Twelve

The Red Line takes us to River North, a wealthier neighbor hood of Chicago. Simon has his app open, leading us toward a high-rise building near the water. His sequined blue jacket sparkles in the traffic lights. Alex is wearing a backless white cocktail dress with pearl earrings. There's a doorman at the entrance of the building. " Act like you live here, " Simon whispers over his shoulder. Thankfully, no one stops us as we head through the lobby. As we step into the elevator, Simon presses the button PH . The second the doors close, he turns to me and says, "By the way, Eric, don't go around telling people we work the box office."

I almost ask why, but the reasons are pretty obvious. We're not exactly high on the theater hierarchy. "What should we say instead?"

"It's our moment to be anyone we want," Alex says, adjusting her dress in the elevator mirror. "Tonight, I'm a makeup artist for Good Morning America ."

"That's not even filmed in Chicago," Simon sneers.

Alex clicks her tongue. "Whatever."

The elevator opens to a beautiful hallway, adorned with silver sconces. I follow Simon and Alex toward a set of double doors. My stomach clenches, maybe from the nerves that are building. Simon doesn't bother to knock. He pushes the doors right open, letting the music pour into the halls as we head inside. There's a sea of silk shirts and glittering dresses. It's like something out of The Great Gatsby . Art deco walls, floral arrangements, hands holding martini glasses. The apartment connects two great rooms, taking up half the floor of the building. A server passes in front of us, holding a tray of what looks like smoked salmon on toast.

"The rent for this place must be ungodly, " Simon says.

Alex leans into him. "See anyone we know?"

He looks around. "Jesus, there's Brian."

I squint through the crowd. "Who's Brian?"

"The other chorus boy Simon's hooking up with," Alex whispers to me.

"I told you, he's an understudy !"

Alex rolls her eyes. She pulls a compact from her bag, checking her makeup again. More people flow in through the door behind us. I swallow my breath at the mingling crowd, the sound of music filling the air.

Simon takes another look around. Then he turns to us and says, "Alright, ladies, let's split up."

I give him a look. " Wait… what? "

"We didn't come to hang out with each other all night," he says, rolling his eyes. "We came to meet people. You know, rub shoulders with the social elite. Maybe make out with a producer in the bathroom."

"A class act," Alex says.

Simon turns to her. "And what's your plan?"

"I'm here to find my rich husband," she says, putting her compact away. "My strategy this time is playing damsel in distress, so I should probably be on my own."

Simon laughs. "Damsel in distress? That should be easy for you. You're helpless by nature."

I glance between them. "I'm confused. Are you guys friends ?"

Alex lifts her chin. "Eleven o'clock."

" What? " Simon spins around. " Damn it, Brian's coming over," he says through gritted teeth. " I have to go, I have to go. " He covers his face with one hand, storming off in another direction.

The moment he disappears, I turn to Alex. Her eyes are scanning the crowd, searching for someone. Then she looks at me and says, "Don't be so nervous, Eric."

"You can tell?"

Alex places a hand on my shoulder. "Just try to have some fun. Maybe your future rich husband is out there, too."

"Maybe," I say.

"I think it's good to have goals," she whispers in my ear. "I'm all about manifesting. Putting things out into the universe, you know? You just have to be sure what you want ."

I think about this. What do I want tonight?

"I'll see you in a bit," Alex says with a wink. She turns again, adjusting the strap of her dress. "Off to find someone to pay my loans." She takes a meditative breath and closes her eyes, as if getting into character. Then she wanders off, one hand clasping her shoulder, looking around like she's lost in some enchanted forest. It only takes a minute before some Prince Charming–like fellow appears at her side, offering his hand.

And then there was one.

I take another breath and let it out. If I knew I would end up alone, I might have turned down the invite. I glance around the room again, wondering where to go first. There's an open bar in the corner, a line of people waiting for drinks. Another group comes through the door behind me. I should probably move out of the entryway. The place is even bigger than it looks. There's a spiral staircase leading to a second floor. I wonder how many people are living here. A server walks by, carrying a tray of mini sausage rolls. I take one as I wander into what appears to be a library room, books lining the wall.

A few people are standing beside a grand piano, drinking champagne. If I knew the song, maybe I could join the conversation. Everyone looks a few years older than me, at least. There's a small group mingling by the bookcase. I think I recognize some of them from the theater. Maybe they recognized me, too, because a woman in an emerald dress smiles at me and says, "Are those any good?"

"I think they're vegan," I say.

She nods. "Good to know. I'm Ariella. Have we met before?"

It takes a second to recognize her face. She came to the box office the other day, asking for cast tickets. But Simon specifically said not to mention we work there. So I shake my head and say, "No, I don't believe so. My name is Eric."

"Delighted," she says, offering a hand. "And who do you know from the show?"

I think about how to answer this. "Uh, Angelina."

"Lovely. Are you one of her students?"

"Not exactly. I sort of work for her," I say vaguely.

"Who else do you know here?"

"No one really…"

She nods. "I see."

