Milo

“Wait a second, no, I never agreed to that,” I say to Matteo just as the door opens and Ms. Green, the drama teacher, pokes her head out.

“Oh, Milo, there you are,” she says. “I’ve been calling your name. You’re up to audition for Cyrano.”

“Sorry, Ms. Green. I’m all set,” I say, trying to portray confidence as I follow her back into the drama room. It’s not until I’m setting my bag down on a chair that I realize Matteo is still in the hallway.

Oh. Right. The guy can’t see, I think to myself, heading back out to the hall as I slide his glasses onto my face, nearly blinding myself with his lenses. Tilting my head to look over the top of the frames, I reach out into the hallway and grab Matteo’s hand, pulling him toward me.

“You ready?” I ask him softly. “It’s time for us to transform into Cyrano and Christian.”

“Wait, already?” Matteo gasps, looking pale as I drag him into the room and toward the stage. “Milo, wait, wait, wait! We haven’t even rehearsed yet.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I tell him. “The best way to jump into a role is to do just that—jump. There’s such a thing as being too prepared. This way everything will be loose and natural.”

“Stop, please, I can’t do this,” Matteo says frantically, hurrying to keep up as I pull him up the stage steps. “I don’t jump into anything without protection—a life jacket in the water, a parachute out of airplanes…not that I’d ever jump out of an airplane. Oh my god. I don’t want to die!”

“No one is asking you to jump out of an airplane,” I tell him, wondering if I made a mistake in asking Matteo to be my scene partner. “Although, Christian definitely dies in this play.”

“Yeah, I am well aware,” Matteo hisses. “Which is why I didn’t really want to do this in the first place! I don’t like when people die in plays or movies or TV shows!”

“What?” I ask, spinning around and giving him an incredulous look. “Are you serious? People die all the time in plays.”

“I know, but—”

“All set?” Ms. Green calls from her seat in front of the stage. “I’m ready to start the scene when you are.”

I turn back to Matteo with my eyebrows raised, wondering if he’s going to wimp out on me or rise to the occasion.

“Well?” I ask him in a whisper. “Are we doing this or not? Do you want to be a hero, or stay in dork oblivion until you graduate?”

Matteo thinks it over for a moment until he finally nods his head at me.

“Okay, I’ll do it,” he says. “But I’m not saying a word until you agree to be my first client.”

“Oh, fine,” I groan. “I’ll pay you to find out who my secret admirer is.”

“I don’t want you to pay me,” Matteo insists. “As my first customer, I just want you to tell people how good I am so others will come to me as paying customers. It’s also sort of like an exchange—you’ll find me a match at some point, and I’ll help track down this secret admirer. It’s a win-win.”

“Gentlemen, are you ready?” Ms. Green asks again.

“Fine,” I hiss at Matteo, rolling my eyes before calling back to the drama teacher. “Yes, Ms. Green!”

“All right then,” she replies. “Action!”

I had emailed Ms. Green after lunch to let her know that I’m going to be approaching Cyrano as practically blind, aided by and hidden behind a thick pair of glasses. It occurred to me that without the context and explanation, she might get confused about why it seems like I have no idea where I’m looking on stage. I also warned her that Matteo will only look like he’s the blind one for today, until I get him some contacts. She replied back right away that it was an interesting take on the play, so I’m hoping this little stunt is worth the effort.

As soon as Ms. Green calls “action,” I dive immediately into the skin of a blind Cyrano, melding my new take on the character with the lines I have memorized. I’m a little worried about if and how Matteo is going to get past his nerves, but as he delivers his first line, he absolutely kills it, stunning me with his compassion and authenticity as Christian.

The scene goes by in a blur, and before I know it, the audition is over and the entire drama room has erupted into applause. I take off Matteo’s glasses and blink a few times at the crowd, taking in their enthusiastic expressions and realizing that we absolutely crushed it.

“Everyone, quiet down,” Ms. Green calls out. “I think we’re all in agreement—here are our Cyrano and Christian!”

Another thunderous round of applause and wolf whistles ring out around the room and, with a grin, I turn toward Matteo to place his glasses back on his face so he can see the group’s reaction for himself. Gently sliding the arms of his glasses behind his ears, my hands brush over his cheekbones. When my skin touches his, there’s an electric spark that runs through his veins, taking me by surprise. I’m also taken aback by how soft his black hair is, almost like silk.

With his glasses back on, Matteo’s eyes meet my gaze, looking right at me, and in reflex I yank my hands away.

I give my head a sharp shake, pulling myself out of the moment and back into the reality of Ms. Green’s drama room, which is filled with people still watching Matteo and me on stage. The last thing I want is for any chemistry we had during the scene to bleed into the real world—it makes things too confusing when you blur lines between the play and reality. Determined to keep things professional, I tell myself that any sparks I felt when I touched Matteo’s cheeks were just in my head. It was nothing more than the remnant feelings of an emotional scene in the play.

With my head back on straight, I bound off the stage with a grin, not waiting for Matteo to follow after me as I thank Ms. Green for the part. She puts her hand on my shoulder and leans in, confessing that she suspected I’d be her Cyrano and thanking me for finding Matteo.

“It’s always a pleasure to discover a new thespian in my class,” she adds.

Still smiling, I nod and head out the door with the rest of the group that had been auditioning for Cyrano and Christian. The hallway quickly becomes congested, allowing me to slip through the crowd and out the closest door to the parking lot. The hot air is a shock to my system after the frigid air conditioning inside the building, but as it warms my skin, I take a deep breath, finally able to bask in the glory of being cast for the role of a lifetime—or at least, the role of my high school career.

I feel like I’m walking on air as I make my way along the sidewalk, and it takes a moment for me to register the sound of my own name being called from somewhere in the distance. I slow down slightly and turn around, only to find Matteo hurrying to catch up with me, still calling to me as he gets closer.

“Milo! Wait!”

I let out a sigh and stop walking, waiting as he approaches.

“Sorry,” I tell him. “I didn’t mean to rush out like that when the scene ended. I guess I got caught up in the moment.”

“Yeah, it was pretty crazy.”

“But isn’t that exciting!” I exclaim. “We’re the stars of the play.”

“I know, but it feels like it hasn’t totally sunk in yet,” Matteo says, pushing his glasses up his nose. “I think I blacked out during the scene. I’m glad you told me to just stand still. I couldn’t see a thing and just had to follow the sound of your voice. The scene came back to me right away, so knowing my lines wasn’t an issue, but saying them and acting at the same time and—wait, we left before the auditions were over.”

“So?” I ask. “We’re not required to stay the whole time and Ms. Green already announced our parts.”

“Yeah, but we didn’t find out who is going to play Roxanne,” Matteo points out. “That’s another huge part of the play.”

“Oh, I doubt it will be a big shock,” I tell him. “Chris has been gunning for that part and will be perfect in the role.”

“Chris?” Matteo asks, thinking it over as he says the name. “I’m not sure who that is. I don’t think I’ve met a girl named Chris yet.”

“Chris is they/them,” I correct him.

“Ohhh, okay.” Matteo nods. “I’ll make sure to remember that when meeting our Roxanne.”

“Good.” I nod back at him. “So I guess I’ll see you around?”

“Wait, there’s something we need to talk about.” Matteo stops me before I can go. “How will we begin our search for your secret admirer?”