“Well, it’s not.” I shudder, remembering the time Dad and Pops took me to see the show. We see something on Broadway every summer when we visit my half brother, Dave, but that summer was disappointing, to say the least. “Trust me on that. If the actors have to come into the audience, they should just do it like The Lion King. It’s a thousand times better.”

“You’re shitting on something that Webber guy wrote?” He gives a dramatic gasp. “Wait, wait, wait. Have we shifted into an alternate universe?”

“Oh, shut up,” I say as he collapses into laughter. “Don’t get me wrong; all the music in Cats is amazing. I’d just rather pay attention to what’s happening onstage without being distracted by a grown adult humping my leg.”

He’s staring openly at my face, smiling. Miles smiles more than anyone else I know. I wouldn’t say his face lights up, exactly, because it’s always bright. It makes it too easy to pretend he’s into me.

Maybe this would be easier if he were a jerk. I figured he’d give me a hard time when he first showed up, but he hasn’t done anything horrible since he joined the crew. He doesn’t fool around with anyone in the prop closet and is always looking for extra work to do. I guess the only shitty thing he’s done is walk around being a regular person instead of making out with me against a wall.

“So.” He’s moved closer to me while I wasn’t paying attention. When he speaks, I feel his breath against my cheek. “If Cats isn’t the musical of the day, what is?”

“Right.” I scoot over a bit. His mouth twitches. “Uh, I love Aida. It’s about this Nubian princess who is taken as a slave and then falls for Radames, the captain of the Egyptian Guard.”

“Wow.” He blinks. “Is it Webber?”

“No,” I say. “It’s Elton John, actually.”

“Just Elton John?” He raises a brow. “Are you sure?”

“I mean…there’s Tim Rice,” I say, trying not to smile. “And he collaborated with Webber on stuff like Evita.”

“Of course.” He shakes his head. “You’re in love with Webber.”

“It’s not Webber!” I nudge his shoulder. “Webber and Tim Rice are two completely different people!” He starts shaking his head, but I go on. “It doesn’t really count. Plus, I love Sweeney Todd and that’s Sondheim.”

“Sure, okay.” He smacks his hands against his jeans, shaking his head like an old man. “Come on, Simone. You can say whatever you want, but I know you by now.”

There’s this stupid fluttering in my chest. All I can think about is kissing him and how I can’t do that if he doesn’t like girls.