Bad Romeo (Starcrossed #1)(25)
Author: Leisa Rayven

“And what do you suggest? That you play Mercutio and Mr. Baine plays Romeo?”

“Yes!” Holt says. “He’d be great at the lame-ass lovey-dovey stuff. I could just die loudly and call it a night. Everyone wins.”

“No, they don’t, Mr. Holt, because you’ll have achieved nothing in your development as an actor, and I’ll miss out on exploiting the remarkable chemistry I witnessed between you and Miss Taylor at the auditions.”

Holt stops dead. “Is that why you cast me in this role? Because of that stupid fucking mirror exercise? Jesus, Erika!”

“That’s not the only reason, but it’s a part of it. Do you think that sort of chemistry comes along every day? Because I’m here to tell you, it doesn’t.”

“But that’s … It wasn’t something that I … I can’t just—”

“Ethan,” Erika says. “I understand dealing with that kind of connection is scary, but it’s exactly what you need to do to grow. You’re so talented in so many ways, but anything that requires you to be open and vulnerable with another person is your Achilles’ heel, and believe me when I say you won’t get very far in this industry, or this course, or life, if it continues to be a problem.”

She looks from Ethan to me. “Now, you two have been cast as the leads in one of the greatest romantic tragedies in the history of the world, so stop your bitching and be grateful. You’ll play the roles as they’re assigned, or you’ll both get an F for the semester. I don’t care how you do it, but you need to find a way to work together. Show up on Monday with your lines learned and your game faces on, because I’m going to make you look like you’re in love if it’s the last thing I ever do. Bullshit will not be tolerated on any level. Are we clear?”

Holt and I both mumble, “Yes, Erika,” and look at the floor.

Erika sighs and gathers up her things before saying, “Don’t forget your scripts,” and leaves.

Holt and I just stand there, not looking at each other and not speaking.

I should be happy about being cast, but I’m not.

Holt grabs his script and rehearsal schedule and shoves them into his bag.

“This is so fucked,” he mumbles under his breath. “This whole goddamn year is going to shit, and it’s all your fault.”

“My fault?! How the hell is it my fault that you were cast as Romeo? You can’t always play the brooding, untouchable rebel, you know. At some point you’re going to have to play the romantic lead.”

“That’s crap. Not every actor has to be the leading man. Samuel L. Jackson, Steve Buscemi, John Turturro, John Goodman. They all have amazing careers and don’t do the romantic bullshit.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Holt, because I really don’t want to give you a compliment right now, but you don’t look like any of those guys. You’re tall and handsome and have freakishly cool hair. People are going to cast you as the leading man, whether you want them to or not.”

“So you want me to be your Romeo? Is that what you’re saying? Because last time I checked, you couldn’t stand to even look at me.”

“No,” I say, “you wouldn’t be my first choice to be Romeo, mainly because you’re an almighty jackass who goes around reading people’s diaries!”

“Fuck this.” He grabs his bag and strides toward the door, but I grab his arm.

“Holt, what the hell is wrong with you? It’s been two weeks, and you haven’t even tried to make things better between us. Apologize already, you diary-invading douche!”

He spins around to face me and his eyes are full of fire. I take a few steps back, but he follows. It’s not until my back hits the wall that we both stop.

“It was a fucking mistake to read your diary, I admit. I wish I could unread it, because it would make my life so much easier not to know all that shit about how you feel about me. But what the fuck were you thinking writing it all down in the first place? Of course the person you’re writing about is somehow going to read it, mortifying you both and screwing up everything!”

“Oh, no,” I say as a flash-fire of blood rushes to my face. “You did not just blame me for you reading my diary!

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I did.”

“You’re unbelievable!” I throw my hands up in exasperation. “That’s it. I’m done trying with you. I don’t even want your apology anymore. Just stay the hell away from me.”

I push past him, but he follows me.

“How do you propose I stay away from you, when we have to perform countless love scenes in this stupid play, huh? Believe me, I’d love to not have to go through that fucking torture, but I don’t have a choice in the matter.”

I walk faster. “I’d rather stick needles in my eyeballs than have to pretend to be in love with you, but I’m going to do it because this production accounts for forty percent of our acting grade for the semester, and you will not screw with my GPA!”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, princess. After all, you’d probably just bitch about it in your diary.”

“Yeah! I probably would!”

“You know,” he says while striding easily beside me and my scrambling legs, “millions of people survive their whole damn lives without writing about their sexual fantasies and innermost thoughts in a book that anyone can find and read. You should try it!”

“As soon as you saw what it was, you should have stopped reading!”

“Oh, right, like it was possible to stop reading when I saw you were talking about my cock!”

I stop dead and punch him in the arm.

“Ow! Fuck!”

“This is not my fault! Screw you!”

He grabs my arms and pulls me toward him. “Well, according to your diary, that’s exactly what you need. Is that where all this aggression is coming from? You’re angry I didn’t kiss you the other day and you need to ride my dick for a while?”

“God, you’re an asshole!”

“I notice that wasn’t a ‘no’!”

I instinctively go to hit him, but he grabs my wrist and holds it tight.

“Wrong part of my body to put your hands on, sweetheart. Don’t you want to give some relief to the part of me that’s been hard as fuck ever since I read your stupid diary? Don’t you want to feel the hell you’re putting me through? You want to touch a cock so much? Go right ahead. Put your fucking hands on me and put me out of my misery.”