It's obvious she's bored of this, because she glances around the room and says, "Excuse me. I think I see a friend of mine." She walks away before I can add to the conversation. Maybe she would have stayed longer if I said I was Andrew Lloyd Webber's grandson or something.

Twenty minutes later, I'm in the bathroom. At least it's nice in here. There's art on the walls and the sink is made of hand-blown glass. I wash my hands and dry them with a fancy towel. Then I stare at myself in the mirror. Maybe I should drink something to loosen up. But that never ends well for me. I wonder what Haru is doing right now. I wish I had waited for him outside the theater instead.

Suddenly there's a knock on the door.

"Someone's in here," I shout.

Another knock.

"I said, someone's in here. "

Then comes Alex's voice.

"Eric, is that you? Open up!"

I unlock the door for her. Alex comes inside, holding a drink. She takes a look around the bathroom and says, "This is the size of my entire studio. What are you doing in here?"

I lean against the sink and sigh. "Taking a break from the party…"

Alex frowns. "Are you not having a good time?"

"I just don't know anyone at the party," I say.

"And you never will if you stay in here all night." She sets her drink on the counter and takes me lovingly by the shoulders. "You know what? I think we should give you a goal," she says, eye shadow glistening. "Something you need to do by the end of the night."

"What kind of goal?"

She taps her chin in thought. "You should ask for someone's number. That's always an easy one. It doesn't even have to be romantically driven. As long as you meet someone new."

The thought of this makes me more anxious. I'm not very good in those situations. "What if they say no?" I ask.

Alex gives me a squeeze. "The point is you put yourself out there and ask anyway. Do you know how hot you are? You might be surprised by the outcome."

I consider this. "I guess I can try."

" I believe in you, " she says, squeezing my shoulders again. "Now please get out. I really need to pee."

"Oh, sorry."

"Good luck—"

Alex locks the door behind me. I stand in the hallway for a moment. Then I gather myself and head back to face the crowd. I wish I were naturally social like Simon and Alex. I swear there's more people here than there was a half hour ago. Maybe it's the jacket, but it's getting stuffy in here. There's a glass door that's opened to what looks like a terrace. I make my way outside and breathe in the cold air.

For some reason, there's nobody else out here. I wander toward the railing and look out at the river. I forgot how high up we are. I close my eyes for a moment, letting the nice breeze cool me down.

Footsteps approach. A figure leans on the railing beside me.

For a second, I think it's Haru. I turn my head and see someone I don't recognize. "Nice view out here," he says without looking at me.

"Yeah, it is."

"A little chilly, though."

I take him in a little. His black hair is brushed to the side, almost windswept. He wears a cream suit jacket, slightly matching the furniture in the apartment. A silver watch shines on his wrist. He looks a few years older than me, with a side profile that's straight out of a men's fragrance commercial.

He turns his head. "Do you live in Chicago?"

It takes a second for my brain to respond. "Yeah, I'm from here. What about you?"

"Moved here about a year ago," he says, staring out at the view again. "So it's all still new to me."

"Where from?"

"Manhattan," he says.

"Oh, I think I can tell."

He laughs at this. "Is that so?" He turns to me, holding out a hand. "We haven't officially met, have we? I'm Christian."

"I'm Eric," I say.

He has a nice grip. "I don't think I've seen you around. Did you come here with someone?"

"I came with my friends," I say, glancing back at the door. "They're both in there somewhere. You?"

"I know a few people here," he says casually.

Christian turns back to the railing, looking out again. A silence passes as I stand beside him, staring out at the view, too. I can see the Riverwalk from here, the boats passing along the water.

"There's my favorite restaurant," he says.

"Which one?"

Christian points to a rooftop below. "The ones with the umbrellas. Right along the river," he says.

"I haven't been there before."

"The cocktails are very good."

The music grows louder from behind us. We both glance at the door and back at each other.

"Sounds like the band has arrived," Christian says. "Shall we head back inside?"

I consider this. "I might hang out here a little longer."

"Not a fan of the penthouse?"

Penthouse. So that's what PH stands for. "No, it's really nice. A lot bigger than I expected. Not exactly my taste though, if I'm being honest."

"What don't you like?"

I lean toward him a little. "Between you and me, the decor is a bit tacky. Especially all of the gold."

"Not a fan of gold?"

"It's nice in moderation," I say, shrugging. "But they're definitely pushing it. Especially with that statue by the staircase."

Christian frowns at this. "I love that statue. I brought it with me all the way from New York."

My brain completely freezes. "Wait a minute, is this your apartment?"

He nods. "Unfortunately, yes."

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry. I didn't know you—"

Christian holds up a hand. "Eric, relax… I'm not offended," he says with a laugh. "Except maybe the part where you called me tacky ."

"I didn't mean that—" I start.

" I'm kidding ." He stops me again. "You can call me whatever you like." He glances back at the apartment for a moment. "To be completely frank, I appreciate the honesty. Sometimes I think people only tell me things I want to hear."

"So, you're not kicking me out?"

"That's still up for debate," he says with a smirk.

Some cheers from the inside. Christian checks his watch. "I should probably get back in there. But I'm glad we had a chance to chat."

