When he takes my hand to kiss it, I do a whole body shiver, because I remember those hands. His perfect hands. Holding mine. Playing with my hair. Demonstrating how to improve my front crawl. Curling around the steering wheel of his shitty brown car. Resting on my knee as we sat together in TJ’s, memorizing his scenes.
I flub my next line and try to recover, but the adrenaline is gone. Instead there’s weight pressing down on me. Guilt gnawing at my stomach.
Liam gave me his heart, and I wasn’t careful with it. I was selfish and I was cowardly and I hurt him.
And yet here we are again. And I’m the one giving him my heart. But Cesario doesn’t love Olivia, and he never will. That’s not how the play goes.
The tears that spring to my eyes are very real as I plead, “I would you were as I would have you be.”
And Liam answers, his voice raised, “Would it be better, madam, than I am? I wish it might, for now I am your fool.”
He hasn’t moved, but I feel like he slapped me.
I made a fool of him. I lied to him and I hurt him and I’d do anything to take it back.
I blink and the tears pooling in my eyes start to slide down my cheeks. Liam’s mouth opens in surprise.
I’ve got another line, I’m sure of it, but it’s gone. My whole mind is blank. No lines, no blocking, no lists. Just the boy I still love.
This is not how the show goes. But I step forward and take his hands. This definitely isn’t in the script. I don’t remember what’s in the script.
Liam clears his throat and says, “My lady?”
That’s not in the script either.
I swallow and look him in the eyes. “You’re not the fool. I am. And I’m sorry.”
He blinks at me. This isn’t iambic pentameter. This isn’t Shakespeare.
But it’s the truth.
“I was afraid. Afraid of hurting my sister. Afraid of hurting you. Afraid of being hurt myself. But I love you so much. I love your smile and your laugh. I love your patience and caring. I love the way you tuck in my tags when they stick up. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I messed everything up. But I will never, ever be sorry for loving you. That’s the best thing I’ve ever done.”
The audience is silent. Or maybe it’s just me: Maybe I can’t hear anything except for the beating of my own heart as I look into Liam’s eyes and wait.
Whatever happens, I said what I needed to say. I might’ve just ruined the show, but there will be other shows. There’s only one Liam.
Liam looks down at me. The stage lights glow like stars in his eyes. And gently, ever so gently, he gives my hands a squeeze.
His smile is a sunrise, slow, and subtle, until finally it crests the horizon and blinds me with its brightness. He brings my hands to his chest, which pulls me closer to him. I stumble a bit in my shoes; I’m not used to a chunky heel.
“I love you too. That’s why it hurt so much.” He lets go of one hand so he can use a thumb to wipe away my tears. “I never stopped loving you.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
For some reason that makes me cry harder.
He never stopped loving me.
Liam brings his other hand to my face and leans in.
And then he kisses me. In front of everyone. And I kiss him back. I want to stay in this moment forever.
Someone whoops in the audience. I’m almost certain it was Bowie. We break apart, smiling.
Liam drops his hands, signs close so only I can see: “Let’s do the scene?”
I nod. Step back to my mark. Brush my hands across the front of my dress, as if I’m swiping away wrinkles, even though the whole thing is pleats. I clear my throat and pick up the scene.
“Cesario, by the roses of the spring, by maidhood, honor, truth, and everything, I love thee so . . .”
Have I polished my shoes? Yes, I’ve polished my shoes, I say in my head. My hand is in Paige’s for our tandem bow as Olivia and Sebastian.
Paige and I break apart, her going stage right, me stage left, leaving room for Jamilah to come through for a solo bow as Orsino. The crowd whistles and claps, and then comes Liam, back in his Viola dress. He bows, reaches for Jamilah for their couple’s bow, then gestures to all of us for the full cast bow.
Have I polished my shoes? Yes, I’ve polished my shoes.
We break apart, making for the stage doors, high on adrenaline and applause and the sheer joy that comes from a play well-played. The buzzing in my belly is so strong I feel like I’ve been zapped again.
Backstage, people pat each other on the back, laugh, and hug. I hang back, because even though I’m here I’m not really one of them. Not just because I got kicked out, and not just because of the lists, but because even when I was stage managing I was always apart.
Until Darcy grabs my hand, yanking me into the pack. I can’t make out a thing anyone says, but I feel the sheer euphoria of a (mostly) successful show. No one seems mad at me and Liam for our little bit of improv.
Not even Dr. Lochley, who is hovering by Denise near the catwalk door. She mutters something, then hands a twenty-dollar bill to her wife, who laughs and kisses her on the nose.
