Never Too Late

by A. Destiny

  “I swear, that’s not how it was. I couldn’t stand him at first—you know that. And when I realized . . .” I swallowed. No backing out now. “When I realized I liked him, I tried to fight it. Because I know how much you do! And I didn’t want to hurt you.”

  “Well, you did.” Her eyes slitted more, but in the corners I could see a shimmer of tears. The coldness was gone in a flash, replaced by a bitter hurt. “You upset me worse than anyone else could have, because you were my best friend, and you knew how I felt about him.”

  I dropped my attention to the floor, guilt surging so heavy I couldn’t bear to look at her pained face anymore. “I’m sorry,” I choked out through a closed throat. “If I could stop myself from liking him, I would. I fought it for a long time. But it’s not as though he likes me back, you know.”

  Her scoff made me raise my head. One eyebrow was lifted as she studied me in scorn. “You’re kidding, right? I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He’s never looked at me like that before—or anyone else, for that matter.”

  Instead of giving me hope, her words made my guilt stronger. “It’s not true,” I whispered hotly. “He doesn’t like me, and nothing’s ever going to come of it.”

  “You know what? I don’t even care,” she yelled, waving her hand dismissively. “It doesn’t matter if anything ever comes of it. The point is, you knew how I felt about Jason, and you didn’t care. You still chased after him. Best friends don’t do that to each other, Abbey.”

  “I didn’t chase him,” I retorted, my voice raising until I was hollering too. “You’re mad and exaggerating things. That’s not how things happened at all, but you refuse to listen to reason. It’s easier for you to be mad at me.”

  “You two go be a happy couple. Let him be your best friend. The two of you deserve each other.” Olivia pushed past me, ripping the door open and flinging it wide, stomping into the hall.

  I stayed in the bathroom for at least fifteen minutes, not fighting the hot tears sliding down my cheeks.

  Chapter Nineteen

  My stomach wouldn’t stop churning. I stared blindly at the mirror in the small dressing room, patting on my makeup.

  Since my fight with Olivia after school yesterday, I’d been in a haze, walking home by myself, closing myself off in my room and only coming out for dinner. And today’s faire had been even more awkward than yesterday’s, with she and I working solo shifts, not looking at each other the entire day.

  Jason, obviously sensing the tension, stayed away for the most part except for a quick check to make sure I was ready for today’s performance. Even that was stilted, though—my continued silence on what was bothering me made things less warm and connected between us. More like we were at the start of rehearsals.

  Olivia’s angry words kept echoing in my head nonstop, despite my best efforts to drive them out. She was wrong about me.

  But also right.

  And that made me even more frustrated. How could I fix this? Did I even want to anymore? My best friend, my confidant, threw me aside because I dared to like someone she did. It was selfish of her.

  Yet if she’d done it to me, I’d have been hurt too. I would have felt selfishly upset. Because of the magnitude of my feelings for Jason, I could kind of understand and empathize with her pain. If it turned out he liked her, not me, my heart would break into a hundred pieces.

  Some of the cast members buzzed and flitted around the room, a cacophony of whisperings about makeup and costumes and the play swirling in the air. I finished dabbing on my lipstick and stood, doing one last look-over to make sure I was presentable and ready. It was time to shake this funk off—I didn’t want to be miserable or let this drown me in sorrow. I’d deal with it later.

  For now, I had a performance to do. If I could rise above my personal issues and let myself become fully entrenched in my role, this would prove to me that I could really make it in the arts. All the great actors, musicians, and performers had to.

  One of the minor cast members patted my shoulder. “Break a leg!” she said excitedly, her grin practically splitting her face in two. Her hair was pulled back in a white wimple, and her gown was understated in a muted brown but still eye-catching. “This is going to be great.”

  I let her enthusiasm wash over me, giving her back the biggest smile I could make. “You too, thanks.”

  Jason walked in, dressed in his garb and makeup already on, still looking as handsome as he did yesterday. He saw me and nodded, walking over with his face neutral. “Hey, you ready?”

