Page 50 of About Time You Noticed

"I’m sorry, man. Are you sure she's not interested in that Edward dude?"

"I doubt it has anything to do with him."

Damien's voice brightened. "Sarah still has to take me to the theater production. Isn’t it soon? Maybe I can help her see you guys are made for each other. Literally. Only Sarah is tall enough to stand up to you, right?"

Tommy eased his foot off the gas pedal. How fast was he going? "You said you had a plan. When she was dating Edward."

"Yeah. The plan is to take her to the theater, and you'll be there. I'll get distracted by an old friend. Show starts. I wave to her, gesturing if it's okay to sit with my buddy. You'll move in and take my seat. Boom. You're spending the evening next to Sarah."

"Hmm. Might work. But she may not care to be around me at the moment. Something happened. Sarah’s agitated, and she's the calmest and most stable person in our group. Her mood doesn't fluctuate, and she doesn't change her mind like this."

"Leave it to me, Tom. I'll give her a call in the next day or two and let you know what I find out."

"Thanks, man. I appreciate your help."

"Any time."

"Let me know when I can return the favor."

"Ha. I might hold you to that."

Mmm. Who could he set Damien up with? He shook his head. Bad idea. He didn't want the blame if things went south. He'd screwed enough friendships lately.

***

TOMMY STOOD AT THE back of the theater as Emily took the stage and introduced The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe ballet. Damien waved awkwardly to Sarah, pointing at the seat he occupied next to Maxwell Jones, closer to the stage. Damien shrugged, raising one palm. Sarah nodded.

The lights dimmed, and the curtains drew back. Emily swung her hand in a broad sweep as a scene from Narina lit the backdrop behind her. The digital screen had a 3D look.

A white deer-like creature, half-human, tiptoed onto the stage in time to moody music. Fake snowflakes floated about the ballerina. Peaceful scene, graceful dancing. Hopefully, it relaxed Sarah.

Boom. Boom. A thunder of drumbeats scared the deer, and from stage right, a creepy dwarf hobbled into the scene, leading an old-fashioned sleigh occupied by a queen. The woman’s ghastly crystal crown climbed a foot above her head. Her white painted lips, silver eyeshadow, and lashes identified her as the white witch.

Tommy crept down the aisle. What if the white witch turned him into a frozen statue for interrupting the show? Or would Sarah give him a glacial stare for attempting to sit next to her?

He bent as he approached row G. Hard to blend in at six-foot-five. Creepy music boomed across the theater. Maybe not the best moment to make his appearance. He chuckled to himself. If the show scared Sarah, maybe she would hold his hand.

What a dreamer.

Tommy excused himself from the frowning man at the end of the row. The grump angled his knees to the side, leaving little room for Tommy’s thick thighs. He inched past the next person, his idiot backside in everyone’s faces, but the other option wasn’t much better. He swiveled and peered at each person he passed, mouthing the word, sorry.

Sarah glanced in his direction. Her eyes widened and she covered her smile. Okay. The embarrassment was worth amusing Sarah.

He tripped over something like a handbag and stumbled two steps. A lady harrumphed, and Sarah snorted. Heat climbed his neck as he fumbled, apologizing to the woman.

Her husband hissed, “Hurry up, will you?”

Sarah bit her lip as Tommy scooted to her side and plonked his heavy body into the cushioned seat.

Her mouth twitched to the side. “You wouldn’t make it in ballet. Stick to soccer.”

He leaned close. “Are you saying I wouldn’t look good in tights?”

Air filled her cheeks, and she let out a little laugh. “You look fine in soccer shorts. Much more manly.” Sarah lifted her chin toward the stage and put her finger to her mouth. In other words, stop jabbering.

So far, so good. All had gone according to Damien's plan. But Tommy didn't know where to put his arms. Even as best friends, he'd rest his arm over the back of Sarah's chair. Long arms became awkward in the tight confines of the theater.

Sarah's posture made it clear he remained in the friend zone—legs angled away, and arms crossed over her chest.

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