I’d been given one hint about the evening: to dress nice, but not ballgown nice. Of course, this vagueness was from Charlie, and why wouldn’t he drive me crazy?

Alex had texted, asking me to dinner, and I’d been ready to say yes, but then Charlie said it was time for another adventure and the choice was far too easy. I knew I should have chosen Alex, but lately, doing what I should do didn’t feel as enticing as it used to.

Since I had no idea what we were doing, I wore black tuxedo pants, with a—surprise—black sheer top and patent heels. Wearing proper clothing to suit the occasion had been drilled into my head, and as much as I tried to eschew the rigidity of my upbringing, that was a hard one to ditch.

When I opened the door to Charlie, he looked me up and down and whistled.

“The Lady in Black returns,” he said.

“She never left!” I gestured down to my simple, but classic clothing. “This was my best guess at what ‘nice, but not ballgown nice’ could mean.”

“Believe me, it works,” he said, with what I thought was a heavy dose of appreciation in his voice.

And then I noticed what Charlie was wearing, and how he looked in it, and it was suddenly very hard to breathe. His dark red button-down shirt and grey pants were perfectly fitted to his athletic build, showing off his strong shoulders and tapered waist. I had only ever seen him in either jeans or athletic clothes, so dressed-up Charlie left me light-headed.

“Let’s do this thing,” he said, offering me his arm.

“Still not telling me where we’re going?” I asked as we left my apartment.

“Nope. But I think you’ll like it, and we’re going to be a little rebellious. Just trust me.”

“You know I do,” I said.

And strangely, I really did trust Charlie. All my life I’d been put in a box and expected to stay there to please my parents, and then later, to please Edward. When I couldn’t do it anymore, my parents had turned their backs on me and Edward had tried to push me back in and close the lid. When I met Charlie, I was clawing my way back out of the box and he saw that and helped me rip it apart. Because he could see that’s what I wanted.

Charlie was driving north on 95 and I had a feeling we were going to the city.

“Baltimore?” I asked.

“Mmhmm.”

“You’re really not going to tell me?” I asked.

“Mm-mmm.”

I laughed. “Okay, well tell me how your day was then?”

“Decent. I FaceTimed with my parents and they convinced me to come visit in July, so I played around with ticket prices for a while. Then I worked in the shop and gave a drum lesson to a new student. She’s six and rad and the cutest thing in the world. Oh, and I watched you cutting hair across the street. That took up the majority of my day.”

“Stalker! So you’re the reason I had chills up and down my spine all day, huh? You could have walked over and said hi.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Really? I thought you had a whole ‘no talking’ rule.”

“Weeellll...you could have come over when I was in between clients,” I conceded.

He hit the steering wheel with his fist. “I knew it! You would have kicked my scruffy ass to the curb if I’d stepped foot into your fancy salon full of fancy ladies.”

“You’re nuts! James gets his hair cut at the salon, and he’s basically a mountain man,” I said.

“Isn’t James like a gazillionaire computer genius, though? He’s as fancy as the rest of you.”

“You may be exaggerating slightly.”

He held his thumb and index finger an inch apart. “Just slightly.”

“Don’t I owe you a haircut?” I asked.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten. I’m going to claim payment any day now. Just you wait.”

I reached over and rubbed my hand up the back of his hair. “You are getting a bit shaggy there, buddy.”

He chuckled and leaned his head back into my hand, so I let it linger there, my fingertips lightly stroking his short hair.

“Does it physically pain you to see people with bad hair?” he asked.

“Maybe just a little. But only because I want people to look their best. And eighties feathered bangs and mullets aren’t anyone’s best,” I said.

I played with his hair for a while as we drove into the city. I still couldn’t tell where we were going based on where Charlie was driving.

“I’m really jealous of your Japan trip. I’ve always wanted to go there. Some of my favorite hair stylists are Japanese. I’d love to go and visit some salons. Someday,” I said.

“You should come with me,” he said.

I laughed, because clearly he was joking. There was no way he was serious about inviting me along with him to Japan.

He glanced over at me. “I’m completely serious, Eliza. You’re coming.”

I turned in my seat to face him fully. “That’s...something I’ll really have to think about. I know you say you’re serious, but I can’t tell if you actually are. Plus, I don’t know if I can take the time off work and—”

He cut me off. “Just say yes. You’re the boss, so you can take the time. It’ll be awesome.”

I just stared at him, not quite sure what to think. A huge part of me wanted to say yes, but committing to traveling across the world with Charlie was a big deal. Hell, in a couple months, I could have a boyfriend. I hoped I would at the very least be dating someone. How could this possibly be a good idea?

Charlie turned off the car and looked at me. “Stop thinking so much. Just say yes. I’ll book our tickets tonight.”

I held a finger up. “I’m paying for my own ticket.”

“Obviously. What am I, made of money? And it sounds like you’re agreeing to go to Japan with me.” He leaned over and brushed my bangs out of my eyes—still needed a haircut, but also never wanted Charlie to stop doing that.

“I’m not sure I did. But if I did, it’s only because you tricked me! Let’s put a pin in it and talk about this another time, okay?” I looked around and realized we were in a parking garage. “So, uh, where are we?”

Charlie checked the time on his phone. “Right on time. Let’s go and you’ll see.”

When we left the parking garage, the lights on the marquee across the street attracted my attention. We were facing the Hippodrome Theatre and tonight’s show was Wicked. I looked at Charlie’s smiling face, then back at the marquee, and then back at Charlie.

“Is this...are we…Wicked...?” I was too excited to form actual coherent sentences.

He chuckled. “We are, but we’re not going in the front door.”

“Are we going to be arrested?”

Charlie grabbed my shoulders. “Why do you always think I’m going to get you arrested?”