"Yeah, me, too."

Before Christian goes, he pulls something from his pocket. It's his phone. He hands it to me. "Here—put in your number." He doesn't even ask. He just tells me to do it.

"Uh, okay."

Christian puts his phone back in his pocket. He looks at me one last time. "Nice jacket, by the way," he says with a nod. "I'll see you around." Then he heads through the door, disappearing into the apartment.

It takes a moment for it to process. That means he wants to see me again, right? I mean, why else would he ask for my number? But I've been completely wrong about these things before. I'm sure he was only doing it to be nice. He probably won't even remember meeting me tonight. At the very least, this has to count toward the goal Alex gave me.

I linger on the terrace for a few more minutes. Then I head back inside in search of the others. The lights have been dimmed; flashes of blue soften the room as I move through the crowd. A slow song has come on, changing the mood of the party. Some people have paired up, eyes lost in each other's as I try not to bump into them. I've never been a fan of these slow dances. It triggers a specific memory, filling me with a sense of loneliness. I know it's still a bit early for a Saturday night. But I don't feel like lingering around longer, waiting for someone to talk to me. Especially since I can't find Simon or Alex anywhere.

I leave through the front door and take the elevator to the lobby. There's a slight chill in the air as I come outside. As I turn down the sidewalk, someone is there at the corner, facing the passing cars. It's not until they turn around that I realize it's—

"Haru… what are you doing here?"

"Was just out for a walk," he says, brushing his hair back. He's wearing a plaid jacket and dark gray slacks. "Didn't expect to run into you." He smiles a little, then glances at my clothes. "Looks like you're heading to a party."

"I was just leaving one," I tell him. If I knew he was out here, I would have left sooner.

Haru pretends to check the time. "This early? Must have been a boring one," he says.

I let out a breath. "It just wasn't my vibe. That's all."

"Where are you going now?"

"Probably home," I say, placing my hands in my pockets. "You can come with me, if you'd like. We could watch a movie or something."

"And let that outfit go to waste?" He glances around us and says, "It's Saturday night. Don't you want to do something?"

"Like what?"

He rubs his chin. "Something spontaneous."

Any other night, I would steal another boat with him. But I'm not exactly feeling myself at the moment. "Okay. I'm spontaneously going home," I say. Then I walk off, hoping he'll follow me.

" Eric, " he says.

"Sorry, I can't stop, my phone is dying."

Haru sighs from behind me. Then he steps out into the street, forcing me to turn around.

"Wait, where are you going?" I ask.

But Haru ignores me as he lies down in the middle of the road.

" Are you trying to get run over? " I glance up and down the road for cars. Then I hurry over to help him up. But he remains unmoving, keeping his arms at his side. The streetlight blinks above our heads. It takes a second to realize what he's doing. A scene from another movie.

I sigh. "You're not Ryan Gosling, you know."

Haru doesn't say anything. He taps the ground as if it is an empty seat. I look up and down the road one more time. "Okay, fine." Then I take my jacket off and lie down next to him. Haru smiles at me as we stay there a moment.

"You know a car could come at any second," I say.

"Nothing bad will happen," Haru says, laying his hands over his stomach. "I promise."

I stare at him. "How can you promise that?"

"You just have to trust me."

I consider this. "Okay… I'm trusting you."

We stare at the sky together. For a second, I enjoy the silence of the night. Then headlights flash down the road, followed by the sound of a car coming toward us. Haru and I jump to our feet, moving out of the way as it comes zooming past us, honking furiously. My heart is pounding like a drum, but for some reason, I can't stop laughing. Maybe it's the rush of adrenaline that's moving through me.

"That was a close one," I breathe.

"I told you you could trust me."

He offers his familiar smirk. Then he holds out a hand. "The scene isn't over yet."

"You're not serious…"

But Haru keeps his hand extended. I hesitate before taking it, letting him lead me back to the middle of the road. He puts one hand on my side, pulling me close to him. It's a little awkward at first. As we continue our dance, music begins to play. A jazz song, maybe from an old radio. But I can't see where it's coming from. I wonder if Haru can hear it, too.

I rest my head on his chest. "This is nice," I say.

"And you wanted to go home," Haru whispers.

I smile again. Then I look at him. "Can I tell you something?"

"What is it?"

"I've never danced with anyone before."

"Not even at a school dance?"

I shake my head. "No. But I almost went once."

Haru looks at me. "What happened?"

"It's not my favorite story," I say.

Haru pulls me a little closer. "You don't have to share it tonight," he whispers. "But I'm honored to be your first."

We continue our dance in silence. Not a single car passes down the road to interrupt us. It's like we're the only two people awake in the city. But I have to ask him something. "Haru… where is the music coming from?"

He tilts his head, listening. "Does it matter?"

I don't have to think about it. I already know my answer.

"No. It doesn't."

I keep my head against his chest, wishing the song would last the rest of the night. For a brief moment, I think about something else. If someone came down this street, what would they see? Maybe the answer to that doesn't matter, either. Because I can feel him here with me.