Page 151 of Fraternizing with the Enemy
And this was just one set.
A voice rang out—clear, steady, familiar. “Two households, both alike in dignity.”
I pressed my lips together, imagining Trevor from the bonfire. He wasn’t on stage, which I was a little bummed about—I would’ve loved to see him in Shakespearian clothes—but his voice was solemn, painting the story to come. “In fair Verona, where we lay our scene.”
Actors burst onto the stage then, wielding fake swords toward each other. It was clearly choreographed, but I was so distinctly aware of how invested people around me were. Logan’s dad even leaned in, drawn in by the melodramatic battle. And then, suddenly, I realized I recognized some of the people on stage. Amir and Peter were locked with vicious looks on their faces, and in the background, as one of the onlookers in a window, stood Charlie, her hands over her mouth.
The tension in my chest eased, replaced by something lighter. Maybe this wouldn’t be as weird as I’d thought.
After shuffling to the front of the stage, Peter thrust his fake sword toward Amir, and from the angle the stage was at, it looked like it genuinely pierced Amir’s chest. Peter pulled his sword back, and Amir let out an agonized,loudcry. In an exaggerated move, he pitched forward, stumbling with both hands clutching his chest, before he fell over and died.
The crowd laughed at the display, including me.
“I told him time and time again that he needed to rein it in,” Danielle said in a disappointed tone. “‘Comedic relief,’ he’d always tell me.”
A soft smile still sat on my lips despite the fact that Amir was dead on the ground.
I held my breath when the scene changed, the stagehands shifting props with quiet efficiency. Since I’d watchedRomeo and Julietwith Mom not that long ago, I knew what came next. The Capulet house. The conversation about Juliet’s marriage.
Which meant it wouldn’t be much longer.
My fingers curled around the edge of my seat, pulse picking up with every passing second. I tried to play it cool, to pretend I wasn’t waiting for one person in particular, but I was nearly shaking in my chair.
And then—there he was.
Logan.
He stepped into the light with a quiet kind of confidence, dressed in a navy padded jacket trimmed in gold that shimmered each time he moved. A crisp white shirt flared at his collar and cuffs, the fabric catching the glow like he’d walked straight out of another century. Even the boots looked real—soft leather that creased as he crossed the stage, shoulders squared, every movement deliberate.
Someone in the audience gave a softwhoop!as Logan walked on stage, which caused scattered giggles to follow. Logan’s dad grinned up at his son, and I wondered if Logan knew how proud his dad was of him. I could see it in his eyes now; Mr. Castle was very proud.
Logan’s golden hair was combed neatly for once, gleaming beneath the stage lights, a far cry from the tousled, loose look I was used to. The careful styling made him look older somehow—more polished, more princely.
Seeing him like that was strange. Familiar and foreign all at once. The Logan I knew wore wrinkledclothes and worn jeans, his grin lopsided, his voice teasing. But here, he was Paris, poised and confident, his voice steady as he spoke to Capulet.
There were so many versions of Logan Castle, I realized. The actor, who looked so natural on the stage. The quarterback, who dominated the field and led his team.
And then there was Logan Castle, the boy who was the pulse in my chest I hadn’t known I’d been missing. The boy I now couldn’t imagine living without.
I swallowed the sudden flare of emotion in my throat, but the choking feeling didn’t subside.
When Romeo came onto the scene, I gave a little gasp, leaning into Danielle. “You didn’t say Noah wasRomeo.”
She gave me a sidelong grin. “I know. My grumpy boyfriend playing a love-struck idiot? As if.”
“I saw the way you two were at the bonfire,” I whispered back, and then made a kissy face at her.
Danielle swatted me with a barely hushed laugh.
As the play continued on, I found myself invested, even though it was a story I already knew, and even when Logan wasn’t on the stage. In my mind, theater had always beendorky.All the dramatic pauses, the over-the-top gestures, the lines that sounded all clunky and awkward. But watching them now, I saw something completely different. Even in the moments the actors were supposed to be angry, or jealous, or heartbroken, their faces glimmered with joy. I could see it in the little things—the way their eyes sparkled when they delivered a perfect line, the subtle grins they tried to hide, the laughter they barely stifled between cues. They weren’t just performing; they were having fun. And that was contagious.
It was like Hugh from Dice & Dragon. There was something so catching about seeing what other people were passionate about.
For the first time in forever, I felt this rush of excitement about all the little joys I’d ignored because someone else decided they weren’t worth my time. It was going to be fun experiencing it all now.
Noah and Logan faced off in front of the Capulet crypt, where a heartbroken Romeo had nothing left to lose. The two best friends playing enemies circled each other for a few choreographed moments before Noah struck Logan.
Much less dramatically than Amir, Logan stumbled back, holding his chest, as he fell to his knees. Mr. Castle leaned forward, as if the scene were actually paining him. Logan toppled over, thudding onto the stage before falling still. Noah stared down at his body, swaying in place, before dropping the sword at his feet. And then, in an almost drunken movement, he stepped toward the crypt.
