Ivy Series Teacher Student Romance - Boxed Set: Romance Boxed Sets for Kindle Unlimited (Ivy Series - Teacher Student Romance Book 7)

by Suzy K Quinn

  I look at myself in the mirror. My lips are big – true. And my eyes are okay. A nice brown colour, with really long eyelashes. But I’m not stunningly beautiful, like Jennifer is supposed to be.

  I know I should go back to studying the play, but my fingers stray to the keyboard, and I find myself Googling: Marc Blackwell girlfriend.

  Images come up of beautiful Hollywood women, linking arms with Marc at various premiers and parties. They’re all truly stunning. Straight, white teeth, glowing skin, shiny hair and gorgeous clothes.

  I read the articles, and they all talk about Marc being seen ‘partying all night’ with someone, or ‘leaving a hotel’. But none talk about a girlfriend.

  If all these beautiful women can’t make him commit, I guess there’s no hope for anyone, I think, and with a sliver of annoyance, I realise I’m disappointed.

  Why, Sophia? Did you think you’d win him over, because he remembered your audition?

  Of course not. And yet, when we spoke in the woods this morning ... about light and dark ...

  I shake the thought from my mind. Marc Blackwell is not interested in a young student from a farming village.

  I check my watch and realise, with a stomach flip, that it’s nearly time for my audition.

  Chapter 16

  The Queen’s Theatre at Ivy College was built in honour of Dame Gabriela Knight. I know this because outside the red-brick theatre building, there’s a gold plaque telling me about the esteemed actress who made the theatre possible.

  It tells me something else too. The theatre was commissioned last year and finished just three months ago. Which means we’ll be the first students to use it. In fact, it’s entirely possible I will be the first student to use it. Which does nothing for my nerves.

  I think about the old man I met on my audition day, and what he said about Marc turning the whole building to glass and concrete. This theatre has been built to look exactly like the other buildings. Which suggests Marc isn’t out to ruin the look and history of Ivy College after all.

  I push open the double doors, which are arched like everything else around here, and find the theatre in darkness and silence.

  To my left, I find a white panel of light switches and flick them all on.

  Rows of plush, red-velvet seats appear, lined up in front of a curved stage made from highly polished wood. The stage itself is bright now, and seeing it makes my heart leap. I love stages. I love being on stage. I love looking out at the darkened faces of the audience, hearing their reactions as I perform.

  My romance with the stage chases away my worries, and all I can think about is going up those steps. I just love performing. I become myself on stage. My true self.

  Hanging from the ceiling are dozens of lights that I’m guessing cost thousands each.

  Everything is in place, but there’s no Marc. I suck in my breath and venture further inside.

  As I reach the stage, I hear the door slam and clipped footsteps. I spin around.

  Marc Blackwell walks towards the stage. He’s wearing a black short-sleeved t-shirt that’s tight against his shoulders and pale biceps. No jacket. Black trousers. His long, white fingers are curved around a laptop case handle.

  It’s cold outside, but Marc seems completely oblivious to the temperature.

  He sees me, but doesn’t say a word at first. Instead, he walks right to the front row and takes a seat.

  ‘Hel-lo.’ I stammer.

  ‘Good afternoon, Miss Rose.’ His voice is so deep, I feel it all the way to my feet.

  ‘After seeing your Lady Macbeth, I’m very keen to see what you’ll do with this role. As I’m sure you’ll have guessed, I picked a part I thought would challenge you.’

  I swallow. ‘Yes,’ I say. ‘Thank you.’

  He stares at me intently, a devilish smile pulling at the corners of his lips. I feel my face freeze, and my limbs become awkward. Why do I get so self-conscious around him? He’s only my teacher. I’ve had teachers before. But the way he looks at me – I feel naked. Not just naked, totally exposed. Like he’s taking in everything. Every mark and flaw, and there’s nowhere to hide.

  ‘Well?’ he says eventually.

  ‘Well what?’ I ask.

  ‘What are you waiting for? Get up on the stage.’

  ‘Oh. Right. Sorry,’ I murmur, finding the three wooden steps up to the stage. I stumble on the first one, and catch myself on smooth wood.

  ‘Nervous?’ Marc gets to his feet.

  ‘Yes,’ I admit.

