Never Too Late

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Never Too Late Page 8

by A. Destiny


  I bit my lip. His gaze dropped down to look at my mouth, his own lips parting slightly. My cheeks blazed, remembering that intimate scene with him in the theater that I was trying so desperately to forget.

  “Abbey,” he said, the tone gentle. “Talk to me.”

  I swallowed. Should I fess up? Well, if he wanted me to tell, he should know. It wasn’t my fault, after all—I’d done nothing wrong. “Do you remember freshman year’s homecoming dance?”

  Jason blinked in surprise. “Um, yeah.”

  “I . . . overheard something you said. About me.” My face blazed. Curse my skin for being such a quick giveaway of my awkward misery. I turned away and looked at the stretch of sidewalk, sunlight dappling through leaves in splotchy patterns on the gray cement. My voice was flat as I continued. “You told one of your friends that I was boring. That you’d only dance with me if you wanted to get bored to death and that there was nothing interesting about me at all.”

  My words were met with a long stretch of silence. I refused to look at him, not wanting to see the emotion on his face. I wasn’t sure I could handle it, whatever it was. Irritation. Impatience.

  Or worse, even pity.

  “Abbey,” Jason finally whispered, regret thick in his voice. He touched my upper arm, fingers warm on my skin even through my sleeve, and guided me to look back at him. His bottomless eyes reflected every bit of depth in his tone. “I’m sorry. That was really unfair.”

  “You judged me without even knowing me,” I said. My words were hot, the ache of mortification spilling out. “And I heard it. I heard you guys laughing at me.” I yanked my arm out of his reach, struggling to maintain emotional control.

  His lips pinched in reaction to my sudden distance. “I know. It was awful, and rude, and I’ve apologized. But you’ve been judging me this whole time too. Just because I made a big mistake and said something I shouldn’t have doesn’t mean that’s how I always was . . . or am.”

  My jaw was clenched so tight it ached. I wanted to rail at him for what he said, but he was right. What I was doing was no better than what he’d done.

  And he did apologize, after all. Refusing his apology was not only ungracious, it was unfair.

  I relaxed my face, took a few breaths to unwind the tension from my stiffened body. “You’re right. I’ve been just as biased about you as you were about me. And I apologize for that.”

  He looked at me then stuck out his hand.

  I raised one eyebrow.

  “Truce?” Jason gave me a crooked grin, an action that took away some of my frustration. He was silly, but earnest. “Please? Let’s start completely over. I promise to not be a total jerk to you if you promise to not hold all of my mistakes against me forever and ever. Deal?”

  I grabbed his hand and shook it once, firm. “Okay. Deal.”

  His thumb brushed against the top of my hand, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. I swallowed, heart slamming. One small touch reminded me just how much he impacted me. So very dangerous.

  His eyes glinted; he crooked a grin. “I’m very much looking forward to our truce, Abbey.”

  I was too.

  Heaven help me.

  Chapter Eleven

  The rest of the week was surprisingly decent. Since Jason and I had declared our tentative truce Monday after the field trip, things were much less dramatic between us. I found myself growing less sensitive to his feedback on my acting and instead taking it to heart.

  He even showed me some ways to emote with my body and voice instead of relying upon my face to show what I was feeling. Mr. Ferrell seemed happy with our individual acting, though not quite as enthused with our onstage romance, saying in a slightly frustrated tone that we weren’t giving it our all.

  Thursday night’s practice was grueling. He worked us all, running scenes again and again. Even the girls in the production were growing irritated with him . . . and with us. Practice ran over by a full half hour, with Mr. Ferrell growing increasingly crabby as he snapped at Jason and me about our awkward chemistry.

  Probably because I was totally holding back.

  Yeah, we’d come to some kind of peace, but that didn’t stop this violent struggle of emotions within me. Now that he and I were no longer fighting, I was having a harder and harder time remembering why I’d disliked him in the first place. He was smart, witty, engaging—things I found myself continually drawn to.

  And I was still struggling against showing it, sure that every feeling I experienced was plainly evident on my face, in spite of Mr. Ferrell’s crabbiness. It was a delicate balance, one I was blowing big-time.

