Stage Kissed

by Cassie Mae

  Funny he should mention that. I look over his shoulder at Seth, who’s got that sour face going as he stares at one of the blenders. No doubt saving this Jamba store another boatload of money with his mathematical genius. I laugh and Jeremy laughs too, even though he can’t have any idea what I’m laughing at.

  “Yeah, we’re ready. Or we’ll be ready. I’m glad you’re coming; it should be a good time.” I tap his shoulder and point behind him. “I should clock in, though. I’m sure I’m this close to losing my job.” I hold my fingers an inch apart and Jeremy steps aside so I can get through.

  “See you around, Kate.”

  I wave bye and walk to the back of the store. Harry’s on the phone. He points and his eyes narrow as I pass by his office. Yeah, yeah, I know. I get it.

  By the time I get back to the front, Seth is helping a girl; she’s got to be a year or two younger than us.

  “Hi, Kate!” she says, teeth full of braces. I freeze as I turn to wash my hands.

  “Hi.” Hopefully the tone I’m using doesn’t express my confusion.

  “I am so excited for the musical! Aren’t you? I mean, you have to be. You’re, like, one of the leads.”

  My eyes are huge, I’m sure. Who is this girl? I don’t recognize her.

  “My mom was saying you’ve gotten smaller since the first fitting of costumes. I told her I see you a lot, so I’d let you know you should eat more.” She covers her mouth and giggles.

  Seth looks over his shoulder, a large smile on his face, gray eyes flicking up and down my body. He catches me looking at him and his face instantly turns the color of a tomato. Like a tomato on fire. Or is my face reflecting onto his? It sure feels like mine’s on fire.

  I pull my gaze from Seth’s. Have I gotten smaller? I take a quick look at myself. Maybe my khakis are a little looser, but it’s nothing a run through the laundry doesn’t fix.

  Seth clears his throat and I look up to find both the mystery girl and him looking at me.

  “I’m sorry, what?” I say since I have no idea what’s going on. This girl obviously thinks we’re friends or something. I don’t want to offend her.

  “Bridget,” Seth emphasizes, his eyes twinkling, “was just commenting on how much of a dictator our director can be. Especially with the dancers.”

  I faintly recall standing in the corner of the stage for an hour with the dancers while Mr. Steiman tried to teach Nick his dance moves. Bridget must have been one of the girls I was talking to that whole time.

  “Yeah, that other day he had you guys up there for an hour and a half, practicing just one part of one song. You guys are amazing to put up with him like that.”

  Bridget beams, the lights from above bouncing off her braces. She shrugs and says, “Well, if you really love to dance you put up with that kind of stuff, right? If people would just practice we wouldn’t have to spend so much time on it at rehearsal.” She leans on the counter and Seth walks over to the blender to make the drink she must have ordered before I arrived.

  “…you know, like you do, Kate.”

  “Huh?” I turn back to look at Bridget.

  “You obviously practice your songs and lines and stuff before rehearsal, because it’s, like, perfect when you run through it.”

  Seth snorts, no doubt thinking about the countless hours he’s helped me with my lines. Speaking of which, I have to talk to him about that.

  “Yeah, Seth helps me a lot.”

  “That’s so cute!” Bridget says and claps her hands together. “So you guys, like, recite lines and songs and stuff when you’re closing up shop or something?” She looks around the store and nods. “I can totally see that.”

  “Here you go, Bridget.” Seth holds out her drink, his face still pink due to all the laughter he must be holding in. We are a pretty random, crazy pair.

  “Thanks, Seth.” Bridget turns around and walks toward the door. “See you guys at rehearsal tomorrow!”

  “Bye, Bridget!” I yell.

  Seth gives a wave which she can’t possibly see with her back turned. Once the door closes we both burst out laughing.

  “We are kinda nuts, aren’t we?” I say, trying to catch a breath. “Thanks for helping me through that one. I had—”

  “…no idea who she was. That was obvious.” Seth’s gray eyes are shining in amusement. “You recovered well. I don’t think she realized.”

