Rush

I sling an arm around her shoulders as we walk out onto the terrace. We both gaze at the garden, which has been transformed into a pagan summer solstice festival. There’s a maypole and standing stones, and eight-foot forest animals constructed from ivy. Floral wreaths and corn dollies are suspended over where the dancing will be. It’s like we’re standing in the summer horror films, The Wicker Man and Midsommar.

“The full thing, though. It’s going to be spectacular.”

I smile down at her. “You believe that? We’re not being completely overdramatic?”

“Oh, of course you are. But you’re Rush Osman and Saint Cyprian. Being overdramatic is who you are.”

I nearly forget everything and kiss her smiling mouth, then squeeze her ass for being so cheeky. She must see the impulse in my face as her smile falters and her gaze drops to my lips. Then she looks away quickly.

“Fuck yeah, glad that’s over,” Wes says with a gusty sigh as he joins us on the terrace, brandishing the handicam again. He films me and Dree, and then pans over the garden. “What’s all this then? We throwing a party?”

“Yeah, a dance party, and you’re the star attraction,” I tell him. “I’ll get your costume.”

“Nah, mate. I’ll leave the pirouettes to you.” He glances at Dree. “Make him look good tomorrow, yeah?”

I sip my coffee and smile, my arm still firmly around her shoulders. “She always does.”

“Cut. Beautiful, guys. That was perfect. We don’t need to do it again.”

Dree and I both open our eyes and gaze at each other, our faces close. She’s tight against my bare chest and there are black smudges on her pristine white dress and cheek. The Sacrifice is getting his filthy hands all over the Priestess, and she’s beginning to wonder if she really wants to see him die.

“I kind of want to do it again, don’t you?” I say, before reluctantly letting her go. Dancing with her feels almost as good as singing.

Dree nods, her gaze magnetically follows me as I step away. I keep hold of her hand, enjoying everyone on set, the crew, the dancers, the band, seeing me do it. Dancing so intimately in front of everyone has made her less self-conscious about touching me.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Wes with his handicam. I’m already looking forward to watching the behind-the-scenes footage he’s filming. Once this is over, Glastonbury is done and the video is out in the world, I’ll keep Dree here with me and we can do a whole load of nothing together. Or I wouldn’t mind taking her on that holiday I told her to go on the day we first met. Just flying off to Greece together and drinking up the sun. There’s not much time before the band goes on tour but maybe we can steal a week together.

Marlena claps her hands. “Okay, final scene everyone. And we’d better make it fast.”

I follow her line of sight and see clouds boiling over the horizon to the southeast. It looks like a storm, though it’s still a way off.

We’ve already filmed all the scenes with the dancers, including the one where they lock me up in the wicker man. We perform the short sequence where Dree has a change of heart and pulls me out again. Smoke billows out of smoke machines around us, meant to show that the wicker man is on fire.

Then we dance the final sequence, the most intimate dance between the Priestess and the Sacrifice. The sky overhead grows dark, but I barely notice as I focus on Dree. Her eyes are stormier than any sky as she gazes back at me, finally surrendering to her feelings. I hold her tightly and lift her up in the air. Then I bring her down again and clasp her to me. She wraps herself around me and we’re face-to-face, heart-to-heart.

The cameras turn slowly around us in the final moments of the scene. Fat raindrops fall on us. A moment later, the heavens open. I couldn’t have asked for a better finale, but all I can think right now is Dree.

Dree.

The video is supposed to end like this, but I can think of a better one. I close my eyes and press my mouth over hers, and feel her sharp intake of breath.

And then she’s kissing me back. Her arms wrap around my neck as rain is running in rivulets down our faces and bodies. You see, everyone?

You see?

Mine.

All that’s left is for her to say it. Someone whistles, and Dree realizes we’re not alone. I break away and lower her to the ground. I keep a tight hold of her hand, not wanting to let her go and definitely not ready for her to leave my side.

She doesn’t, though. As Dree glances left and right, as people applaud and whistle, she’s smiling and keeping close to me.