  I knew it was my fault things had gotten strained and funky with us, but for a moment I wished I could simply spill everything on my mind and make it better. He’d turned out to be not only an incredible guy but also a good friend. Not being able to talk to him was torture. But out of some deep-seated respect for Olivia, I couldn’t. “Yeah, I think so. You?”

  He nodded.

  I missed his teasing. My mind scrambled for something we could joke about, but before I could come up with anything, Mr. Ferrell came into the dressing room. Everyone stood and faced him, and Jason lined up beside me, his fresh cologne wafting to my nose.

  Mr. Ferrell was dressed in period garb as well, his peach-colored shirt made of a thick linen, paired with dark-brown pants and leather sandals. Several of the girls sighed in unison upon seeing him. Couldn’t blame them—he was really handsome. “Hello, cast!” he said, excitement pouring into his voice, his eyes twinkling. “You’ve worked so hard for this moment.”

  A few cheers broke out.

  “When you’re out there, live your role one hundred percent. Let everything else go—be in the moment and love it. You’ve got this down. I’ve watched practices, and I know you guys can do it.”

  I let his words buoy my spirits. He was right. I could do this, could let myself shake off this dispirited funk and enjoy the moment.

  “Curtain’s up in ten minutes. Finish getting ready, and break a leg!” Mr. Ferrell gave one last parting smile then swept out of the room, leaving us in a frantic race to help each other finish dressing, putting on makeup, and securing hair, props, and everything else.

  The lights blinked off and on. It was time.

  My stomach suddenly pitched in a rush of nerves. I gathered up my skirts and quietly made my way to the back of the stage, peeking around the curtain. The entire school was there for the play, along with parents and others. It was a packed house.

  I swallowed.

  A hand brushed my arm. I turned to see Liana, dressed in her gown and smiling at me. “You’re going to do great,” she whispered. “You have this role down pat—it was practically made for you.”

  I blinked in surprise. “Um, thanks,” I said, feeling a little guilty at how uncharitable I had been toward her. Yeah, she’d flirted with Jason, but could I really blame her for that? He was everything a girl could want in a guy. “I learned a lot by watching your practices,” I added.

  She squeezed my arm then slipped away to the other side of the stage, joining the rest of the nonspeaking cast who would be milling about when the play started.

  The curtain went up, the house lights dimmed, and the spotlights shone on the stage. The play had officially begun.

  By intermission time, I was coated in a slick layer of sweat. In spite of our full dress rehearsals, I hadn’t realized how hot I would get, probably inflamed even more by my edgy nervousness. Jason, however, had only a few dots on his brow. How he managed to look so cool and collected was beyond me.

  He’d flirted with me like a man falling in love throughout our scenes, pulling me into a web so deep I couldn’t help but find myself tumbling for him deeper. He was William, and I was Rosalyn, and I was swooning over him in spite of myself.

  What an echo of my reality.

  I took a swig of my bottled water, glad for a brief break. After intermission, some of the secondary characters would be onstage for a good chunk of time without me, and I could grab a quick stretch out the back door, maybe get fresh air for a
few precious minutes. The dress was clinging to my skin from all the sweat, and I desperately needed a breather.

  When the house lights flickered off then on, I took the opportunity to delve deeper behind stage, winding my way through the narrow black hall and slipping outside. Instantly I was greeted by the balmy evening air. The sun was cresting over the horizon, sending splashes of reds, pinks, and oranges streaking in the west.

  The sweat on my skin instantly dried, and I sighed in sweet relief.

  Just up ahead of me, I could see the dark silhouettes of a couple of guys—closer scrutiny showed it was Jason and another member of the cast, talking in hushed tones. A part of me itched to sneak closer to see if I could hear what they were talking about, but that would be wrong.

  I made myself stay in place, leaning carefully against the warm bricks of the school wall as I studied Jason’s profile, so familiar to me now that I could draw it in my sleep. He let out a low chuckle, the sound resonating across my skin.

  I loved him.

