Fall for You

Chapter 3

The courtyard is cool and blustery. Brown leaves are swirling around, scraping over the walkways. The setting sun doesn't quite reach the ground between the buildings, and I feel bad when I see Evan sitting on a bench, wearing just a light jacket.

I find some comfort knowing he probably hasn't been out here for long. I'm pretty sure he snuck into the back of the auditorium before I went on stage. It's not a small seating area, and the lights are almost too bright to see around, but that's the impression I got. Even so, his cheeks are all rosy, and it has nothing to do with me this time. When he catches sight of me in his shirt, he's blowing warm air through his clenched hands. The sweater is the only extra layer that I have with me today. I'd rather not put it back on, but I may have no choice.

"How'd it go?" he asks me as I sit down next to him.

I cross my arms and shiver immediately. "Don't act like you don't know." I say that with a nudge and a smile.

"You're right." He starts taking off his jacket. I'm about to stop him, but then I have a plan. "You were incredible. But how do you think you did?"

I sang She Used to Be Mine from Waitress and had a funny story to tell when they asked me about my day. "I got a little too emotional."

I take his jacket, scoot closer to him, and drape it over both of our shoulders. It usually takes some time for me to warm up to people, and he seems that way too, but I don't know. There's just something about him. And us. I have butterflies, but I'm not afraid. It feels like this is meant to be, no gray area. It wasn't, and now it just is, and there's no going back.

"You not only hit every note, you delivered a fantastic performance. It was better than the original. Seriously. And I'm not the only one who noticed. The directors were spellbound, and Sadie Prescott practically had smoke coming out of her ears. You should have seen it!"

"You know," I lean my head on his shoulder. "This day wasn't so bad after all. Memorable, I'll give you that much..."

"So, what now?" he asks, taking my hand. I slide my other hand around his back and relish the warmth. "Are you going to spend the night in mourning? Begging the gods for justice? Ruing the day you ever ran into me?"

"You actually ran into me, and yes..." I feel him stiffen. "It was a lovely sweater. I'm really going to miss it."

At that, the tension breaks. "If it's any consolation, you can keep my shirt."

"I just might."

"It looks better on you anyway."

THE END

(thank you for reading)