And Noah Drew.
“The suggestion is ‘waiting,’ thank you.”
AJ watched Toni and Xiaobo begin a scene, half listening as more players jumped in. It was incredible improv, which was no surprise considering this all-star lineup.
AJ wasn’t a star. She was group game materialat best.What the fuck was she doing up there?
Ian had lost his mind.Fuck.Okay. She would wait it out on the backline. Hide. Rip Ian a new one after and—
Why wasno oneediting this scene? The bit had stopped being funny thirty seconds ago. AJ stood inert, silently scripting endings in her head. Wasn’t anyone going to step in?
There was so much talent on this stage. Too much talent.
And that’s when it clicked.
Ian didn’t want her to star in the show. He wanted her to produce it.
Before she could stop herself, AJ moved.
“Order up,” she heard herself say; then she cut in front of the players to end the scene.
As the next one began, she felt Noah go still. His gaze was a physical thing as it swept her face, her throat. Quickly, she tagged out and rejoined the backline, her entire body flushed.
She didn’t need to look to feel Noah take a breath at the other end of the stage.
Now he was out, and the energy in the black box had shifted, and God, his fuckingpresence.
“This day is prettier than a Windows screen saver,” said his scene partner.
“But those birds can’t hold a candle toNOW That’s What I Call Music! 4,” said Noah.
As the crowd laughed, AJ felt the blood drain from her face.
Hi,he was saying.
Slowly, AJ allowed her eyes to drift toward him. From her position on the backline, she could just make out his sharp, high cheekbones, the long profile, the dark sweep of his brow. He looked so…powerful. The same broad shoulders she remembered, but now with a chest to match. His hands and feet no longer seemed like flippers. He’d grown into them.
Onstage, an imaginary bird attacked. As Noah whirled around, AJ’s gaze dropped to the floor.
The jam progressed, and AJ made a game of helping other people’s scenes. Again and again, she sliced in like a scalpel, never off the backline for more than a beat. Whenever she stepped out, she could feel Noah’s focus engulf her like an old, ironic T-shirt—intent, amused, incredulous.
Noah was playing a game of his own—he seemed to want to be in a scene witheveryone.The crowd was in a lather as he darted about, interweaving loose ends into hilarity.
AJ and Noah tagged in and out, black then white, missing each other by seconds.
Then he caught her.
As AJ stepped forward to initiate a callback, Noah met her center stage in two deliberate strides.
He towered above her, his dark, intelligent gaze latching on to hers with such intensity that the air left her lungs.
As their eyes met, time frayed, seven years trying to pass through the span of a single second.
AJ couldn’t help it. She stared at his face. His beautiful face.
Her shadow.
Her friend.