  ‘Don’t be.’ He takes my arm and helps me up. I feel his warmth against my skin and smell that woodland smell again, mixed with soap and cigarette smoke. It’s intoxicating and I find myself breathing it in.

  ‘What you asked before, about light and dark,’ I say. ‘You didn’t give me time to answer.’

  Marc raises an eyebrow. ‘That’s because I didn’t need an answer. It was a rhetorical question. I was asking myself, as much as anyone. On the stage, Miss Rose.’

  I climb up on stage, and clear my throat. I’m not going to let him get away with that. He asked me the question, and I have the answer for him. ‘My answer is, I see light in you hidden by dark. You want people to believe you’re nothing but dark. But you’re not. Everyone has light in them.’ I look at the floor.

  Marc steps back, his eyebrows pulling together. ‘Not everyone.’

  ‘Everyone,’ I say.

  Marc turns away. I catch his expression in profile, and his eyes look momentarily lost. There’s a long pause. Then Marc runs a hand through his hair, and turns to me. ‘Let’s begin,’ he says, his voice softer than before. He opens his laptop case and pulls out a script. ‘Here we are. Call of the Night. Our femme fatale, Jennifer. Persuading Jonathan to give her the part.’

  I clear my throat again, and head to the centre of the stage. ‘I’ll try my best,’ I say. ‘But it’s so different from the parts I usually play.’

  ‘I know,’ says Marc. ‘That’s why I selected it. I looked over your CV, and the notes I made at your audition. You were ... bewitching. That’s the word for it.’ His eyes drift to the script, and he says, ‘Dangerously bewitching. I’ve never pitied Lady Macbeth before, or felt protective towards her. But when you played her ... quite a gift you have. But from what I can see, you’ve never played anything too provocative. All very nicey nicey parts, and usually naive young girls. I want to see your sultry side. Jennifer knows what she wants. She uses her body and brain to succeed. Let’s see what you make of her.’

  ‘Right.’ I take the play from my pocket, but Marc bounds up the stage steps and takes it from my hands.

  ‘No,’ he says. ‘Why do you think I gave you so little time to practise? I’d like to see you feel the part. To use your subconscious and your imagination to become the character.’

  ‘But I really don’t know the character too well.’ I can feel the heat of his body. He’s too close. It’s making me dizzy, and suddenly there’s a magnet in my chest and he’s metal. I’m being pulled towards him. I can’t handle it. I take a step back. ‘Mr Blackwell, I don’t think I can do this.’

  ‘You can.’

  ‘I need more time,’ I say. ‘I’m not good enough to play this part right now. I need to practise -’

  Marc shakes his head. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

  I feel tears coming, and am annoyed with myself. Why do I have to be so sensitive?

  ‘Look at me,’ he whispers.

  I do, and see his eyes searching mine. Warmth rushes into my chest.

  ‘You can do it,’ says Marc. ‘You are what you believe you are. If you believe you’re not good enough, then you’ll fail. Here, in my college, I make sure everyone believes in themselves. You’re a good actress. I’ve seen you perform. You can do this. I’ll start reading as Jonathan, and you jump in, okay?’

  He steps back, and begins pacing around the stage.

  ‘Okay.’ I clear my throat again, and try to make my body feel more like Jennifer. But I’m so up
tight. So rigid. Fear is holding me captive. I shake my arms.

  Come on, Sophia. Get a grip.

  ‘Ready?’ Marc asks.

  I give a little nod. ‘Ready.’

  Chapter 17

  ‘Thank you for your time, Jennifer,’ Marc begins, his posture and voice changing to that of an older man. It’s amazing, seeing him transform like that. Everything about him is different – his voice, his posture, his eyes. ‘I’ve seen enough for today. I’ll let you know.’

  I swallow, thinking of the script. The words buzz around my mind, tripping over themselves and confusing me. He wants me to ad lib, I think. I try to let it all go. Instead of feeling fear, I try to feel what Jennifer must be feeling, as the type of person she is. Angry. Frustrated. To have worked so hard for a part, and not be given it.

  ‘Oh, I don’t think you’ve seen enough at all,’ I say, feeling my shoulders pull back, and my hips sway to the left. ‘I really do have so much more to show you.’

  Something flashes in Marc’s eyes. He’s pleased.

