by A. Destiny
I’d never seen acting quite so engaging, so emotional as this production of Romeo and Juliet. After the first act, I could see why Mr. Ferrell felt Jason and I needed to work on our acting skills. It humbled and embarrassed me to realize just how much I still needed to learn about the craft.
The actors moved across the stage like liquid, flowing and ebbing with emotion. Their faces, their voices, their very bodies breathed life into words that freshman year had fallen flat for me on paper.
Plus, the theater itself was nice—much bigger than ours, yet cozier, too, in a way.
Jason sat beside me, rapt as well. His face was filled with concentration as he studied the actors, likely noting techniques and ideas he should implement. It was equally fascinating watching those thoughts flicker across his face. I could tell by the way he squinted his eyes, how he rubbed a hand along the back of his neck while scrutinizing the play.
I shifted in the narrow seat, my leg brushing against his for the hundredth time since we’d sat down. “Sorry,” I whispered, fighting as hard as I could to ignore the tingles across my skin. “These seats are tiny.”
He turned to look at me, the stage light casting a glow across half his face. “Stop blaming the seats. I know you’re just trying to touch me.”
I gave him a mock scowl and whispered, “Darn. You figured out my sinister scheme. I made sure we’d get sent here by Mr. Ferrell and put in the tiniest seats in the universe, just so I could ‘accidentally’ touch you.”
I thought I heard him say, “I’ll make sure to thank Mr. Ferrell,” but I couldn’t be certain if that was real or just a tiny bit of wishful thinking. And I sure didn’t want to ask him to clarify.
During intermission, we got up and wandered around, checking out the amateur artwork on the walls. It was totally cool the way the center supported local students. Today’s display featured photographs of Cleveland sites, both color and black and white. I recognized several famous statues and buildings, like the downtown library and Severance Hall, where the Cleveland Orchestra performed.
“You should submit something of yours,” Jason said. “So it can be on display.”
I blinked. “Really? You think so?”
“I saw your final from art class last year in the hallway. It was good. Really good. You have an amazing eye for composition.”
My face heated with pleasure. “That’s . . . really nice of you to say,” I whispered. “Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me for telling the truth.” He stopped, rubbing the back of his neck again, a frown creasing his face this time. He pulled me to a corner, away from the rest of the milling crowd. “Abbey, I was really unfair to judge you so harshly last year. It’s still eating away at me. I know we talked about it earlier this week, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since then. I hurt your feelings. I never wanted to be ‘that guy’—the one who didn’t care about what other people felt.”
My breath caught in my throat as he captured me in his gaze.
“I’m so sorry I was a jerk,” he continued. “It wasn’t even true, you know. When I saw your photos last year, I got a bit of a hint that I’d been too rash in assuming those things about you.” He paused, looking at the ground. His voice was tight. “I was stubborn and not ready to admit I was wrong. But now I can admit it, and I do. There’s nothing boring about you, Abbey. Not at all.”
My heart swelled. Before I could stifle the impulse, I reached out and took his hand, meaning to squeeze it in a friendly, forgiving gesture. But the moment my fingers slid against his, I lost what I was going to say.
Jason looked up in surprise then tugged me closer. We were only a few inches apart. So very, very close. Electricity practically crackled between our bodies.
The lights flickered off, on, off, on.
I laughed. Couldn’t help it—figured that such a perfect moment would be interrupted. His face split into a grin as well.
“Time for part two,” he said, a wry grin on his face.
As I followed him into the theater and back to our seats, I couldn’t help but think we were also on part two of our relationship, whatever it was. Something had changed between us.
And all I could think was that I wanted more.
I spent the rest of the weekend avoiding talking to Olivia about anything to do with Jason or the play. It was awful, and I couldn’t stop the guilty twinge in my gut when I thought about how I was “seeing” Jason behind her back. Yes, Mr. Ferrell had asked us to go, so it wasn’t a real date.
But as much as I tried to rationalize it, I knew the truth.
