I hold the megaphone up to my mouth. “My name is Jessica Stone,” I begin, because I am not sure where else to start, “and for a few days I pretended to be someone else. I thought I would just play a part, like I always do, and then move on, but…” I lick my lips, my voice wavering. There are hundreds of people gathering around me as I stand on top of this ridiculous food truck, the closest I can get to Harper. “I didn’t expect to meet you,” I continue, my heart thundering in my ears.

“You lied to me,” she shouts down. “Why?”

“Because…” For a split second I think I might lie to her again. Take the easy way out and blame the script and Starfield and the fans. But I think I know her well enough to know that she’ll see right through me. What kind of person would I be if I lied about why I lied to begin with?

She deserves the truth.

“Because I—at first I just needed to play the part of Imogen, but then, as I got to know you, I just became scared that…that you wouldn’t like me once I told you who I was. People always expect Jessica Stone to be the person she’s made out to be in the media and in magazines, but it felt so nice to just be me around you. And that was selfish and I’m sorry. I don’t deserve a second chance, and I understand if you never want to see me again. But…” I gather my courage as hundreds of eyes judge me, wondering why I care so much about someone I just met.

And honestly, I couldn’t tell them. I think there are people who come into your life, and you just know. For however long or short a time or however impossible it might seem—they’re important. Like a guiding star amid a storm.

I take a deep breath and continue, “But I’m not lying now when I say that I—I think I like you, Harper Hart. Will you go to the ExcelsiCon Ball with me?”

Four stories up, Harper doesn’t say anything, and the longer I wait the colder my hands feel. My heart begins to pound. What if she’ll never forgive me? What if this isn’t enough? Will anything ever be? Could anything be?

Could I be?

Maybe we are like ships at sea, sailing in opposite directions—together and then gone. Maybe Harper loves someone else. But even if she does, I’ll still have the memories of ramen, and stars, and how her lips twitch up when she’s happy—folding them into a part of me I’ll never let go, shaping me from the inside out. And I will carry on. Because, in the end, I am not a princess waiting to be saved.