  ‘No, we’re finished,’ says Marc. He’s such an amazing actor. I feel like he’s aged ten years right in front of me, and yet he’s still so charismatic. So captivating. His posture, his voice ... amazing. ‘I have many more dancers to see today.’

  ‘Really?’ I raise an eyebrow and step towards him. ‘Because I think maybe, if you can postpone them, I can win you over.’

  I’m doing it, I’m doing it, I think. I’m becoming Jennifer. Just keep going. Keep it up.

  ‘Oh?’ Marc asks.

  I know the words I want to say. The words the character should say. But they stick in my throat.

  ‘Well?’ Marc cocks his head.

  I shake my head. ‘I know what I want to say, but ... it’s hard to get the words out.’

  ‘Okay.’ He jumps down the theatre steps, and takes a seat. ‘I was pushing you. That was the idea. But this is definitely an area you need to build on. If you can’t play a provocative role, you’ll always be limited in how open you can be with the audience.’

  A provocative role. I feel myself shiver at those words. How can he say them so easily, whereas I can only pretend to play a femme fatale for a few minutes? I feel pathetic.

  ‘I can’t honestly say this was as impressive as your last performance,’ says Marc. ‘Nowhere near, actually. We’ll see.’ He folds his fingers together. ‘Okay. Performance finished. Let the next one in, would you?’

  I freeze on stage.

  ‘Let me try again. I can do this.’

  Marc looks up from the script. ‘Perhaps,’ he says. ‘But I don’t give second chances.’

  I nod and swallow, knowing my eyes are pulling down with disappointment. I walk down the stage steps, past Marc and along the seating aisle. At the door, I turn back.

  ‘I feel like I’ve let you down,’ I say. ‘I should have been able to play that part better.’

  We stare at each other, and I feel something pass between us. Electricity. A connection. It’s the strangest feeling, and when I look at Marc, I know he feels something too. His mouth opens, just a little, then he turns his head away, and the connection is gone.

  ‘Yes, you should have,’ says Marc. The hardness is back in his voice.

  What does that mean? I think. Was my performance good enough to pass or not?

  Outside the theatre, Ryan is waiting.

  ‘Dropped any more books recently?’ he says.

  I ignore him.

  Chapter 18

  In the cafeteria, there are comfy looking red sofas and armchairs away from where the food is being served, and Tanya is curled up on a chair, studying The Taming of the Shrew. She stares intently at the pages. She’ll probably do a great job of her performance.

  The thought depresses me. Have I failed? What if I’m out? I sink into a comfy chair beside her, thinking I might treat myself to a cheer-up hot chocolate.

  I think of how, moments ago, I was standing so close to Marc and feel my chest grow tight. And that look we shared ... was the look on his face just recognition that yet another woman had a crush on him?

  ‘Hey Tanya,’ I say.

  ‘Hey,’ she says, pushing her glasses up her nose. ‘How’s it shaking? How did the audition go with Mr Big?’

  ‘I don’t know. Not great, I guess. He didn’t care about me using lines from the play. He ... he wanted me to ad lib.’

  ‘I’m terrible at ad libbing,’ says Tanya. ‘My worst skill. Still. It’ll be good practise. You don’t look so happy.’

  I nod. ‘It was ... strange. And so hard. I just crumpled under the pressure.’ I put my head in my hands. ‘Maybe I don’t deserve to be here after all.’

  Tanya comes and puts her arms around me. ‘He’s making it tough, but it’s good for us,’ she says. ‘Think how amazing it is that you got to perform in front of an Oscar-winning actor. Don’t beat yourself up. It’s only the first performance.’ Tanya checks her watch. ‘Yikes. I’d better go. Wish me luck.’

  ‘Break a leg,’ I say, managing a smile.

  Now I’m alone in the cafeteria. All the other students must be in their rooms, practising. I decide to phone Jen. My insides feel like a washing machine full of clothes, spinning round and round, muddled and confused.

  I order a frothy hot chocolate with whipped cream and marshmallows, and dial Jen’s number on my iPhone – the latest model, thanks to my scholarship.

  ‘BABE!’ Jen screeches down the phone. ‘I was waiting for your call. I didn’t want to bother you while you were settling in, but I’m DYING to know how it all is. What’s he like?’