  We’re still both laughing when we try to go back to work. There’s a short pause, silence looming over us, then we think of a dance move we tried to nail in front of the counter, or a line that for the life of me I just couldn’t get, and we’re chuckling our heads off again.

  This seems like it might be the right time to just come out and say it. He’s in a good mood. While Seth’s wiping a tear out of his eye, I open my mouth and brace myself for his reaction.

  “I volunteered you to play Will.”

  Instantly, the laughter stops.

  “What?” Fear and horror flash in his eyes.

  “You’re going to be playing Will.”

  Please don’t hate me. Please don’t hate me.

  He half-laughs, his eyes never leaving mine. He reaches for the string on the hoodie jacket which isn’t there. I throw my arms out to the side and smile as brightly as I can. “Surprise!”

  “What are you talking about, Kate? This isn’t funny.”

  I slump over onto the counter and use my most excited voice. “Oh, come on, Seth! You are so good. You’ll be perfect!”

  His head furiously shakes back and forth; he steps away and slams into the wall behind him.

  “Nick is playing Will. I’m just the Jamba Juice fill-in.”

  I stand up straight and cross my arms over my chest, making certain I’m still smiling. This is a good thing. If it wouldn’t be, I wouldn’t have told Mr. Steiman how awesome he is. I don’t want someone who sucks playing opposite me.

  “Nick has to get his tonsils removed.” I shrug. “It came on suddenly, and now he can’t do any of the performances. Mr. Steiman told us at principal rehearsal this morning.” All color drains from Seth’s face. I move to stand next to him because I’m afraid he might actually pass out.

  “Seth, you’re going to be amazing,” I continue. “Like, really, really awesome. Mr. Steiman was freaking out since he didn’t know what he was going to do without a Will. And I told him that Seth—AV room Seth—knows all Will’s lines, all his songs and all his dancing. You’re like the understudy from the heavens!” I raise my hands up and laugh. But he’s not laughing with me.

  Seth’s hand runs through his hair, then down his face. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  I give him one nod.

  “This can’t be happening.”

  I grab both his shoulders and force him to face me. “Look, buddy. You are really good. We need you, Seth. Like, there are no other options. All these weeks of work will mean nothing if we don’t have a Will. And no one else can do it like you can.”

  I meant the last part to be, “There’s no one else to do it.” But what I actually said is true. Seth is brilliant at this part. Better than Nick.

  “Please help us, Seth.”

  His shoulders relax just a bit under my hands. He’s looking at the floor, running his Converse along it, so I can’t read what’s going on behind his eyes. Perhaps I should have asked him first, but this would have been his reaction. And if Mr. Steiman asked him and saw his reaction, he wouldn’t have said okay.

  Finally, Seth’s eyes find mine. His brow is scrunched together and he’s got a semi-sour look. Oh my gosh, is he going to cry? Crap, crap, crap!

  “Seth, really, everything is going to be great,” I say quickly. “You’re going to be great. After a rehearsal or two you’ll see how fun it is to be on stage. How much you really do lose yourself in the character. It won’t be you up there, it will be Will. And Will is a confident, easy-going, carefree kinda guy. In no time—”

  “Kate, we have like no time. The performance is a week fro
m today.”

  “What about tomorrow?”

  His face runs red. “I’ve got that…you know…date thing.”

  A warm swooping sensation hits me over the back of my neck. Just like it did when he first mentioned his plans for this weekend. I don’t really understand the feeling, and I really don’t have time to understand it. So I shake it off, blowing out a breath.

  “We’ll still have time next week.”

  Seth throws me a skeptical look and starts ticking off on his fingers. “That gives us Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday.” He sticks his hand out at me. “Four days is not enough time.”

  I grab for his hand, another warm sweep swelling through me as I pull up more fingers and continue. “Plus before-school rehearsals and lunchtime rehearsals on Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday.” After I’ve let that sink in a little I push all his fingers down except his middle one. I know I deserve it.

  Seth shakes his head and chuckles a bit, not bothering to put “the bird” down just yet. It looks like he might actually do this, like perhaps I’m convincing him this will be fun.

