The theater is a few degrees colder than outside; it’s impossible to keep a room this size warm, given that the students leave the door ajar for a good ten minutes as they pour inside.
On instinct, I tug the back collar of my hoodie, pull it over my head, then help Hailey into it. It’s not until she sends me a grateful smile, burrowing her face in the warm, soft fabric, that I register what I’ve done.
Fuck, this is wrong.
Then why does it feel so fucking good?
The hoodie looks better on her than me, but now she’s wearing it, clearly warm and cozy, I consider filling my closet with nothing but hoodies, so I’ll always have one to give her whenever she’s cold. I wouldn’t rip a waistcoat or a white shirt off my back this easily... and neither would warm her up.
Shaking the moment off, I dissect Hailey’s words. Sheiswriting about her mother. But where?
Looks like I’m breaking into her room again tonight.
I limit my visits to every other day, and technically the memories of her mother aren’t important. She died long beforeAlex came into the picture. Long before Vaughn started looking into my father.
I won’t find anything useful there but... I want to knoweverythingabout her and I don’t understand why.
Before I can mentally school myself about veering off course again, Rhys saunters onto the stage from behind the red curtains, his smile as bright as always, a stack of scripts in hand.
“I taught you the theory, now we’ll put it into practice.” He waves the scripts in the air, eyeing everyone here, including me and Hailey, the only ones further up than the fifth row. “Your first intimate scenes. We’re starting with an epic kiss. You may choose a partner, if you’re comfortable with that, or I’ll pick for you.”
Hailey audibly swallows beside me, still as a statue as she stares at Rhys, her cheeks glowing pink.
That’s... distracting.
She slowly angles her head toward me. A sense of dread seizes my mind at the thought of partnering with Hailey, but the thought of her on stage with Jensen hits harder.
“You either do this with me or risk getting paired with someone worse,” I reason, my heart beating an irregular rhythm.
“Is... is that okay? I mean, it’s just a scene, but—”
“Exactly.” I cling to the idea.
It’s just a scene. Part of the job. Nothing more.
She lets out a long breath, looking back at Rhys who’s handing out scripts to those already huddled with partners, and helping people who haven’t found anyone.
“Okay,” Hailey mutters. “I guess we’re doing it.”
Her choice of words leaves a lot to be desired. My mind fills with enticing images of us doing exactly that:it, and my cock juts against the uncomfortable jeans.
At the bottom of the theater, Jensen looks over his shoulder straight at Hailey, disappointment pinching his features. Heknew what was coming today. He knew if he sat next to her, they’d end up on stage together. He knew I wouldn’t be able to stop him. Not here, when it’s all pretend.
He’s the first civilian whose painful death at my hands I’m seriously considering.
Fifteen minutes later, Hailey and I have read our three-minute-long scene.
“That’s intense,” she whispers, flicking back to the front. “So much anger.”
“Any volunteers?” Rhys booms, standing center stage. “Who’s brave enough to get us started?”
A hand shoots up in the third row—Chloe’s. Of course it’s her. The most eager student in the room.
She drags her partner onto the stage while Rhys makes himself scarce, leaning against the far wall, eyes on them. They start, and I’m glad Hailey and I landed a hate scene rather than this straight-from-a-romcom mush.
“Can we go next?” Hailey whispers, leaning into me. “The longer we wait the more nervous I get.”
“Yeah, okay.”
