“Wow.”
White puffy clouds floated along in the deepest blue sky I’d ever seen. The leaves on the trees along the edge of the clearing rustled in the wind. The sun shone gently down, bathing me in warmth.
“This is my favorite place at Dunmore,” Taylor said, and then, much to my surprise, he reached over, grabbed my hand, and squeezed it gently. I squeezed back, unable to fight the giant grin that broke out on my face. “It’s the reason I love coming back every year. Teaching the little ones tricks is cool and all, but being up here is just the best. I can, like, breathe here, you know? It’s the air or some shit. It’s different.”
A stomping, thrashing sound not unlike a wild bull on a rampage startled me into sitting up abruptly.
Drew bulldozed into the clearing, a baseball bag slung over his shoulder.
“You have got to be kidding me,” I muttered. He was like that tiny raincloud that followed Eeyore around—always there, making everything worse.
“Excuse me,” Drew cleared his throat loudly, and looked somewhat flustered as he marched across the field, indubitably squashing butterflies and ladybugs and other cute things as he cut a path of destruction through the wilderness.
“No sweat, homes,” Taylor called casually at Drew’s retreating back. “Think you’ve got a stalker, Red.”
“Hardly,” I scoffed. “We hate each other. I’m just unlucky.”
“That luck of the Irish not doing it for you?” He reached out one large, tan hand and ran it through my long red hair, casually winding one of my curls around his finger. A delicious shiver ran down my spine.
God, he had such an effect on me. And by the look in his eyes, I could tell he knew it, too. I had to get it together. I was not the girl who could be turned to a pile of mush by a boy. I refused to be that girl.
“The Mackays have been in Jersey since the Revolution. And besides, we’re Scottish. So, we have no luck. Just the curse of the haggis.”
He laughed. “The curse of the haggis, sounds epic. Aight.” He cleared his throat. “It’s time to get serious.” He fixed me with that liquid blue stare, and it took all the strength I had not to melt immediately. Guys should not have been allowed to be that attractive. It just wasn’t fair. “Brace yourself, Cass. Because this is some seriously sick shit coming at you right now.”
I nodded. I couldn’t quite tell if I was bracing myself for a good thing or a bad thing, so I tried to keep my face neutral.
Taylor unbuckled the messenger bag slung over his shoulder. I did a double take when I realized the small insignia on the front read PRADA. Whoa. I wasn’t much of a purse girl, but even I knew enough to know that I was presently in the company of the most expensive bag I’d ever seen. This skating business must have been way more serious, and more lucrative, than I’d thought. Suddenly I felt self-conscious about my wrinkled T-shirt and free Grand Prix Weehawken tote bag.
“Check it,” Taylor announced as he slapped a thick packet of paper down on the long grass.
“Looks like a script,” I said curiously, as I leaned over to pick it up.
“That’s cuz it is, Mama.”
“Prove It or Do It,” I read the title out loud. “It’s a screenplay?”
“Yeah.” He nodded vigorously, excitement sparking in his eyes. “My manager wants me to expand my brand. Into like movies and shit. And whatever megacorp it is that owns Gangsta Raw just bought a production company. They want me to play the lead in this movie.”
I flipped to the next page.
“Ryan,” I read off the first description on the list of characters. “Eighteen. Southern California golden boy. Tan, toned, attractive. Amateur skater with dreams of making it big. Edgy. Attitude.”
“Sounds just like me, right?”
I nodded. I mean, it did.
“I thought it would be easy as shit,” Taylor continued, “because it’s basically me, right? But when I say the words, they sound all stupid and awk. And now I can’t tell if it’s because the script is bad, or because I can’t act for shit. That sucks, right?”
He ran his hands through his hair, leaving the sun-golden strands sticking straight up. He sighed heavily.
“I just … I just don’t wanna do any stupid shit, Cass. It’d rip my cred to shreds. Trash my rep. You know?”
“I get it. Cred is important.” I knew what he meant. When I got to do my first movie—I hoped one day I would—I sure wouldn’t want it to be something stupid.
“I’ve been skating too hard for too long to become a joke.” His shoulders slumped.
