Page 8

Wes

“Isn’t this great?” I say to Zeke, pointing to the stage below. An orchestra plays their instruments while behind them, a screen shows a montage of scenes from Star Wars . We are at the symphony. Because we are men of refined taste and an interest in the musical arts.

“Why’d you bring me to this snoozefest again?” Zeke asks, his nose wrinkled in disgust.

Okay, so maybe only one of us has refined taste and an interest in the musical arts. “To broaden your horizons, young grasshopper,” I say pointedly.

Zeke snaps his fingers and opens his eyes wide. “Oh yeah! You brought me to spy on Honor, your best friend that you’re in love with and too chicken to tell.” He smirks.

“Shh,” I hiss at him, glancing around wildly to see if anyone heard him. “Lower your voice!”

Zeke rolls his eyes. “Why? You’re not exactly flying under the radar.”

I try to shrink down into my seat, which proves impossible.

Okay, I had admittedly struggled to determine what to wear.

Usually, I would call Honor with these kinds of questions, but this time that was obviously a no-go since she, too, would question my sudden interest in the symphony at the exact same date, time, and performance as she was going to on her date.

So, armed with the knowledge that the performance was Star Wars themed and wanting to be as incognito as possible, I had settled on what had seemed like a brilliant decision an hour ago: my Stormtrooper costume from Halloween.

Unfortunately, the symphony is apparently not the kind of event that one wears costumes to.

I could not have done a worse job at staying low key if I tried.

From the time I showed up at the Washington Center for the Performing Arts, I had drawn looks, laughter, and several people honking their cars at me as I walked down the street.

In fact, so many people asked to take a photo with me that I barely made it to my seat on time.

Zeke had watched it all with equal parts embarrassment and glee, pretending not to know me all the way until he got to his seat next to mine. Then he introduced himself and promptly asked if Darth Vader had given me the day off.

“Very funny,” I say to him. I pick up the pair of binoculars and scan the lower seats. I had managed to snag two seats to the performance in the balcony, but we are at the very top. We’re so distant from the stage, we might as well be in a galaxy far, far away. (Get it? It’s a Star Wars joke, heh.)

Zeke covers his face with his hand and groans.

“What?

“You seriously brought binoculars? What are we, top secret spies now? What kind of super spy operation do you think we’re on, James Bond?”

“Excuse me,” a woman’s voice says from behind me. I turn to see a woman with gray hair and a pinched expression. “Can you and your young friend please be quiet? I’m trying to listen.”

“I’m sorry,” I immediately say. “We’ll be quiet.” I give Zeke a look, the impact of which is probably lessened by the Stormtrooper helmet.

Zeke mutters something under his breath and I elbow him.

We listen to the music for the first ten minutes.

I’m actually enjoying it–it’s hard not to appreciate the Star Wars score, classical music lover or not.

Zeke, meanwhile, gets out his phone after the first five minutes and puts his earbuds in.

I elbow him again and he elbows me back. We jostle back and forth for a minute.

“Excuse me again,” the woman from behind us–let’s call her Karen—says. “Can you two please stop being disruptive? I paid for my ticket just like you did, and I’d like to enjoy it.”

“Really sorry,” I say, freezing. As a lifelong rule follower, I’m horrified at being called out for misbehavior. “We both are.”

Zeke, however, rolls his eyes and goes back to typing on his phone.

I jerk my thumb at him. “Generation Z,” I say, by way of apology.

Karen does not look mollified. “And can you remove your Stormtrooper helmet? I can’t see around it.”

I hesitate. My helmet is how I’m making sure I don’t get caught by Honor. But Karen looks like she’s about to summon an usher over and I don’t want to get kicked out. I reluctantly pull it off.

Karen humphs and sits back in her seat.

I turn back in my seat.

“Surrendered already, huh?” Zeke says. “Really leaning hard into that cosplay. Respect.”

I ignore him and focus on looking around for Honor.

How hard is it to find one person? Scanning the theater attenders below me, my mind starts to spiral through what might be happening.

Is he touching her? Does he have his arm around her?

What if she feels uncomfortable and doesn’t know how to tell him? What if she needs rescuing?

I lean over the railing. There are several rows that sit beneath the balcony. They must be underneath me. I lean further.

“Uh, Wes?” Zeke says next to me.

“Excuse me, can you sit down?” Karen hisses behind me.

I ignore them both as I lean further over the railing to find Honor. Anxiety grips my chest in a vice. I need to at least see Honor and know that she’s alright.

“That’s it, I’m getting an usher,” Karen says.

“You might want to sit down,” Zeke mutters. “I think we are about to get booted from the theater.”