  Our teacher finally ended practice, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief. “Hold on, Jason and Abbey,” he said when we all started to clear the stage. “Stay back here. I need to talk to you for a few minutes.”

  I bit back a groan, shooting a skittish glance at Jason, who simply shrugged his shoulders in response.

  Mr. Ferrell hopped onto the stage. He crossed his arms and studied us for so long I actually started to squirm.

  “Mr. Ferrell?” I started tentatively. “Is . . . everything okay?”

  A knowing smile grew on his face and he snapped his fingers. “Hmm. I think I know what’s going on here.”

  I swallowed. Oh no, he figured out that I like Jason. Please don’t let him breathe a word about it, I prayed.

  “And what’s that?” Jason asked.

  “You two need to see a real couple in love.”

  My face erupted into flames. I cleared my throat and stared at the ground. The last thing I needed right now was anything to do with that word. Love. “Why do you think that?” I muttered.

  “See?” he said, his voice growing excited as he talked. “Look how shy you are about it. You can’t flinch from the emotion in our play, Abbey. Not if you’re going to pull it off. You two are supposed to be falling in love, yet you’re not convincing me.” He paused. “But I think I know a way to help.”

  Jason remained silent; I didn’t even risk a glance at him. But I did look up at Mr. Ferrell. “And how is that?”

  “There’s a production of Romeo and Juliet tomorrow night at the Beck Center in Lakewood. I have a friend who works there—he owes me a favor. I’ll call in and have him put aside two tickets for you guys.”

  Friday night, out with Jason?

  I swallowed again. “Um, I’m not sure we really need to do that,” I said. “I just need to loosen up, is all.”

  Mr. Ferrell peered down at me. “You’re not loosening up fast enough. Liana has great chemistry with Jason. You need to work harder on yours.”

  A flash of anger hit my chest. No way was she going to outshine me on this. I thrust my chin up. “Fine. I’ll go see it. I’m sure my parents would be fine with it.”

  “Me too,” Jason said smoothly.

  I blinked, having almost forgotten he was there.

  “Wonderful!” Mr. Ferrell clapped heartily, once again smiling. “The show is at eight. Be there a little early and go to will-call for your tickets. You’ll love it. I know several of the actors in this production, and they’re stellar. Absolutely amazing. Let me know what you think of it.”

  After giving a short nod, I grabbed my bag and headed to the theater doors, Jason right beside me. I had no idea what to say.

  “Well, that was fun,” he said drolly.

  That broke the tension. “Nothing like hearing you’re not being romantic enough to psych you out, huh?”

  Our soft footsteps echoed in the hallway as we made our way to the front door of the school.

  “Maybe I should work on batting my eyelashes more at you,” Jason mused.

  “I could giggle girlishly between my lines,” I offered.

  “I don’t really see you as a giggling girl.”

  “I don’t see you as a batting-your-eyelashes type of guy,” I retorted.

  “Guess I could be for you.” He stopped and pressed a hand to his chest. “Forsooth, I must try harder.” He swept into a low bow. “
For milady, I will climb mountains and slay many dragons.”

  I curtsied, my hair flopping in my face. “And for my sir, I will . . . um . . . slay the leftover dragons, I suppose.”

  He rose, a bright laugh in his eyes. “We are quite a pair, aren’t we.”

  My pulse picked up, throbbing at my wrists and throat. “I suppose we are. Hopefully, this play will be good.”

  We went through the door and made it outside. The sun was low in the sky, barely a splash of pink on the horizon. The air was tinged a bit cooler, and I shivered.

  Before I knew it, a light jacket was wrapped around my shoulders. “Here,” Jason said. “You looked chilly.”

  I bit my lip and breathed in; it smelled like him, and the sensation wrapped around me. “That was nice of you. Thanks.”

  He chuckled. “You can give it back tomorrow night. At the play, I mean.”

  Our non-date date. Oh, God, was I ready for this? To sit beside him for two to three hours, smelling him and feeling the heat of his body beside me, pretending the only feeling I had for him was innocent friendship?

