New Dork: A Collection of Josh Groban Imagines

Practicing On Prom Night

"Oh my god, there are like, no hot boys at our school. Did that Blake guy move?" Our high school cafeteria felt stuffy, sort of humid under all those lights. I watch couples start to sway as some country love song begins. We'd been at the prom for an hour and a half, and already Emma was complaining about the lack of attractive guys in our town. As if the situation wasn't bad enough. "Well, I'm gonna go to the bathroom, but I think Chris is giving you the eye." I hurry into the hallway before Emma realizes that Chris is more interested in the PTA's cupcakes than her. Once I reach the water fountain, my fingers grip the sides of it so tightly, I'm surprised there's not a single dent in the metal. What am I even here for? I think to myself. Because it's a tradition. My introvert tendencies were kicking in. I lean in to gulp down some water. Raising my head back up, I hear the faintest undertone of a piano. My curiosity getting the best of me, I look down the hall to my left. The only room with a piano here, is the choir room. Quietly, with caution, I make my way around the corner, and down another hallway until I'm a few steps away from the door. Holding my breath, I push it open relieved it doesn't creak. When I step inside the room, I find something I hadn't heard before. The young man seated on the piano bench is singing as he plays. If his finger technique weren't beautiful enough, he's got the loveliest voice I've ever heard. I can tell he's a high baritone, because he's singing 'Bring Him Home', a song from Les Miserables, sung by Valjean, flawlessly. His back is still to me-I should mention that his posture is excellent, his tuxedo jacket sports no lint-but he's leaned over to pound out the higher notes, so I can see the right side of his face. Under a mass of curly waves, his skin is almost pale. Carpe diem, I think. "You're very talented." The guy jumps a bit, but turns around to face me. I study his face. He looks about my age, with beautiful full lips, a slender nose and big, brown eyes. "Thanks for the approval," he says, "I've been working on it since last week." I nod, clearing my throat. "So. You in theatre?" Chewing his lip, he replies, "Yeah, third period. I enjoy choir more." I smile, having an idea. "Our end of the year musical opens next week. You should come check it out." He agrees. "Sure, which one is it?" I grab a pen and paper out of my bag, and write down the time and date. "It's, uh, Hairspray. I'm Tracy." The guy grins. "Congrats. I didn't catch your name." "Y?N," I reply, "and yours?" He stands up. "Josh. So, I've only got one duet prepared-it's actually a project I'm working on. Would you like to help me?" Would I? "Of course," I respond. Josh pulls out a CD, pops it into he player, then hands me some sheet music. I instantly recognize the song. "'First Impressions' from First Date? I love this song. I don't need sheet music." I toss the papers aside, smoothing down my dress. He licks his lips in preparation. "So do you agree with Kevin?" I start. "About what?" Josh continues. "Am I really cute?" After Aaron's part, I take a deep breath. "He's a bit annoying, and, overdressed." Once I've begun, I can't stop, getting more into character with each verse. I sing to Josh, and he's laughing at the humorous rationale. Grinning at my gorgeous duet partner, I finish the verse, launching right into the end, where we sing together. "But that's just a first impression. I could be totally wrong, it's only a first impression..." The song ends and we erupt into hysterics. Josh starts. "Could you imagine? Me, riding a Harley? Or kicking butt like Bruce Lee?" I laugh even more. "What about me? Hostile? And I'm not hip, cool, or hot, although my ego would tell you otherwise." He chuckles, sitting back down at the piano. To prevent my awkwardness from taking over, I pick up my bag and head towards the door. "Wait," Josh exclaims. I turn back. "Yeah?" Scratching his head, he says, "I look forward to seeing you in Hairspray."

Recapping the hairspray, the sudden realization of how hot it is hits me. "Lauren, can you turn it down? This dressing room is hotter than Ben Platt!" My fellow cast-mates giggle, and I feel a dramatic decrease in the temperature. Gazing at myself in the mirror, I think, Wow. Your dream role, and it's opening night!  A tap on the shoulder breaks through the haze. I whip around to face Penny, or, Natalie Harrison, who's playing my best friend. Frantic, she cries, "'Without Love' is next, c'mon!" We race to our places, waiting. Before I know it, the song's started, and Anthony-who is Link-is belting. When my verse nears, I breathe in. "Once I was a simple girl, then stardom came to me..." I sing to the audience, roaming the seats for a focus point. There's Josh, right in the middle, just as he promised, beaming, with eyes wide. My smile brightens, and we finish the song. The rest of the show plays out perfectly, with no screw ups, the happiness I show onstage is carried offstage, too. When the entire cast bows, Josh-along with most of the crowd-gives us a standing ovation. Soon as the curtain closes, I run into the lobby to greet people. First, my parents congratulate me with flowers, then it's on to teachers, and finally, as a photo-opt. finishes, Josh comes over. Speaking into an invisible mic, he asks, "So, our viewers want to know: Are Link and Tracy an item behind the curtain, also?", holding the microphone out to us. Anthony leans in first. "No, sorry. I have a girlfriend. She's imaginary, but it works." Josh and I laugh as he saunters off. "Well," Josh begins, "you guys were pretty awesome up there. Especially you." I blush. "Thanks. You were an amazing audience member." Instead of laughing, Josh replies, "It's really great to see someone doing what they love, never mind what's cool. That's an attractive quality." Gazing into his deep brown eyes, I say, "So is what you do. I mean, ditching the prom to perfect your art? Very sexy." It's Josh's turn to blush. I place a hand on his arm. Taking the chance, I ask, "Have you ever worn lipstick?" Confused, he answers, "No." I swallow. "Well, you're about to." With my hands on the back of his head, I pull his mouth down onto mine, forming a kiss so passionate, that all I can feel is us. Very slowly, I let go. Resting my hands on his shoulders, our eyes meet again, and I hold his gaze for a moment. "I need to go change," I explain. Our eyes are still locked as he whispers, "Hurry back."