joined me at my usual table. He’s smiling too (and this is one of the annoying ones), looking between

Mac and I and the mountain of books between us. It’s enough of a smirk that I know I’ll hear about this

later, and I flip him off as he changes direction and heads for the back room. It isn’t loud, but I hear his

laugh from across the cafe.

* * *

Riz never really gets the chance to give me a hard time about it though, because the next few weeks of

the semester are pretty much hell for both of us, I think. Jeff’s got everyone doing rehearsals pretty

much every day now, and for as easygoing of a guy as he usually is, rehearsals running up to a show are

serious business for him. Get caught dicking around, and there’s hell to pay. Not that he can kick anyone

out of the show at this point, but there’s public humiliation in store, at the very least.

And when we’re not rehearsing, I’ve still got papers and projects and normal shit like trying to keep

my life together. I’m doing alright, I think, but that doesn’t mean that it’s easy. Especially when one

project still requires me to deal with secret-smart Super Jock. Mac. The little time I have to be at the

cafe, he’s usually there too, stealing part of my table with his books and stacks of notes on our topic.

He’s actually got me feeling a little guilty about not pulling more of my own weight, but when I offer to

take more, he gives me that smile and says that I’ve got enough on my plate and that he’s got it taken

care of. I really have no clue how he knows what’s ‘on my plate’, but I suppose it’s good that he’s

taking care of so much.

I know I’m going to owe him for doing so much on this project. I tried to bring it up once, but he just

laughed at me and told me to grab him a coffee. I know it’s messed up, and just asking for a beating

from the entire soccer team, but I actually caught myself thinking about us getting coffee sometime

when we’re not studying.

Because thinking about dating a straight jock is exactly what I need in my life right now.

* * *

Dress rehearsal hits before anyone is ready for it. That’s the way it always goes, but it seems even worse

this time for some reason. Jeff had planned for us to start our last run-through at 3, but by 2:30, people

are still running around, half in costume, makeup only partially done, and Jeff is looking like he’s about

to lose his mind. It’ll all come together in the end, but it’s hard to be positive when the theater looks like

a brightly costumed war zone.

Strangely enough, dress rehearsal doesn’t hit me as hard this time as it sometimes does. My

costume’s not nearly as complicated as most people’s, so while they’re being laced in and made up, it

leaves me sitting in the auditorium, watching everyone scurry around on stage, and listening to Jeff

shout that we’re starting in 10 minutes, whether people are ready or not. And that he expects people to

hit their cues even if they’re naked.

That’d be quite the show. I know it won’t happen though. Even for dress rehearsal, we’ll all be ready

for the curtain to go up in a few minutes.

Riz finally emerges from backstage, looking like he’s ready for opening night instead of just a

rehearsal, and finds me sitting a few rows back. He comes up, looking every bit the prince that Jeff’s

wanted him to be, and takes the seat next to mine. While everyone else is done up in crazy colors and

make up and even some masks, Riz and I get the luxury of pretty normal clothes - him in black and me

in gray. Jeff had worked a long time with costuming to get that right, saying he wanted Hamlet and

Horatio to be this sane sort of contrast to all the craziness and posturing in the court. I have to say that

I’m not at all jealous of some of the things the other cast has to wear. I’ll take normal gray clothes any

day.

I’m not lucky enough to get a pair of the leather pants that costuming has practically poured Riz into

though. I guess that’s part of a princely wardrobe.

We sit, like an island in the chaos that’s starting to sort itself out, just like I knew it would. I never

would have thought half a year ago that the silence between us could actually be comfortable. I finally

told Doc the other day that I’m pretty sure that Rizzo and I are friends now, and she looked at me like I

was an idiot for taking this long to notice.

I just wasn’t expecting it, okay?

“I’m going with James.” The words slip into the quiet like they’re supposed to make sense, but they

don’t. Of course he’s ‘going with’ James. Not quite how I’d expect him to put it, or why it needs to be

said. I was pretty aware of their reconciliation after Riz stopped being so stubborn and let James talk to

him.

“Going with?” I can’t keep the smirk off my face or out of my voice. “You can say ‘screwing’. I’m a

big boy. I can handle it.” I glance over, teasing. “Or you can call him your boyfriend if you want.” A

stupid smile crosses his face before he shakes his head. He looks at me for a second and then back

toward the stage, where Jeff is frantically trying to wrangle people up. Andrea runs by in just her underdress,

a costumer chasing after her with an armful of colorful fabric. I nearly miss Rizzo’s next words in

the commotion.

“No, I mean I’m going with him. When he leaves for Berlin. They’ve got a music school there, and

because of Grazzo they’ve pulled some strings for me…”

It hits me like a ton of bricks, and I don’t even know what to say. He keeps watching the stage, and I

stare at his profile until Jeff finally notices us sitting there and yells at us to get backstage in our places.

Riz pushes himself up and heads up the aisle, not looking back once, like he knows I’ll be watching

him.

***

Rehearsal doesn’t go nearly as smoothly for me as it should. I try to put Riz’s bombshell out of my

mind, try to think about Hamlet and Horatio, but it keeps sneaking back into my brain at the most

inconvenient points.

The ridiculous part is that I don’t even know what I’m feeling. It’s not good, but I’m not sure why.

And I can’t even be all that surprised, because it’s obvious that neither Riz nor James wants to be apart

for very long now that they’re finally getting their shit together. I’ve even teased them about how

disgustingly couple-y they’ve gotten. And it was always obvious that Riz wasn’t going to hang around

at Woodhaven after graduating. But Berlin is so far.

It’s as Hamlet’s dying in my arms that I finally realize: I don’t want to be alone again.

***

Opening night.

I’m dressed and as close to ready as I suppose I’m going to get. I’m lurking backstage, waiting for

curtain, and it takes Jeff running into me three times before he tells me to fuck off and find Rizzo

because no one’s seen him for close to 15 minutes.

He’s doing his pre-show warm-up in a quiet corner when I find him. He’s in costume and his eyes

are closed, and I know I shouldn’t interrupt him, so I lean against the wall and watch until his eyes open

again and focus on me.

“Ten minutes, they’re saying.” He nods. “They’re also saying that there isn’t an empty seat in the

house.” I don’t know how to tell him that I’m not sure I can do this.

Because I’m terrified. Of the show and of everything that’s going to come after. Summer, next year,

when James and Riz are gone, and I’m left on this campus not knowing anyone other than Mac, and I’m

not even sure if we really count as friends yet, and Marc, who I still see from time to time, running

away from me if he notices me. My own graduation in a few years, and everything after that. And in