It was less like actual blushing, and more like everything that came with the act of blushing: the timid smiling, the fidgety eye contact, the fact that he was still pulling napkins out of the napkin dispenser. Like, Jesus, how many napkins did he need? His mind was totally not connected to his body at the moment.

Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.

On the one hand, this was super weird. My best friend was crushing on me. Even if I wasn’t—strictly speaking—me. The sexual tension was there, and it was thick.

On the other hand… I felt powerful.

It’s not like I was hungry for power. I wasn’t aspiring to be some railroad tycoon-ing, newspaper magnate-ing, Donald Trump–ing orange megalomaniac. Or a Dark Lord. But the power was there. It was real. It was a gravitational pull around my very being, and Holden had been sucked into my orbit.

It felt good.

Whoa, whoa, whoa. Okay, Sméagol. Put your Precious away for half a goddamn second. We had a job to do. At least, we did if we wanted Wynonna’s help. And I needed her help if I wanted to go to prom with Imogen. What better way to make amends with her—to get back on track with the Plan—than to get her a foot in the door with Holden?

“Do you wanna hang out?” I asked.

Holden looked at me like I had asked him what the universe was made out of.

“After school,” I said. “You know, since…”

The implication was: You’re a best friend short, and I’m a best friend short, so…

“What’s going on?” said Holden.

“Uh,” I said.

“Why is Ezra acting so strange? In fact, why are you acting so strange? You both started acting strange at the same time—the exact same time—and I refuse to believe that it isn’t connected.”

Holden leaned forward until he was uncomfortably close to my face. Studied me like a Sudoku puzzle.

“Did you two have sex?” he asked.

“WHAT?”

“It’s fine if you did,” said Holden. He leaned back, folding his arms. “I’m not judging. I just want to know what the hell’s going on.”

It was such an outrageous accusation, I could barely form a response.

“N-n-n-no,” I stuttered finally. I had to mentally remind myself who I was. “Ezra and I… did NOT… have s—”

“How did you quote Romeo?”

The question caught me off guard. “What?”

“Yesterday,” said Holden. “You recited Romeo and Juliet during your audition. You were quoting Romeo specifically. I only know that because my best friend in the whole world has those same fucking lines memorized. He played Romeo in elementary school, and it was, like, the pinnacle of his entire existence. So how do you have those lines memorized?”

My mouth opened and closed like a goldfish.