“Well.” I scooted closer to him. “Can I do something to help?”
“I hope so.” He lifted his head and smiled right at me, sending a shot of adrenaline coursing through my veins. “That’s why I wanted to talk to you. You’re an actress, right?”
“Yes. Well, I mean, I’m not professional or anything, not yet. I mean I haven’t even started college—”
“Doesn’t matter,” he interrupted. “You’re good, Cass. I listen to you when you’re rehearsing, you know? I’m not just eating Cheetos and watching you do yoga. Although I admit that part is mad enjoyable.”
He winked, and I turned beet red.
“And you’re saying all this crazy old shit and I don’t know what any of the words mean, but somehow I know exactly what you’re saying, you know? That’s how I know you’re a good actor. Because you get the feelings across even when you’re not saying normal words. And if you can understand Shakespeare, I figure you know what’s good. Cuz he’s supposed to be, like, the best, right?”
“Yeah, he’s pretty good,” I joked. Talk about an understatement. I wondered what Old Will would think of Prove It or Do It. Or Taylor calling his work “crazy old shit.”
“So, maybe you could read the script for me, tell me if it sucks?”
“Sure, I can read the script. But remember, I’m not an expert or anything. I don’t know that much about movies—”
“I’m sure you know enough. You probably read mad scripts. And I can tell you don’t pull any punches. I trust you. You’re the only person right now who’s not trying to make money off me,” he muttered darkly. “I just don’t wanna be pushed into looking like an idiot cuz it’ll make a bunch of dickwads in suits a butt-load of money.”
“If it sucks, I’ll tell you.” I nodded. “I promise.”
“I knew you had my back, Red.” He smiled. “And then if it doesn’t suck, maybe you could give me, like, some acting lessons or something? Make sure I don’t sound like a moron.”
I was really flattered. No one had ever asked me for acting lessons. I’d taken plenty of acting classes, but I’d never taught one before.
“I could, but just so you know, I’ve never taught—”
“Enough with the undersell, Red!” He laughed. “You are like the opposite of a claimer. I’ve never seen anything like this. Own it.”
“Okay, okay, fine.” I laughed, too. “I’ll read the script, and I’ll give you acting lessons, and Prove It or Do It will be frigging awesome, okay?”
“That’s more like it!” Taylor fist-pumped triumphantly. “Now, we just gotta figure out your payment—”
“My payment?”
“Yeah, I’m not asking you to do something for nothing. That shit’s not right. Come on, there’s gotta be something you want.”
Something I wanted? God, was there ever something I wanted. My mouth went dry as Taylor stretched, lifting up his T-shirt and exposing a couple inches of rock-hard abs.
“Speechless?” He raised one eyebrow. “Well, I’ll think of something,” Taylor smiled naughtily, and the thoughts that popped into my head made me turn bright red again.
“Let’s just say you owe me a favor.” I swallowed.
“I’ll owe you as many favors as you want.” He smirked. “We have a deal?” Taylor held out his hand for me to shake.
“Deal.”
I took his hand and shook, but instead of letting go, Taylor used my hand to pull me c
loser to him. He raised his left hand to cup my chin and tilt my head toward him. Holy shit. It was happening. It was really happening.
As Taylor kissed me, a sensation like a million pop rocks exploding slammed through my body. His lips were slightly chapped, but somehow it felt nice, and he smelled like summer at the beach—sunscreen and sunshine and coconuts.
I knew I should have been focusing on the kissing, since it was really good kissing, but there was this part of my brain that kept screaming, The hottest guy in the world is making out with you! He picked you, Cass Mackay! It was hard not to think about it. I just couldn’t believe that someone so hot wanted me. I thought these were the kind of guys that went for the Amys of the world, the petite blond prom princesses. But no. He’d picked me.
I was so preoccupied with the kissing and my internal monologue that somehow I hadn’t noticed that Taylor had maneuvered me onto my back on the grass. Things were progressing a little fast. As I tried to figure out the most democratic way to slow this down, something kicked my leg.
“Eh-hem.”
