Stage Kissed

by Cassie Mae

  “Oh, I didn’t know. Break a leg, then,” Mom says.

  “Hit it out of the park.” Dad wraps me in a quick hug. I chuckle at his sport reference. He was a jock in high school and college, so this whole musical thing, even after two years, is still a bit of a mystery to him.

  “Go get ‘em, sis.” Ginny’s eyes flick to Becca, who is clicking away on her phone. I ruffle Becca’s hair, which gets me an evil glare.

  “We’re in the very front row, but don’t be nervous or anything,” Mom says, corralling Becca away from the library as the rest of my family follow.

  “Yeah, that way we’ll get to see just how good the kiss really is,” Ginny says over her shoulder, a mischievous glint to her eye. Seriously, when did she get so old?

  And what is it with everyone and this kiss? It’s a stage kiss. From the JJT friend. Who’s made it clear we’re just JJT friends. Though even having my lips on his cheek had my whole body warming up and tingles shooting toward my toes. I shake my head and turn to join the rest of the cast.

  “Me, May, Ma, Mo, Moo,” we all sing on one note.

  Up a step. “Me, May, Ma, Mo, Moo.” And so on to the last one, where half the cast is squeaking to try and hit the note. “Me, May, Ma, Mo, Moo.”

  I slide next to Seth and shake his shoulder, hoping all the nerves are vibrated right out of him.

  “Ready to go, Will?”

  “Uh…” He places the cowboy hat on his head. Well, he looks ready to go.

  Mr. Steiman claps, drawing everyone’s eyes to him as he enters the middle of the circle.

  “All right. This is the big day. The one we’ve been waiting for, for the past two months. This week’s rehearsals were fantastic and even though we’ve had some setbacks…” The director turns to look at Seth. “We’ve had some people step up in a big way and help us out.”

  Seth shifts next to me, probably because every person is looking at him. I reach out and grab his hand, give it a tight squeeze. I whisper in his ear, “They’re talking about you.”

  His lip tugs because that’s a total duh thing to say. I give his hand another wiggle and keep holding it as Mr. Steiman finishes.

  “Everyone, be on your toes. People will drop lines. Forget their blocking. Miss their cues. We must all be ready to lift each other up. This is a complete team effort. Does anyone have anything they’d like to say?” Mr. Steiman asks the group.

  My eyes drift around to those in the room. About half look like they might puke, and I can’t even see Seth’s expression since he’s right next to me and wearing that hat. They’re all so silly.

  “Guys,” I say and everyone’s eyes move to me. “Don’t be so nervous.” I smile and laugh. “We’ve done this a million times. You are all so talented, how can this not be amazing?” The lines in their faces are less distinct, brows dropping, muscles relaxing.

  I clear my throat. “This is supposed to be fun, guys. And let’s face it—no matter how we do, our parents are going to love it anyway.”

  This causes everyone in the library, including Mr. Steiman, to laugh. I’ve done my part so I back up, letting Wendy and Ben have their chance to finish the pep talk. While no one is looking, I take a small step forward and bend a little to try and get a glimpse at Seth’s face under the hat.

  He looks nervous, lips pinched together and brow furrowed. I’m sure he’d be running his hand through his hair if that hat wasn’t on it. I will admit, there were a few times at the beginning of the week I thought he might drop out—just say “forget it” and walk away.

  But even though he’s scared out of his mind, he’s like me—he can’t say no. He’s just as busy, just as talented, and far smarter than I am. If he’d walked away he would have regretted it, regretted not proving this was also something he could do. And do very well.

  Or maybe it was because I begged him, even if all we are is JJT friends. Because he’s one of the best guys there is. I squeeze his hand one more time.

  After he nails this performance, he’s never going back to being the AV guy again.

  “Seth! Psst! Seth!”

  My ears are still ringing from the dance number I just finished. I can’t believe I just did my opening scene on stage. Not only did it, but did it without falling on my face or puking my insides out all over the front row.

  Mom, Dad, and Shelby came, and I think both my parents’ jaws dropped through the floor when they saw me singing and dancing. I’m pretty sure they weren’t the only ones. When I popped out with my first “Yeehaw!”, half the audience probably peered into their programs to see who I was.