  I don’t need to ask who he is. ‘He’s ... interesting.’

  ‘Oh?’

  I tell Jen everything – the class, the performance and Marc saying he hasn’t seen the best of me. I haven’t quite figured out a way to explain the look we shared, and now I’m no longer with Marc, I wonder if I imagined the whole thing.

  ‘Wow,’ Jen says, when I’m finished. ‘Difficult first day. Trial by fire, and all of that. But it sounds like he’s a good teacher. I mean, that’s what he’s supposed to do, isn’t it? Stretch you and challenge you?’

  ‘I suppose.’

  ‘And he’s right. You do usually play nicey nicey parts. So. Is he as cold as you remember?’

  ‘In some ways,’ I say. ‘But I think, deep down, there’s a warmth to him. I felt it today. I think.’

  ‘I guess everyone has a nice side.’

  ‘I feel so frustrated with myself, right now,’ I say. ‘I won’t find out if I passed until tomorrow afternoon at the earliest. That’s when we have a lecture with him again. What if I’m off the course?’

  ‘You won’t be,’ says Jen. ‘I know how good an actress you are. Wow. You’ve just had a one-on-one with Marc Blackwell. Intense Marc Blackwell.’

  ‘He’s that alright,’ I say. Suddenly, the newspaper article about Marc’s sister spins through my mind. ‘Jen, did you see the paper this morning?’

  ‘I didn’t get round to it yet. But wait, I have a whole pile of them here. Which one?’

  ‘Any of the tabloids,’ I say.

  There’s a rustling, then silence. ‘Poor guy. Wow. If she’s dealing drugs, then no doubt she’s taking them too. It must be hard, having a drug addict in the family.’

  ‘The article I read mentions a scandal about his sex life,’ I blurt out.

  Jen laughs loudly. ‘There are loads of scandals about Marc Blackwell. Which one?’

  ‘Tanya read something online. About him liking to being in charge in the bedroom,’ I say. ‘And using ropes and stuff.’

  ‘Sounds about right,’ says Jen. ‘He comes across as very domineering. Why – are you thinking about ending up in a bedroom with him?’

  I know she’s joking, but my silence tells her all she needs to know.

  ‘Sophia!’

  ‘No,’ I say, far too quickly. ‘At least ... what would be the point? He’d never be interested in a girl like me.’

  ‘W
hy not?’ Jen shouts back. ‘A beautiful, talented, sweet girl like you? Who wouldn’t be interested?’

  Suddenly, I hear something. I see Cecile by the coffee counter.

  ‘Jen, I’ll call you back later, okay?’ I whisper, and hang up the phone. I don’t want her to overhear our call.

  ‘Hi Cecile,’ I say.

  ‘How was your performance?’ Cecile asks. ‘Was it as intimate as you wanted it to be?’

  ‘No, not at all,’ I say. ‘Really. I didn’t want it to be ... intimate. I just want to learn how to be better.’

  Who are you kidding? says a voice in my head.

  I try to change the subject, and say the first thing that comes to mind. ‘Did you see the newspapers this morning?’

  ‘Of course I did.’ She takes a black coffee from the counter and stirs in sweetener. ‘Our darling Marc has a druggy sister who he wastes his time looking after. Put me off him a little bit. The fact he mixes with that sort of person. But not enough for me to give up the chase.’

  ‘I think it’s nice he cares about his sister,’ I say.

  ‘I’m hoping it’s me he’ll care about most this term,’ says Cecile. ‘And I intend to tell him so during my performance. I can’t wait to be alone with him. One-on-one. Only half hour to go now.’

  She lets the words hang in the air, and I realise I really don’t like the idea of Marc alone with Cecile. I shake my head, trying to push the thought away.

  Don’t be stupid, Sophia. Why should you care? A man like Marc would never be interested in you, anyway.

  Chapter 19

  When Cecile leaves for her performance, I want nothing more than to be by myself.

  I head up to my room, and sit on the balcony with a mug of tea. The warmness of summer still lingers, and I stay out there, thinking about Marc and my performance, until dusk falls.

  I know I should go to the meal hall and have something to eat, but I feel too anxious. If I’m off the course, I don’t know how I’ll handle it. I have nothing to go back to really, except Jen. This course means everything to me, now. Everything.