  “—can take us,” he was saying.

  “Um, what? Sorry, I . . . I didn’t hear,” I stammered.

  “I’m sure my mom can take us,” he enunciated. “Want me to say it again, but slower this time?”

  I swatted his arm. “Smarty-pants.”

  “That’s what they tell me.”

  I slipped my arms into the sleeves. The jacket was slightly bigger, cocooning me in its warmth. We approached a fork in the sidewalk. “Well, I’m going this way,” I said slowly, suddenly wanting to prolong the moment.

  “And I’m going this way,” he said, pointing to the right fork.

  “Then you should head that way,” I teased back. “Or someone might wonder what happened to you.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, Abbey.” With that smoky-whispered promise, Jason sauntered off, leaving me watching him retreat.

  My whole walk home, all I could think about was him.

  Friday night, I stared at myself in the full-length mirror hanging on the back of my door, trying to study all possible sides of my body. My head berated me for being so ridiculous—it wasn’t a date. We were going as friends.

  Colleagues, really. Just taking in a show, learning from other actors. A professional gathering.

  But my heart wouldn’t stop racing, and my palms were sweating like it was a thousand degrees in my room.

  After changing outfits a good half-dozen times, I’d finally settled on a jean skirt and pale-pink dressy shirt, paired with flats. The shirt sleeves were slitted, allowing little peeks of my arms to show through. Understated but cute.

  Not that it mattered what he thought, right?

  “Abbey, he’s here,” my mom hollered from downstairs.

  My heart rate picked up again, kicking into double time.

  Caroline peeked her head in the door, a massive grin nearly splitting her face in two. “You look adorable, sis. Are you nervous?”

  I swiped a palm down the front of my shirt, smoothing it. “Of course not. There’s nothing to be nervous about.” The slight tremble in my voice gave me away, and given the way Caroline’s grin got even wider, she totally picked up on it.

  “Uh-huh,” she said in a dry tone, slipping inside my bedroom and circling around me a couple of times, taking in my outfit with careful scrutiny. “You look nice. Now, you have enough money, right?”

  I nodded. Jason had said his parents were planning on taking his little brother out to a movie while we went to our play, so we’d all grab a quick bite to eat before the production, and they’d pick us up when it was done. So not only were we going to the play, we were also hanging out with his family. I was pretty sure that was the point I’d started getting really nervous about tonight.

  “Just play it cool. You’ll be fine.” She squeezed my shoulder. Her voice softened as she continued, “You look really pretty, Abbey. He’d be a total idiot not to notice you tonight.”

  I gave her a small hug. My sister wasn’t the warmest person ever, but she knew the right thing to say when I needed to hear it. She also knew that despite my protests, tonight was more important to me than I’d let on. “Thanks.”

  “Okay, you’d better get downstairs, before Mom starts asking him too many questions.” She chuckled, probably having gone through that a time or ten since she’d started dating last year.

  Crap, she was right. I grabbed my purse and almost ran down the stairs.

  Then stopped.

  Jason was there, wearing a pair of black pants and a slim black dress shirt. He looked tall, lean, totally commanding my attention. “Hey,” he said, sound a little throaty as he took in my outfit. “You look great.”

  Mom beamed at him, dropping back from his side so I could join him in the living room. “Okay, you two be careful and have fun.” She walked over to the window and waved at what I assume was his parents’ car. “Nice people—they popped in here quickly to meet me.”

  My throat grew even drier when Jason took my hand to lead me to the door. “Um, ’kay, Mom,” I managed to say.

  And then we were out in the balmy May air, a light breeze fluttering my shirt.

  We made it to the bottom of the stairs when I stopped in my tracks. “Crud. I forgot your jacket. Hold on.”

  He tugged my hand. “Oh, we can get it another time. Don’t worry about it.”

  Was he just in a rush to leave, or was there the off chance he possibly want me to keep it and didn’t know how to tell me? I couldn’t tell from his face or his voice. But it didn’t matter anyway. He was practically dragging me toward the car.

