Chapter Text
The main room in Liberty Hall always smelled faintly of floor-polish and paint, but Bly didn’t really mind. He took a deep breath, welcoming the scent, because it signaled one of his favorite activities was starting up again: the drama club.
The club was still young, less than ten years old, which meant that a lot of people forgot it existed. That was just fine with Bly, who was fearless on the stage but quiet and a bit shy off of it. The group of regulars who participated in the club’s productions was small but dedicated, devoting energy and late nights to the art purely for the joy it brought them. In Bly’s opinion, there was no better place on campus to be.
In the antechamber they usually used as the green room, a waiting area had been set up: chairs in rows along the walls, a table at the front with a sign-in sheet, a handmade notice on the door of the other back room that they were using for auditions which read, DO NOT ENTER UNLESS THE STAGE MANAGER SAYS YOU CAN!!! (Quinlan, this is directed at you.)
Waxer hailed him from across the room, standing in a clump of their friends near the auditions room, and Bly greeted him in return. “Where’s Boil? He didn’t want to audition?” Bly half-joked.
Waxer laughed heartily, because Waxer did everything heartily. “No chance. You won’t see him until tech week when we need somebody to come in and fix all of the set pieces we built incorrectly.”
Next to him, Steela grimaced. “Speak for yourself. Some of us are actually competent at set-building.”
Bly smiled and looked over at Tech, who had his face in his laptop like usual. “I thought you didn’t act?”
“That is correct. I reserve my energy for lighting and sound design, which is where my talents lie in the thespian world. But,” Tech said, holding up a single finger, “my presence was requested for moral support.”
“By whom?” Bly asked, raising his eyebrows.
“Phee, who else?” Steela interjected, rolling her eyes.
“I thought she was assistant directing instead of acting this year?”
“That is also correct,” Tech affirmed.
Steela put her hands on her hips. “And she needs the moral support because…?”
“I assume it’s because assistant directing is a taxing and difficult job,” Tech replied, adjusting his glasses.
“No one gives me moral support,” Steela snorted. “And being the stage manager is a lot more taxing than being the assistant director. Try again, Tech.”
Tech just looked at her blankly.
Bly and Waxer exchanged a look. Tech had been oblivious to Phee’s interest in him for the past six months, despite Steela’s fairly obvious prodding, and it appeared he hadn’t become any more aware over the summer break. He had already returned his attention to his laptop, doing astrophysics homework or who-knows-what; Bly had given up asking Tech what he was doing long ago. Bly considered himself fairly intelligent, but not in the way—or about the things—that Tech was.
“Are they in there already?” Bly asked, glancing over at the door.
“Yeah,” Waxer replied. “We should be starting any minute. You know Thorn: always on time.”
As if on cue, the door opened and Thorn stepped into the room. He surveyed the people gathered around in clusters, chatting and laughing, and smiled. “Hey everyone,” he greeted, his voice projecting over the noise easily. “Good to see you all. Phee and I are ready to get started, so let’s get this show on the road. Steela, if you would.”
Steela nodded back and opened the folder that was always at her side during a show. “Vos, you’re up first,” she said. “That way you don’t walk in on anyone again.”
Her remark was met with laughter, and Quinlan held up his hands in protest. “It was one time,” he grinned, “and I don’t regret it.”
Steela ushered him through the door, and Waxer nudged Bly. “You think he’s got a shot at the lead?”
Bly considered. “He’s good, that’s no question. But he seems like more of a Mercutio, or maybe a Tybalt. He’s too much of a jokester to be Romeo.”
“True, he would love to be Mercutio.” Waxer grinned at him. “Besides, I hear that you’re their top choice for Romeo.”
Bly smiled bashfully. He hoped it was true. He’d built up a reputation in the drama club as a guy who could be trusted with a big role, and he knew Romeo was well within his type. Last semester he’d played Davey in Newsies, and the year before that he’d been Cornelius Hackl in Hello, Dolly! Romeo was just another step on the young-leading-man-character ladder; a big step, to be sure, but still within reach.
