“Get out.”
I hear him exhale, but I can’t look at him.
“Cassie—”
“Get. The Hell. Out. Now.”
I hear a dull thud and I look over to see that he’s dropped the diary on the bed. He comes over and grabs his bag from the floor behind me.
When his body brushes mine, he makes a noise and pulls back. I open my eyes to find him right in front of me, studying my face. I feel like if he doesn’t stop, my skin is actually going to burst into flames.
“How is it possible?” he asks quietly.
“What?”
I press my back into the door of my closet as he moves forward and continues to stare. “How is it possible you’ve never…? That no man has ever…?”
I want him to finish the sentence, but he just keeps staring with an incredulous expression. “It’s a fucking crime that you haven’t been kissed properly.”
I stare at his chest. It’s rising and falling fast. So is mine.
I close my eyes. “You do it, then.” It’s out of my mouth before I can stop it, but I don’t want to take it back. “You show me how I should be kissed.”
I open my eyes to see him staring at me with such intensity, it takes my breath away.
For a moment, he doesn’t move, and I want to climb into the wall to escape my mortification. But then he leans forward, so slowly it barely looks like he’s moving. I think I stop breathing because my chest hurts. I didn’t know how much I wanted to be kissed by him until this moment, but now, every cell of my body craves it. Everything tingles with vicious anticipation.
Holt’s expression is serious. Eyes dark and searching. His hands go to my hips, and I lean back against the door as his fingers squeeze and release in a rough rhythm.
I finally inhale, and he’s so close now, I breathe in his warm, sweet air.
This is going to happen. Oh, God, please let this happen.
I close my eyes and part my lips, almost crying from the expectation of having his mouth on me.
But then, everything stops. His air is no longer washing over my face, and his warm hands disappear from my body.
“You really think after reading all of that, there’s any way I can fucking kiss you?” he says in a rough voice. “Jesus, Taylor, I can’t even cope with being in the same room as you.”
When I open my eyes he’s slinging his bag over his shoulder and striding out the door.
Mortification and embarrassment fill all the space in my lungs, and I slide down the wall and cover my face, wishing myself invisible.
I’m still waiting for the earth to open up and swallow me when I hear the front door slam closed.
SIX
COURAGEOUS CASTING
Present Day
New York City
Day four of rehearsal
The coffee shop is noisy, but they have free Wi-Fi. A perfect place to haul out my iPad and lose myself during my lunch hour. I’ve been writing in my diary most days. Mainly because Tristan keeps insisting it will keep me sane within the craziness of my current situation. As usual, he’s right.
Of course, these days I use an online journal with an encrypted password and more security than a presidential motorcade, but it’s not quite the same as writing on real paper.
Every day, Elissa and Ethan ask me to join them for lunch, but there’s no way I’m going there.
I come to work, do my job, and try to stay as far away from Ethan as possible in the time we’re offstage. He keeps trying to ambush me into talking, but I’ve learned to duck and weave better than a world champion boxer.
Talking will achieve nothing, other than taking us for a stroll down Excruciatingly Painful Memory Lane. Neither of us needs that.
I’m in the middle of typing my latest diary entry when a giant Caesar salad is plunked next to me. I’m about to protest that I didn’t order it when I look up to see Elissa.
“You’re getting too skinny,” she says as she sits beside me with her own lunch. “A woman can’t survive on caffeine and nicotine alone, you know.”
“Wrong,” I say and give her a smile. “I’m a shining example.”
“Well, your stage manager thinks you’re beginning to look like a bobblehead, so eat up. My treat.”
Looking at the salad, I realize just how hungry I am. “Yes, ma’am.”
As I pack away my tablet, I notice Holt on the far side of the café at a table by himself.
Goddammit. Of all the diner joints in all the towns in all the world, he has to come to mine. This is supposed to be a Holt-free zone.
As if anticipating my next question, Elissa says, “I’m having lunch with you because I’m sick of his company. Whenever I ask about how things are going between you guys, he clams up.”
I shrug and keep eating. I gave up trying to figure out Holt’s motivations a long time ago.
“You barely say a word to each other in rehearsals. You won’t even look at him, but he spends all his time staring at you. Wanna tell me what’s up?”
I sneak a glance over at Holt, who’s reading and absently picking at a bowl of fries.
“Nothing’s up,” I say, and take a sip of my drink. “Just working hard.”
She tilts her head, studies me for several seconds, then says, “Are you fucking my brother?”
I laugh and cough at the same time. A dribble of Coke runs down my chin, and I grab a wad of napkins to clean myself.
Holt seems oblivious to our conversation. Thank God.
“Of course I’m not,” I whisper. “Do you think I have zero sense of self-preservation?”