  I loved him, and I was pushing him away because I couldn’t tell him my feelings. It was ridiculous. But what could I do? I’d already hurt Olivia. If I confessed, who was to say he’d feel the same way?

  I drew one last long breath then went back inside. We were nearing the end of our play, the pinnacle scene where I was supposed to let him kiss me.

  Would he even still want to?

  A horrible thought struck me—was it possible Olivia was out in the audience? Likely not. Odds were, she was too bitter and angry with me to even dream of supporting me. But if we kissed onstage, it would be the final nail in the coffin.

  How could I do that to her?

  I pressed a fluttering hand to my uneasy stomach. And how could I kiss him, my first real kiss, knowing that would open the floodgates to my feelings, ones I’d been so desperately keeping inside?

  I wasn’t ready for this. To be laid open bare before him, before the entire school. He’d know I was in love with him.

  Mr. Ferrell came up to me, ever-present clipboard in hand. “Okay, your last scene’s coming up soon. Go get ’em, tiger. Make it one wallop of a kiss—but school-appropriate, of course,” he added with a crooked grin.

  I gave a weak nod, moving backstage and swigging down the rest of my water, my mouth suddenly dry.

  Then it was time for me to go back onstage for the climactic ending. Somehow I managed to fake my way through it, in spite of the horrendous twisting nervousness of my stomach. My eyes were practically drawn to Jason’s mouth, wondering what it would feel like on mine. Then I’d mentally smack myself to look away and stop thinking about it.

  Would we kiss?

  Jason strode toward me, his face bearing none of the earlier indifference he’d had in the dressing room. No, it was open and warm and inviting. A fine acting job, one that twisted my heart. I wanted it to be real.

  “Rosalyn . . .” He drew me to center stage, as we’d practiced. The lights were hot as they focused on us, brightened in intensity. “I can’t live without you. I . . . I love you.”

  In that moment, I knew I needed to hear him say it for real. And the probability of that happening was next to nothing.

  With a bittersweetness tingeing my words, I pressed a hand to my chest. I turned my face from him, not wanting him to see that genuine rawness in my eyes. It was hard to force the gaiety in my response to him. “Wait, you . . . you love me? But how can this be? You have done nothing but tease and torture me from childhood on. Our whole history is built upon this strange antagonism between us.”

  Jason clenched my hand tighter. Instead of laughing, as he normally did at this part, he was strangely silent, his tone much more serious and sincere than I’d expected. “From the first time I pulled your hair at the side of the river,” he said, the words almost inaudible above the slamming of my heart against my rib cage, “I knew I loved you. How could I not? Especially when you returned my attention with a punch in the nose—well deserved, I might add.”

  I moved away from him, blinking a couple of times. “I never knew you felt that way. Why did you not speak of these feelings before . . . before your brother made his intentions clear toward me?”

  Jason took my hand, turning me toward him. His grip on my fingers was warm, and I thought there might have even been a little bit of a tremble in them. But that couldn’t be, right? “Would you have trusted me, had you known?” He shook his head. “I have railed against this for far too long, believe me. My heart did struggle with the knowledge that I could not let my brother win your hand. Not when . . . when I wanted it for my own. I could no longer remain silent.”

  I stepped closer to him until there was barely a breath separating us. Our lips were just a few inches apart. I was transfixed by his eyes, losing myself in the moment, the strength of his hands in mine, the tingle spreading across my skin. “Oh, my dear William, I love you too.”

  Jason leaned toward me, eyes growing heavy-lidded then closing.

  I closed my eyes too.

  And I saw Olivia’s hurt face.

  With a regretful sigh, I turned until his lips brushed against the edge of my cheek instead of my mouth, wrapping my arms around him to pretend like we were kissing. It was horrible, and I was flooded with instant regret and sadness.

  How badly I wanted to kiss him. But I couldn’t do it, not like this.

  We pulled apart, and his eyes were so sheltered I couldn’t read his face at all. Then he stepped away, pasted on a huge, bright smile, and faced the audience. It looked like there was a tinge of relief in his features.

