Pearl’s walking beside me on our way to the karaoke bar. Noh’s walking between Patches and Stitches ahead of us. She catches me staring at Noh’s rear end. “Was it that good-looking?”

I glance at her, then watch the sidewalk in front of me. “What do you mean?”

She wouldn’t possibly buy that act, but she plays along. “Well, based on the way your eyes are glued to it, I can safely assume you got a good look at his virgin taint while he washed his hair in your shower.”

I blush and lower my head until my nose is almost dragging on the concrete. (He never said he was a virgin.) You know what she means. (Do we?) Shut up. “I don’t want to think about him like that,” I plea. “At first, maybe. But now I get him, and he gets me. At least, I think he does.”

“I’m sure he does,” Pearl says.

“Right,” I agree. “He’s a great friend, and I don’t want to ruin that with thoughts of sex.”

Pearl nods in understanding. We both look forward. I try hard to look over Noh’s tail. “You wouldn’t be the only one.”

I look at her, astonished. Is she talking about Noh thinking about me? Sexually? “How can you be sure?”

“I know how to steal a glance when ponies won’t notice,” she smirks.

I take a second of racing thoughts to come up with what she could mean. “The strip-tease…?”

She nods knowingly. “He did well to hide it, but you riled him up. And I won’t lie, I was even pretty turned-on.”

“Well thanks for the compliment,” I grumble. My gaze falls back forward. Then it drifts left to another attractive butt. “What about Stitches?”

I don’t see her face. I’m still watching him, the way his face lights up while he talks to Noh. “I didn’t notice, I wasn’t really watching him.” She must notice where I’m looking. And the look on my face; longing. “Are you sure you’re ok? With him?”

I shrug. “I thought I was…”

“Then he kissed you?” She finishes. I nod. She’s silent for a few seconds, then, “I see the way you’re staring.” What an odd thing to say. “Not jealousy…”

I breathe deep. “Envy,” I offer.

“Mmm, yeah…” More silence. “You know, you look the same way when you’re with him. With Noh.” She’s referencing the way Stitches looks. He’s just so happy talking with Noh.

I smile, though still feel sad. “He must have that effect on ponies.”

“If so, then you have nothing to worry about.” I wait for her to clarify. “I mean, you know, same as me, what it is Stitches wants. It isn’t Noh.”

I remember the look in his eyes before he kissed me. I was almost sure it was empathy. Does he feel the same as me? Desperate for something? Anything? But fearing making the wrong choice in desperation? If he did, he wouldn’t look for anything in Noh. “I guess you’re right.” I really shouldn’t have anything to worry about. Maybe he does just have that effect on ponies?

Pearl and I are quiet the rest of the way. I listen to the others talk about college life and work. I love hearing Noh talk about different plays and songs, and some issues he’s had with some roles. I hear Stitches mention things about nursing he’s never told me, but I’m not bitter. I smile when I see him smile.

When we get to the bar there’s a sign that tells us karaoke starts at 8:00 p.m.

“Well that’s great,” Patches grumbles.

“Well…” Stitches begins but we all know what he’s thinking and growl “No” in unison. A moment of laughter ensues and he complains jokingly, “It’s not like we have anything better to do.”

“I doubt the new guy would want to go to a gay bar,” Pearl points out. I trust she, if any of us, can tell he’s straight. She has a nose for that kind of thing. (What about what she just told you? About the strip-tease?) That’s a good point. Was she just covering up for his sake? Did she ever do that for me? I take a deep breath and push away the thought. It didn’t matter.

Noh chimes in, “I have a name, you know!”

“Right,” Pearl apologizes. “Sorry new guy.”

He rolls his eyes. “Look, I don’t mind where we go. I just… have my reasons to avoid that club.” I wonder what those reasons are. I know he told me he used to work there, and was embarrassed to admit it, but that can’t be enough to make him afraid to go back.

“How do you even know what club we’re talking about?” Pearl inclines.

“Yeah, and what’s wrong with it?” Patches adds.

He’s backing away, intimidated. His lips press together and he looks away, almost ashamed. “That’s… a story for a-another time, perhaps.”

They’re all silent after that. It’s getting awkward fast. “Why don’t we get some lunch?” I suggest.

They all perk up. “That sounds good.” I hear Pearl say it, but it seems to come from all of them.

“What do we all want?” Stitches asks. Noh gives me a grateful glance. I smile to him and he looks away.

I inhale to answer but Patches beats me to it, “Burgers!”

“That’s actually what I was gonna say,” I admit. It’s true.

“There’s a Dear Damsire’s a few streets over,” Pearl says.

“Sounds good,” Noh and Stitches harmonize.

Patches laughs and they hoof-bump. I smile, “Then it’s settled.”

“Awesome,” Pearl proclaimed. “This way!” She rears back and turns and I’m afraid she’s going to run off at a dead sprint, but instead she simply ambles along. It’s pretty funny to see her leap forward then transition to such a slow pace. We all follow closely in a tiny mob.

