The rain pelted against the windows in my bedroom and I stuck my pencil between my teeth lost in thought.

The room was cool and I shivered as I leaned against my headboard trying to come up with lyrics to describe how I was feeling.  I shifted slightly trying to get comfortable and resettled the notebook that was on my lap.  

I stared at the blank pieces of paper, willing any type of phrase to drift from the depths of my mind.

Inspiration struck as I grabbed the pencil, jotting down the lyrics quickly before I forgot them.

I don't know what I want, so don't ask me

Cause I'm still trying to figure it out

Don't know what's down this road, I'm just walking

Trying to see through the rain coming down

Even though I'm not the only one

Who feels the way I do

I wrote furiously, scribbling down the lyrics that portrayed some deep, gnawing emotion I had kept sealed away for far too long and I moved a strand of curly blonde hair that fell against the pages blocking the movement of my pencil.

I sat back and crinkled my nose for a second, tapping the pencil lightly against my chin as I attempted to let the music come to me.

I lifted my pencil once again and pressed it against the crisp white paper when I was interrupted by a knock outside my door.

I lifted my head up slightly as the door opened and my dad Frank appeared in the doorway. 
 
"Come in"

He let himself in, softly closing the door behind him and turned towards me beaming a broad smile that faltered and then disappeared completely once he peered around my room, disapprovingly shaking his head at the stacks of paper full of lyrics that littered my bedroom floor.

His thin black hair was pulled out of his face and a brown cigar dangled from his mouth.  He was wearing a white shirt and a pair of black slacks and his eyelids dropped tiredly.

My dad had been spending a lot of time preparing for his largest client, Michael Jacksons' tour, and had been spending a lot of late nights in his office.
I looked hesitantly at my dad as he walked across the room, settling himself against the edge of my bed and I quickly pulled my notebook to my chest

"You're wasting your time."

I let out a frustrated sigh and resisted the urge to roll my eyes.  It was ironic, having such strong connections but yet being so distant from achieving my dreams of a career in the music industry.

His grin returned, his disapproval forgotten for the time being.

"I want you to go on...something of a vacation with me. Travel, see the world.."

 "Broaden your horizons."

I cocked an eyebrow and looked at him suspiciously.

 "Why?"

He grew completely serious. My reaction wasn't something he had planned on.

 "What do you mean, "Why"? Aren't you the one that said you wanted to get out of this town, see what the world had to offer?"

I shifted on the bed slightly and put my pencil and notebook down beside me before looking back up at him.  "Yea but I have a feeling your idea of seeing the world may be a bit different than mine.  "

He shook his head. "What difference is there?" He asked holding out his hands as he waited for me to continue.

 "The world can't be seen if it's from a hotel room or backstage, dad.  Besides, I have a feeling your reasons for taking me are littered with ulterior motivation."

He let out a frustrated sigh and rubbed his temples slightly.

He looked back up at me and grimaced. "Okay, look. I know we disagree on the direction you want your life to go...but trust me when I say that this is in your best interest and YOU. ARE.  GOING."

I looked at him and let out an exasperated grunt.

 "Are you kidding?" I said my eyes widening. 

He narrowed his eyes slightly.  "I am NOT kidding.  Michael will be here to finalize a few things in the morning and we will be leaving day after tomorrow.  Pack your bags and be ready to leave by then."
I ran a frustrated hand through my hair and opened my mouth to argue when he shot me a steady glare. 

I put a hand to my forehead and closed my eyes scooting down on the bed and throwing the covers over my head in frustration. 

When my dad had his mind set on something, there was no use arguing. 

I gripped the blanket tightly in my fists and felt the bed shift as he pulled himself off of it and walked back to the door. I heard the door close softly behind him and pulled the covers tightly over my head letting out a controlled scream.

When was he going to learn I wasn't a little girl anymore and start letting me make my own decisions? 

My dad and I had been so close before. It was difficult because he was on the road a lot of the time while I was growing up, but he always made time for me, to be an active part of my life.I had lost my mom in a car accident on my 8th birthday and my dad had never lost sight of the fact that I desperately needed him to be a major part of my life.

