“Dot.” Carlton shuts his eyes, like he’s trying to calm down. “He’s the reason I didn’t get the role I practiced for all summer. It’s because of him I might not even get into Underwood now.”
No,I want to say.It’s because of you.But instead of finally confessing to Carlton that I know the truth, I just purse my lips. Now isn’t the time to get into it. I’ve been wracking my brain to figure out when the right time actually is, but I can’t seem to commit. Confronting Carlton and telling him I know he’s been lying isn’t something I’m looking forward to. I can’t imagine he’ll handle it well, and who knows how that will affect my friendship with Mabel and Rue?
Meredith approaches us from the other side of the room. She narrows her eyes at me and then at Carlton. “What is going on with you two?”
I cross my arms. “What do you mean?”
“It seems like all you two ever do is bicker lately,” she says. “It’s getting old.”
“We do not bicker,” Carlton insists.
Meredith rolls her eyes. “Yes, you do. You’re always mad about something, C. And Dot, you’re always getting under everyone’s skin.”
“What?” What is she talking about?
She rolls her eyes as she sighs, then holds up a hand. “Never mind.” She struts away and sits back down at a small round table shoved into the corner of our backstage room, which is called the green room, even though there’s nothing green about it.
I frown at Carlton. “Do I really do that? Get under everyone’s skin?”
“I mean, yeah.” Carlton shifts on his feet. “It sometimes seems that way.”
An uncomfortable sensation washes over me. “How?”
“Well, first there was you getting the part of Catherine—which Meredith wanted really bad—and then doing nothing but constantly complain about it at first. And then there’s all the time you’ve been spending with Zayne, who you know I can’t stand.”
“So, two things then.” I raise my eyebrows. “You literally only have two examples. Neither of which were my fault, I might add.”
Carlton exhales. “Whatever.”
Esme, the student stage manager, appears in the doorway of the green room. “Dot, you’re up.”
I give Carlton an exasperated look before I follow Esme. My mind is in a whirl. It seems like nothing I do is right, lately. I just can’t win.
I’m ushered onto the stage, and I glance up to see none other than Zayne. His eyes meet mine, and his brows inch together as if he can sense my internal stress. But I ignore him, mentally running through our lines. It’s a good thing we’ve been practicing so much. For once, I feel comfortable with my role.Confident. There’s still the tiny voice in the back of my mind that whispers,what if you mess up all your lines?
But of course that doesn’t happen. Thanks to Zayne, the scene flows smoothly as if we’re in his bedroom with our books right in front of us. Part of it, I know I owe to his superb acting ability, the way he makes me feel as if we really are these characters and we’ve been transported right into the pages of the story. Not an ounce of the real Zayne peeks through. When we’re acting, heisHeathcliff.
I know deep down he carries the brunt of our scenes on his shoulders. But the rest, I realize, is all me. I can hear it in my voice with each line. I can see it on Mr. Saltzman’s face with each in-character facial expression I make. Zayne was right about me not being as bad as I think.
And it feels really good. Better than good, actually. It’s a rush—one that will be really hard to let go of.
When Zayne and I have our first romantic scene together, I have to admit, I’m caught off guard. Rehearsing it in his bedroom or the classroom is one thing. But the way he looks at me while we’re acting it out in front of Mr. Saltzman, the way his eyes tenderly caress my face as if I’m made of delicately spun silver startles me. It seems so real, I almost forget we’re acting.
And then it’s time for us to kiss. The part we’ve skipped every time before now.
I step toward Zayne, my heart thundering in my ears.It’s not real,I remind myself.It’s only a play. You’re acting for crying out loud. “You returned on my wedding day,”I whisper into my mic,“only to punish me.”
His fingers clasp around my waist, gripping me more firmly than I’m prepared for. And then our lips meet.
And that’s it.
Or at least, that’s all it’s supposed to be.
But when we pull apart, Zayne’s eyes collide with mine. My stomach dances, the feeling propelling me forward and the next thing I know, we’re both kissing again. He reaches for my face, his other arm still around my waist. The taste of his mouth makes my brain feel foggy, but I can’t break away. Our tongues touch and then find themselves entangled like wild vines. The only reason my knees don’t buckle is because Zayne’s hand is still on my waist, holding me up. My teeth graze his bottom lip, my heart pounding in my ears, drowning out all other sounds. The words,only acting, only acting,ring through my subconscious, strongly at first, but then begin to dwindle into something less substantial.
This kiss seems to expand into a stretch of time that can’t be counted or determined. When our faces finally break apart and Zayne steps away, it feels like a bandage being ripped off a fresh wound. I stare at the ground.What just happened?
He doesn’t break character, stating his next lines as if we didn’t just make out onstage, when we could have just gotten away with a simple kiss. Eyes still round and wide, I glance at Mr. Saltzman. His usually pink cheeks look extra rosy as he watches us with narrowed eyes and low brows. Just past him, Rue is sitting in the audience with her mouth wide open. And Carlton is in the audience, too.