I shrugged. “Seems plausible.”

He laughed and booped my nose. “Come on, my friend is waiting for us. He’s going to hook us up.”

He held my hand and pulled me along, bypassing the front doors and leading us to the side of the building. He knocked a tune on a plain metal door, and after a long beat, it opened and a man in all black stuck his head out.

“Heeeeey, my guy!” the man said, pulling Charlie in for a bro-hug.

“Long time no see, man!” He tugged me closer. “This is my friend Eliza. Eliza, my friend Elliot. We used to tour together with the band.”

Elliot was a compact guy with curly dark hair and multiple facial piercings, dressed in all black. He also had a warm, friendly smile.

“Nice to meet you, Eliza. Are you ready for a treat?” He pushed the door open wide and we went inside. It took a second for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, but I realized we were backstage. Elliot led the way with a small flashlight.

“What’s happening?” I whispered.

“Elliot’s part of the stage crew for the show. He’s hooking us up with the best seats in the house that no one knows about,” Charlie said.

I’d grown up going to the theatre in D.C. and New York. It was one of the parts of my childhood I’d always be grateful for. The funny thing was, my parents were going to take me to see Wicked on Broadway when I was thirteen, but they’d been disappointed in my shaky performance at the club’s piano recital, so as punishment, they left me at home while they went to the show. I was completely heartbroken, having memorized all the songs in preparation. I had told Charlie about it in one of our early conversations, just to illustrate how shitty my parents were. Had he actually remembered my story? It had to just be a coincidence.

“Here you go, your seats for the show,” Elliot said.

Two folding chairs were set up just off the side of the stage, hidden from the audience by a small curtain. Goosebumps formed on my arms when I saw just how close we would be to the stage.

“I’ll check back with you later. Just remember to stay in your seats and be as quiet as you can. And no clapping. Got it?” Elliot asked.

Charlie and I nodded obediently and sat down, and then Elliot wandered away, speaking into a walkie-talkie.

I raised my eyebrows at Charlie, and mouthed, “Oh my god!”

He grinned, then whispered in my ear, “Excited?”

I nodded and whispered back, “Very. Thank you.”

He traced a finger down my cheek. “You’re so welcome.”

When the lights went down and the show started, I grabbed Charlie’s hand tight and held it through the entire show. I mouthed the words to most of the songs and had tears in my eyes during “Defying Gravity.” The show was beyond perfect, beyond all my expectations. From where we were sitting, I could see the sweat on the actors’ brows, their expressions, and their voices were so crisp and clear, it felt like they were singing directly to us. I spent two and a half hours in a state of sheer elation, utterly transfixed by the story and the set and the music.

During intermission, Elliot brought us bottles of water and made sure we were doing okay, then scurried off to do his job. He came back at the end of the show, and I sprang up and gave him a huge hug.

“Thank you so much! This was out of this world!” I gushed.

He laughed and patted my back. “Glad you liked it! Ready to meet the cast?”

My eyes almost fell out of my head. “No!”

Charlie wrapped his arm around my shoulders. “Yes!”

I leaned my head back on the headrest and sighed. “Best night ever.”

Charlie looked over from the driver’s seat. “And you didn’t even get arrested.” He squeezed my hand, then said softly, “I’m glad you finally got to see Wicked.”

“You remembered?” I asked, feeling breathless. He remembered.

“Of course. I remember everything you tell me.” He tapped on the side of his head. “Steel trap.”

I was sliding in deep with this guy, and he had no idea. Our whole friendship had started on the premise of bringing me out of my suburban, uptight, rigid shell, but it had turned into Charlie showing me a side of himself that was irresistible. If this was how he treated his friends, what would it be like to be really loved by him?

I had to stop thinking that way.

Charlie is my friend.

This had to stop. I had to stop letting him take me to such special things. I had to see other men—men who were interested in kissing me and maybe more. Hopefully more.

But I didn’t want it to stop. I wanted to let myself get buried in everything that was Charlie. I wanted to see where he would take me, in every way.

“You’re quiet over there,” he said.

“Just thinking about the night. No one has ever done anything like that for me.”

“Well, that’s a damn shame. And I have to tell you, I did it a little bit for myself too.”

I laughed and nudged his shoulder. “It’s good to know you can enjoy a musical. I haven’t been to one in years because Edward thought they were stupid. He’d say, ‘Why sing when talking is perfectly fine?’”

“I’m sorry. I can’t picture you with someone who doesn’t appreciate music. And for the record, I like to say: why talk when you can siiiiiiiing!” Charlie sang the last word operatically, drawing it out for several seconds. And my heart sang with him, only it was belting out his name.

When we got back to Tiber City, Charlie walked me to my building and gave me a quick hug.

I grasped his hand in both of mine and caught his eyes. “Thank you again for tonight. It was one of my top ten favorite nights of my life. Actually, probably top five.”

He smiled gently and said, “Wow. I’ve set the bar high, huh?”

I nodded. “Anyone I date in the future will really have to work hard to impress me.”

Charlie sighed. “Right. Well, big run tomorrow.” He nudged my chin with his knuckle. “See you in the morning, kid.”

Then, before I could reply, he was gone, walking toward his place.

I climbed my stairs slowly. That had been an abrupt ending to an otherwise wonderful night.

I didn’t know what to do with any of it: my feelings for Charlie, his apparent lack of romantic feelings for me, and all of the confusion and frustration it was bringing.

So, I took out my phone and sent a text.

Hey, are you free for dinner this week?

And within a minute, I had a reply.

Thought you’d never ask. How about Wednesday evening? I’ll pick you up?

I bit the corner of my lip. Why couldn’t everything be this easy?

Sounds perfect. I’m looking forward to it, Alex.