I’d wanted it to be a date. Wanted it so badly that at the end of the night, when Jason’s parents had dropped me off, I’d been painfully self-conscious saying good night to him, not wanting it to end, lingering on my front step with him for way too long. But Jason took my awkwardness in stride, giving me his trademark smile and telling me he’d see me on Monday.
I couldn’t stop replaying that intermission scene in my mind either and had lain in bed long after coming home Friday night thinking about it. There was something in the earnestness of his words, the way he’d looked into my eyes. I was starting to think that maybe Jason was getting some kind of a spark of a feeling for me too.
And if Olivia knew about that, knew that we’d gone out together—regardless of the reason—it would damage our friendship. Maybe even permanently, especially once she realized I’d lied about liking him.
So I’d stayed quiet about it. Hadn’t even told her. And the guilt was eating away at my insides.
Lucky for me, she’d not pushed me to talk, even when coming over for our regular Saturday dinner and movie night. I’d popped in a funny action flick because I knew it would keep Olivia laughing and occupied . . . and her mind off romance.
I was the worst friend.
Monday morning, I trudged my way to school, bleary-eyed. I hadn’t slept much Saturday night or last night, guilt keeping me awake far too long. Combined with Friday night’s “daydreaming” about Jason, I was running on empty.
I sipped my coffee from my travel mug—overflowing with sugar and creamer, just the way I liked it—and tried to shake off the sleepiness. Come on, caffeine, I prayed. Do your thing.
After all, I was heading to gym class, where I was gonna have to get sweaty and work out . . . and see Jason.
That sure got my heart racing. I swigged the coffee, finishing it in record time, and made it to the girls’ changing room. Lauretta was already in there, slipping into her bright-orange gym shorts, which clashed with her neon-green T-shirt. The girl didn’t care at all about matching colors, but somehow the look worked on her.
She glanced over at me, smiling. Her hair was no longer highlighted but now a pale blond, making her skin appear even more delicate and perfect. “There you are. You look sleepy.”
I shrugged. “Coffee will kick in soon. Just waiting.”
“Have a good weekend?”
I plopped down on the bench and reached over to my tiny gym locker, digging out my stuff and changing quickly. “I did. Went to see Romeo and Juliet on Friday at the Beck Center. It was awesome.”
“Oh, that sounds fun!” She paused then looked at me, tilting her head. Her eyes slitted into a suspicious look. “And who did we go with, hmm?”
I glanced away. “It was a school thing. Mr. Ferrell had asked us to go, so we went because we knew it would help the play. That was all. No big deal.” The way I was continuing to ramble was a dead giveaway.
“Oh my gosh,” she whispered. “You’re kidding. You went with Jason, didn’t you. Was it a date?”
“Not at all,” I declared, tugging my hair into a ponytail.
“I want to know everything,” she retorted. “Tell me—”
“Girls, stop gabbing and get outside.” Mrs. Belati interrupted Lauretta. She popped her curly head through the door, waving at us and a couple of other stragglers. “Let’s go, let’s go!”
For once, I was happy for the distraction of gym. Until I saw Jason,
stretching and warming up off to the side by himself.
Lauretta leaned over. “You’re going to tell me everything. Don’t think you’ve dodged me.”
I chuckled. “You sound scary.”
She tried to fight the smirk on her face but lost. “Um, I am scary. Don’t forget it, lady.”
“Do three laps around the field and then come back here,” Mrs. Belati hollered to our class.
A lot of groans, but we all made our way to the track, slogging through laps. Jason stayed with his friends, not dashing by me in a challenge, and I fought the urge to run up to him and dare him to beat me. My head was all mixed up. I needed to stop thinking about him.
Lauretta and I poked along until we were in the back of the group. “So,” she huffed, jogging along beside me, “you like him.”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.
“And you’re finally admitting it to yourself.”
Another nod.
“That’s so cute,” she said. “I’ve been waiting forever for this moment.”