  He opened my door—yes, I admit I melted a little—and let me in behind the driver’s seat. His brother was sitting in the middle, wearing a big smile as he waved at me. Then Jason ran over to his side and hopped in.

  Jason’s mom and dad turned around and faced me, beaming.

  “Hi!” his mom said, turning on the dome light and flooding the car interior in a golden glow. She was surprisingly young, with no gray in her hair that I could see, and she had on low jeans and a T-shirt. She thrust her hand out. “I’m Jillian. It’s great to meet you. Jason has told us all about you.”

  I dared a teasing glance at him. “I wouldn’t believe a word of it. He’s notoriously shifty, as I’m sure you know.”

  Instead of smirking, the way I thought he would, his cheeks burned bright red, and he swallowed then looked away.

  Was he nervous? Something in my chest cracked and softened into a pile of butter. Suddenly I felt less nervous, less unsure. If he was nervous, I wasn’t the only one putting pressure on tonight. And, oddly enough, I found comfort in that solidarity. He wanted it to go well too.

  Jason’s dad was shaved completely bald; the look worked well on him. He winked at me. “Well, he told us you were really cute . . .”

  “Dad,” Jason said in a low voice. “Stop.”

  His parents chuckled in the front seat, and his mom turned off the dome light. “Okay, honey,” she said. “I’ll stop torturing you. For now.”

  I turned my attention to Braedon, wanting to give Jason a minute or two to relax and also needing the time myself. “So, what movie are you going to see?”

  He wiggled in his booster seat. “Mom said we were going to see Carly Coral. She’s a coral in the ocean who wants to see the world. It’s a cartoon, and she told me if I was good and did all my work this week, she’d take me.” His face was completely serious, as though we were talking politics instead of an animated film.

  “That sounds great,” I said solemnly. “You’ll have to let us know how it is. Jason and I are going to see a play.”

  “I heard,” he said. “Jason was talking about it with one of his friends, and—”

  Jason clapped a hand over his brother’s mouth. “That’s enough about that,” he said, giving a nervous chuckle.

  “Why, Jason, I really wanted to hear what your brother had to say,” I said in fake admo
nition.

  He shot Braedon a warning look, and the boy responded with a nod. Jason took his hand off his mouth. “Anyway,” he said loudly, “it’s going to be a great play. I’m looking forward to it.”

  “Is there kissing?” Braedon made a scrunched-up face with so much misery that I couldn’t help but laugh.

  “A little,” I responded. “But it’s a tragic romance.”

  “What is tragic?” he asked innocently.

  Ah, crap. No way could I explain to him that Romeo and Juliet died in the end. “Um, well . . .” I shot a desperate look at Jason.

  “It ends sadly,” he said smoothly, saving my hide. “They don’t stay together.”

  I nodded. “Yup. Sad.”

  The rest of the car ride went quickly, as did dinner. Jason’s parents were funny, with that dry, smartmouthed humor I could easily see he got from them. I instantly felt comfortable with them, and they seemed interested in me, asking lots of questions about my classes and extracurricular activities while we shared a spinach-dip appetizer and I noshed on my quesadilla.

  If only I weren’t so hyperaware of Jason. He sat on my right, his thigh pressed against mine. My bottom half was practically frozen in place, my leg nearly seared by the contact of his.

  Either he wasn’t feeling it, or he didn’t notice. He seemed completely casual, laughing and talking. I made a good effort to do the same and distract myself from him.

  When we finished dinner, I took out a twenty to cover my food, but his dad waved it away, refusing to take it. Really nice people, and a secret part of me hoped that maybe in the future, there might be a reason to be around them more.

  Jason’s mom dropped us in front of the Beck Center twenty minutes before the start of the show. People were filtering in, lingering out front, hanging in the lobby and looking at artwork I could see through the large glass windows.

  “Jason, send me a text when the play’s over,” she said then gave him a hug. She glanced over at me, giving an enigmatic smile that lit up her eyes, so similar to Jason’s. “You guys have lots of fun.”

  Chapter Twelve

  The play was thrilling.

 

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