Somewhere amidst all the chaos of my dad's constant life on the road however, he decided if I should ever go into the music business it should be as far away from the spotlight as possible. Behind the scenes, helping in making the music happen but not creating it.

I closed my eyes and let a recent conversation with my dad rush over me.

"It's no life for you Whitney. It's no life for anyone...constantly being criticized by the media, defending yourself against the masses. It's no life I ever want for my daughter."

His eyes had been serious and a tender expression had crossed his face as he reached up and brushed a stray hair from my eyes.

"Stay away from the spotlight" He said softly looking into my eyes.  "They throw stones at things that shine."

My thoughts drifted from my conversation with my dad to Michael. 







FLASHBACK

He stood before me, every bit of the shining star everyone made him out to be.

"Michael, this is my daughter, Whitney." My dad gently urged me to step forward, my knees quivering against the skirt of my sundress from nerves as Michael looked up.

He smiled warmly, his lips revealing brilliantly white teeth as he stepped forward, holding out his hand in greeting. His eyes were liquid brown. A black fedora rested on the crown of his head, slightly hiding his face under the rim as loose black tendrils of hair framed his almond-shaped eyes. A red, leather jacket snugly hugged his torso, framing his chest down to his waist. His pants matched his jacket flawlessly, his feet covered with white socks and a pair of black penny-loafers.

 God, he looked incredible.

"Hello, Whitney. I'm Michael." I grasped his hand, smiling nervously as I tucked a blonde curl behind my ear. His skin was smooth, sinfully warm. His hand completely enveloped mine, his grasp firm but gentle. A million-watt smile for a multi-million dollar star...
 
End Flashback

I opened my eyes to stare at the ceiling.

 I wasn't even sure he would remember me after all the time that has passed, but I sure as hell remembered him.

His voice, his strong jawline, the graceful curve of his neck, his body..the body of a dancer, a performer, his muscles taut under his flesh..

Butterflies encased my stomach as I thought about the way his small curls had fallen into his eyes and the way he bit his lip when he was embarrassed by someone's praise on the set of his music video.

 I had spent the entire afternoon gawking at him and remember being overwhelmed by his kind spirit the radiated for everyone around him to see.  He was incredible, and I had been awestruck by the creativity he put in his music and movements. His precision, the rhythm..

Thoughts of Michael made inspiration for the song I had been creating hit me full force.  I sat up quickly pulling my hair over my shoulder, and grabbed the notebook I had been spilling lyrics in earlier and began writing furiously.

"A Place In This World"

I don't know what I want, so don't ask me

Cause I'm still trying to figure it out

Don't know what's down this road, I'm just walking

Trying to see through the rain coming down

Even though I'm not the only one

Who feels the way I do

[Chorus:]

I'm alone, on my own, and that's all I know

I'll be strong, I'll be wrong, oh but life goes on

I'm just a girl, trying to find a place in

This world

Got the radio on, my old blue jeans

And I'm wearing my heart on my sleeve

Feeling lucky today, got the sunshine

Could you tell me what more do I need

And tomorrow's just a mystery, oh yeah

But that's ok

[Repeat Chorus]

Maybe I'm just a girl on a mission

But I'm ready to fly

[Repeat Chorus]

I let out a satisfied sigh and closed my notebook.

My dad may not have approved of my dreams for stardom, but he couldn't stop me from writing my hearts' desires on paper. It was time for me to find my own place in the world.

.... Like Michael, from what my dad has told me about him.

 I had to make my dreams happen instead of idling by waiting for a bit of luck and hoping it would happen.

Tomorrow was the first step towards my future, even though I hadn't wanted to go in the first place.I now see this could be the catalyst I needed to make it happen. whether he liked it or not.

Popping a piece of gum in my mouth, I anxiously knocked on Frank's front door.

 Bird's chirped and the radiant beams of the sun warmed the daft chill of the air. I let out a small sigh and I rolled the small piece of foil between my fingers, slipping it and my aviator shades into my pocket just as Frank pulled back the front door, clearly not happy at my being early.

"Michael, why are you always so early?" Frank scowled before opening the door wide enough for me to enter and stepping aside.

" You're such a Nazi when it comes to being on time."

