Bad Romeo (Starcrossed #1)(3)
Author: Leisa Rayven

He taught me that.

“Listen, Cassie,” he says, and I hate that I’ve missed hearing him say my name so damn much. “Do you think we could just put all our bullshit behind us and start again? I really want to. I thought you might, too.”

His expression is full of sincerity, but I’ve seen it before. Every time I trusted it, I ended up getting my heart ripped out.

“You want to start again?” I say. “Oh, sure. No problem. Why didn’t I think of that?”

“It doesn’t have to be like this.”

The implication is that I’m being unreasonable. If I weren’t so angry, I’d laugh.

“Then what should it be like, huh?” I ask, words like acid. “Please, tell me. After all, you’re the one who always makes decisions about our relationship. How do you want to play it this time? Friends? Fuck buddies? Enemies? Oh, wait, I know. Why don’t you play the piece of shit who broke my heart, and I’ll be the woman who doesn’t want anything to do with him outside the rehearsal room? How would that be?”

His jaw tightens. He’s angry.

Good.

I can deal with angry.

He rubs his eyes and exhales. I expect him to yell, but he doesn’t. Instead, he says in a quiet voice, “None of what I said in my e-mails meant anything to you, did it? I thought we might at least be able to talk about what happened. Did you even read them?”

“Of course I read them,” I say. “I just didn’t believe them. I mean, there’s only so many times I can swallow bullshit before I despise the taste. What’s the phrase? Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice—”

“I’m not fooling you this time. Or myself. In the past, I did what I needed to, for both of us.”

“Are you kidding me? Do you actually expect me to thank you for what you did?”

“No,” he says, voice brimming with frustration. “Of course not. I just want to…”

“You want another chance to ruin me? How stupid do you think I am?”

He shakes his head. “I want things to be different. If you want me to apologize, I’ll do it until I lose my fucking voice. I just want things to be right between us. Talk to me. Help me fix this.”

“You can’t.”

“Cassie—”

“No, Ethan! Not this time. Not ever again.”

He leans forward. He’s close. Too close. He smells just like he used to, and I can’t think. I want to shove him away so I can clear my head. Or beat him with my fists until he understands I haven’t been truly happy for years, and it’s all his fault. I want to do so many things, but all I do is stand there, hating how powerless he can still make me feel.

His breathing is just as uneven as mine. His body’s just as tense. Even after everything we’ve been through, our attraction still tortures us. Just like old times.

Thank God the door at the bottom of the stairs opens. I look over to see Cody staring up at us with a confused expression.

“Mr. Holt? Ms. Taylor? Is everything okay?”

Holt steps away from me and rakes his fingers through his hair.

I exhale a ragged, shallow breath. “Everything’s fine, Cody. All good.”

“Okay, then,” he says brightly. “Just letting you know we’re about to start.”

He disappears, and it’s just Ethan and me again. Oh, and the shitload of baggage we carry.

“We’re here to do a job,” I say, my voice hard. “Let’s just get it done.”

His brows furrow and his jaw tightens, and for a second I think he’s not going to let it go, but he says, “If that’s what you really want.”

I push down a vague sense of disappointment. “It is.”

He nods, and without saying another word, heads downstairs and out the door.

I take a moment to compose myself. My face is hot, my heart is pounding, and I almost laugh when I think how he already has me tied in knots, and we haven’t even started rehearsals.

The next four weeks are going to suck harder than a black hole.

I straighten myself up and head back into the rehearsal room.

By the time I grab my script and a water, there’s only one chair left at the production table, and naturally, it’s beside Holt. I drag it as far from him as I can and sink into the uncomfortable plastic.

“Everything okay?” Marco raises his eyebrows.

“Yep. Fine,” I say with a smile, and it’s like I’m back in the first year of drama school, saying what others want to hear so they’ll be happy even if I’m not.

Playing my role.

“Then let’s start at the beginning, shall we?” Marco says. There’s a rustling of paper as everyone opens their scripts.

What a great idea. All good stories need to start somewhere.

Why should this one be any different?

TWO

IN THE BEGINNING

Present Day
New York City
The Diary of Cassandra Taylor

Dear Diary,

Tristan has suggested I use you to help chronicle the events in my life that led me to being the maladjusted individual I am today. He wants me to look at some of the unhealthy relationships that have made me moody and emotionally unavailable, so I thought I’d start with the jackpot of all my regrets:

Ethan Holt.

The first time I saw him, I was simulating anal sex with someone I’d just met.

Wow. That sounds bad.

Let me explain.

I was auditioning for a place at The Grove Institute of Creative Arts, a private college that offered courses in dance, music, and visual arts, and also housed one of the most prestigious drama schools in the country.

Built on the bones of an old orchard, it was located in Westchester, New York, and in recent history, it had trained some of America’s most talented stars of theater and screen.

I’d been dreaming about studying there forever, so in my senior year, when all my friends were applying to colleges to be doctors, lawyers, engineers, and journalists, I applied to be an actress.

The Grove was my first choice for many reasons, not the least of which was that it was on the other side of the country from my parents.

It wasn’t that I didn’t love my parents, because I did. But Judy and Leo had very specific ideas about how I should live my life. Because I was an only child and therefore programmed to do anything and everything to gain their approval, I basically lived up to all their unrealistic ideals.

By the time I reached my senior year, I’d never drunk alcohol, smoked cigarettes, eaten anything other than Judy’s healthy-but-tasteless vegetarian crap, or slept with a boy. I was always home when I was supposed to be, even if it was so they could both completely ignore me, or snipe at each other, or not be there at all.