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I roll my eyes. “I don’t get hangry…”
“You don’t? Then why do you have daggers shooting out of your eyes when it takes too long for our food to come out at the diner?”
I scowl at him. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Nate opens my door, and I get out. Langston opens his own door and steps out of the car. “I had to pull some last-minute strings, but I have connections at the theater.”
We go inside, and I’m expecting a crowd, but the place is deserted. “Are you sure you didn’t get the times mixed up or something?” It’s two in the afternoon on a Tuesday, so it’s not unusual for the theater to be empty.
“I bought out the theater for us.”
“You what?” It’s like he’s joking, but there’s no one here but us.
A theater employee greets us at the ticket counter. “Welcome to Fox Theater! If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to your seats.” She’s peppy with her dark hair back in a bun, but I get the feeling she spends some time on the stage as well as running the ticket booth.
I took a couple acting classes for fun in high school. My parents hired a private acting coach, and I was in a couple of shows. I haven’t done anything theater-related in years.
“You remembered that I love musicals?” I say.
“I told you, I remember everything.” Langston offers me his arm, and we walk to the front of the theater.
I look down at his arm. “Is this really necessary?” I whisper.
“You’re supposed to be playing along,” he whispers back to me.
I don’t want to admit this to Langston, but this is actually pretty cool. I’ve been too busy with work to stop to have some fun. Other than riding Marshmallow, that is. I will always make time for him.
There’s a table and chairs set up just below the front row. The table is covered with a white tablecloth, and there are candles burning. There’s an entire orchestra sitting in the pit, waiting for us. The curtains are closed.
We settle in our chairs, and Langston pulls out his phone. “We need documentation of this moment. You know, so we can spread the word that we’re together.”
I lean in closer to get in the shot, close enough that I can smell the aftershave on Langston’s neck. It’s not actually gross either. He smells…nice.
I look down and see the program has been sitting next to me the entire time, and I haven’t even noticed it.Les Misérables. My favorite musical. I hadn’t even heard it was playing. But I’ve been so wrapped up in racing Valentine that I haven’t paid attention to what was going on in the theater world in Atlanta.
“You got us a private viewing ofLes Mis?”
“Don’t get too excited about it. I didn’t plan it that way. That’s just what was playing this week.”
“Oh, I thought maybe you were doing something sweet and thoughtful for a minute.”
“Hey, this dinner should count as sweet and thoughtful,” he protests.
“And it does. Ten points to Langston for being creative.”
“Only ten? This is a good date. It should be more like twenty or thirty.”
“We’ll see how good dinner is, and then maybe you’ll be up to twenty.”
He shakes his head with a smile.
The lights dim and the curtains part as the music begins to play. Our food is brought out during the first act and is from the Indian restaurant my family loves to go to when we’re in Atlanta. It’s better than my parents’ cook even, and she’s a master at preparing Indian dishes.
During intermission, I get up to go to the bathroom, and Langston checks his phone.
“Two missed calls from Amanda.”
“I wonder what she wants,” I say.