I gave Frank a tentative smile as he scowled unhappily at me.

Using my tongue I pushed the gum to the side, shooting Frank a sunny smirk as he motioned for me to come in. He grumbled while he closed the door, popping a thick, brown cigar into his mouth.

"Frank, you know that's bad for you."

"I told ya, Michael. If I'm gonna die, why not go out doing something I like?"

 I shook my head as he flicked the head of a lighter, taking a healthy breath of air in before replacing it back in his pocket.

"You keep that up and you're going to go before you should."

Frank scoffed. He wore a brown sports jacket over a crisp white shirt, his thinning hair slicked back away from his face, tied against the back of his neck. His pants matched the shade of his jacket, black shoes on his feet. He peered at me as I took a seat, flopping heavily in a chair to rest my back.

"Did you approve the new tour schedule I faxed?" he asked, slightly slurred from the cigar that dangled in his mouth.

I simply nodded, unhappy that he had suddenly decided to propose thirty more shows and even more scheduled appearances to promote the tour. My schedule was already crammed enough as it was. If I approved his plans for all this I would barely have enough time to breathe.

"It's impossible to do, Frank. You know how crowded we are already..this is just unnecessary. There's

 just not enough time to do everything."

Frank crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing as a thin blue wisp of smoke wafted in front of his face. I met his stare, shaking my head.

"We can't, Frank. Maybe if you brought it up beforehand we could have added more dates, had time to add it to the performance roster but this was last minute. We can't change it now."

"I thought you paid me to make out your schedule and to tell you what you can and cannot fit in!" Frank exclaimed his eyes blazing.

 I sighed, calmly standing, adjusting my red long sleeve shirt before I raised my head to meet his displeased gaze.

"I do,  But It can't be done, Frank. I'm not a machine! I have to have time to recover and rest..you don't seem to understand that since you insist on pushing several more days added to this already crowded tour.  What is going on with you anyway?"

Frank's face turned red.  Pulling the cigar from his mouth Frank turned away from me and started barking orders to everyone else.

"Alright people, let's get moving! WHITNEY! WHERE ARE YOU!"

Letting out a resigned sigh, I decided this conversation would have to wait for another day and headed across the room to a white padded bench sitting underneath a large silver mirror.  I sat down and adjusted the black fedora I had worn waiting for Frank to get everything organized enough that we could load the busses.

"Michael!"  Frank barked, taking another puff of his cigar and leaning against the bannister. "Your suitcase already on the bus?"

Nodding my head Frank turned his attention to someone else and walked out of the room.   "Hey Janet.."  Frank called rounding the corner.

Bump, bump, bump.

I heard a noise from upstairs and I looked up to see what was going on.   As soon as I did I saw a beautiful woman with long blond curls crouched down and walking backwards down the stairs with two large black suitcases with purple trim and one identical from the others dangling from her mouth.

Who was that?

Mesmerized I watched the way her hips swung beneath her dark jean shorts and the way her slightly sheer white tunic just barely grazed the edge of her waist.  Moving slowly her ponytail bounced behind her in sync with her movements and I watched her tug them steadily down the stairs until she was halfway there.

"Whitney!"  Frank entered the room, a look of annoyance on his face.   Turning to look towards the  stairway Frank glanced up and  yelled again. "What the hell are you doing?!"

Wait...THAT was Whitney?

Shocked I watched the exchange.. Hearing her dad Whitney rolled her eyes, stopped, and dropped the suitcases.  Turning to look at him Whitney put a hand on her hip and pointed to the door.

"Loading the bus dad, like you TOLD me I HAD to do."

Hearing someone tell Frank off normally would have made me laugh, and yet...wow. Shaking my head slightly I forced myself to stop looking at her and reminded myself that she was the same gangly girl I had seen a few years ago.

AND that she was Frank's daughter.

Pulling my cell phone out of my pocket I checked my voicemail to make sure I hadn't missed any phone calls this morning getting ready.  Not seeing any missed calls I shoved the phone back in my pocket and stood up. 

"NOO!"

I looked up just in time to see Whitney tumbling down the stairs in a gigantic mess of purple and black suitcases.  Taking a few steps towards her quickly I reached down to help her up.

