Five days later, Jamie still hadn’t found the courage to dial Chris’s number, though she kept a good hold on that snippet of paper.

It wasn’t that she was afraid of him rejecting her (okay, so a part of her did worry about that), but what were you supposed to say to someone who was an ultra-major pop star? How were you supposed to act around a person that so many other people knew and admired? Oh, she understood that Chris was really no different from anyone else; there was no need to treat him any differently now that she knew who he was. She knew she wouldn’t want people treating her differently if she became rich and famous.

Still, whenever she tried to think of what to tell him, of where she could possibly begin with him, her mind remained a complete blank and her tongue felt more twisted than a poorly made pretzel.

Besides, it didn’t seem conventional for the girl to make the first move on the guy. She might as well be the one to whip out the big bouquet of roses from behind her back, or get down on one knee and ask, “Will you marry me?”

More than once, Jamie scolded herself, Why am I being so silly about all this? What harm could there be in just talking to him?

That afternoon, she sat Indian-style on her bed with a little gray monkey she’d owned since her babyhood. She held the soft, slightly tattered toy out at arm’s length and said to its smiling face, “Hi, Chris, this is Jamie. You know, that girl from the movies? I was wondering if we could…no, that’s not gonna work.” She cleared her throat and tried again. “Hey, Chris, Jamie here! Sorry to be a bother, but I was just thinking about you and wanting to know, if you wouldn’t mind—naw, that’s stupid, too.”

With a sigh, she flopped back against the mound of pillows. With her eyes on the ceiling, she muttered, “Who am I fooling? What chance does someone like me stand with someone like him, even on the ‘friends’ level? Sure, he was nice enough at the theater, but who knows about next time? If there even is a next time?” At length, she drew her monkey a little closer to her face and asked, “What do you think, Georgie?”

“I think you might want to be careful about who you let catch you talking to inanimate objects. Someone will ship you off to the nuthouse in a banana crate before you turn around.”

Jamie jumped about two feet off the bed, and then as she recovered herself, she narrowed her eyes and said with dripping disdain, “Hello, Natasha.”

Nat, having just come back from her part-time job as a grocery bagger, leaned against the doorframe with her slim arms folded and a canny smile gracing her nut-brown face. Even in a white shirt, faded jeans, and a bright red apron, she looked great; Jamie doubted any article of clothing existed that her friend wouldn’t look great in. “Practicing your lines, huh?” Nat said, more as a statement than anything else.

Jamie’s expression softened, and her whole body sagged on the bed. “Okay, you got me,” she confessed. “I guess I just don’t want to come off as a complete dope if I ever speak to Chris again.”

“What do you mean, ‘if’? You still got his number, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but—”

“Then what are you waiting for, girl? What’s the holdup?”

“I guess…” Jamie fumbled for a bit before going on. “I guess I’m not sure this is the right time.”

“What makes a time more right than any other time?”

Sitting up, Jamie answered dryly, “You know what I mean.”

Stepping all the way into the room, Nat said, “Honestly, J, I don’t see what any harm there can be in one simple call. Chris can’t bite your head off over the phone. Besides, you always wished one guy in the world would take notice of you, and now you’ve got your wish.”

“But, Nat, this is Chris Kirkpatrick we’re talking about! We’re not talking about a call to a grandmother or some old high school chum—”

“Oh, so that’s it, is it? Chris’s super-celebrity-status acting as a big barrier?”

“No! Yes…”

“Which one?”

“Both.” Jamie sighed again and clasped her stuffed monkey to her chest. “Besides, the girl making the first move on the guy? It simply isn’t done that way.”

Nat placed both hands on her slender hips and raised an eyebrow as high as it would go. “So you expect the men to do all the work, hmm? Well, then, little missy, how do you explain Jane Eyre?”

“Jane Eyre?” Jamie repeated, puzzled.

“Or Elizabeth Bennett? Or Ariel, or Belle, or Jasmine, or Pocahontas, or Meg? Who knows where those fine ladies would have ended up had they not possessed the guts to go after their guys?” Nat brushed her fingers through her short black hair as she went on, “I may not be the world’s biggest love expert, honey, but I can pretty much guarantee you’ll be sadly disappointed if sitting around and waiting is all you’re gonna do.”

“I don’t love him,” Jamie insisted even as she felt that old blush take over her face. “I admire him and the rest of his group as much as anyone could.” She paused, then added, “And what if he already has someone else, anyway? How awkward would that be?”