Besides, Bly loved Shakespeare. Outside of computer science and astronomy, it was the only other thing he could talk about for hours. As over-used and often misunderstood as the story was, Romeo was still a dream role for him.
“Who do you figure for Juliet?” Waxer asked, eyes scanning the familiar faces of the drama club.
“I don’t know,” Bly shrugged, because he’d been putting it out of his mind so he wouldn’t overthink it. “We’ve got some ingénue types here.”
“Yeah, but who do you want to be paired with?” Waxer asked, nudging him again with that grin still in place. “Who do you want to hear asking you, ‘wherefore art thou, Romeo?’” He did a high-pitched imitation of a woman’s voice that sounded more squeaky than anything.
“Which I still don’t get,” Steela interjected, returning to their little huddle and leaning against the wall. “Weren’t they just at a party together, like, the scene before? Does she really not know where he is? He went home, girl. Get over it.”
“Actually,” Bly said, unable to keep the excitement out of his voice, “'wherefore' doesn’t mean ‘where.’ It means why.”
Waxer furrowed his eyebrows. “She’s asking why he’s Romeo?”
“Yes, because she knows he’s a Montague and she’s a Capulet, and their love is forbidden,” Bly explained. “She’s basically asking why he couldn’t have been born a Capulet or somebody else instead so that they could be together.”
“Seems like an unfair question. Bro can’t help who he’s born as.”
Bly sighed. “It’s poetic, Waxer.”
“Yeah, I get that, but still.”
“Face it, Bly, no one appreciates Shakespeare like you do,” Steela said.
“I know,” he said glumly. Then he brightened. “But maybe they will after being in this!”
Waxer turned to Steela. “What’s the concept for the show? Thorn always has some outlandish concept for stuff like this.”
Steela only raised her eyebrows. “You’re not getting anything out of me. You’ll just have to wait and see.”
Waxer, however, was not one to wait and see, so he turned to Tech instead. “Any insight, Einstein?”
“If I remember correctly--and I do--Phee said they are planning on setting this production in a strange, made-up planet in outer space,” Tech replied, not taking his eyes off his laptop.
Bly laughed. “Wow. I can’t wait to see the costume design on this.”
The door to the auditions room opened and Quinlan stepped out. He grinned at Steela as she ushered in the next person and then joined Bly’s group.
“How’d it go?” Bly asked.
“I did my best,” Quinlan shrugged. “Think I’ll probably get Mercutio or Tybalt.”
Waxer let out a surprised laugh. “That’s what Bly said.”
“Bly knows his stuff. He’s probably gonna get Romeo.”
Bly ducked his head. He didn’t have the confidence of Quinlan or the happy-go-lucky nature of Waxer. He beat himself up too much. He wanted to get Romeo, but he would never be able to talk about it like Quinlan did: in terms of probably, as if he was certain the outcome would be in his favor.
Quinlan scanned the room. “Any of you seen Aayla yet? I’ve gotta run but I wanted to wish her luck before I do.”
Steela, who had rejoined their cluster once more, raised her eyebrows. “Aayla Secura? The volleyball captain? I saw her name on the roster but I thought it was a joke or something.”
Suddenly the door of the antechamber opened and Aayla Secura walked in, and Bly’s breath left his body in a rush.
She was undeniably beautiful: long dark hair in a ponytail with streaks of blue running through it, tanned skin, almond eyes. He’d seen her before, he realized, sometime in sophomore year when Steela had dragged him to a volleyball game. He’d thought she was beautiful then, too, but he’d put her out of his brain because she radiated Too Cool For Nerds energy, and he hadn’t been willing to test that theory. Here, however, she seemed to carry herself differently: she still seemed completely comfortable in her skin, but there was something about the way she looked around the room that said she hadn't found her footing here yet.
“Aayla!” Quinlan called, waving.
Aayla’s face lit up, and she made her way over to hug him. “Quin! Am I too late to audition?” She had a slight accent—French, Bly thought.
“You’re just on time,” he assured her.