  “Seth!”

  I bring my eyes to the source of the sound…Bridget. She’s waving and smiling her big bracey smile, giving me a thumbs-up.

  “Great solo!”

  Good thing my mic is off, because I blurt out some incoherent noise at her that’s halfway between a hiccup and a grunt.

  Kate just finished “I Cain’t Say No,” which she sang perfectly, no surprise. And my cue is about ten seconds away.

  All right Seth, it isn’t you out there, remember. It’s Will. And you just danced around and sang. You’ll be fine. Breathe.

  Deep inhale, exhale, and still a bunch of twisted nerves in my gut. The oxygen isn’t helping.

  Kate finishes her line and I switch on my mic and belt out a croaky “Yahoo!” offstage, which gets a few laughs from the audience.

  “Oh no! That’s Will Parker!” Kate says in her legit Oklahoma! accent to Phil, who’s playing the peddler man. “Promise me you won’t fight him!”

  My turn. Ignore the millions of people and just do it!

  “Ado Annie! How’s my hunny buns?” Pick up Kate, twist, turn, squeeze. “How’s the sweetest hundred ‘n twenty pounds o’ sugar in the territory?” Put her down.

  Her face even looks flushed like the script tells her to. That’s called dedication. “Uh, Will…this is Ali Hackim.”

  “Hiya, Hack!” I say with a bunch of spit in my exaggerated accent. I shake Phil’s hand, standing up as tall as I can against his height. “Don’t mind the way I talk, all right?” Blatantly check out Kate’s body. “I’m gonna marry this girl.”

  Phil tilts his head. “Marry her? On purpose?”

  The audience laughs and we go through the rest of the lines, until it’s just the two of us…me and Kate—Will and Annie—onstage.

  “Ado Annie, hunny. You ain’t been off my mind since I left ya.” Pull her close, but talk loud enough for the back row to hear you. “All the time at the fairground when I was chasin’ them steers. Why, I’d rope one up under the hoofs, I’d pull him up sharp, he’d land on his little ol’ rump…and then I’d think of you.”

  Laughter and applause fills the auditorium, and Kate almost breaks. I can see the amusement building in her eyes, and I have to choke back my own. As nervous as I am, and yeah, we’re in front of a room full of people, but it feels just like it did when we were in the Jamba Juice lobby.

  “Don’t start talkin’ purty.” She smiles and I do break. Just a little bit. I let out the laugh stuck in my throat before I start singing again.

  Intermission seems way too short. I know it’s scheduled for fifteen minutes, but it feels like fifteen seconds before I’m rushed back onstage to dance and wiggle around, swinging random people over my arm, through my legs—Mr. Steiman made sure to pair me with the shortest dancers—and singing in the chorus and “Yippie-ing” at different moments. Minutes pass by in a blur of bell skirts and tight pants, cowboy boots and tap shoes.

  And even I’m starting to admit, I’m having…fun. Kate was right. Being onstage is about being someone else. And Will Parker’s pretty hilarious. I can hardly say that about Seth McPherson.

  “Whew!” Kate says, sliding next to me backstage while Wendy and Ben gross out the audience. She fans her flushed face, and I quirk a smile at her before handing a Gatorade over.

  I really like Sweaty Kate.

  “It’s one of your favorite flavors, right?” I nudge her should
er and freeze for a second. I must still be in character or something.

  She pops the top and chugs about half the bottle right there. She can really put it away, but I’m betting that’s because she’s used to having to eat real fast.

  “You’re doing amazing out there,” she breathes, continuing to fan herself. “Seriously, you’ve nailed every single line and dance move.”

  I tap my head. “Good memory and a lot of practice.”

  She lets out a breathless laugh, and my hand twitches next to hers.

  “So, our final scene coming up,” she says. “Just you and me. You ready?”

  I thought I was, but as I look at her, more twists and knots get stuck in my gut.

  “Uh…”

  Running a hand over my shoulder, she smiles at me. “You’ll be fine. You’ve done everything perfect so far.”