  “Feel a little better now?” I raise my eyebrows, hoping the answer is yes.

  He runs a hand through his hair. No, no, no, don’t keep thinking about it. “I need you, Seth.”

  His eyes snap to mine and my breath catches. The freaked-out Seth is gone. He’s like the Seth at the party, standing tall, eyes locked on mine, making me feel like everything will be okay. When he looks like this, I know he knows he can do anything.

  I like this look. It’s rare for him, which makes it all the more attractive when it comes out.

  Seth exhales and looks up at the ceiling. When his gaze comes back down he forces a smile.

  “I guess we better practice those lines again.”

  My cell buzzes in my pocket right as I start to doze off in the recliner. I don’t answer it; I already know who it is, since I told Dylan just to text when he gets here so he doesn’t wake up Shelby. Assuming Shelby’s even asleep. Luckily she is, nestled in my arms while Mom cat-naps on Dad on the couch.

  Dad hears the buzz, and he looks over his glasses at me and sticks out his arms. I let out a shaky breath and then hold it, afraid even one movement will start round eighteen of screaming for the day.

  “Seth,” Dad whispers as I transfer Shelby over. The Big Bang Theory reflects in his glasses. “Midnight.”

  “Midnight what?”

  “Your curfew.”

  I give him a look, holding back a laugh. He doesn’t hold back his, silently shaking as he settles into a comfortable position on the couch.

  “I know,” he says. “It’s weird giving you one.”

  I roll my eyes and head to the front door. “I’ll be back by midnight.” Hopefully a lot sooner than midnight. I mean, it’s 6:30 now. There’s no way I can fill five and a half hours with conversation.

  “Hey, Seth!” Dad hisses again as my hand hits the doorknob. “Square root of 1200.”

  My lips press together, and by the amusement in Dad’s eyes, I know I’m pulling my sour face again. “34.64. Night, Dad.”

  He nods goodbye, and I head out to Dylan’s van. Both Mom and Dad are a little wary of me driving after my concussion—even though I’m driving to and from school and work and my countless after-school activities—but I figured I’d ease their minds a bit and have Dylan give me a lift. That…and I’m not sure how the protocol goes, but if there’s a possibility of Sophie wanting me to take her home, at least that’s out of the equation now. Sitting in a dark theater with her and a group of people I don’t normally interact with is enough to make the nerves triple in my gut.

  “Hey,” Dylan says when I open the passenger door. We both shove papers, fast food bags, and other random junk from the seat before I climb in. He turns up the music and carefully backs out from my driveway. Dylan’s one of those drivers who refuses to go even one mile per hour over the speed limit. It’s kind of amusing, since out of the two of us, he’s the one who might throw out the rulebook for the sake of having a good time.

  “Did you ask Sophie if Kaylynn will be there?” he asks, skipping the lead-in to why he’s actually coming tonight. My stomach wrenches, knowing the second we get to the theater I’ll be ditched so he can sit next to the girl he likes. I get it—sort of. I mean, I’d probably sit next to Kate over Dylan now. But that’s because Kate has an uncanny way of relaxing me when I feel like I’m about to jump out of my skin.

  “Yo, Seth?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Kaylynn…?”

  “Oh…” I shake my head and try to screw my brain back into place. “Yeah, she’ll be there.”

  “You okay?”

  I nod, but I know it won’t fly with Dylan. He stops at a yellow light he had time to go through and taps his fingers against the wheel.

  “Keep the armrest down.”

  “Huh?”

  He elbows his own armrest in the van. “When you sit next to Sophie. Keep the armrest down in between you. Gives you some breathing room.”

  “Got it.”

  “And get separate popcorn.”

  “I don’t want popcorn.”

  “Oh, and I’ll try to get you an end seat so you’re not packed in there.”

  “Thanks.”

  The light turns green, and he eases into the intersection after looking both ways twice. “It’s not gonna be a big deal. Just pretend it’s a sold-out show or something. The theater’s crowded anyway.”

