I flinch. “Please calm down?—”
“How do you have tickets for this?” She clutches her chest like she’s been mortally wounded. “This is, like, literally the best weekend ever. Billie, then StringTheory? I’m ascending.”
I try to smile, but my stomach does a slow, miserable somersault.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, narrowing her eyes. She’s getting annoyingly good at that—reading me. Or I’m getting worse at pretending I’m fine.
“It’s nothing,” I lie. “I just…know Erin.”
“Wait.What?” She says it like I just casually announced I’m in a group chat with Taylor Swift.
“We spent a long weekend at a cabin some time ago,” I say, way too fast. Then quieter, “She’s nice.”
Larisa stares at me like I’ve personally betrayed her by withholding this information. “You know the cello warrior princess and you’re only telling menow?”
I open my mouth. Nothing coherent comes out.
She bumps her shoulder into mine. “Well, I’m in. Obviously. What am I wearing? I cannot go meet your secret famous friend looking like a mess.”
“First of all, you are lovely in whatever you put on,” I mumble. “Second, we’re leaving in an hour.”
She squeaks. Actually squeaks. “Oh my God. Radio City, baby. Dress cute.”
She dives for her closet door like it holds the fate of the free world.
I wish I felt even half as excited as she does.
But mostly, I just feel like I’m walking into a concert with a bullseye painted on my chest.
Radio City glowsin warm gold, marquee lights humming honey-bright across the sidewalk. Crowds surge toward the entrance, buzzing with anticipation. My synesthesia picksup the energy instantly—bright yellows and deep purples thrumming through the air.
Larisa practically vibrates beside me. “This place is insane.”
“I know,” I say quietly.
The ushers guide us through velvet ropes to orchestra seating. Erin made sure the tickets were good—too good. Part of me wants to be grateful. The other part wonders if she coordinated with Sophie…who probably coordinated with Liam…who definitely would have said something to Kieran.
I shake the thought off. No.
Erin invited me because she’s kind. Because she meant it when she said we’d be friends.
Not because of him.
We take our seats just as the theater darkens.
That’s when I see them, Sophie waving with her warm, genuine smile, Liam’s steady nod beside her, Dmitri’s towering presence softening slightly when he catches my eye. And next to them, a woman with soft curls streaked with silver, navy dress elegant under the lights, who looks directly at me with kind eyes and gives a small wave.
I swallow hard and wave back.
Larisa’s jaw drops. “You know them?”
“Kind of,” I whisper.
“What kind of people go to BU?” she hisses. “I want to go there so bad.”
A snort escapes before I can stop it.
The stage drops to black. A single spotlight sweeps across the darkness.
