by A. Destiny
I hoped Mr. Ferrell wasn’t going to be mad at me. At least I’d be here, even if it was fifteen minutes late. This was only our second group rehearsal, and I was still anxious to impress him with my professionalism. Being tardy to practice wasn’t going to help with that.
I banged through the double doors, rushing down the center aisle. My mouth flew open to exclaim my apologies to anyone who was around, but the words got stuck in my throat. I stopped in place when I realized Jason was on the stage, standing across from Liana. She sidled next to him, eyes intensely locked on his as she replied to whatever he’d said.
Saying my lines.
Whoa, Liana was my understudy? How did I not realize this before?
For some reason, the realization unnerved me more than it should have.
A hand tugged my sleeve. It was Mr. Ferrell, coming up behind me. “Let them finish this scene,” he whispered under his breath. “Then you can hop up and take Liana’s place to start the next scene.”
“I’m so sorry I’m late,” I whispered back. “I promise it won’t happen again.” Yeah, I could feed him with a bunch of excuses but in the end, what mattered was I had a commitment and I hadn’t followed through on it. Owning up to my mistake was the best thing I could do right now.
He gave a curt nod. “See that you’re here on time from now on, okay?” With that, he made his way to the edge of the stage, the script curled in his hand as he followed along with the lines.
I stayed in place, script clutched in my hand, watching Jason block and recite his lines. He had a good chunk of them memorized, sparing a glance or two at his script every little bit. Bet he had a photographic memory—that would be handy. He moved across the stage, talking, connecting eyes with the other actors as he spoke.
The transformation in his persona was astonishing. I hadn’t noticed it in our practice because I was so busy being irritated at his bossiness. But he seemed to be the very embodiment of his role, from the way he spoke to the way he walked. Regal. Proud. Compelling.
Even Liana looked impressed, appreciation lighting up her eyes as she took him in. A swell of jealousy slipped in before I could stop it. What did I have to be jealous about? It had to be because she was in my place right now.
Liana sidled her way up to Jason, draping a hand across his shoulder and leaning in as close as she could, her mouth practically touching his cheek. “Are you jealous of your own brother, sir?”
Jason arched one eyebrow, his gaze raking her face. “Jealous? Me?” His eyes then took on a striking vulnerability, like he was struggling to hide his feelings. He stepped away from her and moved toward the front of the stage, emotion radiating from him.
His gaze connected with mine, and for the briefest moment he paused, looked right at me.
My heart stopped.
“Is it possible?” he murmured, eyes locked on me. “Could I have feelings for her and not have realized it?”
I bit my lip, frozen in place, unable to tear my glance away. I had never been so stripped apart by a mere look in my life. It was almost as if he was speaking to me. About me. The honesty was overwhelming.
“Wonderful job!” Mr. Ferrell said in a loud voice, clapping heartily. His proclamation broke the spell.
Jason blinked and looked over at our teacher, giving him that trademark blinding smile. “Thanks.” All traces of the vulnerability I’d seen earlier were swept away, as if they’d never been there. He was himself once again.
I bit my lip harder, jerking myself out of this trance. Ridiculous. What made me think he was talking to me? He was acting. If I were alone, I’d have smacked my own forehead for that gaffe.
Mr. Ferrell jumped onstage and gave Liana a nod. “You did wonderfully. Thanks for filling in.” He glanced at me. “Okay, Abbey. We’re going to get started on the next scene. Hop on up here. And did you notice the great chemistry between Jason and Liana? She did a wonderful job showing her emotions and confusion about her feelings. Make sure you do the same. We need that to ring true.”
I ground my jaw, doubly cursing myself for being late. Not only had I made myself look bad, I’d set myself up to get my acting critiqued and compared to my understudy. I gave him a short nod, trying to shake off my turbulent emotions. “Sure, Mr. Ferrell.”
Slip into character, I told myself. I could do this.
Swallowing, I unfolded the clenched script in my fist and wiped my sweaty palm on my pants. All this stuff with Jason was throwing me off-center, and I didn’t like it.