Steela cleared her throat, looking pointedly at Quinlan. “You’re a little late,” she corrected, “but not too late to audition. Try not to make a habit of being on Quinlan Time.”
The corner of Aayla’s mouth ticked upward. “I’ll be sure not to take after his example.”
Quinlan made a sweeping gesture that encompassed their little group. “Aayla, this is Steela, Waxer, Tech, and Bly.”
“Pleased to meet you all,” Aayla said, smiling warmly around at them all. When her gaze landed on Bly, he felt as though he might melt through the floor. “Quinlan has mentioned you all—his ‘thespian’ friends, he says.”
“I am not a thespian,” Tech said, glancing up and blinking. “The term 'thespian' most often refers to actors. As I stated earlier, my expertise lies in the lighting and sound departments, not acting.”
Waxer grinned and elbowed him. “Too late. You’re a thespian by adoption.” He glanced curiously at Aayla. “Is this your first time auditioning with the club?”
“First time auditioning ever,” she said, clasping her hands in front of her.
Steela raised her eyebrows. “Really?”
Aayla nodded, and Quinlan beamed at her. “You’re gonna do amazing,” he said. Then his phone chimed and he winced. “But I do have to leave. Sorry.”
“Go on, traitor,” Aayla said, flapping a hand at him. “I’ll be fine. I have some new friends now, I don’t need you anymore.”
Steela smiled at that. “I like her.”
I do, too, Bly thought, painfully aware that he was unable to take his eyes off of Aayla, and that he had yet to contribute to the conversation.
Quinlan winked at Aayla and headed for the door. “Break legs. Preferably someone else’s,” he called over his shoulder.
Aayla turned back to them all, smiling. Bly couldn’t get over her smile; it was positively radiant. He felt like he was standing in front of a small sun.
“So, first time auditioning, huh?” Waxer said.
“Yes,” Aayla responded. “I hope I won’t embarrass myself.”
Bly heard the undertone of nervousness in her voice and spoke before he’d decided to. “I’m sure you’ll be great,” he said, his voice warm.
Aayla looked at him gratefully. “You think?”
“Statistically speaking, Bly says that to every person who exhibits nervous behavior when auditioning,” Tech said, glancing up briefly.
Bly felt his face go red, and Waxer punched Tech gently in the shoulder. “Wow, Tech. Way to make the new girl feel supported.”
Bly looked down at his shoes. It wasn’t just a line; he truly did believe that everyone would do great, even if some people’s measure of great looked different than others’. The drama club was about passion, not just talent. If you were having fun, it didn’t really matter if you were good at it. Just look at Cameron.
Of course, he didn’t say any of that out loud.
He dared to glance up at Aayla. She was looking at him, and her expression was soft in a way that made his insides feel gushy. “That’s very kind of you. Hopefully you're right--regardless of the statistics,” she said, the corner of her mouth lifting again in gentle amusement.
“That’s Bly, he’s our moral support,” Waxer said, throwing an arm around Bly’s shoulders. “As well as one of the best actors in the club.”
Bly’s face was really on fire now.
“Then I’ll have to watch what he does and copy it,” Aayla said, smiling at him. “That way I won’t have a chance to embarrass myself.”
“And anyway,” Steela said, returning after ushering in another auditionee, “it’s just Thorn and Phee in there. Stars know they’ve embarrassed themselves plenty of times in front of everyone else. They’ll cut you some slack if you mess up.”
The conversation continued in a different direction, but not before Steela's gaze caught on Bly. Something in her eyes told him she'd noticed the blush on his cheeks.
“So what is the volleyball captain doing auditioning for the drama club?” Waxer asked. He leaned his elbow on Steela’s shoulder for a brief moment before she shoved him off.
Aayla shrugged. “It sounds fun, and I’ve never done it before.”
“You like to try new things a lot, then?” Steela asked, surveying her. Bly recognized the expression as her ‘potential friend, but I need more time to consider’ look. She’d looked at him that way the first time they’d met, too, though he’d mistaken it for something else. The memory of that still made him wince inside.