  Applause broke out and rippled through the audience, along with whistles. The rest of the cast flooded the stage, stepping in front of me and Jason, who had moved several inches away. His absence was painful, and I shivered.

  I had fooled myself. Jason didn’t want to kiss me. He was obviously all too happy we hadn’t.

  He and I took our bows, the applause cresting.

  Then I turned and walked offstage, trying to pretend like my heart wasn’t cracking apart.

  Chapter Twenty

  That was amazing!” my mom said, thrusting a dozen red roses at me when I finally stepped out of the greenroom, back in my regular clothes and face scrubbed clean of the last vestiges of makeup.

  “You were great,” Don added, hugging me with a tight squeeze. “I’ve never seen you act like that, kiddo. You have talent.”

  “Thanks,” I told them, cradling the flowers in my arm. Their rich aroma filled my senses but didn’t offer any relief from my sadness. To my horror, tears began stinging the corners of my eyes. I pretended to lean down and smell the roses, using the opportunity to furtively wipe the wetness away.

  “Your sister was talking to some of her friends but she’ll be—Oh look, here she is,” Mom said as Caroline darted her way over and hugged me.

  “That was incredible,” Caroline breathed. She pulled back, and her eyes flicked a brief moment of concern before she schooled her features into a smooth, gentle smile. “Hey, let’s get you out of here. I have a feeling you probably just want to unwind in your room or something.”

  I gave her a grateful nod. We walked home, Mom and Don talking almost nonstop about how professional the production was, how much they enjoyed the dialogue and found the play fun. I inserted nonverbal “uh-huhs” and “yups” where needed, but my poor mind wouldn’t stop replaying that stage non-kiss.

  The strangeness in Jason’s eyes afterward, and then what looked like relief as he pulled away from me. I hadn’t imagined that.

  What kind of a fool was I? To lose my best friend over someone I’d fallen for yet was now in no better of a spot than her when it came to winning his love. The worst kind of fool. One who was left alone.

  Ugh, my maudlin attitude was even starting to frustrate me. This was getting beyond ridiculous. I shifted the flowers in my arm. I needed a mental break from myself, from my stress. I needed to do something artistic that didn’t involve anyone else.

  I glanc
ed at my sister, who was nodding and talking with Mom and Don. They’d moved on to talking about the whole Renaissance faire, gushing about how fun and interesting it had been.

  “Hey, Caroline,” I said tentatively. “Um, do you think you’d be able to take me up to the park? The . . . well, I think I want to practice my night shots, and it’s the perfect evening for it.”

  Mom frowned. “It’s getting late, honey. How about you do that tomorrow after school, since you don’t have play practice anymore?”

  “I don’t mind staying with her,” Caroline offered, giving me a small smile. “And we won’t stay out late.”

  Relief hit me fast and hard. She could tell I needed to get away from everyone and clear my head. “Yeah, I promise,” I said, crossing my heart.

  Mom pursed her lips and looked like she was going to say no, but Don squeezed her shoulder, giving her some kind of a knowing look. Mom sighed. “Fine, but don’t stay out late, ladies. You have school tomorrow.”

  Like I needed the reminder. It was going to be doubly awkward. Dread spiraled in my body in anticipation.

  I’d deal with it tomorrow, though. For now, I just wanted to relax and let go.

  We made it to the house. I darted inside, put my flowers in water, then grabbed my camera and stood by the car, waiting for Caroline.

  She slipped outside a minute later, dangling the car keys in her hand. Her grin grew wide. “I could tell you needed to escape,” she said with a small laugh. “I’ve had that same look on my own face on more than one occasion. Mom means well, but sometimes she doesn’t know when to back off.”

  “Thank you,” I said, briefly squeezing her hand.

  We slipped in the car, and she turned on a rock station but kept the volume low. My gratitude for her grew as I realized she wasn’t going to press me to talk. I’d never fully realized how cool Caroline actually was. Naturally, I’d revered her when we were little. But as I’d gotten older and she’d hung out with her friends, ignoring me, I’d grown to feel disdainful, the gap between us widening.