The crowd cheers again. I was expecting something more uplifting and crowd friendly, like Mamma Mia! I glance at Miles in surprise.

“I don’t know if you’re into it,” he says, spreading out on the blanket. “But Hugh Jackman is a pretty good Jean Valjean—”

“Wait.” I hold up a hand. “You know who Jean Valjean is?”

“I’m not that clueless,” he says, a rueful smile on his face. “Google is a thing.”

The opening violins begin and everyone starts to quiet down. Everyone except me, anyway.

“But you said Hugh Jackman did a pretty good job.” I grin, pointing a finger at his chest. “Did you watch a musical without me?”

“I’ve done it before—”

“Shhh,” a woman next to us hisses. “It’s starting!”

Miles flashes an apologetic smile, but I ignore her.

“There’s a big difference between Grease and Les Mis, Miles.” Little stuff like this reminds me why I was excited to hang out in the first place. “I’m so proud of you. You’re moving up in the theater world! Okay, wait. Pop quiz.”

He rolls his eyes, but cocks his head to the side, waiting.

I lower my voice to a whisper. “Why did Jean Valjean end up in prison?”

“Because he stole a loaf of bread.”

“He stole a loaf of bread!” I clap my hands together. The lady next to us glares, practically seething. “You’re right! Okay, another one.”

“Simone—”

“What was his number?”

“24601.” Miles shakes his head, grabbing his sandwich. “Actually, I’m regretting the whole Les Mis thing right about now.”

“Oh, come on,” I say, lying down next to him. “I didn’t even ask about Javert.”

This is actually the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me. Saying “thank you” doesn’t feel like enough, but I don’t know what else to do. I wish I could just focus on the movie. Miles makes my entire insides feel warm, and it’s hard to believe I do the same for him.

“Miles?”

He doesn’t glance over.

“Hey,” I try again, a little louder. “Miles.”

“Hm?” His eyes are glued to the screen. “What’s up?”

Oh, come on. Hugh Jackman is great and all, but the vocals in this version are totally weak when compared to any decent stage production. That’s what happens when only three members of your cast have musical theater experience. And yet, Miles is completely into it. What a rookie.

Fine. I lean over and kiss his cheek.

His eyebrows rise. “What’s that for?”

“Nothing,” I say. “Well—for this. It’s really nice. I’m—you’re—”

More than I expected. Better than I expected. So, so good.

“You’re great,” I finish. “Thank you.”

“It’s cool,” he says. “I’m glad you like it.”

He takes my hand, turning it over. My brown fades into his.

CHAPTER 24