The Cora Carmack New Adult Boxed Set: Losing It, Keeping Her, Faking It, and Finding It plus bonus material

by Cora Carmack

  “Well, get used to it. From what I’ve seen, I don’t think you’d have to worry about Stage Managing unless you just wanted to. You’re an actor, Bliss, whether you believe it or not. ”

  I nodded, filing that thought away.

  “Have you thought more about that? What you’d like to do after graduation?”

  I picked at the frayed threads on the knee of my jeans.

  “Not really . . .”

  “Well, if you want to talk about it, you know you can always come to me.”

  I raised an eyebrow at him, unable to quite put into words how preposterous that idea was.

  He said, “I’m serious. You act like we couldn’t possibly be friends.”

  If possible, my eyebrow arched even more. The thought of being friends with him . . . it was beyond imagining. I didn’t think about how my friends looked naked. I didn’t beat myself up over not sleeping with friends.

  He laughed under his breath and shook his head. “Okay, okay. So maybe friends is jumping the gun, but I do hope you’ll come to me if you need anything . . . anything at all.”

  The undercurrent of yearning I felt for him then was different than any of the other pulls toward him I’d felt before. The desire to be with him was still there, but now I wanted more than that. I wanted to curl up in his arms just to rest my head, just to feel his comfort.

  Heaven help me, but I wanted my professor to be my boyfriend.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  ERIC WAS SHUFFLING through papers, searching for something when I entered the auditorium on Wednesday. “Oh, Bliss, you’re early as always. That’s great. I seem to be missing my notes, so I’m going to run back upstairs to my office. Take a seat with Garrick and just relax for a moment.”

  Despite the fact that I already had a part, I was a nervous wreck for these callbacks. What if everyone expected me to be perfect? What if my audition was totally a fluke? I watched Eric leave through the backstage door and wondered . . . What if he changed his mind?

  I took a seat on the row below Garrick, wishing I’d gone and killed some time in the greenroom with the actors waiting and prepping for their second round of auditions. When he leaned down toward me, I said, “Hey . . . friend.”

  I’d given up trying not to be awkward, and was just embracing it instead.

  He laughed, which I guess was good. It certainly could have been worse. He said, “Not quite believable, but A for effort.”

  “Someone’s an easy grader.”

  “Someone just has a soft spot where you are concerned.” He was leaning down towards me and even though his face was a good foot away from me, I swear I felt those words like he’d whispered them into my ear. “Sorry,” he replied almost immediately. “Sometimes I just forget.”

  I said, “Me too.” But that was a lie. I never really forgot. I wanted to. I wished that I could forget about the miles separating us, and just let myself be there, only a foot away, but I couldn’t. He cleared his throat, and this time I wasn’t imagining his closeness, he was inches from my ear.

  “I have to ask you something.”

  “Okay,” came my breathy reply.

  “Cade.”

  I turned, confused, and immediately leaned back because I’d brought our faces too close together.

  “That’s not a question.”

  “You’re still with him?”

  “With him?”

  “I just—I can’t tell. You still sit together in class, but it’s different now. So, I thought maybe you two had broken it off.”

  He thought Cade and I were dating? How freaking oblivious was I? The whole world apparently noticed my best friend’s feelings for me. So much for being like Nancy Drew, I was clearly the Shaggy and Scooby Doo of this scenario.

  “There was nothing to break off,” I told him.

  “What?”

  “Yes! Cade and I aren’t together. We never have been.” His eyes were wide, and his head tilted in that way that said he didn’t believe me. “Is that what you’ve thought this whole time? That I cheated on him with you?”

  Oh, my God. The guy I may or may not have been falling for thought I was a slut. Could things be any more screwed up?

  His head was shaking back and forth, but I wasn’t sure if that was a no or just him trying to puzzle this out. “I don’t know what I thought. You’re always together, and he touches you, he’s always touching you. Believe me, I’ve noticed. I’d just assumed that was why . . . well, why you ran out that night.”