Nat shrugged. “Like the old saying goes, you’ll never know if you never try. What have you got to lose, J-girl? At least you’d be no worse off than you are right now.”

With her gaze on her monkey, Jamie mumbled, “Yeah, that much is true.”

“Just keep this in mind, my friend—it’s a phone call, not a wedding proposal.” In another minute, Nat said, “Much as I’d love to stick around and indulge in girly talk, I got other urgent affairs to attend to.”

“You’re excused,” Jamie told her.

“Catch you later, J.” Nat stretched out her hand and gave the monkey’s right ear a little tweak. “See ya, Georgie.”

“He-e-ey, lookin’ sharp!”

Chris could already see from the mirror that Justin stood behind him, with Joey right behind Justin. “Hi, guys,” he said as he adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses.

“Oh, boy, wait until Allie gets a load of you!” said Joey. “Her eyes will totally bug out and her jaw will leave a major dent in the pavement.”

“Thanks,” Chris said, not sure at all whether he’d been complimented.

“You okay?” Justin asked, furrowing his brow. “For a guy who’s got a night out with his girl, you don’t look too thrilled.”

“This is the first time you and Allie have been able to get together in almost two months,” Joey said. He paused, then asked, “Hey, you’re not still sore about whether you might have spotted Allie with someone else that other night, are you?”

“No,” Chris said, but then found himself confessing, “Well…maybe a little.”

“I’m sure it’s fine, man,” said Justin with a light slap on Chris’s back. “Allie needed no persuasion to go out with you tonight, did she?”

“She didn’t hesitate to say yes, but she sounded far from ecstatic.” Now Chris turned to face his mates properly. “Plus,” he added, “it’s been a tough week.”

Justin and Joey knew he wasn’t exaggerating.

Aside from their grueling agenda that week, they’d all had to endure quite a bit from their friends and associates about their ill-timed cameo appearance at the movies. While a few people were genuinely sympathetic toward their plight, most acted as if the guys had landed first place on America’s Funniest Home Videos. Laughs and wisecracks were doled out in heaping spoonfuls; even Wade and Johnny got a bigger laugh out of it than Chris believed necessary. During rehearsals once, Wade had gone so far as to chant, “Run, run, run, as fast as you can! You can’t catch me, I’m an ‘N Sync man!”

At another time, Chris would have laughed along, but right then, he could have sunk through the floor. It was all he could have done to keep his hands down, his head high, and show some grit.

Now Joey slapped Chris’s shoulder and said, “With luck, man, this evening will be just what the doctor ordered.”

“I hope so,” Chris said. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

“Much more of what?” Justin queried. “Your problems with women, your problems as a guy from ‘N Sync, or your problems with life as a whole?”

“All of the above, I guess.” Chris sighed. “Don’t get me wrong, guys. I love my job, I love my fans, I love my woman, and I love you.”

“Aww, you’re so sweet,” Joey cooed, giving Chris’s cheek a pinch.

Chris gently shrugged Joey off before continuing, “I know I should be grateful for what I’ve got, and I am. But sometimes…”

“Sometimes, what?” asked Justin after a minute or two of silence.

Chris sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly through rounded lips. How could he describe it? In another minute he managed to say, “Sometimes I get the sense that no one sees me or appreciates me as I truly am.”

Justin made a little nod of understanding. “They don’t appreciate the guy inside the performer,” he said. “They don’t know what goes on with you when you’re not on a stage or in front of a camera.”

“Exactly. And sometimes I think they don’t even want to.”

“Kind of like that girl from the ‘Lucky’ song,” said Joey, being serious for once. “On the surface, she appears to have it all, anything that anyone could dream of—and yet she feels lonely and insecure, crying herself to sleep every night.” 

Chris didn’t say it, but he thought if they made a few alterations to those lyrics, the song would fit him to a tee:

“He’s so lucky, he’s a star,
But he cry, cry, cries
In his lonely heart, thinking—
'If there’s nothing missing in my life,
Then why do these tears come at night?’”

“Goes to show that fame plus fortune doesn’t equal happiness,” said Justin.

Chris nodded and sighed again. “Oh, well…I don’t mean to be a party pooper, but I did want you to know how I feel.”

“That’s all right,” Justin assured him with a smile.

“You know we’re always here for you, buddy,” added Joey. “We’ve all got your back.” He looked and sounded so sincere that Chris felt a rush of gratitude toward him, along with a little twinge of shame for getting annoyed with him so frequently.

“Thanks, guys. That means a lot.”