I’m not fine.
As soon as Dr. L gives us our passes, Liam heads back downstairs, while I head toward the A Hall. I take my seat in American Literature and pretend I’m taking notes. But I’m not.
HE DOESN’T EVEN LIKE ME LIKE THAT
HE NEVER LIKED ME LIKE THAT
MIXED SIGNALS
DATING MY SISTER
It’s not helping, though. Because even if he doesn’t like me like that, he does like me. He’s my friend. He helped me with the code red. He tucks in my tags. He’s even learning ASL, something my own family will barely do.
Making a list about him feels weird and wrong. I rip the page out of my binder, crumple it up, and throw it in the first recycle bin I can find.
Liam is my friend. I was only dreaming of more.
I need to wake up.
“All right. Let’s try something,” Dr. Lochley says.
Onstage, Liam and Cameron nod. We’re in the Little Theatre, since the Main Theatre is all set for a band concert tonight. It’s just Liam and Cam today: Dr. L wants to work on the scene where Judas betrays Jesus, and decided it would be easier to work with the two of them alone first and add the soldiers later.
“I want you both to center yourselves.”
“Center . . . myself?” Liam asks. His eyes spike mine, but I pretend not to notice him as I help Paige put together her ASM binder. She’s officially come on board as my assistant, which is great, because she’s a hard worker and a quick learner.
“Internally,” Dr. L says. “Cam, what do you do?”
“I like to count backward from ten, somethingsomething into the role.”
“Very good.” Dr. Lochley taps her lips. “I had a classmate in college who once stripped naked and climbed atop one of the giant shuttlecocks at the Nelson-Atkins on the night of the full moon, but that’s still a week away. And she only used that method in extreme cases.” She tilts her head. “Actually, now that I think about it, I’m not sure if it was the naked climbing or the getting arrested that she found centering.”
Paige’s mouth drops open. I just shrug.
“So. What do you do?” Dr. L asks Liam.
“I’m not sure.” He looks my way again, and this time I don’t look away fast enough.
I can’t just leave him high and dry.
“What about that thing you do before a race?” I demonstrate, stretching my arms wide, then hugging myself, careful not to elbow Paige in the face.
Dr. Lochley nods. “Perfect! Why not try that?”
Liam bites his lip, then starts flapping his arms like he does on the starting blocks. His shirt rides up his abdomen as he moves, and I look down at my blocking diagrams to distract myself. It doesn’t work, though. The briefest flash of skin and it reminds me of all the sticky embarrassing dreams he’s featured in recently.
He’s going on a date with Jasmine. I’m a horrible brother.
“Good,” Dr. Lochley says. “Embrace physicality. Take a few deep breaths. Now, let’s get to work on this kiss.”
Liam studies Cam warily.
“I want you to forget about the blocking for now. Just do what feels authentic.”
Liam and Cameron run through the scene, glancing down at their scripts occasionally. When they get to the kiss, Cameron leans in and kisses Liam on his upstage cheek.
“Stop,” Dr. Lochley says. She mutters a long string of direction I can’t catch. “And then, I want you to pause and kiss him again on the lips. Are you both comfortable with that?”
I grip my pencil so tight I’m surprised it doesn’t snap. I don’t want to see Liam and Cam kiss. I don’t want to see Liam kiss anyone. Even if it’s just for the show.
I want him to say No, I’m not comfortable. I want him to say, What if I rehearse with Jackson instead.
I want to go hide in the theatre office and let Paige take over this rehearsal. But she’s not ready yet.
Liam and Cam run the scene again. This time, after Judas kisses Jesus on the cheek, he adds a closed-mouth peck on the lips.
“No,” Dr. Lochley says as they pull apart. “Something is still missing.”
She gets up onstage, takes Liam by the shoulders to bring him closer to Cameron, then adjusts Cameron’s stance, steps back to look at the picture they make.
I can’t quite tell what she’s saying, so I get out of my seat and get up onstage, standing a few paces to Liam’s right. Paige stands next to me, notebook in hand, even though she can probably hear just fine from her seat.
“Remember,” Dr. L says to Cam. “This is the most intense relationship you’ve ever had. You think you’re protecting him. You’ve seen what people want from Jesus. This is the only way to save him from something worse.”
She turns to Liam.
“And you know exactly what’s happening. You know what comes next. But you love Judas, flaws and all. This isn’t just goodbye. This is ‘I love you.’ This is ‘I forgive you.’ ”
I’m pretty sure we’ve veered even more outside the Bible than the musical already is. It’s definitely not in the script. I doubt the Toxic Jesus Fandom Toxic Andrew Lloyd Weber Fandom will appreciate all the homoerotic liberties Dr. Lochley is taking with the show.
Then again, being gay and doing crime is sort of Dr. Lochley’s thing.