Not one bit.
Chapter Seven
Jason’s basement was nothing like I’d expected.
I followed him through the side door of the brick bungalow and down the dark-brown carpeted stairs, still a little surprised I was even here. The theater was being used by another group today, so we weren’t able to do our after-school practice there. Jason had suggested we practice at his house instead.
My first instinct was to say no. It was easier to keep my cool and stay disconnected when I only saw him at school—how would it be if I saw him in such a personal, intimate environment? I was already learning and experiencing things about him I wasn’t sure I wanted to know, things that made him a lot more sympathetic than I’d been ready to acknowledge.
But he’d made a good case, arguing that we needed to maintain our regular rehearsal schedule. I’d reluctantly agreed and after sending Mom a text, we’d walked the short trip to his house.
“Watch your head,” Jason said, ducking a little to enter the basement.
I followed his instructions, trying not to notice the surprising wideness of his shoulders as he walked in front of me.
The room was very feminine, with pale pinks and greens accenting the white-shaded palette of the furniture and carpet. There was a TV tucked in a corner, with a couple of video game systems stored nearby. For some reason I’d expected it to be more masculine.
“We can work over here,” he said, waving toward the empty corner adjacent to the TV. “My brother will be home soon, but I’ll make sure he stays upstairs.”
I nodded, dropped my bag onto the couch, and dug out my script. “I think we last left off at the beginning of Act Two.” Grabbing the ponytail holder off my wrist, I wrapped my hair into a quick, messy bun.
“I’m not gonna pull your hair, you know,” Jason said from behind me, his voice full of mirth.
I turned around, giving him a tight smile. My mind warred with both wanting to push him away and wanting to laugh, connect with him. “Hardy har. It was getting on my nerves, so I pulled it up.”
He stepped closer, peering at my locks, then staring into my eyes. He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by a loud door slamming.
“Jason!” a small voice called from upstairs. “Where are you? Did you make us peanut butter and apples?”
He cleared his throat. “Um, that’s my brother. I’ll be right back.”
“Jaaaaaaaason!” Little feet trampled the floor right above our heads, resonating through the basement. “I’m so hungry!”
I raised one eyebrow, crossing my arms over my chest and clucking my tongue. “I can’t believe you didn’t get that boy’s snack ready for him. Terrible.”
He smirked. “Give me just a moment.” Then he darted up the stairs. “I’m right here,” I heard him say to his brother. “Did you have a good day at school?”
There was a strange softness in his voice that gave me pause. I stood in place, quiet, just listening.
“It was awesome!” the boy said. “Our teacher said we’re going to the zoo next week, and I made a picture for the fridge.”
“That’s cool, Braedon,” he said. There were sounds of doors and drawers opening and closing. “Okay, you have to eat up here. I have a friend over downstairs, and we’re practicing for the play.”
My throat closed just a little bit. Suddenly I felt embarrassed for eavesdropping and turned my attention toward reading over Act Two.
“Is it a girl?” Braedon asked. “Cuz I thoug
ht I heard a girl’s voice before.”
There was definite laughter in Jason’s tone when he replied, “Yes, it’s a girl. Now, stay here and eat your apples.”
Heavy steps came back down the stairs. I kept my focus on the play.
“Sorry about that,” he said. “Um, I’m ready when you are.”
“How old is he?” I blurted out, surprising myself. I wasn’t trying to pry into his life, but I couldn’t help my curiosity.
“Braedon? He’s five. Finishing kindergarten this year. He’s really smart,” Jason said, pride warming his voice. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
I dropped the pretense of looking at the play and gazed up at him. “I have an older sister, Caroline. She’s a senior at our school—two years older than me.”
He tilted his head, appearing deep in thought. “Oh wait, I know who you’re talking about.” His brow furrowed slightly as he stared at me. “Wow, I didn’t know she was your sister.”