I eventually excuse myself to the prop room to get out of this dress, because I’m pretty sure it’s been smooshed by the press of bodies all around me, and it’s getting uncomfortable. After I pull my shirt back on, a hand brushes my back to fix my tag.
I spin around and he’s there. Right in front of me, smiling. He’s still in his costume and makeup, and the fluorescent light of the prop room makes him look slightly ghoulish, but he’s still perfect.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hey,” I say back.
I reach for his waist; the fake silk of his costume is slick against my palms.
“I’m sorry,” I say again, so he knows it’s me and not Olivia. “I’m so, so sorry.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I do.” I clear my throat. “I liked you from the start and I didn’t know what to do with it. I was jealous of Jasmine and then I felt bad for feeling jealous so I went along with her wanting a list. But I shouldn’t have done it. I should’ve put you first. And I shouldn’t have lied about it.”
“Jackson—”
“And I shouldn’t have been such a coward about telling her about us. You are important to me. Our relationship is important to me. I never should’ve kept it a secret. I’m sorry.”
“Will you be quiet?” he asks.
“Huh?”
“I’m trying to apologize here too.”
“What for?”
“For not telling you how I felt from the start. For dating your sister in the first place. For not giving you the chance to explain.”
“That list . . . Everything on it was a lie. I was trying to talk Jasmine out of being in love with you. Trying to talk myself out of it. Because I didn’t think you’d like me back.”
“But I do.”
“You do,” I say, and I can’t believe it. I’ve never quite understood the logic of musicals: how someone could have feelings so huge, so overpowering, they have to burst into song.
But now I think I could carry a whole showstopping number by myself.
“So what now?” I ask.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean . . . you and me?”
“Yeah. You and me.” He pulls me in close.
And then he kisses me. It’s soft and kind and sweet and over all too quickly. But he breaks it and smiles at me, so bright I feel like I’m back onstage, and it’s too much. I hide my face against his chest, and he hugs me tight, resting his chin on my head.
“Are you getting makeup in my hair?”
“Yes. Deal with it.”
“Okay.”
We stand like that, holding each other, and I think time might’ve stopped. But then the door swings open.
“Oh!” Dr. Lochley says. “Sorry. I hope I’m not interrupting.”
We break apart, but Liam keeps my hand clasped tightly.
Dr. L looks at our hands and smiles. “I should be upset with both of you for going so far off script, but that’s probably the most interesting Shakespeare has ever been. You were both terrific.”
“Thanks.” Liam jiggles my hand.
“And I’m glad you worked things out. Best twenty dollars I’ve ever lost.”
“You bet against us?” he asks.
“You two were being pretty dramatic about the whole thing,” she says, a twinkle in her eye. “Now come on. Your adoring public awaits.”
“You. Are. Ridiculous!” Bowie says when they spot me. But they’re smiling, and it only widens when Liam comes up beside me, now free of makeup and back in shorts and a T-shirt. He missed a few spots, but it’s cute.
“Sorry. I hope you weren’t worried.”
“I mean, I figured it was some sort of Theatre Emergency, but I didn’t expect this. Did you poison Cam or something?”
“No. His boyfriend did.”
Bowie’s brow furrows, but then they say, “Big Burger?”
“Onions in the patties.”
“Couldn’t have happened to a nicer person,” Liam says. Bowie lets out a cackle.
I spot Cam hovering by the bathroom door; he looks a little pale but otherwise fine as Philip hands him a Gatorade bottle.
Cam sees me looking and gives me a little nod. I’m not sure what for. But I don’t have time to worry about him now.
“So,” Bowie says, tapping their lip with their forefinger. “You two, huh?”
I grab Liam’s hand. “Yeah. Us two.”
“It’s about time you sorted things out.”
“Thanks.”
“So. You need a ride to Perkins, or . . .”
“He’s got one,” Liam says. “We’ll meet you there?”
“As long as you two aren’t gross or anything,” Bowie says, but they’re still smiling.
“Deal.”
“Come on.” I pull Liam toward the stairs. “Let’s go.”
We make it all the way to the parking lot, Liam’s hand in mine, but when we reach his car, he spins us around so he’s leaning against the trunk and I’m leaning against him. His hands rest at my sides; mine link behind his neck.
“I missed you,” he says.
“I missed you too.”
I’m not sure which of us starts it, but we kiss again. We kiss and kiss and kiss, right where everyone can see us, parents and teachers and friends, and I don’t care. I want everyone to know.
Liam kisses me harder, does this thing with his tongue that makes my knees go all woogedy, and I break the kiss and laugh.
“Hm, you know what I want?” he asks.
“What?”
“Mm. Onion rings.”
I snort so hard I think I pop a blood vessel.