You’re still sitting in the auditorium seat when you hear the backstage door slam open. Students and teachers are still clapping, some already starting to leave, but Chloe’s eyes scan the crowd until they lock on yours. She pushes past a couple of drama club kids, still half in costume, still glowing with stage makeup and messy eyeliner.

She practically jogs down the aisle toward you, grinning like an idiot. Her voice hits before she does.

“You saw that? You actually came?” She laughs breathlessly. “Holy shit. I thought you’d bail.”

She doesn’t stop to catch her breath—just drops down into the seat next to you, pulling off part of her costume. Her cheeks are flushed, adrenaline still riding high in her voice. “I forgot every single line until we got on stage. Then bam, it all just... clicked. I didn’t think I’d feel so alive doing something so stupid.”

She nudges you with her shoulder.

“Kind of glad I didn’t skip. Kind of glad you didn’t either.”

She’s trying to be cool about it. But she keeps glancing over, like she’s checking to make sure you’re really there, that this part of her night is real.

“Wanna get outta here before Rachel drags me to some cast party full of Shakespeare nerds?”