  “I didn’t run out because of Cade. I had to get my cat . . .”

  “Bliss, I’m not an idiot.”

  God, this was it. Somehow, I thought I’d gotten away with that horrible excuse. I mean, obviously, it hadn’t completely put him off like I’d originally thought. But he’d always known it was excuse, he just had the reason wrong. And I couldn’t let him know the real reason, not now, not here in this theatre where we were supposed to be professional (though I’m fairly certain professional had already been kicked to the curb).

  “I have a cat! I do!” Damn it . . . why couldn’t I ever remember my imaginary cat’s gender? “ Um . . . she’s gray and adorable and her name is . . . “ I said the first thing that popped into my head, “Hamlet.”

  I was a genius. I couldn’t even invent a girl cat with a girl name. It’s like there was this bridge in my brain between the rational and the absurd, and somehow I had burned it.

  “You have a cat named Hamlet?”

  “I do.” Kill me now. “I definitely, definitely do.”

  That was it. I was going to have to get a cat.

  “Fine. So, if you’re not dating Cade, what’s going on between the two of you?”

  I could feel heat leeching into the skin of my neck. “Nothing.”

  “You are a terrible liar.”

  I was a terrible liar. My ears probably looked like I’d spent an hour in a tanning bed. “It’s nothing. It’s just something that happened Friday when I was . . . how do you British people say it? Pissed? Sloshed?”

  He sat back away from me, but left his hands clenched on the back of my seat. “Did you sleep with him?”

  “What? No!”

  He didn’t lean back toward me, but his grip on the chair loosened. One of his knuckles brushed against my arm. “Good.”

  “Garrick . . .” He was going to that place we weren’t supposed to go.

  He smiled cheekily. “What? Just because I can’t have you right now, doesn’t mean I’m okay with him having you.”

  My brain tripped over that right now phrase again, but I forced my thoughts away from it. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just refer to me like property to be owned.”

  “Can’t we own each other?”

  If brains could have orgasms, I’m pretty sure this was what it would feel like. I shouldn’t like it, but there was possessiveness in his words that was echoed in his dark eyes, and it sent shivers down my spine until my fingers felt numb with their emptiness. I couldn’t answer his question, so I asked my own. “What has gotten in to you? I thought you promised me we wouldn’t do this again.”

  He pulled his hands through his hair, his curls sticking out in adorable ways that made my stomach flip-flop.

  “I don’t know. I just . . . I’ve been going crazy thinking about the two of you together.”

  “We kissed. Nothing else.”

  He flinched back like I’d said Cade and I were getting married and having a houseful of children. I couldn’t look at his face. It made me want to do insane things. I repeated myself, “It was just a kiss. It didn’t mean anything.”

  “I don’t want anyone else to kiss you.”

  “Garrick . . .” I was starting to hate the warning tone in my own voice. If he kept pushing like this, I wouldn’t be able to say no much longer. I was going to throw myself at him, most likely just in time for Eric to walk back in.

  “I know I’m not being fair. I’m being a right bastard, actually. I keep telling myself to leave you alo
ne, but the truth is . . . I’m not sure I can. And now that I know you’re not with Cade . . .”

  “What are you saying?”

  The backstage door creaked, and I realized how close we were. My heart thrumming like a plucked guitar string, I moved over a few seats seconds before Eric re-entered the space.

  He held up his notebook triumphantly. “Got it! And I brought down a real script for you, Bliss, so you don’t have to use the sides.”

  I fought to calm my heart when Eric handed me the play.

  Don’t look at Garrick. Don’t look at him.

  It didn’t matter . . . I was hyper aware of him. Even if I moved several rows away from him, I was certain I would know every time he shifted or breathed or looked at me.

  The small book felt good in my hands, still warm from Eric’s grip, and I had to resist the urge to begin pouring over the words that very second to distract me from Garrick. The Stage Manager, Alyssa, who was a year younger than me, came in the room to announce that we were ready to begin whenever Eric was.