"You okay?"  I asked concerned, checking her over for bruises.

Whitney's hair had slipped from her ponytail and was laying in a mess around her shoulders.  Blowing a few strands of hair away from her face Whitney let out a resigned sigh and reached up to take my hand.

"Yeah, thanks" She groaned not looking up.  "I better get these on the bus before my Nazi father-"

Whitney smiled and looked up at me midsentence.  As soon as she realized who I was her expression changed to what looked like stark terror.  Her eyes wide, Whitney accidentally lost her footing and her hand slipped from mine sending her careening back into the floor.

"She's riding with you."

Frank's command was issued as she walked out the door with a couple of my bodyguards.  Not even given enough time to reply I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and glanced back down at Whitney.

"You want me to help you load these up?"

Whitney's mouth had formed a wide O and she was staring at the door Frank had just walked out of.  Her face still looking painstakingly panicked I figured maybe she needed a moment to herself and I bent down and began grabbing things that had fallen out of her suitcase.

What was this?

A thick composition notebook had landed open when the suitcases had fallen and picking up the book I couldn't help but read some of the things that had been written.

Enchanted

This night is sparkling don't you let it go
I'm wonder struck blushing all the way home
I spent forever wondering if you knew
It was enchanted to meet you

The lingering question came me up
two am who do you love
I wondered till im wide awake
And now im pacing back and forth
Wishing you were at my door

I'd open it up and you would say
It was enchanting to meet you
All I know is I was enchanted to meet you

This was the very first page
not where the storyline ends
my thoughts will echo your name
until I see you again
these were the words I help back
I was enchanted to meet you

Please don't be in love with someone else
Please don't have somebody waiting on you.

Raising my eyebrows, I realized it was a song and from the looks of it one that Whitney had written herself.  Looking back down at her Whitney had begun gathering her luggage and throwing piles of it back in the bags.  Clearing my throat I waited until she glanced up at me and held up the notebook.

"Is this your writing?"

Whitney glanced between me and the notebook and her face went crimson.  Giving her an encouraging smile I reached down to hand her the notebook.

"Your stuff...it's really good."

Whitney's breath caught in her throat and quickly she glanced down at the book to see what song the notebook had opened up on.  Letting out a loud groan when she saw it Whitney buried her face against the page.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Whitney's POV

Of course he'd pick up the book and it would be opened to the song I had written after first meeting him.  It had been years ago and I hadn't been much more than thirteen.  I had been awestruck with him.

Please don't ask me who it's about... Please don't ask me who it's about...Please don't ask me-

"Who's it about? Anyone I know?"

It was official.  Today was the day I was going to find out if you could actually die from embarrassment.

  I ignored his question. "Why couldn't just one thing go right today?" I murmured against the page of my notebook .  "Maybe I'll melt into a puddle of embarrassment and die so that I don't have to look at his face again."

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

Michael's voice broke me out of my trance and inwardly I was mortified.

Had I seriously say all of that out loud? I needed to learn to keep my mouth shut.

"Nothing..."

The bus began its journey to our first destination and Michael motioned for me to follow him into his living area. I felt my jaw drop, taking in my surroundings as I heard Michael chuckle behind me. I looked back at him with wide eyes before I turned back around, assessing my surroundings once again."

The area we had walked in had plush crimson red carpeting and the walls were a lighter shade of red.  A large black leather sectional sat in the middle of the room across from a large, also black, entertainment center that encased a 50 inch Wide screen television, a sound system, a radio, and a huge assortment of movies.

I turned my head slightly and noticed that a small half wall separated the living space I had been admiring with a kitchenette that had black granite counter tops, dark mahogany cabinets, and a full size refrigerator sitting next to it. 

Across from the kitchen sat a small table and I saw a hall that I assumed led to Michael's bedroom and bathroom.

... This was a far cry from riding in the front seat of my dad's Lexus.

Michael nudged my arm and I glanced up at him realizing I had spaced out lost in thought.  He motioned for me to follow him and he plopped himself down on the carpet running a tired hand over his face before looking up at me.