“Hardy har,” I replied.
“No, seriously. With the intensity crackling between you two, it’s a wonder you guys haven’t started dating yet. The glances he throws you when you’re not looking are hot enough to fry an egg.”
“That sounds attractive,” I said with a laugh.
We turned the corner.
“I’m guessing you haven’t shared any of this with Olivia,” she continued.
My heart lurched, thudded painfully. “No, and it’s best to keep it that way. Nothing is going to happen between me and Jason. I’m just coming to terms with the fact that I don’t despise him anymore. But that’s it for us.”
No matter how much I wanted to think otherwise.
Lauretta and I jogged in silence to finish this lap, then the next. When we started lap three, she said, “You know, there’s a party this weekend at my cousin Jennifer’s house. It’s her eighteenth birthday, and practically everyone from the school will be there. You should come with me.”
“I don’t want to intrude,” I said.
“No, seriously. You won’t be.” We rounded the first curve. “She told me to ask my friends. They have a huge place. Plus, cake.” She grabbed my arm, widening her eyes. “Cake, Abbey. You can’t miss out on that. My mom said it was going to be big enough to feed fifty people. That’s practically a wedding-size feast.”
I chuckled. “Gosh, when you put it that way . . .”
She lowered her voice and leaned in, her breath huffing against my ear. “Jennifer also hired a band to play. They’re supposed to be really good.”
“Oh, really?” I wasn’t sure why that was so secret-worthy, but okay.
“Jason’s the bassist.”
I stumbled over my feet and righted myself, glancing around to make sure no one caught my clumsiness. “Seriously?”
Jason was going to be at this party. Olivia hadn’t mentioned it at all, which meant she probably wasn’t going to go. Or that she didn’t know about it.
It might be an opportunity for me to see Jason in a more casual environment, one without the pressures and strains of school and the play. I could see if this new side of him was genuine or a front. Because surely he’d be around his friends too.
“I’ll think about it,” I finally said.
She grinned, knowing she had me, that I’d be there. “Wear something supercute. I’m interested in seeing what exactly is going to happen on Friday night when the two of you are together. You know, for scientific reasons.”
I snorted. “Yeah, science. I’m sure.”
One thing I knew: Friday night was going to be very interesting.
Chapter Thirteen
You have wounded me, milady,” Jason said in mock disappointment, gliding across the stage floor toward me. His eyes were alight with a sparkle of a laugh as he drew closer to me.
I glanced away from him toward the empty seats, licking my lips and putting on a wicked smile. “One cannot wound a person who has no heart, can she? And after all the other women you’ve cast aside over the years, methinks it a fair assessment to make such a proclamation about you.”
Jason grabbed my hand, and instant warmth shot through that limb, leaving my skin tingling. “Rosalyn, I cannot bear the way you tease me.”
“Bear it, you must,” I chided. “For it is no different than the teasing you gave me since childhood.”
Funny how closely the lines of the play echoed our reality. Only I wasn’t quite so sore about the parts that had made me sore before. Everything was changing, and each time he and I evolved, it impacted the way I felt toward him in the play.
Made me softer, flirtier. Less abrasive.
I slid from his grasp and took two steps back. He took two steps toward me, the gleam in his eyes positively wicked.
“Only you know the real me,” he said passionately, grabbing my hand again. “Even my own flesh and blood doesn’t understand me the way you do. Only you—”
His phone vibrated.
He blinked and let my hand go, grabbing the cell out of his pocket and looking down. Luckily it was only our private Monday practice, not our group rehearsal, or Mr. Ferrell would have flayed him alive for keeping his phone in his pocket.
“Crud. It’s my brother,” he said, breaking character. “Sorry, hold on a sec,” he said, giving me an apologetic look and stepping away to the far side of the stage. “Hey, Braedon. What’s up?”
I tried not to eavesdrop, but the look of concern mixed with frustration on his face made me unable to tune them out.