It’s quiet for about a block, when suddenly I hear singing. It starts off at a low hum, but raises in pitch and tempo. It’s Noh, walking behind me, singing a song from the last play. I listen and think he’s singing a reprise, the solo, but it’s the original which is a duet. It’s to be sung between the two male leads. One enters, describing a mare he met at a gathering they both went to. Then the other enters, following along with a note the first trails off. I oblige, singing the part that describes another mare in much the same ambiguous way as the first. The joke is that they both think they’re singing about the same mare, and end the scene with a friendly competition to see which of them can get the girl.

During the play, they go they’re different ways with plans to woo their mare. When each of them fails horribly, due to the heat of competition, they each find a new mare and end up bringing each other’s first choice to the ball at the end. The reprise is a short version for the first lead to sing about the mare he lost, then about the mare he won at the end. The other stallion sings a different reprise, one that’s actually a duet, with the lead female role.

Her story is that she had her eyes set on him from the beginning and kept shutting the first stallion down in hopes the second would make a move. She doesn’t even know about the bet until the finale.

I ignore the looks of strangers and harmonize almost flawlessly as he catches up to sing beside me. We sing back and forth, making up the rules of the game our characters are playing. Nothing like a friendly competition to strengthen a bond between two friends.

When it’s over our friends cheer, albeit half-heartedly. Pearl comments first, “If I didn’t know any better I’d guess you were singing about a filly.”

“Two different fillies, actually,” Noh corrects. “And why would you know better?”

She turns her head and looks at him funny. “’Cos of Timber?”

I’ll be honest, I didn’t know what he was asking. Apparently he didn’t understand what she meant. “What about him?”

“Umm, he’s gay,” she iterates.

The look on his face is priceless. “Oh my God, I…” he stutters, “I didn’t—I forgot. I’m sorry.”

I laugh a little, “How could you forget something like that?”

“I mean, you never really told me,” he says. “After last night it just slipped my mind.”

“And Patches’ present didn’t tip you off?” I’m messing with him, but I fear I might be taking it too far. “Or the dance?” I suddenly think I’m still wearing the panties, but remind myself I left them on my bed.

“I’m sorry, ok?” He’s genuinely broken up by this. “I really only guessed, at first.”

“It’s ok,” I try and calm him down. “According to these bozos I don’t exactly ‘act’ gay.” I was referring to how the girls would mock me on how I’d never get a boyfriend because I don’t let off a ‘gay vibe.’ I make a mental note that they never tease Stitches that way.

Noh sighs. “Ok, sorry.” I nod, thinking that’s the end of it. Then he leans in close and whispers, “Stitches too, right?”

“Right,” I assure immediately.

“Ok,” he nods and straightens up to keep walking. Then, “But you two aren’t…?”

“Mm-mm.” I shake my head ‘no.’

“Right.”

I look at him skeptically. “Why?” I ask.

“I’m just getting the story straight,” he claims. “Or rather… just making sure I’ve got it right.”

Wait, does he think “straight” is offensive to me? That’s cute. “Right, I get it.” I give a cheeky smile, like I get something he’s not telling me.

“Really, there’s no motive!”

I just laugh. He laughs, too. Awkwardly at first, then he gets that I was messing with him. There’s silence for a few more steps, but I still sense tension. I start singing a song from our current play. Another duet that he’s part of. He smiles at me, enjoying my singing, but when he doesn’t join in—even after some impatient gestures—I get upset. “Oh come on, how do you not know this one yet?”

“What, that’s from this one?” He backs away.

Everyone laughs, but I’m still a little peeved. “It’s your big love song!”

“Well we haven’t practiced it yet,” he says. “How do you know it?”

“I know all the songs. I make a point of memorizing every part in case an actor has questions.” No one has had any questions so far, but that’s always what the stage crew did back in high school. “I’ve always learned the whole script as fast as possible.”

“And you already know the love song?”

I roll my eyes. “Apparently.”

“And you wanted me to sing along?” Is he getting embarrassed?

Oh Celestia! I laugh at the comment, but I’m still peeved. “Obviously. I thought it would be fun.”

“Well,” Noh rumbles in a hilarious low note, “it might have been.” Not embarrassed.

Why did he say it like that? Like he was suddenly a bass instead of tenor. “Except you don’t know the song yet.”

He shrugs. “Must not be that important if we haven’t learned it yet.”

I noticed that too, a while ago actually. In high school we always did a read-through of the whole play and learned all the songs before practicing stage directions. Even the play they were working on when I joined up. They were almost done, but they already knew every line and song when they got to the directions of the ending scenes. After that they went back to specific scenes—marked by the stage director—that needed a little more work before hell week. Maybe the directors wanted to try something new? Maybe I just missed a step?

“So when does this love song come up?” Stitches interrupts my deep thought.

I snap back instantly to answer, “Halfway.” It’s half an answer. I’m still a little out of it, thinking about Bridleway’s order of operations.

“Halfway?” Patches asks for her confused brother.

“Yes.” I’m finally brought back to the issue at hoof, which is Noh and the song. “It leads into the intermission. You really haven’t learned it yet?”