  He nodded the go ahead, and then turned to me. “Bliss, we’re starting with Hippolytus. I’m going to have them perform their monologues one more time, then I’ll have you jump up there. Just stick with what you were doing in your monologue. Play the objective—you want him, but your shame, your fear is your own obstacle.“

  I glanced at Garrick. Should be simple enough.

  Alyssa came back in, Jeremy walking calmly in her wake. She took a seat at the tech table, and he stood center stage, his shoulders back, his chin up.

  He looked good. I smiled in pride at him. Our little sophomore.

  “Hi Jeremy. I’d like to start by seeing your monologue one more time, just to get things going. Then we’ll see how you do with Bliss.”

  Jeremy cleared his throat. Paused for a moment.

  I loved that moment before. It was the height of anticipation and hope. It was like diving off a cliff, knowing what would come after was terrifying and beautiful and the point of living. That moment . . . it was addicting.

  I have let myself run on too far.

  I see my reason has given way to violence.

  There was desperation in Jeremy’s performance as he began, but he sounded young. He looked young. When he spoke, his words and his emotions came rushing out. Like once he’d begun his confession of love for Aricia, there was no stopping the outpour.

  My soul, so proud, is finally dependant.

  For more than six months, desperate, ashamed,

  Bearing throughout the wound with which I’m maimed,

  I steeled myself towards you, and myself, in vain . . .

  I hadn’t realized until then that both Hippolytus and Phaedra were in love and ashamed—Phaedra because of whom she loved, and Hippolytus because he loved at all. I could see the shame in Jeremy’s performance, eating away at him, and I wondered if that’s what I looked like in my audition . . . if that’s what I looked like every time I thought of Garrick.

  Present, I flee you: absent, I find you again.

  Garrick’s eyes were on Jeremy, glancing back occasionally at the notes he was writing on the notepad in his lap. That last line was echoing through my head like music, a melody that gets stuck and won’t give you any rest.

  Present, I fled him. But no matter the distance between us, I kept coming back to him. It all kept coming back to him.

  Eric stood from his spot and said, “Good. Good. Let’s see you with Bliss.”

  I tore my eyes from Garrick, and fumbled for the script. I walked toward the stage, my knees a bit weak, and my feet somewhat numb.

  As much as I loved Jeremy, it was clear to me within minutes that he was not Hippolytus. For one, he was not the heroic, handsome young man who could turn Phaedra’s heart so inside out. He was more of a boy. He had the passion, but sometimes even that wasn’t enough.

  We moved through two more boys who were also lacking—both in confidence. Those auditions went quickly.

  Then it was Cade’s turn.

  I’d always thought Cade’s best asset was his voice. On stage, it took on this low rumble that no matter the volume held power. And with a play that was so much about the text and the lyricism in the lines—his voice was perfect. It was always hard to read Eric’s face, but he definitely looked happier with Cade than he had the previous two auditions.

  When things fell apart was when Cade and I took the stage together. We were doing the scene where Phaedra first reveals her feelings to Hippolytus. They were speaking of the death of Theseus—Phaedra’s husband and Hippolytus’s father. Hippolytus had never liked his stepmother. He didn’t know that she’d treated him poorly, so that she might more easily keep her distance because she’d loved him even before Theseus supposedly died.

  We did fine through the section about Theseus’s death, but I was barely halfway through my monologue where I declared my feelings when Eric came out of the house and onto the stage.

  “Stop, stop. Cade, what are you doing?”

  Cade looked stunned, and maybe on the verge of being sick. “I’m sorry?”

  “You despise her. As the revelation of her feelings dawns on you, you should be horrified, disgusted, even angry.”

  “Of course, sir.”

  “So then why do you look like a love sick puppy who returns her affections?”

