The Hope That Starts

by Heidi Hutchinson

  Not alone, though. No, she was living with Harrison. They were totally broke and he played his guitar on the street corner for money. Then he would use it to buy her candy. She washed socks for the neighbors to help pay the rent. Hüsker Dü went through a change and was now a puppy. Zelda made dinner for Harrison every night. Sandwiches. A different one every night.

  But amidst the weirdness that accompanies dreaming, she was overwhelmingly aware of her feelings for Harrison. And his feelings for her. They were happy. They were in love. They would dance in the hallways when the neighbors would bring out instruments and play what sounded like the soundtrack to the Lord of the Rings.

  It reminded her of The Shire, anyhow.

  She'd wanted to stay there forever.

  Her phone buzzed over her head. She sighed before checking the text message. It was Kendra reminding her that they would be leaving in a half hour to go get groceries if she wanted to come along. She did, most certainly. But she really wanted to keep dreaming.

  She slid out of her bunk softly, grabbed her change of clothes and then closed herself in the tiny onboard bathroom.

  Taking the fastest shower of her life left her with enough time to make sure her hair wasn't too out of control. She left it loose and tumbling down her back. After she tugged on green cargo pants and a gray racer-back tank that showed off the orange straps of her bra, she swept on a coat of mascara and dewy lip gloss, then hurried back to her bunk to put her supplies away again.

  So far, it was a lot like camping, except you didn't have to walk outside to your shower, and the bed was less comfortable.

  Still trying to maintain stealth mode, she slipped down the steps into the main cabin and stopped short when she saw Harrison manning the Keurig.

  All the feelings from her dream came washing over her and she felt her cheeks get hot.

  Okay, this was going to be a problem.

  Zelda had an obsessive personality. It was probably the main contributing factor to her very dedicated fandoms. But it came with a price. Such as, when she had a dream that felt real, and she wished was real, she could very easily blur those lines.

  Her subconscious was going to force her to fall in love with Harrison.

  But it was fangirl love. Which meant that she would be devoted and loyal, no matter what. Harrison had officially made it to the top of the list. Was it fair to give real-life Harrison credit for the things that dream Harrison said and did?

  Zelda watched his back muscles bunch and move under his shirt as he reached for a coffee cup. His curly hair was longer than he normally kept it and her fingers itched to touch it. Maybe give him a haircut.

  She didn't care. Dream Harrison and real-life Harrison were interchangeable at that point.

  “How'd you sleep?” he asked without turning around.

  “Very well, thank you,” she responded and moved to his side, hoping to get some coffee for herself.

  “I already made you a cup.” He motioned to the travel mug on the counter. When her eyes searched his for an explanation, he gave her a crooked smile. “It was my idea for you to go with Kendra to get more groceries. I'm hoping that if you're prepared, I can get another sandwich.”

  A residual vision of them twirling down the hallway in their apartment building floated through her memory. Yep, she loved him. And he had officially replaced David Tennant as her most favorite person in the 'Verse.

  “Of course,” was all she said in reply. No need to frighten him on the second day.

  He nodded at the table nearby. “Muffins if you're hungry.”

  “You are the same as dream Harrison,” she said before she thought. She realized her mistake when his eyes lit with humor.

  “You're dreaming about me?”

  Zelda grinned, grabbed her coffee and a muffin, then made her way to the door.

  “If you must know, we were very happy, even though we were poor. Though we may have been Hobbits, that part wasn't clear.” His lips curved into a smile as she kept talking. “You bought me candy and I washed socks for a living. And at night we would dance.”

  Something moved over Harrison's face. A thought or a memory, she couldn't tell.

  “Well, I have no issue with buying you candy, but you should know that I don't dance,” he said before hiding his mouth behind his coffee cup and taking a sip.

  His tone was lighthearted and his smile was still kind of there, but Zelda felt a little bit of her bubble deflate. She didn't like finding out that her favorite detail of the dream was the most unrealistic part. Oh well, reality would have won out eventually.

  “That's okay,” she covered with her grin. “It was just a dream.”

  “I wish I could have dreams like that,” he said seriously.

  “More maple syrup,” she replied. “Pretty sure that's the key.”

  His lips twitched and he patted his stomach. “I have to watch the sugar if I want to stay so fit.”

  Zelda tipped her head to the side and raised her eyebrows. “But muffins are fine?”

  He grinned at her. “Get out of here already. You're too smart for me in the morning.”

  Zelda matched his grin. “Don't eat them all. I'll be back for second breakfast.”

  Harrison looked to the ceiling and shook his head. She admired him for a half a second before skipping out the door.

  ***

  Harrison heard the door close and he caught just the last flash of her two-tone hair before it shut behind her. She really did just quote Lord of the Rings. Right after teasing him about the muffins and telling him that they were dancing in her dreams.

  He let himself imagine what that would be like for a minute.

  The last dance he had attended was Greta's wedding reception. Sure he danced, but not with anyone in particular. Mostly it was a competition with his siblings to see who had the cheesiest dance moves. The time before that was at Miranda's wedding reception. Again, with no one that mattered significantly. Never with someone he was interested in. Never a slow dance.

  Not since middle school.

  It was the eighth grade homecoming and he had spent the entire summer before school preparing himself for what he thought of as the most important moment of his life. He asked Katie Johannes to the dance. She said yes.

  They danced had awkwardly to Smashing Pumpkins' “Luna.” Katie was tall and graceful. Harrison felt clumsy and far too short for her. His hands had gotten sweaty on her waist and caused her pink floral patterned dress to wrinkle on the sides. She'd spent the rest of the dance talking to her friends while Harrison tried to grow another four inches.

  It didn't work.

  He had never really gotten over his insecurities. Katie had gone on to become a cheerleader, homecoming queen, and eventually married a Marine. He still saw her from time to time; her mom was friends with his mom. She was happy, sweet, and still beautiful. She never brought up their terrible dance; perhaps she didn't remember it.

  Too bad Harrison couldn't forget.

  Still, the idea of sharing a dance with Zelda wasn't as terrifying as he would have expected. She would probably match him in awkward movements, but with her there would be the added bonus that she'd probably make him laugh to put him at ease.

  That's when Sway interrupted his little daydream by earnestly singing a song from a movie that had been mentioned yesterday, upon his entry into the cabin from the upstairs. Patrick Swayze would have been impressed.

  Sway saw Harrison try to hide his smile and he dropped to his knees, clutched his chest then reached to the sky. “She's like the wind...”

  “What is wrong with you?” Harrison asked, shaking his head.

  Sway grinned and stood back up. “I saw your little flirt fest this morning. And Lucy told me about your suave save yesterday. Are you the Johnny to her Baby?” he teased, waggling his eyebrows.

  Harrison chuckled and quickly changed the subject. He didn't need Sway pursuing his already too-accurate-for his-own-good ideas. “Are you coming with me to the gym? Sam said
it's not far.”

  Sway nodded, letting it go. “Yeah, Mike wants us to get him, too.”

  “What about Blake?”

  “Eh, no. He said that he and Lucy need some husband and wife time.”

  Harrison eyed him while he grabbed his bag. “That's how he said it?”

  Sway grinned. “No. But that's the polite way to say it.”

  ***

  Sound check.

  Zelda was so glad she'd brought the big Nikon with her. The guys were only warming up, but the behind-the-scenes shots were irreplaceable.

  She scooted forward on her butt, bringing her fractionally closer to the edge of the stage, and zoomed in on Carl's glare as he spoke to Greg the sound man.

  Click.

  She had no idea whether the fans cared to see the handsome tour manager with the Clint Eastwood scowl. She was a fan, and she liked seeing it, so there was that to consider.

  Greg had much bigger muscles than she would have thought a sound man needed. Very John Cena.

  Click.

  “No, we're gonna take it up a half a step.”

  She swung her head to the left. Harrison was talking to Sway. Then he demonstrated what he was saying to him with his guitar. She refocused the lens.

  Click.

  Earlier that day when she had been shopping with Kendra, they had gotten more than groceries.

  The first stop had been a huge electronics warehouse where Kendra used the company credit card to purchase multiple memory cards for Zelda and an e-reader for Sway. Then they went to a deli where Zelda showed her the proper meats and cheeses to keep on hand. After that came the farmers' market, where they stocked up on veggies and fruit. Then the bakery for bread.

  “I won't need you to come with next time. I'll just have Nick and Zed keep the bus stocked,” Kendra had explained as they packed all the new food into the tiny kitchenette.

  Zelda had seen a huge bottle of maple syrup go by and she pointed it out. “What's with the syrup?”

  Kendra had tilted her head slightly before answering. When she did, she'd kept her voice carefully even. “Harrison said that he required a commercial supply of maple syrup for the entire tour.”

  Zelda had bitten the inside of her bottom lip, while Kendra's face remained impassive. She'd returned to her task.

  If it hadn't been official this morning, it certainly was now. She totally loved him.

  Which brought her back to sound check.

  She pushed with her aquamarine Chuck Taylors on the stage and spun on her butt to face the drums. She loved this view. Mike was warming up and her angle provided the perfect view of his focus and intensity.

  Everyone loved the drummer and wanted to know more, especially after the events of that winter when the tabloids had reported two lies. One, that he was back together with international supermodel Ilsa; and two, that he was using drugs again.

  Click.

  No, the look on his face was not the foggy, unfocused visage of a junky. His eyes were clear and his movements deliberate. Besides, Zelda had heard all about Clarke being the special girl in his life, and them wanting to keep it quiet. She could understand that, what with all the drama that had surrounded his previous relationship. It made sense to want to keep private something precious.

  Click.

  “Careful, darlin'.”

  Zelda looked up into the dark green eyes of Blake Diedrich. He lifted his chin.

  “Don't want you fallin' backwards off of the stage.”

  She reached a tentative hand behind her and found that she was indeed on the edge. One more inch and she would probably need stitches in her skull. She really needed to pay better attention.

  Making an exaggerated scared face she scooted forward.

  Blake gave her a half-grin. “The only reason I said anything was because I could see that Harrison wasn't in a position to catch you.”

  “Geez, does everyone know about that?” she grumbled, even as her heart dipped into her stomach at the memory.

  “Uh, yeah,” Blake replied.

  Zelda glared and Blake laughed, his head slightly tipped back.

  Click.

  The dark-haired, tattooed rocker went back to his section of the stage to mess with his pedals. Her eyes followed and she took a few more shots of him and his guitar tech.

  Work boots stopped right next to her bent knee and she stared at them for a second before raising her eyes up the jean-clad legs, to the tight waist and equally tight t-shirt that hugged the torso of the lead singer himself.

  Of all the guys in the band, Luke Casey intimidated her the most. Was it his looks or the obvious authority he carried with him? It was too hard to pin down.

  “You plan on sitting on stage all night?” he asked, a lopsided smile on his perfect lips.

  Click.

  “No, sorry, I was just—”

  “I was only asking so I could make sure not to step on you. You have free rein, go where you want.”

  Zelda scratched her neck nervously and felt a bead of sweat develop behind her ear. Sometimes the reality of her situation would hit her like a high-five to the face. She was living, talking, working with a band she had been a fan of for a major portion of her life. She was a civilian. From freaking Iowa of all places. She was so far out of her zone, she was practically in another star system.

  “Are you having a good time so far?” he asked. “Is it everything you hoped it would be?” He was trying to help her relax. Make her feel like part of the team. It was really very sweet. But he was still a rock star. And she was still a weirdo.

  It was easy to hold the camera up in front of her face, separate herself from her subject. She could see them, but they couldn't see her. She could be almost clinical in her art. Like someone making a documentary. She observed but didn't interact. It kept her from being overwhelmed with the excitement of the situation.

  Then she'd have a moment like this. Luke Casey's blue eyes staring at her, his perfect face waiting for some sort of a reply. And her head went to her safe place. Unfortunately her safe place didn't make a lot of sense to the rest of the world.

  “Does Leeroy Jenkins like chicken?” She knew she'd lost him when his face went carefully blank. Swallowing, she nodded her head quickly. “Yes. Yes, I'm having a wonderful time.”

  He smiled politely and nodded his head once, content to leave her to her insanity.

  Zelda's cheeks burned hot. She decided to adjust her camera's settings as a way to escape her humiliation.

  “Don't be embarrassed. I say things all the time to Luke that he doesn't get. He's used to it.”

  Her head jerked up and she saw that Harrison had walked over next to her. He gave her an adorable grin and slid his shades on. “It's a dangerous business, Zelda, going out your front door.” He began to back away from her. “I, for one, am glad you took that chance.”

  He'd recognized her reference.

  He didn't leave her hanging.

  He quoted Bilbo Baggins.

  He was very nearly perfect.

  Click.

  ***

  The first show of the tour was outstanding.

  The band brought back as many of the original crew as they could despite their brief hiatus. They had given them all letters of recommendation and references where needed at the end of last year's journey because they really had no plan to return so soon. And it would be remiss to leave a good crew waiting for a job when one wasn't going to be supplied.

  One thing Harrison had learned about Luke Casey over the years: that guy did not stop. He would plan and joke and put real money on taking a much-needed break. But then he was right back in the zone, writing, arranging, and dreaming.

  The band couldn't fault him for it. If they ever needed time away to pursue something else, he was their biggest supporter. He never expected them to revolve around him. He even had other irons in the fire, other bands he would collaborate with in and out of the studio. But at the heart of him was, and always would be, Double Blind Study
.

  So the first show of the tour reflected the happy energy of everyone's return to their favorite job. The lights, sound, and songs were solid. The positivity was high.

  Harrison had a hard time wiping the smile off of his face long after the show was over. He and Sway had returned to the bus and exchanged fast showers before they got underway. It wasn't until it was nearly time to depart that Zelda returned.

  She jogged up the steps, breathless, deposited her camera bag on the couch, and went straight for the fridge.

  “You guys didn't eat yet, did you?” she asked.

  Sway and Harrison exchanged a look.

  “Nope,” Sway answered for both of them.

  “Okay, good.” She rummaged in the fridge then backed out slowly. “I was trying to finish up and get back before you saw your surprise.”

  Maneuvering with the skill of an X-Wing pilot, she guided two large plates of food out of the kitchenette and into the walkway. She stopped short in front of Harrison and wagged her head at him with wide eyes.

  “Move, guy,” she commanded.

  Harrison pivoted to the side and she rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Oh my gosh, seriously?” She nodded toward the couches. “Sit down. I made you an after-the-first-show dinner.”

  Sway laughed and flung himself down on one of the long sofas. “I am so glad you got assigned to our bus.”

  Harrison went to the parallel couch and sat down slowly, eyes on the plates in her hands. It looked like another sandwich. But much, much bigger. His mouth filled with saliva.

  She carefully set each plate down on their laps then stood and clasped her hands in front of her, a proud smile on her face.

  “That's the George and Lola special; their signature sandwich. Complete with pickle and kettle chips.”

  Harrison had no words. Mostly he was trying to figure out how long he had to wait to remain polite before tearing into it. So he gave her a slight chin lift. Her smile faded a little.

  “Oh my,” Sway said, mouth impossibly full, eyes rolled back in his head.

  Zelda's face brightened with a wide smile, and she caught the tip of her tongue between her incisors. Suddenly Harrison was hungry for something else entirely. Her eyes, her mouth, her energy.