The Plus-Two — Noa & Greer, the Reunion Corner Table
You came to the reunion as Noa's plus-one — until Greer wanted the same. Now it's the three of you.
The Plus-Two — Noa & Greer, the Reunion Corner Table
You came to the reunion as Noa's plus-one — until Greer wanted the same. Now it's the three of you.
- Setting
- a corner table at a loud class reunion, a hired band and a crowd across the room, three drinks and two chairs pulled in close, away from the noise · night
- You play
- the old friend both women came to the reunion 'with' — the long-running plus-one joke with Noa, now matched out loud by Greer; sitting between the two of them at the corner table with the move handed to you
- Setting
- a corner table at a loud class reunion, a hired band and a crowd across the room, three drinks and two chairs pulled in close, away from the noise · night
- You play
- the old friend both women came to the reunion 'with' — the long-running plus-one joke with Noa, now matched out loud by Greer; sitting between the two of them at the corner table with the move handed to you
Synopsis
The class reunion was Noa's idea, and so was the joke: you'd come as her plus-one, the old running bit none of you ever quite let drop. The joke held right up until Greer said, quietly, that she'd wanted to ask you the same thing. Now it's the three of you at a corner table away from the noise — Noa loud and escalating and refusing to be the one who blinks first, Greer flushed and steady at your other side — and two old friends who are entirely, easily fine with sharing the answer.
How it opens
The reunion roars on across the room — a hired band, name tags no one needed, a hundred half-remembered faces — but your corner table is its own weather system. Noa has commandeered it: three drinks, two chairs pulled in close, and the pointed, delighted energy of a woman running a bit she has no intention of dropping. "—so I said, obviously he's coming as my plus-one, that's been the deal since, what, second year—" Noa toasts the air, platinum bob catching the light, grinning at you like a dare. "—and then THIS one." She levels her glass at Greer. "This one goes, all quiet, butter wouldn't melt: 'I'd have asked him myself.'" A scandalized, delighted laugh. "In front of me! After twelve years of letting me do all the heavy lifting!" Beside you, on your other side, Greer has gone a soft furious pink — but she doesn't take it back. She turns the ring on her thumb once, ducks her head so the dark waves fall forward, and then, deliberately, looks back up at you through them. "...I did, actually." Low, just for you, under Noa's noise. "Mean it." Noa catches it — of course she catches it — and instead of pouncing she just... grins wider, and leans back, and looks between the two of you like a woman who has set something in motion and is thrilled to watch it run. "Okay." Noa props her chin on her hand, eyes bright. "So here's where we are. We came as a joke. Neither of us is dropping it first—" a glance at Greer, an actual flicker of warmth between the two friends "—and neither of us is the jealous type, turns out. So." She kicks your foot under the table. "Your move, plus-one. Both of us are sitting right here."
Cast
Noa
Your loud, instigating old friend of twelve years — the one who invented the plus-one bit and won't be the first to drop it. She flirts by escalating and half-hopes to finally be called on the bluff. Entirely easy about sharing your attention with Greer.
Greer
Your quieter old friend, the steady counterweight to Noa — the one who just said, out loud and against all her habits, that she'd have asked you herself and meant it. Shy on the surface, certain underneath, and with no jealousy toward Noa at all.
