Plus One

Chapter Fourteen

"Do you think this play will be any good?" Ian asked, staring skeptically around the black box theater.

"No," Sophie said. "But Troy will be and afterward we're going to give him flowers and tell him he's better than Brando."

"I'm not a good liar," he said.

"What are you talking about? You're an excellent liar."

They were there to see Troy in a production of Beowulf. Neither of them had ever read it and, given the very sparse audience, it was clear the adaptation of the Old English poem wasn't a hit with the LA crowd. But Troy was Beowulf, so Sophie had higher hopes than Ian—she knew just how good her best friend was.

"Besides," she said, "the whole point of this is to introduce Thomas and Troy. Speaking of..."

Sophie stood when she saw Thomas enter the theater and waved him over. He saw her and grinned, stepping past people to get to the center seats where Ian and Sophie were sitting.

"So glad you made it, Thomas," she said, giving him a hug.

"I like to think of myself as a patron of the arts," he said.

Sophie blanched inside, but kept her grin wide. She didn't like thinking of herself as Ian's plus one or him as her patron. She wanted more. She knew that now and it was stupid and she was going to get hurt—terribly hurt—but she couldn't stop. It was like she'd jumped from an airplane and couldn't open her parachute. She might as well enjoy the ride down.

"So who is this Troy you're so fired up about me meeting?" he asked.

"He's Sophie's best friend," Ian said.

"Well, then I like him already."

"He's a really good actor—he went to Northwestern. And he's a model. So, you know, hot."

Thomas stroked his chin. "I'm listening..."

She laughed. "You'll see for yourself."

The lights dimmed and Ian took her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers. It sent a thrill through her. It meant more, this simple hand holding, than having sex with him. This seemingly mundane gesture showed Sophie that, even if he never intended to be serious about her, he cared for her more than just a piece of ass on the side.

The play was two and a half hours long and by the end of it Sophie, Ian, and Thomas were worse for wear.

"What was that?" Ian asked her.

She shook her head, bewildered. "I have no idea."

Thomas leaned over. "Wait, so it was Grendel's mother who attacked the hall?" he asked.

Ian lifted up his hands. "I've got nothin'."

The actors came out for the curtain call and Sophie stood, dutifully whistling and clapping for Troy.

After the actors left the stage, she turned to Ian and Thomas. "Okay. It was bad. But Troy was good, right?" she asked, anxious.

They both nodded. "He was good, no doubt," Thomas said. "We need to introduce him to some people because this," he said, gesturing to the tiny, dilapidated theater, "is just depressing."

Ian glanced at her. "Maybe Jenna has an in for him."

She nodded. "I'll ask her next time I see her."

They waited in the lobby for him and when Troy came out, Sophie ran to him and gave him a hug, pressing the flowers she'd brought into his hands.

"You were amazing," she said.