  “Don’t jinx it.”

  She knocks on the wooden table we’re leaning against. I manage to let out a wobbly chuckle.

  “Okay, I’m sweating a river,” she says, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. “Do I look decent enough for this next scene?”

  She always looks decent for anything. Even sweaty. All right, especially sweaty. But I’m not going to let my mouth run. I study her face, which is flushed, but not dripping like it would be after a basketball game. There is one strand of hair that’s managed to fall from the curls on top of her head, and it’s floating in front of her eye. I don’t know how she doesn’t see it. Maybe it’s not bugging her.

  Instead of saying, “You’ve got a hair,” I find my fingers curling around that strand and tucking it behind her ear. But I’m shaking so badly I can’t get it to stay. And like an idiot I keep trying. I almost give up and rub my hands all over her head just because I’m so frustrated with my awkwardness.

  Her teeth press into her lip and bite back her laughter. I didn’t think it was possible for her face to get redder, but it does. Then she grabs my hand and holds it, both of our palms slick with sweat. I know hers is from exercise. But mine is purely because she’s holding my hand.

  “Don’t. Be. Nervous.” She scolds me, squeezing my fingers. Then without warning, she presses her lips to the back of my knuckles, making an mmmmmm…wha! sound. “See? Three seconds. It’s nothing.”

  She had to bring up the kiss.

  I wasn’t even thinking about it. I’m nervous just because of her. The way she’s moving, the way she’s looking at me, the way she’s touching me… Being onstage in front of all those people is nothing compared to being alone backstage with her.

  The last notes of “The Farmer and the Cowman Should Be Friends” strikes and Kate lets go of my hand.

  “Let’s knock ‘em dead, Will Parker.”

  I nod, adjusting my cowboy hat. She’s the first one onstage, and I follow, trying to turn on the “Will” switch.

  The notes from the orchestra start as soon as I say, “You gotta stop havin’ fun. I mean, with other fellers.” The first note of the song right before the kiss rings out from the orchestra pit. I clear my throat, praying that I don’t miss my cue, and get the first line out.

  Kate follows, her voice dripping Ado Annie, which helps…because Annie doesn’t make Will nervous.

  And I’m Will.

  Will. Will. Will.

  I quirk a smile and tip my hat up. I know these lines, I know these moves. Get through them first. One step at a time. One step, then worry about what’s coming when it gets there.

  After my solo comes the dance number. Before the play, Mr. Steiman gave me his theater glare and said, “Now Seth, Will needs to flirt with another girl during this dance number. We don’t want anyone else on stage, so flirt with the audience.”

  I kind of gave him a look like he was ready to be sent to the crazy house, but he ignored me. So now the same audience I’ve been blocking out, I now have to interact with. And I don’t think I’ve flirted in all my life.

  I get upstage and squat down near the edge, gazing at the front row. The two girls I see sitting there almost make me do a double take back at Kate dancing behind me, because they look just like her. I don’t know what else to do but wink and tip my hat, but it seems enough because they both burst into giggles and I straighten up, Kate—er, Annie—dragging me back to center stage, where she belts out the song at me with her gorgeous voice.

  It’s close now. I can feel my blood start to boil, my heart pounding under my flannel costume. I’m going to chicken out. I can’t kiss her. I just saw up close how many people are in the audience. Everyone’s going to witness this humiliation.

  My ears pound again, not hearing anything but the beat of the music. I see Kate’s lips still moving, watching her hands go up the buttons on my shirt and grab my collar.

  It’s here. It’s here. It’s here.

  Why is it in front of a million people? Why did I agree to this? Why am I standing in a cowboy costume and grabbing the most beautiful girl and swinging her around? Why am I trapping her in my arms? Why am I just staring?

  “Quick peck and you’re done!”

  We’re both breathless from the musical number, and I’m so close I can taste the Gatorade on her breath. I think of my car when I found all those bottles. Will didn’t find those bottles. It was me…Seth. And I’m holding Kate, not Ado Annie.

