The lights flash a warning for us to get seated that has Hannah moving to take the farthest seat. Ethan goes next, followed by Colin, then Luke’s friend, Luke, and finally me, leaving an empty seat beside me.
The professor steps onto the stage, introducing the production that I’ve never heard of. He bows before disappearing backstage and the lights dim. The scent of the toast must have triggered my homesickness, because as I sit in the dark theater, Luke whispering about his experience with acting (I’ve quickly learned, Luke has done everything—or claims to have. Whether we discuss school, baking, or hobbies—he’s done it all and seen it all. Lanie calls this trait one-upping. Luke is one of the ultimate one uppers). This has me missing Lanie, which has my thoughts going to our recent exchange of texts, about making Nolan jealous.
The toast is rough and scratchy in my hands, and I’m still not sure how I’m supposed to know when it’s time to throw it when someone plunks into the empty seat next to me.
“Did you get your toast, Cutlass?” Nolan’s fresh scent of bergamot is the only contrast against the toast.
My heart beats faster as I search his expression in the darkened theater, unconvinced it’s truly him. “You’re here.”
He flashes a smile and shifts in his seat. I glance at the two towers of toast in his lap. “Of course, I’m here.”
“Hey,” Luke says, leaning forward. “Did you bring someone? There aren’t any empty seats over this way. You might want to try going up a few rows.”
Nolan’s eyes dart to him and then me, something flickering in his gaze that I don’t know nor recognize. “Just me,” he says.
Luke leans back in his seat. I try to do the same but Nolan leans so close his breath is warm as it fans my ear and cheek. It smells fresh of sweet mint. My stomach beats harder and I forget how to breathe.
“I thought Hannah, Ethan, and Colin were coming with you?” Nolan whispers before leaning back, inviting me into his space. He doesn’t turn his head for me to speak into his ear, though. He remains facing me so I taste the mint on my tongue as flashes of our shared kiss claw and tease me to lean closer and kiss him again.
“They’re here. So are Katie and Carsen. Someone decided to hold back the final clue until the last possible moment, so we were a little late.”
“But not late enough to invite a date.” He cocks a brow.
Lanie’s text about jealousy rings in my head.
“I didn’t think you were going to come.”
“I got stuck in a meeting. Our head coach fell and needs to have surgery. We just found out, so they had to go through the formalities tonight of who will be taking over roles. It was a fucking circus.”
There are times when Nolan talks about football and his confidence and assuredness make me think of Spartan warriors, born and raised for battle. Other times, like now, he has bitterness in his tone.
“Is he okay?”
“He’ll be fine.” He sounds regretful.
I search his gaze, working to understand the hardness of his tone. “Why was it such a circus? Is it unusual for a head coach to be absent?”
He blinks, his demeanor calm. Too calm. I wonder if the inside of his brain is chaos and he’s just better than most—better than me—at hiding it? “Because people hate change.”
“Except for you,” I say. “You seem to crave it.”
Nolan flashes a devious grin. “Did you enjoy your Jell-O snack?”
I scoff. “I’m amazed I found my phone. Those clues were impossible. And to bring math equations into it was cruel.”
“Oh, Cutlass. You have to stop underestimating yourself.”
I stare at him, and in the dark of the theater, I swear his gaze falls to my mouth. I wonder if he’s reliving our kiss, recalling the exact pressure and taste as I am.
“Have you seen this production before, Hadley?” Luke asks, leaning forward.
I shake my head. Nolan stares at him again, reminding me of a lion—predatory and calm.
“Have you ever been to the theater?” Luke asks, remiss of our conversation.
“Yeah. Lots of shows come to Vegas.”
“Oh, that’s right. I bet you do get some good shows there.”