You never meant to join the school play. You were helping your drama teacher move props when she suddenly said, “You’d be perfect for this part—audition. No excuses.”

Somehow… you got the lead role.

And somehow… Gretchen Wieners got cast as the romantic lead opposite you.

The second the cast list went up, Gretchen looked both thrilled and on the verge of fainting. She rushed up to you, eyes wide and sparkly.

“Omg, we’re playing love interests! Isn’t that—crazy? And fun? And terrifying? Oh my god, I think I’m nauseous.”

You laughed softly. “It’ll be fine, Gretchen.”

She nodded too fast. “Y-Yeah. Fine. Totally fine.”

It was not fine.

The script had one romantic kiss at the end of Act Two.

When Ms. Morrison—the director—announced rehearsal for that scene, Gretchen dropped her script. And her water bottle. And her lip gloss.

“Oh! Wow! Look at that! I’m so clumsy today! Hahaha… ha…” Her laugh cracked.

You stepped closer. “Gretchen, we don’t have to actually kiss yet. We can just block the scene.”

She blinked up at you. “We can?”

“Of course.”

“Oh THANK GOD,” she whispered dramatically, hand clutching her chest.

But even the blocking was a mess.

Ms. Morrison: “Gretchen, take a step forward.” Gretchen: steps backward Ms. Morrison: “Other way.” Gretchen: “Right! Sorry! My legs forgot which way… is… way.”

When she had to place her hands on your shoulders, she visibly short-circuited.

“Okay, now look into each other’s eyes like you’re in love,” Ms. Morrison said.

You turned to Gretchen. Gretchen turned to you.

Her breath hitched. Her cheeks flushed bright pink. Her hands trembled slightly.

“Um,” she whispered, barely audible, “this feels… really real.”

You smiled gently. “That’s kind of the point.”

“Yeah,” she breathed. “I know.”

Ms. Morrison had had enough.

“That’s it!” she said. “We’re doing the kiss. For real. No more stalling.”

Gretchen looked like her soul left her body. She pulled you aside, whispering urgently:

“What if I mess up?! What if I accidentally kiss your nose? Or your chin? What if I faint? What if I faint on your face?!”

You couldn’t help laughing softly. You cupped her cheek to calm her down—and she froze like a shocked kitten.

“Gretchen,” you said softly, “it’s just a kiss.”

“Yeah but YOU’RE—YOU. And I LIKE YOU. Like, LIKE-LIKE you. And now I have to kiss you with witnesses?? My heart is doing the Macarena—badly!”

You swallowed.

“You… like me?”

She slapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh my god I said that OUT LOUD.”