𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 • Neil Perry

Chapter 8

THURSDAY came around awfully fast. In the beginning it felt as though time couldn't move fast enough, and now it seemed as though the hours ticked away too fast.

Backstage of the Everett Theatre, Sarah handed Milly a tailoring tape measure. "You have to get the circumference of his head," she explains, pointing to the centre of her temple, "from this part of his forehead to the back," and then the very back of her crown.

"And Ginny?" Milly asks.

"Loretta took her measurements earlier."

"Perfect." She took no time in heading to the dressing room, where she knew who'd be waiting for her in the high vanity chair.

Neil Perry. He'd been reading his lines to himself from his script, strolling idly in the small space, dressed in his Welton uniform.

"Knock knock," Milly voiced as she barely tapped her knuckles against the open door.

Neil came to a sharp stop, his eyes shooting up so fast she wouldn't have been surprised if he caught whiplash.

She felt so small under his scrutiny, "I hope I'm not disturbing you."

"No, I was told someone would come," he says softly. "I was just making use of the wait."

"Sensible."

His lips upturned easily with a smile, one that made her legs feel heavy underneath her.

She gestured over to the vanity. "You can sit, just turn the chair around to face me."

"Alright." He did just as he was told, turning the chair so it was facing away from the mirror before sitting himself down.

Milly began to extend the tape a little in her hand to make somewhat of a start, and stood directly in front of Neil. Even with her focus welded into his forehead, she could feel his eyes on her.

"So, uh," he begins hesitantly, "are you getting my measurements?"

"Just your head so we can start working on your crown." She doesn't tear her eyes away from said head, pressing the tape to his temple as she was instructed.

"Oh."

She felt the corner of her lips twitch a little. "Is that a good 'Oh' or is that a bad 'Oh'?"

"I'm not sure..." The uncertainty was clear as day in his tone. And after a brief silence as Milly pulled the tape around his head, he spoke again, "It's Thursday."

"I noticed." She didn't meet his eye once.

"So you're ready to seize the day..." Until she did. "...with me?"

Her eyes flickered back up to his head where her right hand pressed down on the start of the tape as her other tried to figure out which unit the roll fixed against it. "You're persistent, I'll give you that."

"I call it sucking the marrow out of life."

"D'you always speak in riddles?"

"Riddles and poetry are hardly one and the same," he says.

She got the measurement, pulling down the tape, and allowed herself to look into his brown eyes. "Well, riddle me this. We get in my car and drive, not knowing where we're going. How long can that last?"

"Who said we didn't know where we're going?" Neil's eyebrows dip. "I know a place."

"Oh really?"

"Really," Neil simpers, pleased with himself. "It's close to Welton," and his eyes cast down to her free hand he took in his own. Then he looked up again, faced with her cheeks flaring a rosy red. "Intimate."

"What? Your bedroom?"

Neil laughs at that. He let his thumb run over the back of her hand, his eyes unmoving. "One night. That's all I ask."

Number 10 on the list flared in her mind, and that red arrow drew itself to the forefront of her brain.

"My friend's throwing a party Friday night," she says. "I can't be late home two nights in a row. My parents would never allow it."

Neil slumped back in his seat, unable to hide his disappointment.

"I'm sorry," Milly assures, not wanting to hide how much she meant it.

And he could see that she did. That's why it was beyond him why she wouldn't just dive into the deep end with him. Why couldn't seizing the day be as easy as it rolled off the tongue?

"There's really nothing else I can say that'll change your mind is there?" Neil says it more as a statement than a question.

But she answered anyway, suspecting he expected an answer. "No, I'm afraid not."

His eyes shifted between hers, searching for something—anything. But all he got was nothing. All he ever got was nothing. "Well, uh..." he let go of her hand. "Have fun at your party."

"Believe me, I'd hardly say there's any fun to be had," she rolls her eyes.

"Then why are you going?" he asks frustratedly.

"All my friends'll be there."

"Are any friends more special than others?"

She wasn't sure why he was so sullen when he asked, especially when the friend that came to mind was blonde and perkier than ever. "Yeah... I suppose there's this one friend I have that I..." But then it hit her. "Oh! Neil, no. It's a she, not a he. There's no one else."

Neil visibly seemed relieved to hear it.

"I promise."

His eyes cast down to his lap for a moment, and she was sure she lost him there and then.

But whatever he was thinking in that brief moment, it was enough to get him to smile.

He looked up again. "You are good at keeping promises."

"Well, I only make promise I know I can keep."

His eyes softened in that way they always did. His eyebrows would upturn first and then something about his face would make him look so vulnerable. Perhaps it was the dilated pupils or that side smile, she wasn't to know, but she knew that vulnerability was reserved for her.

Then he began to lean forward, slowly, carefully, but unmistakably.

And that red arrow blinked in her head like a traffic light. "I should get the measurements to Mrs Woolworth."

"Yeah, no, uh..." he sat back, heat trickling up the back of his neck, "I hope my head's an ordinary size."

Milly flicked his shoulder with her thumb and index finger, unable to resist the thought residing in her brain. "I'm sure you have bigger things to offer."

And she left the room, leaving Neil behind in a remarkably stunned silence.