I rolled away from Taylor and bolted upright, momentarily panicking that it was a bear or some other wild animal. Nope, it was worse. Drew. I should have known. He seemed to have a knack for ruining my life in the most spectacular fashion.
“Can I help you?” I asked acidly.
“Daaaag, bra, can’t you see I’m busy?” Taylor groaned as he flopped dramatically onto his stomach.
“You have to go back to the house.” Drew cleared this throat. “Actually, we have to get back to the house. We’re having a text session. Rehearsal. Something.”
“After hours?” I asked skeptically. “That has happened approximately never.”
“Believe me, I’m not thrilled either. But it’s happening.”
“Fine, fine.” I sprung up to my feet, trying to surreptitiously clean any grass off my back.
“You might wanna …” Drew made a vague gesture around his upper arms, then might have blushed. It was hard to tell with his beard.
“What?” I looked down at my arm. “Oh, for Pete’s sake, it’s just a bra strap.” I slid my two turquoise bra straps back into place. Hmm. When did those get down there?
“Cass, you’re not seriously leaving?” Taylor popped up and confidently slung his arm around my waist.
“Unfortunately, I am.”
“But shit was just getting interesting.” He turned me around to face him and smiled. I felt my knees start to go weak. Every time he smiled at me this warm melting-butter feeling spread through my body.
“We’re late already.” Drew tapped his watch.
“Yup, got it!” I barked. Jesus, he was annoying. Did his brain not develop the part that registers regular human social cues? I just needed three minutes to say goodbye, like a decent, civilized human being.
“You’re really going with this lame-ass?” Taylor jerked his thumb at Drew, who glowered.
“I can’t miss rehearsal. It’s important. It’s like skate … practice.” Was that what they called it?
“Okay, Red, I get it.” Taylor nodded and leaned forward to whisper in my ear. “You keep leaving me brokenhearted. But I know you’ll make it up to me eventually.”
A shiver ran down my neck as his breath tickled my ear. Suddenly, he grabbed my face with both his hands and pulled me toward him, kissing me forcefully. But almost too forcefully. Like he was trying to prove something.
I had a feeling this kiss was more for Drew’s benefit than mine, which was totally unnecessary. It’s not like he had anything to worry about there. Taylor broke away and pressed the script into my hands.
“Take good care of her, homes!” he called as he settled back into the grass. Drew practically dragged me back down the path to the lake.
“How did you find out about this unplanned rehearsal anyway?” I asked as we trod down the path. “Don’t tell me you get cell service here.” Then I really would have to kill him. Life couldn’t be so unfair that the universe would reward Beelzebub with service in this dead zone.
“No, of course not. I took one of the walkie-talkies with me.”
“Walkie-talkies? They still make those?”
“Of course they do. There was a really old pair in the boathouse. I took one and left one with Langley. You should always have a way to contact people when you go into the woods. It’s not safe to go alone. Or with someone you don’t know that well.”
“This is hardly the woods. We’re fifteen feet from the path. Maybe ten minutes, tops, away from town. And what’s that supposed to mean, anyway?” I asked suspiciously. “Someone you don’t know that well? Do you mean Taylor? I’ve known him exactly as long as I’ve known you. Should I be worried about my wilderness safety alone with you?”
“No, of course not,” he scoffed.
“Don’t you see how ridiculous you’re being?” I was trying to keep my temper under control, but it was just impossible. Every time Drew spoke two words I wanted to throttle him. “There’s no difference between you and Taylor—”
“On the contrary, there is a huge difference,” Drew interrupted emphatically.
“No shit, Sherlock!” I exploded. I mean, one was super-hot, the other was a deranged troll. And who says “on the contrary” outside of PBS specials? I took a deep, cleansing yoga breath like Mom had taught me, tried to get my temper under control, and started again, gritting my teeth. “What I meant was that I don’t understand why you have such a problem with him.”
“I have a problem with anything that impacts the show negatively.”
“Taylor hasn’t impacted the show in any way! Positive or negative.”
“Not yet,” he prophesied darkly. “And he called me a lame-ass.”
