Page 97 of If Ever

The waitress takes our order, leaves, and we’re back to this awkward silence. Shit. I finally get to see Tom again and I'm messing this up. I hide behind my drink and ask how his matinee went.

"Funny you should ask." There's a glint in his eye.

"Really? What happened?"

He swallows and pulls at the neck of his sweater. "I went on stage in the second act with my fly open."

My jaw drops open. "You didn't?"

He nods with a grimace. "Oh yes. Sang an entire ballad that way with nearly a thousand people watching. I was wondering why there was whispering and laughter from the audience." A flush crosses his face.

I cover my mouth and giggle. "What did you do?"

"Well, nothing until Paige stood in front of me and gestured to the front of my pants. She couldn't say anything because her mic was live. I zipped up, and the audience applauded, so I took a quick bow and continued."

He shakes his head. I feel for him, but still grin. Our earlier awkward moment is forgotten, and dinner flies by as he has me laughing over stories of his stage antics and the many things that have gone awry.

"I don't know how you do it, day after day, when so much can go wrong."

"That's live theatre for you." He smiles and his eyes connect with mine.

There's an invisible line of energy connecting us, and I've never been so attracted to another person in my life. But there's the small issue that I don't actually live in New York. There's an apartment I'm paying rent on back in Iowa City. All this is too much to figure out right now, so I'll follow Hank's sage advice and take one day at a time, trying not to think beyond that.

Tom places his hand on mine, warm and soft. "I hate to break this up, but I have to get back to the theatre."

"But we just ordered crème brulè."

"For you. You deserve something decadent." He rises and slips on his coat. "You know how to get to the theatre from here? It's just around the corner and down a block."

I stand, reluctant to say goodbye even for a little while. "I do."

His soft kiss lingers. "I'll see you right after the show. Go to the stage door like last time. Ed will let you in."

His show is better than I remembered. I'm mesmerized by his strong, pure voice belting out song after song. I think of his matinee performance with his fly open and giggle, but Tom commands his role, disappearing into his character, who transforms throughout the show from clueless young man to tortured soul.

He's funny and lovable at the beginning, then angry and scared during the incredibly physical fight scenes. It's got to leave him battered and bruised. He's tender in the love scenes, leaving me desperate to be the girl in his arms and wondering how he keeps his stage life out of his personal, if he does at all.

At intermission I buy a souvenir program, the sound track, a mug, and a key chain, texting him a grinning selfie with all my swag. He texts back a pic of him gagging. His texts continue right up to when the lights dim and the orchestra plays the intro to the second half. When he appears on stage a minute later, he's not Tom, he's back to his character and I'm lost in his fictional world. He's funny, poignant, and breaks my heart with his soul wrenching songs. His voice soars above the rest of the cast giving me chills.

When the show is over, I take my time following the masses outside. I nudge my way to the stage door where I knock and after being checked off a list, am admitted. The security guy smiles. "It's Ed, right?"

"That's right. You remember the way?"

"Thanks. I do." I take the staircase, loving this special access I have to the star. His door is open so I pop my head in. "You were amazing!"

Fully dressed and ready to go, he looks up from where he's stuffing items in his backpack and grins. "You're too nice."

I enter the room. "I'm serious. I don't know how you do it. It's like it isn't even you up there, but it is."

He slips his arms around my waist and kisses me. "That's about the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."

"God, I hope not. You deserve way better compliments than that."

"I thought I'd give you a choice tonight. We can go out for drinks and music, or go back to my place where it's quiet and we won't have to yell to hear each other."

I try to read his body language, but he's giving nothing away. Is he asking me over for a booty call? I don't think so, but am I that naive? I want to be alone with him without interruption. "We're always rushed. I'd love to just hang out and talk."

"Perfect," he says with a quick kiss. "Let's go."

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