Caroline and I looked nothing alike. She had lush blond hair and slender curves, whereas I was short and had dishwater-blond hair. But for some reason, hearing him say it, reminding me how pretty my sister was compared to me, soured my light mood. “Yeah, I know. I hear that a lot. Anyway, we need to practice. I gotta get home and do homework soon.”
He blinked then recovered, his tone taking a bit of a cool edge. “Yeah, sure, whatever.”
We ran through lines for a good twenty minutes, awkward tension building between us. My lines fell flat, the usual jovial, teasing tone not there. Fortunately for me, Jason’s performance wasn’t that much better. He seemed distracted, stopping and starting in strange bursts.
Did I throw him off because of my mood change? I couldn’t read him right now. What was he thinking?
A torrent of small footsteps flew down the stairs. “Jason!” Braedon said. “I’m bored. I wanna play a video game.”
He huffed a sigh. “Not right now.”
Braedon planted his hands on his hips, a stubborn set to his jaw. His dark hair was ruffled wildly, and in that moment I could see a clear resemblance between them, both in personality and looks. “Mom already said I could.” His tone dared Jason to refute that proclamation.
I smothered a laugh behind my hand. “He’s got you there,” I said.
Jason eyed me, a slow smile crawling on his face. The crackling tension between us disappeared. “You would take his side.”
“He’s obviously the cute one in the family,” I said with a casual shrug.
“Milady, you wound me,” Jason teased with mock hurt, clapping a hand over his chest.
“What are you two talking about?” Braedon asked, eyeing Jason then me.
I straightened the smile on my lips and looked at him. “I’m teasing your brother because he likes to think every girl loves him.” A glance at Jason showed me a surprise—two bright blooms of color on his cheeks.
Did I embarrass him?
Braedon apparently got bored with the conversation, because he ran over to the video games and started putting one in. The TV cranked on, booming in the room.
Jason sighed, his hand dropping to his side and the script fluttering from the movement. “It’s apparent we’re not going to get anything more done today,” he said, clearly exasperated.
“Eh, I need to run anyway.” I gathered up my stuff and slung my bag over my shoulder.
“We’ll pick somewhere else to rehearse next time,” he said, following me up the stairs and to the side door. “Our neighbor has offered to watch Braedon on days I practice at school, so that won’t be a problem.”
I paused and turned around. “Um, thanks. For having me over, I mean.” Now I was the one with the blush; I could feel it warming my cheeks.
Jason paused in the doorway and peered down at me. His eyes were intense, taking me in. Something silent and unspoken crackled between us in that moment. It scared me. It invited me closer.
“Do you want me to walk you home?” he asked, his voice husky.
No. Yes. I shook my head slightly. “I’m . . . okay, thanks. You should stay here and watch your brother. He seems like a handful.”
He gave me a crooked grin, his eyes warm and open and staring at me so intently, I found myself staring right back.
How many other people has he practiced this smile on? some part of my brain whispered.
That did the job. I cleared my throat and backed away. “I gotta go. Bye.” With that, I turned and took off down the sidewalk, refusing to look back. I didn’t want to be a practice dummy for his flirtation skills. I deserved better than that.
And it couldn’t possibly be true that any of that emotion he’d shown me was genuine.
Not at all.
“I haaaaate math,” Olivia whispered to me. Her utter misery was etched on her face. “I thought geometry was going to be easier than algebra. But it’s just as awful, and I hate it just as much.”
Luckily, we were in the back row of the room, so our teacher couldn’t hear us talking.
“It’s not so bad,” I whispered back. Heck, I could take math any day of the week. What was really hard was struggling with my ever-conflicting feelings about Jason. Last night I’d lain in bed for a long time, thinking about his eyes.
His eyes! How ludicrous was that? I could kick myself for being so ridiculous about him.
I was getting caught up in the romantic nature of the play, letting it sweep me away. I couldn’t forget how he really was, who he really was. But I was perilously close to overlooking more and more of that reality every time I was around him.