  The orchestra is still playing the last four measures over and over. Three seconds have come and gone and we’re only inhaling each other. Someone coughs in the audience. A few whispers. Then suddenly, all sound erases.

  Except for the sound that comes out of Kate’s mouth.

  “It’s okay, Seth,” she says just loud enough for me to hear and her mic not to catch it. That’s when I realize that Mr. Steiman’s directing the stage crew to close the curtains and dim the lights.

  All because I can’t…

  Kate smiles, breaking character but not moving from my arms. Her lips really are pretty. Not just pretty, but gorgeous. Everything about this girl is gorgeous. From her looks to how she handles herself, to how she treats other people…how she treats me. Like I’m not socially challenged, like it’s okay to be who I am. That she might like the way I am.

  My heart starts pumping double time. The curtain begins to move. The orchestra is starting to fade out. The lights are turning down.

  And I lose “Will” power. Pun completely intended.

  Without thinking, I move forward an infinitesimal amount, and my lips brush hers for one-one thousand, two one-thousand, three one-thousand…then instead of pulling back, I press her upper back and deepen the kiss.

  Her fingertips graze my chin, her hands inching upward to hold me in place. This is no peck. No deep-throat tongue Wendy-and-Ben-style action either. But it’s definitely not a stage kiss…at least for me. Our lips aren’t still, like she demonstrated on my cheek and on my knuckles. They move together, and I can’t believe she’s letting me explore the lips I’ve studied an embarrassing number of times. But she is. And the texture and taste is even better than the look of them.

  There’s something rushing through me, almost as if I’m pouring myself into her. She’s getting heavier in my arms but I’m getting lighter. And if I were to let go, she’d sink through the floor and I’d float to the ceiling. So I keep hold, reflexively, pouring and pouring and pouring…

  Kate’s not “just Kate” to me. I don’t think she ever was. She’s not just my work buddy or theater friend. She’s so much more. And right now, as I realize what mathematical equations and scientific theory can’t explain, I’m sending out praises that she encouraged me to be in the play. Because without it, I wouldn’t have this moment with her. Or realized so much about myself.

  A smile pokes through my kiss and we pull apart, but stay in each other’s arms. Someone’s pushing my back, shoving me offstage so they can set up for the next scene, but I barely register the curtain all the way down, our castmates staring and smiling around us. We just stumble backstage, still clasping each other because even though it defie
s all the laws of physics, I really do think one of us is about to sink while the other floats away.

  The curtain opens and dancers start springing across the stage. Kate hasn’t said a word, and neither have I. I don’t know if I want to. It may come out just as noises because I’m still nervous, but it’s a different kind. Not the kind that makes me want to puke, but the kind that makes me want to “Yeehaw!” and go kick my legs up with all the people on stage right now.

  She catches my gaze for the briefest of moments, and I loosen my grip so her arms aren’t trapped against my chest. A small smile flickers across her mouth as she trails her fingers along the buttons on my shirt, circling down to touch my stomach. I want to do the same to her, but my hands are frozen on the small of her back, and I’m perfectly okay with them staying there. Suddenly she flings her arms around my shoulders, giving me one giant squeeze. Then she relaxes, but doesn’t release.

  “I knew you were good at everything you do,” she says into my neck, and that’s what finally breaks the tension and we both burst out with quiet backstage laughter.

  “Yeehaw, ladies! Y'all done a mighty fine job!” I yell as I break through the sheet that hangs like a door for the girl’s changing room. Wendy turns on the music and we all talk and dance in place as we start to change into our normal clothes.

  “Great job, Wendy.” I give her a light punch on the shoulder, then struggle to get my costume over my head.

  “Well, thanks, Ado Annie.” It’s muffled since my head is lost in ten pounds of fabric, but I can hear her Oklahoma! accent coming through. “You did a great job yourself.” Then she laughs. “You need some help with that?”

  “Yes!” I yell through the top of the dress that's a good few inches over my head.

  Everyone in the room is getting a kick out of my struggle. I’m bent over so Wendy can pull the dress off, and finally I’m free.

  “Only have to do that two more times.” I shake my head and walk over to the mirror so I can remove my clown face.