  As if I weren’t channeling enough guilt already for this performance, I felt the weight of my own guilt added. This was my fault. This wasn’t about the play. It was about me. He’d kept his feelings under wraps for so long, but I’d noticed ever since that party, since I’d kissed him, it had all been closer to the surface. He wore his hope like a winter coat, layered over the top of all of him.

  I didn’t look at him as he and Eric spoke, because I was not sure I could keep the pity out of my face, and he would hate seeing that. So, I looked at Garrick instead. His face was drawn. Even though he was about fifteen feet from me, I felt like I was seeing him from far away. He only looked at me for a moment longer, before his gaze skipped to Cade, and his frown deepened. After a few seconds, he met my eyes again, and held me there with his stare. There was something different in this look, something changed, something that set my heart beating faster and the hair prickling on the surface of my skin.

  Cade and I finished our scene without incident. It wasn’t the strongest performance he could have given, but I thought it was still the best so far. Though I was biased, I guess. I should have been happy that my friend had trouble even acting disgusted with me. But in the back of my mind, a thought was planted, its roots digging deeper despite my attempts to push it away.

  If he knew the real reason I’d said maybe . . . if he knew what was keeping us apart, he probably wouldn’t have any trouble despising me.

  I was a little unfocused through the next callback. So much so that Eric decided it was time to give me a break. Needing the fresh air, I slipped out the Emergency Exit (which was never alarmed), and I knew before I heard the door creak open again behind me that Garrick would follow.

  “You’re doing well,” he said.

  I blew out a quick breath. It might have been a laugh, if I’d had more energy. “Yeah, that’s why you’re out here trying to make me feel better.”

  “My reasons for being out here are entirely selfish.”

  I kept thinking I would get used to him saying things like that, his directness.

  I never did.

  “You were right. You are acting like a right bastard.”

  What little heat there was in my words left when he grinned.

  He walked around the side of me, staring out at some distant point on the campus. “I keep thinking that this play is a sign. It’s so much like us.”

  “Am I the lust-filled mother in this situation or you?”

  His eyes came back to me, dipping and scanning the curves and lines of my body. “Oh, that’s definitely me,” he answered. “Phaedra keeps saying she’s being selfish. That she hates herself for it, but she does it
anyway. She can’t deny herself what she wants, even if it brings about her downfall and his.”

  “And have you learned anything from our literary parallel?”

  “Not really. I keep thinking that she would do it all over again if there were a chance . . . a chance that it could go right. Even if 99 times out of a 100 the story ends badly, it’s worth it if only once she gets a happy ending.”

  “Listen, Garrick, while this parallel you’re drawing is lovely, especially with that accent, I’m a little tired of the metaphors, and being compared to doomed love stories. Just say what you want to say. I’ve been puzzling out ancient text all night. I don’t want to have to decipher you, too.”

  “I’m saying that I was wrong.” He took a step closer, and my exhaustion fled, replaced with electricity under my skin. “I’m saying I like you. I’m saying I don’t give a damn that I’m your teacher.”

  Then he kissed me.

  I pushed him back before my heart and mind got swept away. The pleasure hit me after the kiss was already over, so that it felt like an echo. And even though I was the one who pushed him away, I missed him.

  “Garrick, this is crazy.”

  “I like crazy.”

  The question was . . . did I? This was the craziest thing I’d ever done, and it both terrified and excited me. I backed away, needing the distance to think, to wrap my brain around the insanity. There were so many ways for this to go badly. But then again for the first time ever, I found my own life more interesting than the story of a character on a page. And God, did I want to know the ending.

  And hadn’t Eric said I was better when I made bold choices. He’d been talking about acting, but didn’t it hold true for life, too?

  Garrick’s hand brushed across my forehead, then pushed back into my hair.

  “Just think about it.”

  Oh, I would think about it. It would likely be all I could think about.

  He pressed a quick, barely there kiss to my forehead and left me outside, my thoughts in a jumble and my heart a mess.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN