Bad Romeo (Starcrossed #1)(22)
Author: Leisa Rayven

“Well, you have guts, that’s for sure,” Elissa says. “I mean, I love my brother, but if someone had done to me what he did to you…” She wipes her mouth with her napkin. “Let’s just say, I understand why you stopped taking my calls. When Ethan told me you’d been cast, I thought this was our chance to mend bridges.”

“Lissa, you never burned any bridges. Your brother did.”

“I know. But I’m glad we’re talking again. I’ve missed you.”

I take her hand and squeeze. “I’ve missed you, too.” I hadn’t realized how much until now.

“So, Marco’s working on the kiss after lunch, huh?” she says as she swirls a fry in some ketchup. “Nervous?”

“No. It’s not the first time I’ve been cast opposite your brother when I couldn’t stand the sight of him.”

“True. But last time there was less water under the bridge.”

“And I was a lot younger and less able to separate reality from fantasy.” I take a mouthful of salad, even though I’m not really hungry anymore.

Elissa finishes the last of her grilled cheese before saying, “So you won’t have a problem kissing him? It’s not going to bring up old feelings?”

I shrug. “There are no old feelings to bring up. They died a long time ago.”

She gazes at me for a few seconds, then shakes her head. “Sure they did.”

We continue to make small talk, neither one mentioning Ethan again. Our friendship too often revolved around him when it should have just been about us.

As we chat, I notice a trio of girls has gathered around Ethan’s table. His groupies. There are always a few of them waiting for him outside the theater. They seem to have a sixth sense about where he’s going to be. It’s irritating.

They squeal and ask for his picture and autograph. Gaze at him like he’s a gift from God. Push out their boobs like they have a chance with him.

If only they knew the truth. Despite having the face of an angel, he’s an evil, Cassie-abandoning bastard.

I spear the last of my salad with a little too much gusto as a barrage of giggles fills the café.

Damn his stupid angel face.

When Elissa and I are done eating, she says, “See you back there. Don’t forget Chapstick. Ethan hasn’t shaved. Don’t want you getting chafed.” She gives me a quick hug before taking the check up to the cashier.

When she’s gone, I let out a long exhale.

I’d almost forgotten about the kiss. Well, not forgotten so much as blocked it out. As Tristan will attest, my talent for denial is impressive.

I’m packing up my stuff when I feel someone at my back. I’m not surprised my body reacts before I see who it is.

“So, you’ll talk to my sister but not me?” he says as I turn to face him.

“That’s because I still like your sister.”

He’s wearing his trademark frown. “We have to talk sometime, Cassie.”

“We really don’t.” I grab my gear and push past him to the exit.

Of course, he follows. “You think we can get through this play the way we are now? That it won’t affect our performances?”

I step out into the street, and the traffic noise makes me raise my voice. “I won’t let it affect my performance. This is my dream job. And despite the universe screwing with me by casting you, I’m going to make it work.” I turn to him. “If you can’t, then do us both a favor and quit.”

He leans down, purposefully invading my personal space to mess with me. “Cassie, don’t fool yourself into thinking you could do this role justice opposite someone else, because we both know that’s bullshit.”

“I’d be willing to try,” I say and give him my sweetest smile.

He’s about to protest when more groupies show up.

They all but push me out of the way to get to him.

They’re welcome to him. I’m done being his fangirl.

As I walk away, he calls my name.

I don’t stop.

Six Years Earlier
Westchester, New York
The Grove
Sixth week of classes

He’s staring at me.

I keep my focus on Erika and try to concentrate. It’s tough. His gaze gives me an electric tingle that starts at the back of my neck and spreads all over my body.

I’d tell him to knock it off, but that would involve acknowledging his existence, and there’s no muffing way I’ll be doing that in the foreseeable future.

Since he read my diary nearly two weeks ago, I’ve avoided him at all costs. Whenever I look at him, a huge wave of humiliation washes over me, followed quickly by vicious anger, and ending with a strong urge to rub myself all over him. I thought he was going to kiss me. It looked like he was. Then he left, and now I have no idea what’s going through his brain.

Just thinking about our almost-kiss has my girl parts all excited. I don’t have the heart to tell them we’re going to die without ever experiencing an orgasm. It would depress them too much, and I really can’t afford to have a sad vagina.

“Miss Taylor?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Erika’s looking at me. So is everyone else. Except him. Oh, the irony.

“I asked why you think we become actors,” Erika says. “What drives us to pursue this profession?”

Okay, stay cool. Answer her question honestly. Don’t just give her the answer you think she wants to hear.

“Miss Taylor,” Erika says, “I promise this isn’t a trick question. Why do you think we act?”

“Well…” I take a deep breath and try to ignore all of the eyes on me. “I think it’s a way to communicate ideas and concepts. I guess we’re like mediums. Channeling different personas and characters in order to bring other people’s work to life.”

Erika nods. “You don’t think you’re a collaborator in that work? That your character choices add something to the original vision?”

“Well, yes. But only if my choices don’t suck.”

People laugh.

Holt scoffs.

“Mr. Holt? Your thoughts?”

He leans back in his chair. “We’re actors because we want attention. We’re standing around saying someone else’s words and trying not to screw up.”

Erika smiles. “So, you don’t think there’s anything artistic in what you do?”

He shrugs. “Not particularly.”

“What about a musician, interpreting someone else’s music? Do you consider them artistic?”