  The last over-crowded movie we went to, I ended up having a panic attack and watching it while standing at the back. I groan and lean forward, covering my face and muttering Latin swears under my breath. Dylan gives me one good pat on the back before he sets his hands firmly at eleven and one on the wheel.

  “What about…conversation?” I ask, peeking over at him through my hands.

  “Conversation with Sophie?” He lets out a jolting laugh. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

  I allow myself to chuckle along with him, but it doesn’t help the anxiety. I don’t understand it, really; I’m not interested in Sophie. Our only interaction before the party incident had led me to the certainty of her vapidity. Now I’m completely baffled by her intentions and why she’s even interested in hanging out with a flat cello player who can’t mutter a complete sentence in spontaneous conversation.

  Well…at least with her. Somehow Kate managed to get me talking.

  Dylan pulls into the theater's parking garage, and we take the elevator up to the attached mall. Dylan starts fixing his hair, and I laugh at him for it because there is so much gel in those red strands they aren’t going anywhere. But my laughter is short-lived, because Sophie calls my name out across the mall so loudly she not only turns my head, but about twenty others.

  She smiles wide and waves. After a nudge in the side from Dylan I wave back—then she runs at me.

  I nearly turn and run the other way.

  “Hey!” she squeaks, barreling into my torso. Her arms feel like ropes, and I quickly hug her back and let my arms drop so she gets the hint. She pulls away, her grin up to her cheeks while I think mine are on fire. Then she blurts out everything without taking a pause between sentences: “I got our tickets already, movie starts in ten, you guys just made it here in time to go get popcorn, I’ll wait in the theater and you can go buy it for me, thanks, see you in there!”

  She slaps our tickets into our hands and turns toward theater three.

  “Hey, is Kaylynn here?” Dylan calls out after her. She whips around, walking backward and nodding at him before she disappears around the corner. I raise an eyebrow at Dylan, who laughs and starts toward the concessions.

  “See. Don’t have to worry about conversation.”

  I snort. Yeah…I just have to worry about personal space.

  I try to keep the armrest down, but Sophie keeps flipping it up. The back of her hand knocks against mine every three minutes, like clockwork, even after I fake a sneeze into it
to get her to stop.

  She has to know I’m a complete dud. I haven’t uttered more than six words to her, but she’s still smiling at me, leaning into me, and I’m about to fall out into the aisle from trying to scoot away.

  Dylan and Kaylynn, however, look completely at ease with the armrest up, sharing popcorn and holding hands. I don’t know how people touch like that without wigging out. I’ve never had the luxury.

  Sophie cringes at whatever happened on the screen. Dylan said girls pick scary movies so they can have excuses to touch their dates. As if I’m not freaked out enough.

  Kaylynn hides in Dylan’s shoulder, and he looks over the moon about it, grinning like a complete doofus at the actor on the screen holding a bloody knife. I let my eyes drift to Sophie, her hands covering her face, and I get a rush of guilt that I’m not like Dylan. That I can’t let her dig her face in my armpit without thinking about how I smell or where to put my hands or if I should say something comforting.

  My phone buzzes in my pocket, and my leg is so close to Sophie’s that the vibrations send her and the bucket of popcorn jumping in her seat. A lot of people laugh, and she shrugs it off, laughing at herself, and I’m smiling at the fact that she isn’t embarrassed. I reach into my pocket and see a text from Kate.

  I may not know a lot about dates, but I know enough that answering a text from another girl isn’t kosher.

  I put the phone back, and when my hand slips from my pocket it hits Sophie’s and she grabs it before I know what’s happening. Her grip is so tight that I forget all about the movie and only focus on making my sweat glands not so active in the palm region.

  At least the killer just offed the second-to-last person. I won’t be holding hands for long.

  Sophie insists on driving me home after the movie when Dylan offers to take Kaylynn. He’s got a van; there’s obviously enough room for me to ride with them, but Sophie has no aversion to touching, and her arm loops through mine and she drags me to her Ford.

  “That was way fun!” she says, clearly having lived a different night than I have. We get in her car and I feel like I can’t breathe. “You should come out with us more often.”