Standing on the dance floor, it occurs to me that we should, I don’t know. Dance? I’m not a self-conscious dancer, until I’m dancing with Reid. Well, not with Reid. I sway to the beat of whatever top forty song is currently playing. Reid mirrors my sway. We’re just… swaying.

“I could be this awkward all night, I swear. But you wanted to talk?”

“Right,” Reid says. “Well—”

The music cuts to a slow song and everyone pairs up in three seconds as if they discussed it ahead of time. Even my eight-year-old cousin, who promised he’d save a slow dance for me, bails for Hannah. Reid and I look at each other. I’m about to say let’s ditch, but before I get the chance to speak, before I get the chance to breathe, Reid’s arms are around my waist and my hands are around his neck and… well. Reid can dance. We’re dancing.

“Molly is going to lose her shit,” I whisper. “She’s calling us Natareid.”

Reid snort-laughs. “That is the most disgusting thing I have ever heard.”

“Right?”

Reid twirls me. “May as well give her a show. Before I squirt ketchup on your dress.”

I fake-gasp. “You wouldn’t.”

“Alas, I’m not seven. My pranks are civilized now. I won’t reveal my plan.”

I nod along. “Civilized. Right.”

His expression changes and I remember there’s a reason we’re dancing.

“So. Toby’s friends are boycotting Melted,” Reid says.

I frown. “Okay?”

“It means every plausible Moritz replacement is out.”

Oh. Up until this moment, Melted was the last thing on my mind.

I stop swaying. “Your timing is impeccable. I really want to be stressed out about Melted right now.”

“I’m sorry! Tomorrow I’m spending all day finalizing my Albany submission and then it’s Monday and we don’t have a lead. It’s only fair we panic together. Codirector solidarity, right?”

I shake my head. “At Delia’s bat mitzvah?”

“I know,” Reid says, looking down.

I stare at my feet, too annoyed to dance with Reid, to dance with anyone. Without a Moritz, we have to stall production for a script overhaul, to consider cutting the character all together. The character I fought hard to keep. But we cannot stall production. So we need someone fast.

My eyes snap up to meet Reid’s. “You can do it.”

“Do what?” Reid asks.

“Moritz,” I say. “You already know the part. And your voice isn’t shit. So…”

“Isn’t shit? What an endorsement,” Reid says.

“This is coming from me. Scale it appropriately,” I say.

Reid presses his lips together in a thin line. “I don’t know.”

“Reid. Please.”

Reid looks at me, contemplating. “Codirecting and starring. Isn’t that a little—extra?”

“Please. Danica and Emerson are the stars,” I say.

“You’ll have to direct my scenes,” Reid says.