Alex was confused. Despite what Eva had said, it was not like he could direct the story however he wanted, could he? The few times he had gone against the narration, he had not escaped unscathed. Although, the narrator had explicitly stated that his choices —in those particular moments— were not the best for him. He had been lost in thought over this for the past few hours.

Which is exactly why Moritz had to poke him with a pen.

“Hey, wha…?!”

“Mr. Ramírez,” says Mrs. Sandoval tersely. “Good to have you back. Would you be so kind to answer my question now?”

“Oh! Sure, Mrs. Sandoval. Um… which was the question?”

“The question was if you’d rather go daydream outside, since you are already wasting the money spent on this class.”

“I’d rather stay.”

“Then pay attention!”

As Mrs. Sandoval continues speaking about cultural cycles, Alex feels the blood pooling on his cheeks: he had not been reprimanded like that since high school.

“Are you ok?” Moritz whispers. “You’ve seem out of it. Did something happen?”

“I’m fine,” he says. “But please don’t poke me that hard next time you are trying to get my attention, I almost screamed!”

“I tried! But I repeat, you are very out of it,” he answers, biting back a laugh. “It was poking, pinching or yelling. I did whisper before I thought of those!”

“You did not!”, in fact, Moritz had. “Ok, maybe I didn’t hear you.”

Mrs. Sandoval has been pretending to not notice this exchange but she is quickly growing annoyed.

“We can talk later, I don’t want her to kick me out,” is all Alex says.

***

“So, did something happen?” Moritz asks as soon as the class is over.

“What’s it to you, güero?” Alex asks back while walking out of the classroom.

“Well, we are friends, right?

“Begrudgingly,” he responds, laughing.

“Am I really so unappealing as person to you? Don’t answer that,” Moritz says, noticing the glint in his eyes and the side of his mouth climbing up. “Anyhow, you just seem... off. Is this about the auditions?”

Alex groans. He had forgotten about the auditions this weekend, he is going to have a lot of work. The good thing is: Moritz gave him an easy way out.

“Yeah, that’s what’s bugging me, it’ll be a lot of work,” he answers. “Don’t worry, güero, this is not my first time. All will be well.”

The German seems pleased with the answer, so he just nods and walks alongside him. It is an uneventful trip to the cafeteria. Or it would be, if Alex couldn't feel Moritz’ eyes darting toward him at set intervals, which is as annoying as it is distracting. Can Alex get some peace? Even for a second?

The answer is clearly no.

As they walk the silence gets more awkward, tension palpable. It is a short walk, but the German’s gaze and the narration on his ears is driving Alex insane. So when he is made aware that what the German wants is to ask him something, Alex just stops mid walk, startling him.

“Out with it.”

“What?”

“You keep staring and want to ask something,” he declares. “Out. With. IT!”

“Um…” the German is unsure.

“Oh, come on! Very easy to try and flirt with me as soon as you saw me, but now cat’s got your tongue?”

“I was just wondering if I could go,” he says sheepishly. What was it with this man and sheepishness?

“Go where?”

“To the audition,” he answers, a small smile on his face. “You know, as support!”

“Support what?” Alex answers. “They aren’t even open to the public.”

“Support Carlos, Eva and…”

“And me?”

“Yeah,” he answers, blushing. “All of you.”

“I won’t even sing there!”

“WHAT?!” people around them jump or stop to stare, the loudness even catches Alex by surprise. Moritz seems genuinely shocked. “But your voice is so beautiful! Why not?”

And now it is Alex who is blushing. He had forgotten how receiving compliments for his voice felt, it had been a while since he had given anybody the chance, so Moritz’ earnestness and bluntness caught him heavily off guard. He didn’t even remember singing to him!

“You have never heard me sing, what are you saying?” This was untrue. The Welcome Ceremony. “WAIT! No, the Welcome Ceremony doesn’t count?!” Alex says flustered.

“Well it counted to me,” Moritz says. “You were great!”

“I sang a cheesy and uncomplicated song! That hardly deserves praise, you dolt!” Alex feels the blood rising to his face.

“It was enough for me. I really think you sing beautifully! You are even better than Carlos and Eva, and they are nothing to sneeze at. I know, I saw them sing and… they don’t hold a candle!”

“PLEASE! Just… stop,” Alex says. His hands covering his warm face. “I don’t sing on stage. I haven’t for over a year, ok? The Welcome Ceremony is just an exception because it is a tradition. Also, I… work for the Theatre Department so I can’t audition for the musical. Ok? Enough?”

“Yeah. Um… sorry,” Moritz says, hugging himself awkwardly. He feels guilty now. “I just… I just think it is a waste. I really mean it when I say your voice is beautiful.”

“Pinche güero culero” is all he can think. He is so done with the German throwing sweet words and strange situations at him like it’s nothing.

People keep walking past them, eyeing them as they go. Both of them are something to behold: in the middle of the landing, facing one another, Alex covering his face, Moritz sheepish and blushed; they look couple who just had a lovers quarrel, in which Moritz made Alex cry. Hearing this does no favors to Alex’s blush, or frustration.

“Ugh, come on, we are late for lunch,” he says, going to the next flight of stairs.

“Ok,” Moritz says behind him. “Um, but… can I go?”

“You are still…?” Alex turns to berate him but Moritz is ready for him: big hazel eyes wide open and pleading, his bushy brows slightly raised, and his upper lip pushing gently on his lower in a not-quite pout. This idiotic German is an actual golden retriever and Alex swears he’ll be the death of him. “Ugh, do as you wish. What do I care, I won’t even see you there!”

They walk the rest of the way to the cafeteria in silence, but Alex is aware that the idiotic German is sporting a huge grin the rest of the way. He’d love nothing more than to trip him and see him faceplant.

“Such a child,” Alex mutters as he opens the cafeteria door.

“When you have a very prickly and bossy older sister, you need to learn how to get your way,” is all Moritz says behind him, much to Alex’s surprise. “Also, you get particularly good at distinguishing mutters, mumbles and vindictive glances.”

“I hate you,” Alex says.

“I’ll grow on you.”

“Like a rash. And no flirting! You promised.”

They walk to the table. Alex a blushing mess and Moritz smiling proudly. Carlos and Eva are already discussing the upcoming auditions, namely, who their biggest competition could be.

“Woah, Alex, what’s gotten into you,” Eva says when she notices him.

“Nothing. It’s just pretty sunny and hot today.”

“That’s a good description for Maurice, here,” she says with a sly smile and pointing to Moritz jokingly who, in turn, quickly becomes beet red. “Oh, hit a nerve, did I?”

“Oh, shut up. I’m going to buy my lunch,” he huffs, tossing his backpack on his chair.

“Hey, don’t worry, I bought you lunch,” Carlos says, sliding a packaged sandwich his way. “Teriyaki.”

Alex sits, watching them with suspicion. Carlos and Eva just smile.

“Are you already trying to buy me? If this is bribery I should tell you now, I need new strings for my guitar!” Alex says slowly unwrapping his meal. Then he stops. “Is this poisoned? Did Eva spit on it?”

“Do you really think that lowly of me?” Eva gasps dramatically.

“Don’t say that! Someone might hear you and actually believe that,” Carlos complains.

“You play the guitar?” Moritz has stopped mid-bite, looking at him in awe.

Maybe Alex should have thought better than to reveal his skill set in front of an infatuated over sized pup.

“He is a multi-instrumentalist, actually,” Carlos responds. “Guitar, flute and piano… and I’d count his voice, but he doesn’t want us too.”

“That term is only for those that play at a professional level! I only specialized in piano, the rest I played on a whim, don’t oversell me and undersell better musicians,” Alex whines, taking a bite out of his sandwich.

“So you play more than ONE instrument and SING like that?!” Moritz is looking at him like if he has grown two more heads. Extremely attractive heads, at that. Which he wants to kiss.

“I had an interest, someone to teach me and I just went with it,” he says, taking another bite. “It’s not impressive. Eva has been dancing since she was four years old, and also knows several styles. I don’t see the parade so, rain compliments on her instead, güero.”

“Gee, such excitement for my achievements,” Eva snarks. “But yeah, Alex is right, it’s just normal to start young when you get into the arts, Maurice.”

“Not his name.”

“Then what’s his name,” Eva replies with a smirk.

“Güero,” Alex says, blushing.

“But, yeah, Moritz,” Carlos interrupts, “Alex has been playing since forever. Actually, when he first auditioned he did it as a musician, it was Angela who forced him to enter the acting audition as well. The rest is history.”

“Speaking of that, does David still want you to preside the musicians audition with him?”

“Not in my contract, I have class, and I already asked the scholarship holders to be in charge of the registration. Which is their duty,” Alex says. “The musicians audition is the one with the least people and David already has a band in place. I really don’t know why he wants me there.”

“Same reason they ask you to be at our auditions: you have a good ear, wey.”

“Don’t know about that, güey.”

The conversation goes on like this for a long while, Carlos and Eva explaining how the auditions will play out to Moritz, the German eyeing Alex when he is distracted and daydreaming of him, while Alex keeps pretending he is not aware of this, that it doesn’t make him slightly happy to be wanted this way. He blushes at that, feeling a groan building up on the back of his throat.

Eva said he could choose but, could he? Really? What could be considered a “choice” when the narrative is already set? Hadn’t it established that Moritz wasn’t his to keep? Not that he wanted him. It had been a week, they barely knew each other, all they could do was have small talk. All Alex knew about him was: his full name, a sappy story that had him fixated, that he was both German and Spanish, that he was a designer and not much else. Mostly because Alex was flustered around him all the time… and that annoyed him. Why be flustered? He was just a guy. A guy that looked at him like he was something special, and it had been so long since someone saw him like that: it was addictive. He hates this.

Then he feels a poke.

“Goey, don’t you have class?” Eva says. “You are going to be late.”

He checks the clock and, with a quick motion, grabs his stuff, waves everyone goodbye and runs out. He is annoyed all the way to the classroom, about his ruminations, at the narration, at Moritz, even a little at Eva, but mostly at the prospect of “choice”. He still doesn’t know what to make of it.