Andrew greets Elizabeth before turning to Archie.
“It’s so nice to meet you, Archie. Although, I have to admit that I’m a bit perturbed Leo has waited so long to introduce me to his new boyfriend.”
Fuck. Andrew might have my back, but I recognize that glint in his eye. This is payback for the time I walked in on him and Justin and put him on the spot.
“Oh, we’ve been so caught up in each other that we haven’t really been out of our apartment much,” Archie says. “But Leo’s told me all about you, of course. How you grew NovaCore together. I love the story about how you broke the office sprinkler system when trying to open the champagne to celebrate your Series B funding.”
Andrew looks taken aback. Exactly how I feel.
Because I have never told Archie that story. I have a vague recollection of mentioning it once in an interview years ago, but I can’t recall exactly where.
Apparently, Archie has been doing some research, and his eidetic memory strikes again.
“Leo told you that?” Andrew asks.
“Leo tells me everything. Don’t you, babe?” Archie says. His finger pokes into my back.
“Of course I do, my little chaos gremlin,” I say dutifully.
Andrew’s eyebrows fly up to his hairline. “Chaos gremlin?”
“I know. Leo’s just so romantic once you get past that stoic exterior,” Archie gushes. “Honestly, sometimes I have to tell him to tone down the pet names. It’s almost embarrassing.”
Andrew lets out an incredulous laugh, and I keep my expression carefully neutral.
But when Archie turns to say something to Elizabeth, Andrew catches my eye. The laughter has drained from his face, and he gives me a questioning look. I know he’s asking if Archie knows about Vaughn.
I give a barely perceptible shake of my head.
Andrew’s jaw tightens. He looks at Archie—who is currently talking to Elizabeth about the acoustics of the playhouse—and then back at me, and his expression says everything his mouth can’t right now.
The noise around us suddenly fades as the musicians in the gallery begin playing the opening music.
Perfect timing. I’ve had about as much drama as I can handle tonight, and the play hasn’t even started yet.
We shuffle into the row, the narrow bench forcing us into close proximity. I end up sitting between Archie and Andrew, which feels less like a seating arrangement and more like divine punishment.
Archie’s thigh presses warm against mine. Andrew is still smirking.
I’m now sandwiched between the friend I lectured about honesty and the man I’m lying to.
This is going to be a long two hours.
The last murmurs of the audience fade as a single actor emerges onto the thrust stage. The candlelight catches the gold thread in his costume, and for a moment, the four centuries between Shakespeare and us seem to collapse entirely.
He begins the prologue.
Two households, both alike in dignity,
In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,
From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,
Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.
From forth the fatal loins of these two foes
A pair of star-cross’d lovers take their life;