“You were being a lame-ass,” I insisted, and we fell into a disgruntled silence. Nothing but the low buzz of the mosquitoes and the soft crunching sounds as Drew clomped over the grass.
“What’s with the baseball bag?” I asked eventually. I’m not good with awkward silences. Even when they’re hateful, I just feel this need to fill dead air. “You couldn’t find anyone to play with you?” I asked with mock-sympathy. “Somehow, I’m not surprised.”
“It’s not for baseball—”
“Cass!” A female voice shrieked. At least Drew hadn’t been lying about rehearsal. Although, admittedly, that would have been a strange thing to lie about. The rest of the cast was sitting in a circle with Nevin, scripts in the grass at their feet. Amy waved vigorously at me, and I left Drew in the dust as I sprinted to sit between her and Heidi.
“What were you doing?” Amy asked, eyes darting back and forth from me to Drew, who took care to sit as far away as possible from me on the other side of the circle. “Was this part of the plan? Did he mention me?” she added excitedly.
Before I could figure out how to say no in a way that wouldn’t hurt her feelings, Heidi elbowed me in the ribs.
“I thought you left with Taylor,” Heidi whispered, confused.
“It got complicated,” I grumbled. “Can I share your script?”
Wordlessly, Heidi slid it over to me. I flipped it over, picked up her pencil, and wrote on the back: IT’S TIME FOR PHASE TWO.
I raised my head and glared at Drew across the circle. He wouldn’t know what hit him.
CHAPTER 13
I awoke to a blood-curdling scream, then smiled and stretched. The vertebrae near my shoulders gave a few satisfying pops. It was going to be a good day.
“Eeeyaaa!” Amy shrieked as she rolled out of bed, pushed her pink “Princess” eyeshade up to the top of her head, and grabbed her perfume off the dresser, brandishing it like mace.
“Nice reflexes.” I grinned as I climbed down from the top bunk, careful to avoid Heidi’s long limbs hanging off the tiny bed at improbable angles. “I actually feel a lot safer with you as a roommate now.”
“I googled bear safety tips after that bear pooped on our stage. If it’s a black bear, you want to spray a fog into its face. With mace, or,
uh, Touch of Pink.”
“You think a bear could make it up these stairs?” I asked as I gently jiggled Heidi’s calf to wake her up. “How did she sleep through that scream?”
“I thought it was a bird call,” Heidi said dreamily as she stretched, arching her large feet gracefully.
“Bears are excellent climbers,” Amy said seriously as she replaced the perfume on the dresser and tossed her eyeshade on her pillow. “And this building doesn’t lock.”
“Let’s go see the fruits of our labors,” I said gleefully as I rubbed my hands together. I couldn’t wait to get downstairs.
Barely pausing to slide my feet into flip-flops, I flew down the stairs. Amy padded softly behind me in a pair of pink fuzzy slippers. I jumped the last couple steps and landed with a thud, skidding as my Devils Hockey T-shirt flapped like a sail.
“What’s wrong?” I asked as I burst breathlessly into the kitchen, using every last ounce of my acting abilities to wipe the huge grin from my face.
Drew stood in the middle of the kitchen staring despondently into an open cereal box, as Noah nodded sympathetically over his shoulder while slurping a bowl of Cheerios. Rhys was perched on top of the freezer surveying the scene disdainfully.
“The mo-oh-ost disgusting thing,” Rhys moaned between bites of what looked like a Brown Sugar Cinnamon Pop Tart. “No one is safe anymore.”
“What happened?” Amy asked a little too innocently, her voice pitched several octaves too high for credibility. I elbowed her subtly in the ribs.
“Some … stupid … mouse … thing … my food,” Drew muttered unintelligibly.
“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a critter.” Noah shrugged before drinking the last of his cereal milk out of the bowl.
“A critter?” Amy squeaked. Much better.
“LOOK!” Drew thundered as he shoved his cereal box in my face.
If I hadn’t created that “mouse” hole in the cardboard box myself, or known that the poop pellets were actually Heidi’s modeling clay, I would have been totally grossed out.
The Taming of the Drew Page 12