“I read through the script,” Noh answers. “I didn’t learn any of the music yet, though, no. I’m not very good at sight-singing.”

“Well I can’t be much better than you,” I point out.

“Yeah but at least you’re not on the stage constantly.”

“No, but I’ve got a lot on my plate. Bridleway isn’t paying me, so I’m juggling that with an actual job, plus my hobbies. I don’t even get six hours of sleep most nights.”

Pearl interrupts, “Yeah when do you sleep?”

I exhale and try to calm down. This really isn’t a topic to get this upset about, and she probably knows that. “Whenever I can, really. Usually right after work.”

“At the café?” She asks.

“Yeah,” I sigh. I’m suddenly tired. I’m always tired, but never like this. This is almost debilitating.

“Hey,” Noh stops me. “Are you ok?”

I open my eyes. Everypony’s looking at me, worried. Well, Patches looks mostly skeptical. Why did I notice that? “Yeah,” I maintain. “Yes.” I lied. We wouldn’t stop now. Not like this. To my relief, my stomach growls. I turn to Pearl, “We almost there?”

“Oh,” she shakes herself, like she was deep in thought, “yeah. This way.” She leads on around one more corner and to the front door of Dear Damsire’s.

I look at the sign and smile at the name. It’s a clever title, but I have to wonder what inspired it. Stitches brings it up, too, “What even is a ‘damsire?’”

I answer, “It’s an old Equestrian word for ‘grandfather.’ Hasn’t been used in ages.” Really only a couple generations, but that’s basically the same thing. I yawn.

I hoped nopony noticed, but Noh touches my shoulder. I feel like I might get a bruise on that shoulder, with how often ponies put their hooves there. I smile at him. He knits his eyebrows in concern.

“So,” Patches blurts. “Lunch won’t take eight hours. What should we do after this?”

We seat ourselves at a fairly large, round table near the back. It’s mostly empty. “It’s more like six and a half hours, really,” I point out. “We were opening presents for a while.”

“We?” She scoffs.

I roll my eyes. “Ok, I. Plus there was the little dance I had to do.” It definitely didn’t feel like it took three hours though. So maybe it was closer to 1:00, or earlier. I look around for a clock.

Noh lifts a pocket watch from his bag and checks it. “It’s twelve forty-seven,” he announces. “We’ve got about seven hours, if lunch only takes thirteen minutes.”

“It’ll be longer than thirteen minutes,” Pearl promises.

A waitress comes up and takes all our orders one by one. I don’t remember what anypony ordered, even myself. It was good though.

While we wait for the burgers, I have a question come to mind for Noh. “How did you find out about the karaoke place?” I ask him.

“Oh,” he coughs, having been drinking from his soda. I smirk. “Well, when I first got started on Bridleway, Silver noticed I had trouble singing on stage.” Silver Sheet was our music director. He was married to the conductor, Lillith, and loved to show her off. “I didn’t think I did, but he could tell. He took me there and sang for me, showing off how carefree he was on stage in front of a live audience.” He was waving his hooves around while he told the story. Patches looked a tad uncomfortable with it. “I saw how fun it looked, so tried my best following him. It didn’t go well, which was odd. I’d done absolutely fine through every production during college, and even before! But singing that pop song in front of the whole bar…?” He just shakes his head and takes another drink.

“So,” Pearl comes in, “what changed?”

He swallows, “He sang with me. I didn’t even know the song, but he insisted on it and had me under his wing almost the whole time, literally.” He is a pegasus. “He danced with me, sort-of. More like, forced me to move around a lot while we sang. It was awful, but I had a lot of fun. Afterward he told me not to sing, so much as play. I thought it was funny, just because it’s called a ‘play,’ but we act.”

I smile, then my thoughts converge, “But isn’t it still playing?”

He’s in the middle of another drink. I have to wonder why he didn’t drink as much at my apartment. Did he not like the cola Pearl got? Why didn’t he say something? “What do you mean?”

“Well,” I don’t know how to explain. “It’s all make believe, and when you’re pretending to be a fictional character you’re basically playing a game. The only difference, on stage, is that you’re told what to say.”

He gets a really thoughtful look. “I never really thought of it before,” he admits. “You’re right though. That’s basically all it is!”

I smile. Maybe now that I understand it, it won’t be so hard to start acting? (And what makes you think you’re going to start acting?) What makes you think I won’t? (You’ve never wanted to be an actor!) So where were you during those four years of high school? (I mean you haven’t taken it seriously.) Acting isn’t all that serious, is it? (Why don’t you ask him?)

Stitches beats me to it, “So, how seriously do you take it? You know, acting?”

“Well,” he puts his cup down. “At first I took it very seriously. I took all kinds of notes and tried really hard. I memorized lectures and lessons and the likes, thought really hard about how to say certain lines. After a while it all started sinking in. Like Timber said, I started to just play, I guess. I fell into it, and it all came naturally.” He smiles at me and finishes, “You should have no problem with it.”