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Summary
"Okay, okay," she said, walking up to the edge of the stage. "You guys don't have to kiss right now. If you're not comfortable. We're still early in rehearsals."
Langa exhaled, kind of too fast.
"But," she added, raising her voice a little, "you will need to kiss in the actual performance. So make sure it's not sloppy. Practice if you have to."
That last part made half the cast snicker.
Reki scratched the back of his neck and laughed it off, but Langa was already staring at the ground, eyes wide, ears bright red.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
He was so glad they weren't doing it now.
Because if Reki's face got any closer, Langa was definitely going to have a heart attack and die onstage. And that would be way too dramatic, even for a theater kid.
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In where Langa joins the drama club after watching a certain red-haired boy on stage—falling, quite hopelessly, in love with someone he hadn’t even spoken to yet.