This isn’t anything close to staying away from Miles. I don’t know if I can do that, honestly. I glance up, but not at Miles. I turn toward the backstage area. Kids are sweeping up wood shavings or painting the back wall. No one is paying attention to us. If the note-leaver were here, I’m sure their eyes would be glued to us. I guess this means they aren’t.

“You know,” Miles starts, his voice a stage whisper. “We missed the musical of the day yesterday and the day before.”

That’s because we’d kissed the day before.

“I didn’t think it would last this long,” I admit, watching as he swings our intertwined hands back and forth. If I saw anyone else standing like this, I would laugh at them. I feel a little bit like laughing right now, but the fact that we look ridiculous is only part of it. “It’s not like you’re actually into theater.”

“I mean…” Miles pauses. “I don’t not like it.”

“Come on, Miles,” I say, squeezing his hand. “You don’t even know the difference between Hairspray and Hair.”

“That’s true,” Miles says, glancing down at our hands. “But—I don’t know. I’ve never met someone so serious about it until now.”

It’s not like I expect him to be an expert. Just because I’m wild about musicals and plays and everything that happens onstage doesn’t mean he has to be. This is my thing. It’s like musicals are a different language, one that’s easier to speak than English. The only downside is that it can make communicating with the nonmusical crowd harder.

When I was little and always in the hospital, Dad and Pops watched The Wiz with me until I had all the songs memorized. The week leading up to my first day here, I listened to the Dear Evan Hansen album on repeat. Musicals are what keep me going when everything else feels pointless. Everyone needs something like that. “Well, yeah.” I glance around as if to prove my point. “Joining Drama Club will do that to you.”

“No, I mean, I like the way you talk about musicals.” The intensity in his eyes presses me into my spot on the stage. “Jesse likes musicals a lot, too, but he doesn’t talk about them the way you do. You get so excited. Your eyes light up and everything. I don’t even know what you’re talking about most of the time, but I want to listen because you’re the one saying it.”

My mouth twitches open, but nothing comes out. I’ve always figured he just listened because he’s nice. And he is—this just seems like more than that.

“Was that weird?” He licks his lips. “Do you—”

He doesn’t get to finish because Jesse’s heavy footsteps cut him off.