached the shore as soon as I’d seen that cowboy hat waiting for us after the performance. I felt as though I’d drunk six cups of coffee and my ribs were quivering, but when I stopped running the pin through my fingers, I found that my hands could stop completely still. It was only inside me.

There was a knock at the door and Ian—cell phone in hand, with the echoing sounds of Illuminated Eyes’ wild drumbeats and a hissing roar of the crowd—joined us inside. “Ladies,” he said, then saw Stephen. “Oh, hi there. You can be here if you want. It’s Peter with some news.” He jabbed a button on the receiver. “Putting you on speaker, Peter.”

The reception was, as usual, a little spotty, but we could understand him perfectly when he said, “Ladies, as you know, your debut album went live last week. We have numbers for you. You are . . .”—he paused for dramatic effect—“Number one on the Billboard chart!”

The room exploded in a cacophony of sound. We hopped around the room and shrieked.

Ian calmed us down and Peter continued, “And . . . you’ve been invited to the Music Video Channel MVAs.”

We screamed some more.

“. . . You’re not eligible for an award, but the producers want you to perform instead. Meredith, we have to make sure there are no more missteps, so keep a lid on it and a bra on until September. Ian?”

Ian took him off speakerphone and clapped the phone to his ear. He smiled a huge smile at us, so big that his eyes disappeared into the mass of his brown cheeks, and he spoke into the receiver as he backed into the corner of the room.

Rose turned to me and yelled, “Can you believe it?”

“I can’t believe it!”

We grasped each other’s elbows and jumped up and down. It was the most interaction we’d had in weeks. As if realizing it at the same time, we disengaged and then hugged the other girls. Even Stephen got in on the hugging, though he barely brushed me.

Two years ago I was the loser on a reality show competition. Now we had the top-selling album in the country and were invited to a huge industry event. I couldn’t wrap my mind around it. That night, I floated back to the hotel without feeling my feet touch the ground. It wasn’t until I was kicking the covers back in the morning that I saw the other bed still tightly made with its hospital corners and realized Merry hadn’t come back to the room at all.