I hesitated slightly before running my hands nervously down the front of my jeans and turned around and situated myself next to him.  I shifted slightly in my seat and fiddled nervously with a strand of my long, crimpy hair and bit my lip before getting up enough courage to ask him what was on my mind.

"Uh, Michael...?"

Michael cocked his head slightly and furrowed his brows.  "Yeah?"

I looked down at my shirt momentarily and then let out a hesitant breath before looking back up into his mocha brown eyes.

"I..uh, listen.  I know that you've been...doing this" I said motioning with my hand around the bus. "For a long time...and uh, I was wondering..."

I paused again and heard Michael laugh softly.

"Whitney..it's okay.  Ask what you want"

I looked up and gave him a half smile.

"I love...music.  I've always loved it. It's everything to me. Writing music has carried me through so many different periods in my life and when I sing...it's a release, an escape from the world.  I am captivated by the emotions it emits and it has eased my loneliness for so long...I want so much to do THIS for a living...But...Frank...dad...doesn't want me in this lifestyle" I said gesturing around again and looking at Michael dejectedly.

He sighed heavily, his shoulders hunching as his eyebrows knitted together in thought.

I saw a curly strand of hair fall into his eyes and he reached up pulling it back into place as he bit his lip.

His eyes met mine, choosing his words carefully.

"Whitney I don't know what to say.  I don't want to come between you and your father."

I sighed and closed my eyes for a second before looking back at him.

"I know...I mean I get that. But at some point he needs to realize I'm twenty years old.  I'm old enough to make my own choices." I gazed back at him. "How did you know when it was time for you to do this on your own?"

"When my..." He paused, biting his lip then clearing his throat before he began again.

"When Joseph wanted to keep my brothers and I to keep performing with Motown. I realized if I wanted a serious career I was going to have to do this on my own. Become a solo artist.

"...Joseph is?" I asked questioningly my brow furrowed.

"My dad he said softly his voice thick with emotion. "Firing your father is not easy..it's even more difficult to go against what they want for you."

"Do you have any of your music with you?" He asked his eyes avoiding mine as he searched around, looking for the answer to his question.

I nodded my head slightly and felt my curls brush in front of my face as I pulled a slip of paper out of my pocket.  I brushed a few of the crinkles out with my hand and handed him the piece of folded paper.

He took the paper without looking at me and opened it.  I glanced at him nervously before a large grin spread across his face and he started laughing.

I gave him an odd look and peeked over his shoulder at the music he was holding.

Holy. HECK.


I felt my heart stop, leaping to my chest as I clumsily tried to snatch the song away from him. He effortlessly dodged me, grinning as my eyes widened in horror and I realized he was reading it.

"Michael please" I said placing my hands over my face in horror before reaching back up to grab at it.

"No, no. Let's see what you have." His eyes skimmed the page, his eyes widening as he continued.

He began to hum softly putting a melody to the lyrics. I just sat there, ashamed and horrified as he began to sing, his own timbre giving it a whole new level of passion that made me blush.

"I'll make love to you, like you want me to, and I'll hold you tight...baby all through the night"

I sat there in complete awe as he quickly strung together a melody.

I was left breathless, my horror temporarily forgotten and his eyes met mine as they rose from the lyrics. His mouth softly sang the lyrics, never breaking eye contact from me as he effortlessly sang the notes until he reached the end.

I looked down and my breath hitched as I tried to think of something to say. I had written those lyrics a long time ago after watching a chick flick on television. I remember watching the movie and longingly wishing I had been one of the characters in the movie.

It looked so incredible...Having someone to love and to be loved in return. I had been so closed away from the world my entire life...and I longed for someone to share my heart with and to share life's most joyous moments.

Michael's eyes were soft and he crinkled his nose as he finished. 

"Whitney this is....this is amazing" He said looking at me and then the paper in wonder.

I gave him a small smile.  "Thanks."

He glanced up from the paper and cocked his head slightly

"What inspired it?"

I blushed and looked down for a second before focusing back on him.

I want someone special in my life, someone that's constant." I whispered wistfully. " A man, a relationship that I've only heard about in stories and songs."

He gazed at me incrediously, his eyes darting to the page back to my face. "You mean...you've never had a relationship?" He asked gently. I shook my head. "The only relationship I have is with the road, constantly going from here to there. I never stayed in one place long enough to make a friend, let alone start a relationship."

