Page 109 of This is Me

The answer to all of those, was yes—and God, I hated myself for it.

“You haven’t blinked in, like, two minutes,” Bradly stated, raising his eyebrows at me. “Your eyes will dry out.”

“I was just thinking,” I murmured, blushing a little, before watching Brad turn his attention to the stage.

“Oh…” he whispered, turning back to me with a smile, that I could only faintly see in the dark.

“Oh, what?” I questioned before quickly realising where I had been looking before I zoned out. “Oh, no, no, no.”

“It’s okay to be attracted to him, Pete.”

“I’m not—I wasn’t—” I stammered, unsure of what to say.

Yes, the guy on stage was cute, but I wasn’t staring at him. I was just staring. Blanky. God knows I didn’t want to talk about boys with my brother either. He accepted me for who I was, sure, but no way in hell was that conversation going to happen.

“Hey, if you wanna flirt with him later, I may be able to talk to him after—”

“Brad, no!” I whispered, doing my best to keep my voice down. The music that the guy was dancing to was soft, so I was pretty sure my voice would still carry.

“I’m just saying,” Brad said smugly, and I wanted to knock that smugness right out of him.

“And I’m just saying, leave it alone.”

“Geez, don’t get grumpy. I thought gay meant happy?”

“This gay is gonna kick your ass in a minute,” I warned, knowing full well I wouldn’t have any impact on Bradly, and he knew that as well.

“We both know you couldn’t even make me flinch.” Bradly chuckled, leaning back in his chair.

“You suck,” I mumbled, replicating him.

At least with our little detoured conversation, Brad seemed to have calmed down, which, in turn, helped me not to freak out either. The thought of Leroy was also doing its part while simultaneously driving me insane.

“Bradly Stone?” A voice from the front of the theatre called out, echoing off the walls, and Brad stiffened.

“You’ll do great. Just do your thing.”

I gave Brad a nudge out of his seat, and in the dark, I saw him shoot me a nervous smile before walking his way into the aisle and toward the stage.

“He walks super weird when he’s nervous,” I mumbled to myself, watching Brad waddle onto the stage, waving awkwardly at the onlookers.

I continued to watch as Brad and the guy I knew as the director spoke to each other, though given where I was seated, I couldn’t hear a word they were saying.

After a few minutes, Brad took a few steps back and got into position, waiting for the music to start. Soon, as the soft music began to play, Bradly started his routine, moving swiftly and elegantly around the stage.

It had been a very long time since I had seen him dance, and I missed attending his shows. It only took him a few moments to regain his confidence, and he was soon nailing every spin and leap and whatever else the moves were called. Not being a dancer, I had no idea what the technical terms were, but from what I could see, Brad was doing a good job.

He was in sync with the music. He owned every beat and slid with every note. It was as if he was one with the music. It seemed as if, to Brad, nothing else in the world mattered as his body glided across the stage, breathing in the sounds of the music.

It was mesmerising.

All too soon, the song came to an end, and Bradly finished his final move, ending with one hand above his head and the other on his hip, facing away from the others in the crowd. There were a few scattered claps as he finished, and he turned around to give a small bow before getting off the stage and going to stand with the others who had already auditioned.

My heart was still thumping loudly in my chest as I stared at the other people who still had their auditions to do. They all looked talented, and I hoped they weren’t as good as Brad.

Not because I cared, or anything. But if Brad got it, I wouldn’t have to see his face every day.

Well, maybe I cared a little.