“Just one more minute,” I say, leaning further until I’m practically dangling over the railing.

“Sir, I’m going to need you to step back from the railing.” I glance over to see a stern-faced usher at the end of the aisle. Next to him, Karen’s wearing an expression like the cat who got the cream.

Where is Honor? Why can’t I spot her? If I’m about to get kicked out of the theater, I at least want eyes on her once. I lean forward again, but my fingers lose their grip on the binoculars. They slip from my fingers and drop down into the audience below.

I wince. “Look out!” I cry.

Every eye below turns to look at me…including a familiar set of beautiful eyes. She’s wearing her Princess Leia costume from Halloween–the long white dress with a hood (which is why I didn’t recognize her) from the original movie, not the Jabba the Hutt slave costume. Relief spreads through me.

“Hi,” I say, giving her a finger wave.

She appears, well, less than thrilled to see me. “Wes?” she asks. Her gaze moves to the right and more shock colors her face. “Zeke?”

I eyeball the guy next to her. He could’ve been an understudy for The Emperor, Darth Sidious. He also has the good sense to keep his hands to himself. I had been worried for nothing. I let out my breath.

“Sir, you have to step back from the railing.”

I move back, holding up my hands. Three ushers are now waiting for me in the aisle, looking like they’re about to go hands-on. The crowd grumbles around us, a menacing swell of discontented noise. “I think it’s time to go,” I say to Zeke.

“Cool. Let’s bounce,” he says, getting up.

Ten minutes later, I’m escorted out of the building, having been banned for life from the facility and given a stern talking-to by the manager that I was lucky they weren’t calling the police on me. Zeke follows along behind us.

Honor is already waiting on the sidewalk in front of the performing arts center, her arms crossed. Her expression says she’s about to unleash a scolding worthy of Princess Leia herself.

“Wes!” she says as soon as she sees me. “What in the world were you doing?”

“Exposing Zeke to the finer arts?”

“Don’t involve me, bruh. This is all on you,” Zeke says, putting his earbuds back in. He leans against the wall in his best impression of a total stranger.

Honor points a finger at me, her eyes narrowed. “You are stalking me.”

“What? Me? Stalking?” I feign innocence. “Why would I do that?”

“Excellent question,” Honor says, studying me.

I start to sweat, cursing myself for putting the question in her mind.

“I can only think of one thing,” she says, raising a finger.

This is it. The moment of truth. I’m relieved, frankly, that she’s finally figured out my secret.

The truth will be out and whatever happens next, it will be better than this torture.

I steel myself and force the words out. “You’re right.

I love you and don’t want some internet rando getting anywhere near you. ”

Silence falls between us. She stares at me. I can’t even breathe, waiting for her reaction.

Finally, Honor shakes her head. My heart falls straight through the ground.

“It’s just what I thought,” Honor says. “Your overprotective, big brother instincts have gotten out of control.”

Zeke groans behind us and slaps his forehead.

My chest deflates. “Yes,” I say, capitulating to my own cowardice. “That’s it. That is exactly the reason.”

Zeke mutters something that sounds a lot like, “stupid.” I glare at him.

Honor steps forward, reaching out to grab my hand. She looks at me with soulful eyes. “Wes, I’m a big girl. I can go on dates by myself. It’s the symphony, for goodness’ sake, not some back alley. He’s an accountant. I promise you this guy does not look like an ax murderer.”

“They never do,” I say, almost as a reflex.

“I appreciate that you care, but you’ve got to let me live my life, date whom I want to date. You don’t need to follow me, okay?”

“Okay,” I say. “But text me when you get to your car.”

“Nope.”

“When you get home?”

“Maybe.”

“I’ll take it.”

Honor laughs and leans in to hug me. “What am I going to do with you?”

Marry me. “Just be safe.”

“Bye, Dad ,” she says, rolling her eyes as she walks back into the theater.

The sound of slow clapping comes behind me as soon as the door closes. “Wow,” Zeke says. “You’ve gone from best friend to dad. Congratulations. You’re on fire.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. ‘Watch your mouth, kid, or you’ll find yourself floating home,” I quote. I wave for him to follow me. “If you’re done mocking me, let’s go train. We only have a month until the tournament at the Midsommer Faire.”

“Now you’re talking!” Zeke follows me to the park where we put on our soft kit gear and beat on each other with foam swords. It’s not quite as fun as steel armor and weapons, but it’s good for practicing techniques and a heck of a lot easier to get on and off, not to mention safer.

Yet even as we train, my mind stays stuck on Honor. If I’m going to win her heart, I’ll need to switch up my strategy.

Time to bring my A game.