Second Chance Friends by Jennifer Scott

breathing.
    She was too far away to make out details, but she was close enough to see the cascading hair. They were practicing in costume now, and Sutton’s dress was tight and leggy. Joanna felt even more breathless at just the sight of her. It had been more than a month, but the feelings clearly hadn’t changed.
    Slowly, she walked toward the amphitheater, glancing around to make sure nobody noticed her. There was a smattering of onlookers perched in the seats—what Joanna would have derided as freeloaders once upon a time, but whom she now was grateful for, as she would stand out less.
    She sank into a seat near the back, watching intently as Sutton shook her hips and crossed her arms over her chest, flirty, owning the Adelaide role. Once, she could have sworn that Sutton had seen her there—that her eyes had lingered just a little too long in her direction, and that her smile had gotten just a little too relaxed—and she slid down farther in her plastic seat. But then Stan had stormed onto the stage, stopping the music abruptly, and had taken Sutton into quiet, wildly gesturing consult, and Joanna’s fears subsided. She watched as they started the number over, stopping and restarting it again two more times, and had to sit on her hands to keep from applauding when Sutton was finally finished and allowed to leave the stage.
    She probably should have left then. But she couldn’t tear herself away, partly because she was afraid the momentshe’d leave, Sutton would come back onstage, and she’d miss a chance to study her one more time.
    She’d been so engrossed in watching the girl who’d replaced her screw up all her lines and look totally wooden onstage, she didn’t even notice that someone was approaching her from the aisle.
    â€œJoanna?” she heard whispered, and her head whipped to the side.
    Sutton was coming toward her, in full makeup, her costume swishing against the seats. Joanna’s heart plummeted somewhere beneath her feet, and she felt all her blood leave her head. She felt dizzy and had to remind herself to take a breath.
    She plastered a smile on her face. “Sutton. Hey,” she whispered back. “You were amazing. As usual.”
    Sutton looked confused. “What are you doing here? Eliot said you quit.”
    Joanna shrugged. “Kind of got fired is more like it,” she said. She gestured to her shorts. “I was out for a jog and thought I’d see how progress was going. It looks great. You look great.”
    Sutton blushed, brushed at the front of her costume. “It’s a little retro-femme for my taste,” she said.
    â€œYou pull it off,” Joanna said, but then trailed away as the tension felt heavy in the air. This was how it always was between her and women she fell for. Was it this way for other girls with men? She could talk so easily to Stephen, but then again she didn’t see Stephen as anything more than a friend. She could feel blood begin to rush to her owncheeks, certain she’d said too much, had laid her cards too boldly on the table. What if she’d misread Sutton all this time? Or worse, what if she’d read her correctly? She wasn’t any more ready now than she’d been with Alyria.
    â€œThank you,” Sutton said.
    The music stopped abruptly, and Joanna could hear Stan giving animated instructions, punctuating his point by pounding his foot in a specific spot on the stage over and over again. Joanna’s replacement stood with her hands tucked into her stomach, nodding vigorously, looking overwhelmed. She almost felt sorry for her—Stan could overwhelm even the most seasoned community theater actor.
    â€œI should probably get back to my run,” Joanna said, edging out of the aisle.
    â€œOh. Okay. Yeah,” Sutton said. “I suppose I should get . . .” She gave an awkward backhand wave toward the stage.
    â€œSee