Eudora nodded. “I know you have your cap set at NYU, but you might consider Juilliard. Either way, I’ll be happy to make the call.”
AJ’s heart did a somersault as the next square on her path sparked into existence. “That’s really—wow. Thanks.”
Eudora rose to her feet and patted AJ on the shoulder. Then they went inside to work on Titania’s monologue, leaving Noah’s half-formed model plane to wilt in the sun.
A few evenings later,as AJ and Noah watched the original Christopher ReeveSupermanon the Panasonic, they received a visit from AJ’s older brother, Patrick.
“Surprise,” he said coldly, looking from AJ to Noah, then drawing himself up to his full height.
“You remember Noah?” said AJ finally, when neither of them spoke.
“Sure do,” said Patrick stiffly, all goodwill apparently evaporated. “What’s up, man?”
To AJ’s dismay, Noah straightened up as well. “How’s it going?” he asked. “How’s UMass?”
“Can’t complain,” said Patrick. He tapped his hand on the counter a few times, not blinking. “I was going to see if you hadA Goofy Moviefor Emily.”
Noah roused himself. “I’ll go check.”
The second the beaded curtain swished behind him, Patrick leaned over the counter.
“Libby said she saw youtogether.Age, you two aren’t—”
“What? No,” said AJ, blushing.“No.”
“Good, because he’s, like, old.”
“He’syourage,” hissed AJ. “Andyousaid he was scary smart.”
“Yeah, key wordscary,” said Patrick. “AndIam not hanging out with high school girls.”
Just then Noah returned, DVD in hand. AJ rang her brother up with a complimentary death glare.
“Great seeing you, man,” said Patrick, eyes boring into Noah, then AJ.I’ll be watching.
Then he left. For a moment, the only sound in the room was John Williams’s score.
“He’s just—”
“Yeah, got that,” said Noah.
In truth, AJ wished Patrick’s fears had some foundation. These days, she was giving some of her best performances at Reel World, acting like she wasn’t besotted with Noah. By contrast, her heart was often onfull display “acting” at Drew House; at times, it felt like Noah’s was too.
But only ever in a scene.
Noah was often preoccupied at best, morose at worst, and AJ could sense too much of his pain to hope he might have romance on his mind.
Their bond had grown so strong, they often locked into each other’s emotions outside of acting. For example, when Noah wandered into the store on his night off, AJ felt his energy, frenetic as the air before a thunderstorm, and knew he had come to forget whatever had happened that day.
“Let’s play,” he said.
“I’m tired,” said AJ, minimizing her fic, now fifty-five followers strong. “Play what?”
“Premise attorneys,” said Noah, stepping closer. It was a fun exercise, where each player had to justify an imaginary argument to the best of their ability—no matter how absurd.
“Okay,” said AJ, suppressing a yawn. “Coming to work on your day off is bad for your health.”
“It is,” said Noah, and he dove into a frighteningly detailed summary of Dr. Martin Seligman’s studies on the correlation between happiness and work-life balance.
