Bad Romeo (Starcrossed #1)(79)
Author: Leisa Rayven

“Cassie—”

“See you in class, Ethan.”

I walk away, every footfall heavy as lead as bile churns in my stomach. As I turn down the path toward my building, I glance back.

He’s still standing where I left him, his hands clasped behind his neck and his head bowed. I have the sick urge to run back and tell him to ignore everything I just said. That I’ll take whatever part of him he wants to give.

But I can’t do that. It would just be another lie.

Instead I shiver as I walk to my apartment and unlock the door with shaky hands. Once inside, I strip naked and head to the bathroom, determined to stand under a hot shower until the compulsion to go back to him goes away.

Sadly, when the hot water runs cold an eternity later, I’m still waiting.

Present Day
New York City

I’m standing at the counter of the coffee shop across the road from the theater when I feel a warm hand on my hip. I turn, expecting to see Holt there, but instead it’s Marco, smiling at me with a knowing look.

“Miss Taylor.”

“Mr. Fiori.”

“Have a good time at the benefit last night?”

His tone and raised eyebrow imply he saw Holt and me kissing.

Dammit.

“It was fine.”

“I’m sure.”

“Please don’t make a big deal out of it.”

“What? My two leads making out in the corner like a couple of teenagers? Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“It was nothing.”

“My dear, I’ve seen nothing, and let me assure you that what you and Mr. Holt were doing last night was most definitely not it. I thought the way you kissed each other in rehearsals was scorching. Apparently it pales in comparison to the real thing.”

“Marco…”

“It’s all right. I’m not upset. If anything, I’m thrilled. Can you imagine the press we’ll get out of this?”

I groan as the barista hands me my coffee. “Really? Do you think they saw?”

“I’m certain of it. Our publicist wants to see us prior to rehearsal. I believe every Broadway website and gossip rag has picked up on it. You two are the talk of the town.”

“Oh, God.”

He laughs and pats my shoulder reassuringly as he guides me out of the cafe and across the street. When we get into the rehearsal studio, I dump my gear and head to the ladies’ room, trying to push down a wave of nausea.

After Holt and I left the benefit, he’d escorted me home.

When we reached my apartment, he’d given me a good-night kiss.

Well, to be honest, it was a little more than a kiss. It was more like a full-body vertical dry-hump against my apartment door. In fact, if Mr. Lipman who lives across the hall hadn’t sneezed while he was perving on us through his peephole, we probably would have graduated to an act that’s entirely illegal in a public hallway.

When I’d finally peeled myself away, I was more confused than a straight guy at a transgender beauty pageant. I’d promised myself I was going to take it slow with Ethan. I’d meant to take it slow, yet in one night, I’d somehow managed to kiss him twice, reach a heavily loaded second base, and get an enthusiastic grip on his baseball bat through the front of his pants.

In anyone’s playbook, that’s not even in the same universe as slow.

When I walk back into the rehearsal room, Holt’s there. His face lights up when he sees me.

As I stop in front of him, he wraps his arms around me and pulls me into a hug. He doesn’t intend it to be intimate, but it is.

His breath is warm on my ear as he whispers, “Good morning. I’ve missed you.” His voice is full of our time together last night—all lusty and a little bit smug.

“Hey.” Mine is purposefully flat. Not encouraging.

He pulls back. His smile drops, and the light goes out of his eyes. “Cassie?”

The room is filling up with people. Our publicist, Mary, enters the room like a tiny big-haired tornado, her arms full of papers and iPads.

“Well, you two had an interesting night. I had a whole marketing campaign organized to get the town buzzing about this show, but you managed to take us viral with one well-publicized make-out session. Well done.”

She lays all of her materials out on the table. There are several pictures of Ethan and me well and truly lip-locked. Each iPad is cued up with a different film clip of the kiss.

Goddammit, how many people were filming us?

“Wait for it,” Mary says as she taps a lacquered nail against one of the screens. “This one has a very artistic zoom that allows us to see actual glimpses of tongue. There!”

Everyone laughs. I want to throw up.

“So,” Mary says, “I’ve already had a dozen requests for interviews this morning, so we need to come up with a strategy. Obviously, I’m all for pushing the whole ‘ex-lovers reunited in hot new play’ angle, because it will sell tickets. People love it when onstage passion is the real deal. If we’re all in agreement, I’ll get some draft press releases drawn up and get them out by this afternoon.”

She looks between Marco, Ethan, and me.

Predictably, Marco and Ethan are waiting for my reaction.

Just as predictably, my answer is, “No freaking way.”

Mary begins to bluster. I don’t hang around for it.

“I need to smoke. I’ll be back in a minute.”

I grab my cigarettes and lighter. When Ethan brushes his fingers over my arm as I pass, I keep going.

Once I’m in the alley, I attempt to light my cigarette, but my trusty Zippo picks that moment to stop being trusty. I flick the roller again and again, but the flint refuses to fire.

“Fuck it!”

I slump back against the wall and close my eyes. When I hear the door open, I know it’s him without having to look.

“Cassie?”

I keep my eyes closed. Not seeing him is easier.

“Please look at me.”

I can’t. I want to be strong, and looking at him makes me the weakest woman on the planet.

“Look at me, or I’m going to kiss you.”

That works.

I open my eyes to see him frowning, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Would you like to tell me what the hell is going on?”

I throw up my hands. “It’s everywhere. Pictures. Videos. Blog posts.”

He stares at me, confused. “And?”

“And … people are gossiping about us being together.”

“Good. As Mary said, it’s great publicity.” His calm is annoying.