“I didn’t want you to find out,” I tell him. “You don’t deserve that.”
He just keeps looking at me, and I think my face might be melting off, it’s so warm. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
Liam finally blinks, and I can breathe again.
“Come on. The rest of the cast will be here soon.”
***
I get everyone settled for read-through, handing out fresh pencils for people to use. “Don’t use ink. Pencil only.”
I’ve got to go through and erase everyone’s notes at the end of the show, which is tedious enough, but if people use pen we get charged for the damage.
Liam’s already seated, libretto in his lap, bouncing his knees. Dr. Lochley is talking to Cameron over by the stage door. He’s got his arms crossed and a frown on his face. Maybe she realized he was the one who vandalized the cast list after all.
He spares a look in Liam’s direction, and I can’t tell if he’s mad or sad, but then he sees me looking and gives me a definite glare.
Dr. Lochley doesn’t notice, though; she nods firmly, pats him on the shoulder, and turns so fast her scarf nearly smacks his face.
She makes her way center stage and claps her hands once to get everyone quieted down. “Welcome, everyone, to the read-through forJesus Christ Superstar!” She pauses while the cast applauds. “For today, just speak your lines, don’t worry about singing. I want everyone to get a feel for the somethingsomething.”
Everyone nods and mutters as she takes her seat. “I’m Dr. Lochley, I use she/her pronouns, and I’m the director. Let’s all introduce ourselves and our roles before we get started. Jackson?”
“Jackson. He/him. I’m the stage manager.” I open my binder, check the lead on my mechanical pencil, and keep my head down as Liam introduces himself. Everyone goes around the circle, but I don’t pay attention: I already know everyone’s names and pronouns, and besides, tracking people talking in a big circle?
I’m already exhausted and we haven’t even begun.
Instead, I open my binder. My libretto is actually a photocopy, even though that’s technically illegal. But with the amount of notes I make, I would destroy the paper trying to erase everything.
I cross my left leg over my right to make a better platform for my binder, and my knee accidentally bumps into Liam’s. He’s still jiggling nervously, but he stops as soon as we touch.
I glance his way, and he smiles back at me, small and nervous, pressing his knee against mine.
I try not to hold my breath, but he pressed back against me. He definitely did that. Why would he do something like that?
I’m in black jeans, and he’s in shorts, showing off his long legs. There’s a little hair along his calves. I guess he hasn’t shaved for a meet yet. And even through the denim I feel his warmth.
I swallow and shift my binder a bit to cover the sudden tightness in my jeans, which is definitely a reaction to my nervousness about the read-through and not to Liam’s knee. But suddenly I can smell his deodorant a lot more too, and that subtly sweet chlorine scent that’s all him, and I wish my tag would stick up so he could fix it for me.
I shake my head. My imagination is out of control. There are plenty of straight guys that don’t mind bumping knees with a gay guy. It’s not a big deal. And besides, Jasmine likes him.
Dr. L taps her pencil against my binder, and I realize intros are over. I’m supposed to read the stage directions.
I clear my throat and ignore Liam, and my pants, and the scenarios my brain is trying to spin out of the fleeting contact.
“Act one. Scene one...”
9
Bowie and Liam have their first swim meet of the season at the end of September.
Rather than drop me off at the doors to the Community Center, Jasmine pulls into the parking lot.
“What are you doing?”
“I thought I’d watch too. Is that a problem?”