“All right, let’s go again, from ‘Judas, must you betray me with a kiss?’ ”
I’m still onstage, next to Dr. Lochley, which means I’m close enough to see it when Cam turns on his puppy-dog eyes, the way he used to do before he kissed me.
It also means I’m close enough to see the way Liam’s eyes dart between Cam’s eyes and lips and back to his eyes.
And when their lips meet, it’s different. It’s . . . intense.
It feels so intimate, I want to look away. I can’t, though. I can’t even breathe.
Liam’s lips are thin, much thinner than Cameron’s, and he’s got one of those mouths that look like it’s always holding a frog in it. But there’s a tenderness to the way he and Cam touch their lips together, how their bodies lean in. It’s sad and beautiful and I hate it perfect.
The air in the Little Theatre feels too close, like the air conditioner has shut off again, which it does sometimes in early fall, when parts of the building are too hot and parts are too cold. The back of my neck burns.
When Liam and Cameron finally pull apart, they hold each other’s eyes for a beat.
Finally, Dr. Lochley claps her hands, and the spell is broken. “Excellent! That’s the energy I need. Now let’s tweak the blocking.”
“Hey, can you take over for a second?” I ask Paige as we back off the stage. “I need some water.”
I let the theatre door slam shut behind me, run for the bathroom, and hide in the first open stall. The bathroom is on the west side of the building, and the afternoon sun streams in through the high blocky windows, turning the toilet paper particles dust motes in the air into golden glitter.
I need to get it together.
I’ve done how many shows with my ex now? This will be number four. I’m fine. Liam’s not even an ex. He’s just a friend. A very kind, very hot, very talented friend. Who is taking Jasmine out tomorrow.
And I’m a professional. I’m a stage manager. It’s my job to make the show go well. Not to go around crushing on the actors. Dr. L would be so disappointed in me.
I shake myself off. I can do this.
I wash my hands, grab some water from the drinking fountain, and head back into the theatre. Cam and Liam kiss over and over and over; eventually Dr. L has Liam bring his hand up to cup Cam’s cheek as they’re doing it, and I don’t want to set myself on fire because it looks so real, and I don’t let myself remember how Liam’s hands feel. I don’t even think about how I hate my sister a tiny bit.
I’ve got a show to do. That’s what I’ve got to focus on.
Except then, between kisses, Liam catches my eye again. And I’m like a notice pinned to the Theatre Board, stabbed right through the heart, because for a split second it’s like he knows what I’m thinking. But he doesn’t.
He can’t.
No one can.
“Right, so we’ll work the trial on Wednesday instead,” Dr. L says as I make the changes to our schedule. “And that way Mr. Cartwright can have time to work on ‘Superstar’ with Judas.”
I nod. “Great. And then, next week, we’ve got Tori double-booked—”
“Dr. L?” Cam’s come up on her other side.
“Hm?”
“I’ve got a couple questions about the scene, if you’ve got a moment.”
“Sure. Just a sec, Jackson.”
Cam shoots me a smirk as Dr. L abandons our planning to go massage his ego. I sigh and turn to grab the dust mop, but Paige is already sweeping the stage.
“You okay?” Liam asks. He’s already got his backpack on.
“Huh?”
“Is it just me or somethingsomething?”
I shake my head. “Sorry. I’m really tired.”
He nods, pulls his phone out.
Is it just me, or does Cam do that on purpose?
Like he always needs Dr. L whenever you’re talking to her
I shrug. “It’s whatever.” It does happen more than I’d like. But Cam is kind of an attention hog needy. I glance back; he and Dr. L have stepped out of the theatre entirely.
It’s not whatever
He’s being a jerk
And Dr. L shouldn’t let him get away with it
Part of me wants to bask in the fact he’s trying to defend me. But the other part of me is mad. Because this is my job. I’ve been doing this for two years now. I know how to handle Cam.
He’s brand-new and he doesn’t know how things work and he’s got a date with Jasmine anyway.
“It’s fine. Dr. L knows I can handle it,” I snap.
But he just stands there, being all tall, and now he looks hurt.
“Sorry. Like I said. I’m tired. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”
“I understand,” he signs.
He’s doing little words now. I can’t help smiling, no matter how hard I try to stop it.
“You’re improving.”
He beams at me. “Thanks, Jacks.”
I snort.
“What?” I make out on his lips. He goes for his phone again.
Isn’t that your name sign?
“That’s what Bowie calls me. Like . . . calling me Jacks instead of Jackson.” I make my regular name sign, a variation of the letter J. “That’s Jackson.”
Oh. Sorry.
Should I not call you that?
I want to tell him no. That it’s too intimate.
That it’s something special between me and Bowie.
But his smile starts to fade, and I never want him to stop smiling.
“You can call me that too.”
Liam’s smile makes a comeback. Despite his thin lips, it lights up the stage.
“Okay.”