Bad Romeo (Starcrossed #1)(53)
Author: Leisa Rayven

Now, I’m living her reality, and as the play wears on, my voice says her words, my body feels her emotions, and my brain struggles to understand that the man I’m looking at is real, perfect, and mine.

He’s under my balcony, drawn here by his need to be with me. I’m embarrassed he’s just overhead me lamenting about how much I love him, but I wouldn’t have him unhear it for all the world.

He climbs the trellis, his face dark and determined.

“How camest thou hither?” I whisper down at him. He’s being so reckless. “Tell me, and wherefore? The orchard walls are high and hard to climb, and the place death, considering who thou art. If any of my kinsmen find thee here—”

He jumps onto the balcony with a thump and smiles while I look around nervously.

“With love’s light wings did I o’er-perch these walls,” he says as he walks forward. “For stony limits cannot hold love out, and what love can do that dares love attempt. Therefore thy kinsmen are no let to me.”

He touches my face, then leans forward to brush his lips against mine. Featherlight but heavy with desire.

“If they do see thee,” I say, breathless against his mouth, “they will murder thee.”

“Alack,” he says as he runs his thumb across my cheek, “there lies more peril in thine eye than twenty of their swords. Look thou but sweet, and I am proof against their enmity.”

There’s a drunken roar from inside my house and I push him back against the wall, into the shadows.

“I would not for the world they saw thee here,” I whisper. My hands are on his chest, caressing him. He’s watching them in awe.

“I have night’s cloak to hide me from their sight,” he says as he places his hand over mine and presses it more firmly over his heart. “And but thou love me, let them find me here. My life were better ended by their hate, than death prorogued, wanting of thy love.”

He’s looking at me, torn and passionate, and I don’t know how I thought I was truly alive before I met him.

This is what love feels like. To no longer belong to yourself. To be pulled from what you know into what you feel.

No wonder people live and die for this feeling.

Time passes in a blur, and over the course of the next couple of hours, my world is altered. Completely upended. Everything I’ve known is now rewritten by my need for him.

We ignore everything and everyone to be together, and just when I think we’ve outwitted our disapproving parents and friends, I wake up to find him gone.

Dead.

Just as quickly as he gave my life new meaning, my life without him instantly amounts to nothing.

So I choose to die. To swallow down my hurt like poison, take his dagger, and join him.

It’s only as I sink down onto his still-warm body that I feel the peace being a part of him brings. I close my eyes and inhale. His scent is the last thing that registers as I become still and silent.

I float in semi-consciousness, but a huge percussive cacophony makes me stir. For a moment I’m confused.

I open my eyes and see Holt’s neck, his pulse beating strong and fast. The roar of the crowd bombards me, and it’s then I know for sure we’ve been amazing.

I feel amazing.

Bulletproof.

High as a kite and dizzy from it all.

The curtain falls. Holt folds his arms around me and sits up while urging me to my feet.

“Come on,” he whispers as he drags me offstage. “Bows.”

He holds my hand in the wings. My heart pounds fast and loud as our castmates file onstage to take their applause. The audience whoops and whistles. When the main characters appear, they get louder and more appreciative.

Holt and I walk out together. My feet move confidently, even though the enormous cheer that greets us is completely surreal. I present Holt, and he bows, beaming. I’m so proud of him, I feel like crying.

Then it’s my turn to bow. My body is tingling all over, electrified by the adrenaline of my performance and being with him. The audience screams their approval, and I’m so full of happiness, I feel like my skin is going to burst right off my body.

Holt takes my hand, and as we bow together, the audience explodes out of their seats. Their cheering and whistling is almost deafening.

I look at Holt in disbelief. He smiles, radiant and stunning.

The applause seems to go on forever, but eventually the stage manager lowers the curtain, and the entire cast gives a huge cheer of self-congratulation. Everything’s a blur of embraces, kisses, and excited chatter, and I don’t want this feeling to ever end.

I turn around and see Holt, happy and laughing. He’s hugging guys, kissing girls, and slapping people on the back. So normal and unguarded.

A warmth blooms in my chest as I watch him, then he turns to face me. Without a moment’s hesitation, he strides over and wraps his arms around me.

“You were fucking astonishing out there tonight,” he whispers against my ear. “Astonishing.”

I wind my arms around his neck. “So were you. Just incredible.”

We pull back to look at each other, and it’s like everything around us fades to black. It’s just his face, his eyes, the feel of our bodies pressed together, the magnetic pull of his lips, so close.

“Hey, guys! You were average tonight. Must suck to be so talentless. Coming to the party?”

We both receive claps to our backs and turn to see Jack’s smiling face. Holt scowls at him, and Jack’s smile only grows wider.

“We’ll be there,” I say.

“You driving?” Jack asks Holt. “Or do you want to ride with me and Connor?”

Holt looks at me. “Uh … Taylor, do you need a ride? I don’t have my car.”

“Because you jogged in today.”

“Yeah.”

“I remember.” The image of him in his jogging outfit is burned into a very horny part of my brain. “No problem. I told Ruby I’d go with her and your sister.”

“Great!” Jack says and claps us on the shoulders again. “We’re going to have a blast. Woohoo!”

Jack heads off to harass other partygoers.

“Miss Taylor! Mr. Holt!”

I turn to see Erika walking toward us, accompanied by a man I’ve never seen before. He’s wearing a dark red velour jacket and a purple cravat. He could have stepped right off the set of Pygmalion.

“Cassie, Ethan,” Erika says as she stops in front of us. “I’d like you to meet Marco Fiori. Marco’s a very dear friend of mine and one of Broadway’s finest directors. His recent production of Death of a Salesman just won the Critic’s Circle Award for Best Revival.”