Enzo, be on standby. There might be some sort of emergency at some point.
Sully looks down at the incoming text message, shaking his head slightly as he reads it. Looking up, he nods at the door. “Let’s go. We wouldn’t want to be late for Romeo and Juliet.”
As much as I had not looked forward to this date, I have to admit the opera is wonderful. I’ve always been a fan of Shakespeare, and though three hours is a little longer than I care to sit through any sort of performance, at least it’s enjoyable.
My date, on the other hand…not as enjoyable.
Norah Dayton is one of the most surface-level people I have ever met. Our conversation while in the limo lacked substance, and I tried—truly, I did try to get to know the girl. There is zero depth to her. Nothing more than the latest fashion trends, city gossip, and trending cat videos.
She is a literal parrot of her friend Hera, harboring the same reactions throughout the opera, the same tone of laugh, and even the same hand gestures.
And as if that weren’t enough, throughout thewhole performance, I’ve had to physically remove her hand as it inched closer to my cock. I would lift her appendage from my body, depositing it back onto her own, and what seemed like moments later, she’d try again.
Over and over.
For more than three hours.
Intermission came and went too quickly, and I excused myself to visit the men’s room and take a walk around the beautiful venue. Couples looked exquisite as they meandered around, taking a walk to ease the stiffness of sitting for so long.
Now as I check my watch, I see that the performance is due to have only twenty minutes left, and remove my phone from my pocket. Keeping it low by my thigh opposite of Norah, I type a quick message.
9-1-1. 20 minutes.
Tucking my phone back safely into my pocket, I peel Norah’s fingers from me once more.
With a deep sigh, I return my focus to the show. The actors playing Romeo and Juliet are so convincing—their chemistry so strong—I find myself completely enamored with the final act. The songs, thetragedy. The hushed audience basking in it all.
It makes me feel—lonely.
In all my years, I have yet to experience a love so passionate it’s all-consuming. A lovewhere you would die for the person without hesitation—risk it all just to be with them.
I find myself…yearning.
The feeling settles into my chest just as I’m jolted by heavy applause. Realizing the curtain is closing, mechanically I stand with the rest of my party and clap, watching as the cast takes their bows. The joy on the faces of those on stage is tangible. Clearly, they worked hard, and the standing ovation from the audience puts it all in perspective.
When the stage clears, the audience begins to leave as well, and I turn to look at Sully. He’s staring dreamily at Hera, smiling as she says something to him.
Moving away from our seats and into a more open space within our box, I’m taken by surprise when warm fingers lace with mine. Looking down, I see Norah holding my hand.
It’s off-putting, and my whole body goes rigid. Not even my fingers know how to react as they stay stiffly straight.
“That was beautiful,” she admires, smiling brightly at me.
I look down at our connected hands again, and I know I should close my grasp around hers. It’s the polite thing to do, yet I don’t.
“Are we ready for some dinner?” Sully asks, clapping my shoulder with his hand as he comes up behind me. It’s sobering—pulling me out of the trance I’m stuckin.
“We’re starving,” Norah answers for the both of us. It immediately upsets me, leaving a sour taste in my mouth of how presumptuous this woman is.
Disconnecting my hand from hers, my lips are glued shut as I turn my gaze to Sully, speaking to him with a simple look. He stifles a laugh and leads the way for us to exit the auditorium and walk through Lincoln Center Plaza.
Norah winds her arm around mine as we head to 65th Street, where Sully's limo is idling, waiting to take us to dinner. About halfway there, my phone vibrates in my pocket, and I pull it out and see Enzo’s name flash across the screen.
The hint of a smile pulls at my lips as I answer it, and Sully glares at me.
“Pronto,” I greet my cousin.
“You know if you use this as an excuse right now, Sully will hold a grudge for about, mmm, three days, give or take, right?”