“Bud, I can’t. I’m practicing right now. Remember the play I told you about? Our big performance is in a couple of weeks, and I . . . yes, I know.” He sighed, glanced at me, and rolled his eyes. “Yes, she’s here with me. No, she’s . . .”
Was his brother talking about me? My pulse picked up in a nervous flutter. What were they talking about?
Jason sighed again. “Okay, okay. Hold on. I’ll be home soon.” He shut his phone off and moved back over toward me. “Braedon’s freaking out right now because my mom isn’t home yet, and he doesn’t like the next-door neighbor watching him. He wants me to come home.”
I swallowed back my disappointment and gave him a forgiving smile. “Oh, okay. Well, we’ve made great progress, so don’t worry about it.”
“He’s getting really clingy lately, and I’m not sure why.” His brow marred. “He’s not normally like this. I’m sorry. I feel really bad. We were getting in a great groove with the practice.”
On impulse, I laid my hand on his upper arm. The slender muscles beneath were tight, rigid; he was frustrated and torn, the emotion clearly splaying across his face. “Seriously, it’s okay, Jason. We’re pretty much off the script now for most of our scenes. With the progress we’re making, we’ll have this down in no time, I guarantee you. Go home and hang out with him. It sounds like he’s a little insecure because you’re not home as much as you used to be.”
He stepped closer, looking down at me. “You think so?”
I nodded. “I babysat my cousin for the whole summer last year. When school started again, she called me constantly, asking me to come over, telling me she wished I lived with her. She’d gotten used to me being around. It’s flattering, actually. Braedon must think a lot of you.”
Something about that warmed my heart all the more. His brother obviously loved him enough to be upset when he wasn’t around. A sentiment I couldn’t blame the kid for, as I found myself unable to stop thinking about him too.
“Maybe you can let him visit with us here while we practice,” I continued. “He might enjoy that. He won’t feel so left out, and we can still get some work done.”
A slow smile spread across his face. “You’re pretty smart, you know that?”
I shrugged, my face flushed. Then I realized I was still holding his arm and let it go, the flush on my cheeks getting hotter. “That’s what my teachers keep telling me.”
It was refreshing
and fun to dish the bravado back out to him, the way he constantly did to me. There was an intimacy to our acquaintance that was evolving into a rich friendship. Of course, every time we got closer—physically and emotionally—it made me feel things I shouldn’t be feeling.
Made me want things I shouldn’t be wanting, too.
“I should get going anyway,” I blurted out, heading toward the theater seats and grabbing my backpack and purse. “I have a lot of homework today. My teachers were extracruel for a Monday.”
He laughed, dropping down off the stage to grab his backpack. “Well, don’t let me stand in the way.”
With footsteps in sync, he and I made our way through the theater doors, down the empty school hallway, a habit becoming far too familiar. Comforting. Yet still zinged with a thread of excitement, a knowledge that there was something unusual between us. Jason and I walked outside. The sun was covered over by a smattering of clouds, but the air was still pleasant, even if a little on the brisk side.
We made it to the fork in the sidewalk, where we always went our separate ways, me heading to my house and him to his.
“Have fun with your brother,” I finally said, wishing we could stand here longer but knowing he had to go. “And tell him I said hi.”
“I will.” He paused, looked like he wanted to say more.
“What is it?”
Clearing his throat, he looked away. “Oh, nothing. It’s nothing. See you tomorrow, Abbey.” With that, he walked off.
The whole way home, I couldn’t help but wonder what he’d wanted to say . . . and why he’d stopped himself from talking. Jason was always free-speaking, hardly one to censor himself.
I shrugged it off and headed home, thoughts of his smile warming me from the inside out.
Exhaling in frustration, I slammed my biology book closed and plopped back on my bed. I was tired of the musculoskeletal system, unable to focus. Mind flitting about like a hummingbird.
There was a light rap on my door. “It’s me,” Caroline said, her voice muffled through the door.
“Come in.” I sat up and shoved the books into a pile on the floor.