" I know what you mean" he whispered looking down at his shoes

I looked at him in amazement.

"Really? You?"

He nodded his head softly and I swallowed in astonishment.

Who would think that this man...the man that left woman breathless and that had sent women to the hospital during concerts with his intense sexuality could be so alone?

Michael gave me a look I couldn't identify and then shifted the conversation back to my music.

"Whitney...you have so much talent.  If you sing half as well as you write...I would love to give you some pointers and help you succeed."

I felt a surge of happiness and, squealing, reached up and hugged him tightly.

I heard him chuckle and, realizing what I had just done, pulled away quickly and put my hand to my mouth.

Did I just fling myself on Michael Jackson?

"I AM SO SORRY" I said my eyes wide and I cringed inwardly wondering how he would react.

Michael's eyes were kind and he chuckled softly.  "Don't worry about it."

I heard his cell phone ring and he looked down, reached in his pocket, and grabbed it.  He flipped it open and began talking and I saw his brow furrow slightly before he placed his hand on the mouthpiece and looked at me.

"Hey Whit...do you care if I take this in the back?"


I smiled and shook my head "no" and Michael smiled back before resuming his conversation and walking down the hall.

I sat for a few minutes playing with the edge of my shirt when I got restless and wondered around the room.  I saw a few pictures hanging by the entertainment center and I stood taking in the people in Michael's world.  I noticed absently there weren't a lot of pictures of his dad...and none of him alone with him.

His dull footsteps signaled his approach and I glanced down the hall to see he had finished his conversation.  He gave me a small wink and his eyes traveled to the wall I had been studying. He smiled broadly as he joined me, his own eyes surveying the memoires that hung before us.

I pointed to a picture of him when he was young and smiled.

"You were so cute" I said crinkling my nose in laughter.

Michael laughed softly.

I grinned and started imitating him singing ABC and did the hip thrust he was so famous for as a child.

"ABC...easy as 1,2,3... or as simple as Do Re Mi"

His lips spread into a sly smile, his head slightly bowing as his fingers came to rest on his jaw, intertwining themselves into the tresses of curls he was so famous for.

"Whitney...." He said his voice laced with humor.

I grinned at him bopping my head and snapping my fingers.

"Sit down girl! I THINK I LOVE YOU!"

Michael's face grew from a smile into full fledged laughter and, suddenly taking on his performing persona he spread his legs apart, held his hands out to his sides, palms open, and tapped his foot.  He continued to grin, taking where I had left off as his cue and I sat down and watched.

"No! Get up girl, show me what you can do!" he sang grinning as his hands grabbed mine, lifting me from the couch to dance with him. I laughed as we crossed the floor.

Oooh, shake it shake it baby!" I bopped along raising a surprised but please smile from Michael as he twirled on his heels, grabbing my hands to spin me around only to catch me smoothly as he dipped me to the ground, his hand supporting my back as my hair grazed the ground.


He giggled hysterically as he lifted me from the floor, stepping back as he clutched his stomach.

Girl!" he exclaimed as I bowed, laughing as he clapped his hands at the small performance.

"Thank you thank you!" I sheepishly waited for him to end his applause. "It appears you already have a bit of the performer in you!"

"Enough to be the sixth Jackson!" I exclaimed laughing at his expression as he seriously considered it

"I think we can do that...Of course you are going to have to have a manager." He smiled devilishly as he gestured towards my dad's picture hanging on the wall.

I stared at him incredulously, wondering if he was actually serious before he broke into hysterics. "Your face! Priceless!" He giggled as I lightly smacked his arm. "Soooo not funny." He grinned gingerly rubbing the spot I had assaulted.

"Really? I thought it was."

I gave him a playful glare and stuck my hands on my hips.

Michael gave me a small smile and wink.

Well...I Can't Help It..." He shuffled his feet."If you Wanna Be Startin Somethin'..." He ran his palms across the sides of his hair. I suddenly realized what he was doing and I burst into hysterical laughter. "Pretty. Young. Thing..." His hands formed a silhouette of a woman his hips thrusting three times as he shuffled his feet again. "But Why You Wanna Trip On Me?" He finished his statement with a high "OOOOOOOOOOOH!" as he kicked his leg, his foot coming down to land perfectly across the other, his hip arched with it leg as he balanced it on the ball of his foot.

