𝟏𝟏𝐭𝐡 𝐃𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

4th Dimension

...Sometimes an open-ending allowing for interpretation leaves an audience awestruck and pining for more. Other times, it leaves them wondering if they even needed to watch the play in the first place.

— Critically Anon

I finished my newspaper article, reading it twice over for any spelling or grammatical mistakes and making sure it was exactly what I was trying to convey about my thoughts on the play, then sent it to the editor for the final read before it would be published in Sunday's paper. My job was an anonymous critic for the local shows, and I gained a cult following for my blunt thoughts.

I sighed, looking down at tonight's ticket which heavily emphasized some newcomer by the name of Julian Casablancas. Newcomers were never that good, and I braced myself for one of those dreaded nights of stuttering lines and off-tune singing.

The venue was packed, people of all ages there to watch the highly-coveted young opera singer. The lights dimmed, and we all silenced ourselves, turning our attention to the stage, the curtains squeaking open to reveal a beautiful young man whose big, mysterious eyes commanded attention. By the end, I was left awestruck, never wanting the opera to end. Though I never went to the meet and greets afterward, I felt inclined to; with the star being a fresh face in the business, it would put me above other critics if I knew a little more about his backstory.

Julian stood there, people asking for autographs and wanting to take pictures with him. I smiled warmly. Even though I didn't know his story, I was glad that he'd finally hit his big break. Not wanting to take time from actual fans, I lingered in the back until the crowds around the actor subsided, quietly falling into line as the last person to see the actor before they closed up shop for the night.

"Hey," he said greeting me, "Thanks for coming to the show." I was taken aback, for his voice was very relaxing and deep, and pleasantly surprised that he thanked us for taking the time to see him.

"Thanks for the performance," I replied, earning a bright gleam from him. He almost didn't seem the type to be on stage as an opera singer, so I was intrigued. "Did you always want to be an opera singer?" I asked, gazing up at him. He seemed intrigued by the question.

"No one ever asks that," he laughed, "Are you an interviewer?"

I gave out a small laugh, shaking my head, "Just curious."

"I knew I always wanted to sing, but I never pictured it being opera," he said, a grin on his face as if excited that our conversation was different than the others.

"Better or worse than you expected?" I asked, playfully narrowing my eyes at him.

He pondered, a dreamy smile on his face before his eyes landed back on me, "It is what it is." His stare was mysterious, and my eyebrows raised, wondering what made him hesitant about his answer.

"Julian, wrap it up," one of the stagehands stepped out to let him know the theater was closing down for the night. Julian gave him a head nod before turning back to me.

"I usually head to the bar after a show," he began, "Are you free tonight?"

Julian and I sat in a booth across from one another. "Okay," he squinted his eyes at me, "First kiss at the age of fourteen." I shook my head giddily. We made up a game of guessing facts about each other, and, if the statement wasn't relatively near the truth, the person guessing had to take a swig of their beer. If it was close, the other had to drink.

"Three," I gleamed, "Dad's friend's son."

"Damn, they start young, don't they?" he laughed, taking a drink.

"Detention for skipping class in high school," I said confidently. He pursed his lips and took another drink.

"Thought you were too cool to go to prom," he said, jutting his jaw at me.

"Went with my best friend," I replied slyly, and he took another drink, both of us laughing at how terrible he was at this. As the night progressed, so did the intensity of our statements as the inebriation kicked in. "Thought you wanted the fame but, secretly, can't stand it," I said, my eyes slightly starting to lose focus.

"It's an amazing rush," he said honestly, causing me to take a swig. "Never really felt like you belonged anywhere," his eyes squinted almost as if they were trying hard to read me. I took a drink.

"Wondering if this is it," I said, broadly, leaving the subject up to him whether it be work, where he is in life, or the world itself.

"Take a drink," he smiled, "I'm excited to know what happens between us." I wasn't sure what he meant by it, but I brushed it off and took a sip. "Wants to see me again," he smiled cheekily.

"Take a drink," I said cockily. He looked crestfallen for a split moment but played it off as though I was playing hard to get. "Falls in love too quickly," I said, watching his reaction.

"Not even once," he said challengingly. I put the bottle to my lips. "Has no idea how beautiful she is," his eyes gazed at me. My eyebrows furrowed. "Take a drink," he said, smiling warmly.

"Last call!" the bartender announced.

"I should probably get going home," I said, slinging my purse onto my shoulder and standing up.

"Can we see each other again?" Julian asked hopefully, standing up from the booth and looking at me with pleading eyes.

I blinked dumbly, not expecting the question. "I don't think that's a good idea," I said with an uneasy expression. This wasn't supposed to happen. I just wanted an edge over the numerous critics out there, not a date.

"You didn't have a good time," his face fell with realization.

"No, no," I shook my head, "That's not it. I just don't know. Thanks, Julian." And with that, I rushed out the door, leaving him standing there.

"Can I at least get your number?" Julian came after me just outside the door.

"Julian..." I whined, halting and turning around.

"Everyone just wants an autograph or a quick picture and runs home. They take what they want to take. You didn't ask anything from me. You actually wanted to get to know me," he said honestly, "And I want to get to know more about you, too." I shook my head, unsure of how to feel about all of this. "What's wrong with me?" he asked, his eyebrows furrowing.

"N-nothing," I replied, regretting even staying after the show.

"Then what is it?" he asked, though the look he was giving me was absolutely heartbreaking.

I sighed, getting irritated that he wouldn't just drop it. "I'm a show biz critic, Julian," I finally admitted, "I thought if I got to know more about you, I'd have an edge above the competition."

His mouth was slightly agape at the confession. "So the only reason you wanted to get to know me was for your little article?" he reiterated, his eyes trailing down.

I nodded with a stern face, "It was strictly business."

Julian's eyes darted back up at me. "Did you enjoy spending time with me?" he asked with apprehension.

"I did," I gave him a sad smile.

"So, then, can I take you for coffee tomorrow?" he asked smoothly, his lips up-turning into a hopeful smile, "Purely pleasure."

...So don't let the word "newcomer" fool you. Julian Casablancas was exceptional in the role. His singing and acting are one for the books.

— Critically Anon

"I think you forgot to mention my twinkling eyes and charming looks," Julian said, closing the newspaper. He turned to me with a smolder. I laughed, clutching the blanket to my bare body. He gleamed at my laughing, setting the paper onto the nightstand before crawling on top of me with a seductive smirk.

"That's for them to find out," I returned the smirk as he hovered over me.