Mrs. Washburn sat behind her desk, droning on about whatever our lesson was today. I was too distracted to pay much attention. I’d noticed that Jason wasn’t in gym class today. Instead of enjoying the reprieve with Lauretta, I’d spent the whole time wondering why he was absent. Was he sick? Injured? Would he still be coming to play practice tonight?
Of course, I’d tried to convince myself my caring was only because he was the male lead, and given how badly our practice yesterday afternoon in his basement went, we needed all the time we could get.
But my gut knew that he was getting stuck in my thoughts more and more every day, and that it had nothing to do with the play.
“Wanna do homework after school today?” Olivia asked me.
I gave her an absent nod.
“What’s with you? You seem . . . distracted.”
Biting back a sigh, I said, “Um, just have a lot on my mind.”
“Such as . . . ?”
“I’m just—I’m worried about how the play practice is going. It doesn’t seem to be progressing the way I’d want it to.” There, that was nice and generic. Hopefully we could avoid talking about—
“Jason seems to be very focused,” she said, her voice turning even breathier than usual. “I’ve seen him running his lines at lunch a couple of times. And some of the other girls in the play say that he’s doing a great job.”
Irritation welled in me, making me sound snottier than I intended. “Yeah, sure looks like he is.”
Either Olivia didn’t notice my tone or she didn’t care. Her fingers ripped tiny shreds in the corner of her notebook page as she stared at her notes. “I wish I’d tried out for the play. Then I could be near him and get to know him better. You’re so lucky.”
“I don’t feel lucky,” I muttered darkly.
Her back stiffened. “Why not? You have an important role in the play. You are a featured person, a star. I’m going to be stuck either handing out hunks of meat or hiding behind a curtain playing with puppets.”
A wave of humility washed through me. “I’m sorry,” I said, meaning it. “I don’t mean to take it for granted. You’re right. I’m lucky to have gotten where I am.” All this nonsense with Jason was making me lose focus of my goals and what mattered: using this chance to gain real credentials in the arts.
The bell rang, dismissing us for the next class. We gathered up our stuff, waiting for the crush of students to disper
se before going to the doors.
Her tone turned tentative as she turned to me. “I know you don’t like Jason, and I know we’re not supposed to talk about it, but I feel like you’re being really unfair. I’m holding back my thoughts on it so it won’t cause problems, but it’s getting harder to do when you gripe so much.”
Now my back stiffened. Yeah, I’d fussed about him a few times, but I wasn’t griping that much. Was I? “You may be able to let things go faster than me, but that doesn’t make my feelings wrong.”
She blew out a frustrated breath. “I didn’t say your feelings were wrong. But I think you’re being too judgmental. You need to let it go. He’s not a bad guy.”
“No, he’s not.” I remembered the way he’d laughed with his brother yesterday, their easy camaraderie. I shoved the books closer to my chest, wishing I could hold on to my spite. Wishing things weren’t changing so fast.
Olivia turned her head, studying my face for a moment, unblinking. “What’s the real reason you’re so upset with him?” she suddenly asked.
I knew what she was really prodding me about. She wanted to know if deep down I had any feelings for him. But what could I tell her? Yes, I do, but I don’t trust him enough to let myself fully feel them because he’ll only hurt me again if I do? And just as bad, I don’t trust you enough to admit those feelings to you?
So I scoffed instead, shoving back the words I really wanted to say. “You know why I’m feeling like this. It’s because I see him every day, acting superior to everyone else.”
Even as I said it, I knew the words weren’t fully accurate. Jason hadn’t acted superior on the golf course the other day when helping other students practice their swings, but I couldn’t tell Olivia the truth.
Because if she knew I was starting to soften toward him, then our tentative truce on Jason would be broken. I’d be her competition for his affections, even if I didn’t intend to be. It might drive a wedge between us permanently.
She stared hard at me for another long moment. I couldn’t tell if she believed me or not, if she felt any of the conflicting emotions I was sure radiated off me like the sun. Her lips were pinched, her eyes disappointed. “I don’t know what else to say about this,” she finally said. “I’ll talk to you later.” Then she walked up the aisle and left the room.