“I do! It’s good for me. Keeps me from becoming too complacent. I was looking for something to spice up my semester a bit, and Quin suggested this.”
“How long have you been friends with Quinlan for?” Steela asked.
“A long time,” Aayla laughed. “Probably too long. We went to high school together. We were both in Key Club, and he took me under his wing.”
“You should’ve seen him before you got here. He was looking all around like—” Waxer shaped his hands into binoculars and looked left and right dramatically— “wherefore art thou, Aayla?”
Bly grimaced. Still using it incorrectly, he wanted to say, but he didn’t want to expose himself as a nerd in front of the beautiful, kind girl in front of him.
Aayla, however, raised her eyebrows in sudden interest. “Did you know that ‘wherefore’ actually doesn’t mean where? It means why.”
Bly stared.
Waxer burst out laughing. “Bly was just telling us that! You two must share a brain cell or something.”
Bly half-laughed, still amazed but feeling awkward. Better tell her now that I’m not cool, before she thinks I am and I have to let her down. “I don’t think we share any brain cells. Volleyball and computer science don’t necessarily mix.”
“Says who?” Aayla asked, looking over at him. “Even volleyball players have IT needs.”
“Well, I guess if you ever need help with your computer, you know who to call,” Bly joked.
She tilted her head. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Steela was definitely looking at Bly suspiciously now.
Waxer, however, was blessedly oblivious. “So you’re a Shakespeare fan, too, Aayla?”
“I enjoy it, but I’m no expert,” Aayla admitted. “That was half the reason I wanted to audition this semester. I love Shakespeare’s language. I hope I get the chance to have a few lines.”
Bly’s heart was singing. She likes Shakespeare! She appreciates the language! She knows what ‘wherefore’ means! He pushed down the huge, doofy grin that was threatening to overtake his face. It must have shown through a little bit, though, because Aayla met his gaze and smiled with her eyes.
Bly’s audition was next. He went in, did his monologue, noted the impressed look on Thorn’s face, and emerged full of cautious hope. Waxer and Tech, however, did not see the need for caution.
“C’mon, you’re pretty much guaranteed to get Romeo,” Waxer said, slapping Bly on the back.
“Considering your history with the drama club, your previous roles, and your talent for acting, it would be more surprising if you did not get the role,” Tech agreed.
Waxer looked over at him in delight. “Tech, was that a real compliment? I’ve never heard you say anything like that.”
Tech looked at him blankly. “I was simply stating my predictions based on previous data.”
“Right,” Waxer said, rolling his eyes. “You know how that gets the girls going. I bet that’s what made Phee so invested in you.”
“I do not understand that statement.”
Aayla laughed. “Are they always like this?” she asked Bly while the other two continued going back and forth.
“Mostly,” Bly replied, watching his friends affectionately. “It makes it very lively.”
“I like that,” she said softly. “It feels … like a family. Sort of like the volleyball team.”
Before Bly could reply, Steela was there. “You think you’ll be able to keep up with rehearsals while running the team?” she asked Aayla.
“I plan to,” Aayla replied confidently. “It will be difficult, but I love being busy. And between volleyball, being on my sorority’s event planning board, and this, I’m going to have a very busy semester.”
The two girls continued chatting, but Bly went quiet. For a moment he’d forgotten that Aayla wasn’t like him—just a nobody who liked Shakespeare—and that she was, in reality, the beautiful, confident, badass captain of the volleyball team. For a moment he’d forgotten to be intimidated and had almost been comfortable with her. She made it ... easy.
He was going to have to be careful around her or he’d forget himself. He knew who he was and where he belonged; he knew girls like her didn’t want guys like him. And he didn’t want to make a fool of himself again, not like he had freshman year.
I’ll just treat her like I treat everyone else, Bly thought firmly. She’s new, so she probably won’t get a big role anyway, and if I do get the lead, I’ll be too busy to focus on much else. It will be fine.
He looked back over at Aayla, who was laughing at a wry joke Steela had just made, and felt his stomach flip over.
This might be more difficult than he thought.