He shakes his head, before beckoning me forward with a finger. “I work better in person.”

My lips part. “What? No. We’re not—”

“Mina, go up!” calls Kaity across the auditorium. “It’s only a few minutes!”

“Yeah, go up, Mina!” echo members of the film club behind me.

I glare harshly at them and some of the underclassmen wither beneath my gaze. The other seniors aren’t cowed, still grinning at me obnoxiously.

“You are all going to regret this,” I hiss, before giving Rosie a desperate look. She knows more than anyone how much I detest being in any sort of spotlight. “Ro, don’t make me go up there.”

Rosie pokes my cheek. “You’re on your own, bubs.”

Emmitt clicks his tongue. “How long are you going to make me wait, Samina?”

I turn a fierce glare on him but jerkily stand up from my seat, snatching my script as I go. I don’t need it, having written it and memorized all the words long before any of these actors, but at least it’ll be one more barrier between Emmitt and me.

I climb onto the stage, muttering insults under my breath. I have to push past the red curtains, but eventually I make it to center stage.

Emmitt huffs a quiet laugh when I’m in hearing range. “You say the sweetest things,” he says, before holding a hand out for me to take.

I pointedly ignore it, instead crossing my arms. “Start.”

He grins—quick and self-assured—before his expression softens. “Hi, Charlie.”

“Hi, Nick,” I say back, forcing my voice to stay even.

In the script, Nick and Charlie are close friends, neighbors who grew up beside each other—and Nick has a bit of an unrequited, but ultimately innocent, crush on her. I’m already dreading Emmitt’s interpretation of Nick’s character.

Emmitt shifts closer, his eyes warm. “Emily said you’d be waiting for me after football practice. Is everything okay?”

I fidget slightly, wishing I could look away from his tender expression. “Not really. I need your help with something.”

Emmitt’s lips part, his brows furrowing with concern. “What’s wrong?” he asks softly, reaching forward and laying a hand on my arm.

My eyes dart down to where his rings press into my skin. “I—I have a crush.”

“Oh?” Emmitt says, his voice taking on a different tone. Then his other hand is reaching for me, his fingers tilting my chin up until his gaze locks on mine. “On who?”

Why is it suddenly so hard to breathe? “I—don’t be mad at me. Please.”

Emmitt takes a step backward, examining me more thoroughly, his eyes uncertain as they flit across my features. “There’s nothing you could do to make me mad, Charlie.”

I swallow. “Vivienne. I have a crush on Vivienne.”

Emmitt stares at me for an extended beat of silence. “Vivienne... Chen?”