I laughed so hard I doubled over in laughter

before looking back up at him and, cocking an eyebrow, smirked.

"Boy... you better Beat It before I turn into a Smooth Criminal...because I'm Dangerous!" I said wiggling my eyebrows and thrusting my hips in a circle.

We both stopped, looked at each other, and fell in a pile on the ground laughing at the other. I clutched my stomach trying to calm my breathing and felt a long strand of blonde hair fall in my eyes.  I tried to blow it out of the way but it wouldn't budge and I jerked slightly, startled, when Michael reached over and pulled it out of my eyes his own eyes still twinkling in merriment.

 He pulled back quickly, his eyes losing that sparkle of laughter as he stood reaching out his hand to help me back up from the floor.          

My smile faltered when I noticed that his eyes had dimmed slightly and I reached back and pulled a piece of hair behind my ear. I bit my lip and waited until he moved his eyes back to mine and gave him a tentative smile.

"This was really fun." I said softly assessing his face.

Michael swallowed and nodded swinging his gaze back down to the floor.

"Yea...listen, uh, I just remembered...I have some paperwork for the show to do."  He looked back up at me.  "Can I catch you later?"

I stood stunned for a moment and then nodded my head my eyes flickering their confusion. 

"O-okay"                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        

I let out a small sigh and walked over to the couch we had just been sitting on, lying down to turn my body towards the backing, and  tried to calm the butterflies that have been swirling in my stomach ever since I had seen him again.

I ran a frustrated hand over my face and cringed.

Where had I gone wrong...?

"Whitney..."

His infamous tenor voice softly sang me back to conciousness. Michael gently shook my shoulder, his face brightly shadowed by the bright rays of the midafternoon sun streaming through the windows.

A section of sunlight caressed his alabaster skin, his curls glistening as flecks of dust danced around his head. He looked sinfully beautiful... even more so when he smiled as I stretched.

"Where are we?" His back straightened. His eyes sought the window, his head nodding forward once to gesture we had arrived somewhere.

"We've made it to the airport. You fell asleep on the way here."

He stepped back as I rose to my feet, running my fingers through my hair as he eyed me apprehensively.

My thoughts returned back to where they had been before.

Had I done something wrong?

His liquid brown eyes told me that he was interested, but his body posture screamed uncertainty. His index finger curled as he raised his hand hooking it beneath the collar of his shirt. He cleared his throat, stealing one last quick glance at me before he tilted his head to the side.

"We better get going." His tone was forceully nonchalant, almost strained.

I sighed inwardly as I grabbed my sunhat that had fallen, placing it back on the crown of my head as Michael waited patiently at the door of the bus.

He held out his hand respectfully helping me down from the steps before he slid his silver aviator shades in place. His head turned to observe nothing in particular, his loose curls blowing in the warm breeze. 

"WHITNEY GRACE!"

I groaned, noticing Michael's square jawline had significantly clenched, his temples pulsing outward. Dad came striding towards us his purpose clear as he closed the distance between the buses.

Michael leveled his gaze at my dad. "She was with me, Frank."

Dad scoffed sarcastically.

"Obviously since she wasn't on the bus with me Michael. Really, Whitney..you need to start telling me if you decide to change plans."

"I didn't know I needed your permission to ride a seperate bus which was, I don't know, four feet in front of you!"

Michael coughed awkwardly to cover a snicker that threatened to erupt from his chest.

Dad scowled, his eyes narrowing suspiciously as he studied us. Michael shifted his weight to one foot, his hip jutting upward at an angle. His arms crossed defensively across his chest, an eyebrow raised in surprise. I felt stuck in the middle of an unspoken testosterone war as they each met the others stare, resfusing to back down.

"If we're gonna make it to Japan on time, I suggest we get moving." I breathed a sigh of relief as they both relaxed, Michael nodding as he brushed past Dad.

"Geez. What do you have against Michael?" I asked, brushing a blonde curl away from my eyes as Dad gazed back at me.

