“You’re not a fan of Jared Novak?”

Hannah paused so they could both hear a snippet of Jared Novak’s vibrating wail.

“Now my body is starting to quiver. And the palms of my hands getting wet,” he whined.

“Lord. I don’t want to think about Jared Novak quivering,” Hannah said, now laughing. “Did you see him in Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat freshman year?”

“Sadly, I did not.” Tom leaned against the wall and inched toward her so he could hear her better. Their shoulders touched.

“Well,” Hannah said, standing on her toes so she was speaking into Tom’s ear, “I saw it. It was glorious. And I’m pretty sure he stole that coat he’s wearing tonight from the costume shop. It was red and orange and pink and violet and blue.”

Tom laughed as he cut her off. “And ruby and olive and violet and fawn,” he continued.

“You got that joke. You know Joseph lyrics,” Hannah said, moving closer. “Oh no, that means you’re a theater geek.”

“No,” Tom said, still laughing. “My sister is though. She’s done Joseph twice. She did Guys and Dolls twice too. I know all the words to, like, five or six musicals.”

“You’re a good brother.”

“I tell her that all the time,” Tom said, placing his hands in his pockets and all of his weight on one shoulder against the wall. “Rob tells me you’re a theater geek too. The real deal.”

“I guess,” Hannah said, her eyes shifting as she wondered how much Tom knew about the terms of her relationship with Rob. “I am a theater major, it’s true. But I’m not an actor. I want to be on the production end of things. Maybe producing. Or casting. I have a casting internship in New York City this summer.”

“Casting sounds interesting,” Tom said, now close enough that Hannah could smell his shampoo. “My family likes to cast the fake movie of our lives. It’s what we used to do in the car on long trips. We drove from Boston to Florida once. We cast ourselves, our friends, our friends’ friends…”

“And who plays you?” Hannah asked, feeling her cheeks flush from the beer.

“You know, I can’t remember who we said would play me. It changed every few years as I got older. My mom always wanted to be played by Susan Sarandon.”

“Who wouldn’t want to be played by Susan Sarandon? Does she look like Susan Sarandon?”

“Not really,” Tom said, letting out a low chuckle. “She’s fair skinned, with straight hair—your typical Boston Irishwoman. More like Sissy Spacek. I look nothing like her. My dad and I are Black Irish, although I suppose he’s gray Irish now.”

“Black Irish?” Hannah asked, puzzled.

“You’ve never heard of Black Irish? It’s what they call the pale Irish-Catholic people like me with the jet-black hair. We’re all over New England.”

“I don’t know many Irish people at all, to be honest,” Hannah said, slurring from the beer. “If I do, they don’t talk about it much. My hometown is pretty Jewish actually. In seventh grade I went to, like, twenty bat mitzvahs. I didn’t know that was unusual until I got to college.”