“You can drop me off at campus.”
“Nope.”
“So knowing my princess secret isn’t enough for you? You want to know where I live now too?”
He shrugs. “If I can’t get your number, at least I can serenade you from your window.”
I raise a hand. “If I give it to you, will you please stop with theRomeo and Julietreferences?”
“As you wish.”
He hands me his phone, and I type in my address.
When he starts the truck, my thoughts start spiraling, and I do not trust a single one of them. Better to look away before he reads something on my face that I am not ready to admit.
I lean my head against the window, staring out at the street as we drive. Every now and again, I can feel Scotty stealing glances at me, and I hate that I’m hyperaware of every single one.
He wanted to see me. He pretended to be my boyfriend just so he could…what the hell am I supposed to do with this information?
Does it matter?
The minute we get back to campus he’ll be with his hockey buddies, and I have no doubt everyone will know that I do this for a living. Then I can kiss any chance of being taken seriously for any production at Covey U out the window.
“Promise me you won’t tell anyone about this?” I ask quietly, almost hoping he can’t hear me.
“About what?”
I turn to face him, my stomach knotting. “About this.” I gesture to my glittered dress with a frown. “I don't want anyone at Covey U knowing I do this for a living.”
“I already told you I wouldn’t, and I don’t break promises.”
“Thank you,” I mumble.
“You’re welcome, but can I ask why you don’t want anyone to know?” He sounds genuinely confused. “You were incredible in there. Not just the acting or the singing, but the way you connected with those kids. You made them feel so special.”
“Theater isn't a team sport like hockey. Everyone wants to be the star, and if the other actors find out I do this—that I dress up as Princess Blanca and sing to five-year-olds—they'll typecast me. Or worse, they won't take me seriously at all.”
“Oh, please. The minute you start singing, people can’t help but watch you.” He breathes out slowly. “I know I can’t, anyway.”
My jaw clenches. “Stop.”
“What?”
I take in a sharp breath and close my eyes. “You don't… you can't just say things like that.”
“Like what? That you’re incredible at what you do?”
“Exactly that!”
“Why not?”
“Because—” I stop, frustration building before I pull the tiara from my hair, the pins catching, but I ignore the pain. “Because you don't know what it's like, okay? To work this hard and still be invisible. To be good at something and have people dismiss it because it's not ‘serious’ enough.”
“That's ridiculous. You're incredibly talented—”
“And I barely get cast as it is!” The words burst out of me. “I've been background ensemble in every production I’ve ever done. Never a lead, never even a supporting role, and this is my chance to finally prove I'm more than just the loser in the back fighting for a dream that’s not mine.” My hands twist in the tulle. “If anyone finds out about Princess Blanca, I'll never get that part. They'll see me as a children's entertainer, not a real actress, and I can't… I've worked too hard to let that happen.”
He's quiet, and I risk a glance at him. His jaw is tight, but his eyes are soft.