"What makes you say that? I have nothing against him."

He's a horrible liar. Not to mention he absently messed with a shirt button at the base of his neck.

"Yea. Right. He is your boss, you know.." He said nothing as he bent down grinding his cigar against the pavement, replacing it back in his shirt pocket before he made his way to me.

"Precisely. He's my boss..but you're my daughter." He eyed me softly, absently tucking a stray curl behind my ear. 

I dared to raise my eyes to see Michael standing at the rear of the second bus. I felt my heart quicken as I noticed he was already staring at me. He quickly averted his eyes, turning his attention back to his task at hand.

Michael kept his head down as he brought my two suitcases and bag to set them beside Frank, not saying a word as he returned back quickly. He stooped down picking up a suitcase in each hand.

"Ready?" 

I nodded, slinging the bag against my shoulder. I stepped first, Dad following behind me. I turned my head once again, even more surprised to see he was staring at me as I walked away, still speaking to his staff, attentively watching every move I made.

Michael's POV

I groaned realizing she had noticed my staring and I turned my attention back to what I should have been doing all along. 

It was really...REALLY not a good idea to be sending her mixed signals.

I sighed, slightly rubbing a small circle against my temple. A dull headache had begun to form between my eyes. After dealing with the hassle of boarding luggage, passengers, equipment...it was enough to temporarily take my mind off of her.  

Well,that's what I kept telling myself.  I was pretty sure it was just temporarily. I glanced back over in her direction and felt my attention wavering from my task once again as she absently twirled a section of blonde hair.

We immediately boarded the jet, not saying anything after that tense show a few moments ago. I sat down heavily in my seat, trying my best to keep my eyes in my lap as Whitney and Frank breezed past. I heard the seat of the chair creak as they pulled it down, getting comfortable for the long flight ahead.

Several excruciatingly long hours had passed leaving me to my thoughts as Whitney and Frank sat three rows behind me, speaking quietly in hushed tones. Franks' overprotective attitude towards his daughter was understandable but not called for. I was now beginning to understand exactly what Whitney was talking about.

I thought about the mixture of feelings that were coursing through me and felt myself drifting back to the memory of her delicate frame as she slept on the bus, her eyelashes framing her beautiful almond shaped eyes as she slept.  I spent the entire time cursing myself. 

One moment, I was inviting her to join me on the journey to the airport, the next pushing her away.  I was terrified of what she was beginning to make me feel.. terrified of losing my heart in a relationship I wasn't sure if I was ready for. I had lived my entire life in the spotlight,surrounded by people with ulterior motives and found it not only hard to trust but also found myself terrified of getting close to someone only for them to pull away when the fascination of who I was disappeared and they started to form their opinions on who I actually was.I also found that since she was Frank's daughter i was considerably MORE hesitant to exploring this sudden attraction.

Maybe it was lonliness that drew me to her. Her own story of feeling alone in the world was one I could definitely relate to.

Her passion for music, her dream to make it the crazy world of show business.Frank obviously disapproved of her career choice where I, on the other hand, had it constantly thrust on me where I had no choice. I loved bringing happiness to thousands of people across the globe. But I don't believe Whitney fully understands the price of that recognition. 

My head rested lightly against the window of the jet  and I watched as the vast turquoise-green waves shimmered in the sun's last rays that stretched across the land for miles. 

My eyes traveled north, and I sighed in awed excitement as the towering buildings and blazing lights of Tokyo came into view. 

I pushed Whitney and Frank to the back of my mind as the anxiousness began to course through my veins, my legs pleading to stretch, to dance.

 I continued to stare watching as people zoomed by outside the moving vehicle.  My thoughts returned to Whitney and I started to wonder if maybe focusing on the tour would help stop this growing fascination before things got out hand, before I had to confront the fears of emotional intimacy I had locked away and shown no one. ...I just wasn't sure how that was going to work when she was going to be at every performance, every promotional stop, and every rehearsal for months.

 I was trapped with no escape in sight.

 The only way to keep my heart in tact and to keep my mind on the tour was to find a way to keep my eyes, mind, my heart distanced from  her...and from what she did to me.