Kissing the Player (The Dangers of Dating a Diva Book 1)

by Maggie Dallen

  My mother hovered in the doorway, a glass of wine in her hand, despite the fact that we hadn’t even had dinner yet. She’d been day drinking for the last three days, ever since the latest boyfriend dumped her for someone younger.

  She winked when I looked her way, but there was no amusement in her smile. Only mockery. “In case you get lucky.”

  Ugh.

  Leave it to my mom to ruin the giddy excitement I’d been reveling in as I got ready for tonight. Our first date.

  Well, our first real date.

  The first time it was just going to be me and Jax out on the town.

  Well, not exactly out on the town. But we were going to the diner. Together. We’d arrive together—like a real couple. And then we’d go to the party that Ryan was telling us about at school the other day.

  My head was still spinning from our kiss the other night and I’d been dying to see him again ever since.

  Especially because… No, I wouldn’t worry about it. Not tonight.

  Sure, he’d been a little standoffish in his texts this weekend, but texts were texts. Hannah had made an excellent point that it was useless to try and read tone in a text.

  Even so…

  “What’s wrong?” My mom’s voice jarred me out of my worries. I hadn’t even realized she was still standing in my doorway—the freakin’ wino harbinger of doom.

  “Nothing.”

  “Pshh.” She made a scoffing sound that was filled with disdain. “You two lovebirds breaking up already? That’s a record…even for you.”

  I glared at her. I didn’t even know what that meant.

  Didn’t matter.

  I turned back to the mirror to curl my hair, ignoring the condoms.

  “Good,” she said. “It’s for the best. You’re too young to have a guy distract you from your plans.”

  I ignored her. She was always mean when she drank and it was clear she was just now warming up to her topic. She waved her glass, and I cringed as I watched the red liquid slosh dangerously. “There’s no way I’d let a boy like that ruin your future. Now if it was a boy from a good family, from the nice area of town…” She let out a cackle at her own joke.

  Which wasn’t really a joke.

  Which made it that much more depressing.

  She was already on me to land a rich boy, as if I wanted to land any boy.

  Except maybe Jax.

  I froze for so long that the sizzle and smoke from the curling iron jolted me back to the present and I tore it away from my scalp before I burnt off a freakin’ lock of hair.

  My mom was still talking, but I didn’t hear her. I was used to tuning her out when she was in a post-breakup slump. She got nastier than usual and much as I didn’t love her digs about my weight and my complexion, that was nothing compared to the pity I felt.

  There was nothing worse than pitying your own mom, but I couldn’t help it. She was just so pathetic. She let guys use her. She made them the center of her life; she gave up her own dreams and ambitions…and for what?

  So that they could walk away when they got bored?

  I had a sudden flash of the way Jax had all but run out the door after that epic kiss. The way he’d avoided me in the halls on Friday. Of the weird one-word responses to my texts this weekend…

  I swallowed a thick lump as I reached for the hairspray. I held my chin high, because there was no way I’d let my mom see how much her words had hit home.

  I’d never let her see that she was right.

  But more than anything…I’d never become her.

  I’d go tonight. I’d enjoy the hell out of my first real date. I’d take as many kisses as I could and store away each and every memory.

  One week. I’d give myself one week and then I’d end it…

  I’d walk away before he ever could.

  13

  Rose

  It was with weary resignation that I followed Jax to his car and got in, making a production out of turning on my phone and texting Hannah to see if I could crash at her place.

  She didn’t reply right away and I ran out of things to do on my phone.

  When I looked up we were heading down the winding road in silence. I recognized the song that we were listening to. “So…” I shifted so I was half facing him, which put even more distance between us and allowed me to breathe.

  He wasn’t a huge guy, but he took up the space around him. He had presence.

  Back when I was a kid I’d been a munchkin in a regional performance of Wizard of Oz. My director was the first person who taught me about presence—who had it, who didn’t, how to create it.

  Some people, like me, learned it. We studied it. We watched famous people and emulated them at every turn.

  People like Jax…

  I narrowed my eyes as I studied him. It probably came naturally to him. He took it for granted like he did the chiseled jaw and the dark, brooding eyes.

  Jerk.

  He glanced over at me with arched brows. “So…” he repeated when I failed to say anything more.

  “Do you always drive around listening to your own band’s demo album?” I asked as mildly as possible. It still came out sounding snide.

  “Ah,” he said. “So you recognize it.”

  I frowned because…shoot. I’d forgotten that I’d pretended that I’d never heard of them. I lifted one shoulder. “You just told me all about your band, remember?” I feigned a rude yawn. “You told me all about it.”

  His expression was one of amusement and shock. “Because you asked.”

  “Uh huh.”

  He shot me a look. “But that doesn’t explain how you recognized the song.”

  I met his stare evenly until he had to look back to the road. “Tell me, Rose Parson. What else have you lied about?”

  I couldn’t help it. I laughed. He had some nerve accusing me of being the liar here. “Good question,” I said, lounging back against the window behind me. “You first.”

  He gave his head a little shake. “I don’t get it. I really don’t. One minute you’re all sweet and giggly, and the next you’re…” He waved a hand toward me. “This.”

  I kept silent.

  He shot me a sidelong look. “Which one is the real Rose, hmm?”

  I ignored that as well. He wouldn’t know the real Rose if she slapped him upside the head. I turned my head to face the road.

  “Are you, like…a compulsive liar or something? Is that it?” he asked.

  I inhaled quickly and it made a hissing sound. “I could ask you the same,” I said.

  I felt his gaze on the side of my face. “Did I do something? Because last I remember, we were having fun.”

  I scoffed. Fun. Right. Sure he was fun to flirt with, but not when the entire time he was talking I had to keep reminding myself that none of it was real. That he was just using me.

  “Is anything with you real?” The frustration in his voice had me tensing, glancing over at him.

  He was frowning at the road like it had just insulted him, his hands clenching the wheel so tightly his knuckles were white.

  I was pissing him off.

  Well, good. Get used to it. It had been a mistake to try and play his game, and I had every intention of telling him that.

  “Is this why you’re such a good actress?” he said. “Because you just act all the time.”

  “I’m a good actress because I rehearse and I study and I care about my craft.”

  He looked over in surprise, and to be honest, I’d kind of surprised myself there with the passion in my voice. But that was the thing. He could call me a liar, he could say I was fake, he could accuse me of being vapid or shallow or flakey or vain…

  But he better not dare call me a bad actress.

  “Anyway, how would you know if I was a good actress or not?” I asked. “It’s not like you’ve ever come to one of my shows.”

  He huffed as he shifted in his seat. “Why should I? I’m sure this might be a novel concept to you, princess, but not
every guy wants to throw flowers at your feet after you’ve dumped him on his butt.”

  “We agreed we’d be friends,” I shot back.

  He arched his brows. “And you believed that?” He shook his head. “Do you honestly think that all your exes are sitting around wishing you well?”

  No. I didn’t. Some were better about it than others, though.

  Not all of them tried to win me back out of spite.

  “The mature ones accept rejection and move on,” I said.

  He snorted in disbelief. “No. The ‘mature’ ones, as you call them, just put on a happy face and then talk crap behind your back.”

  I stared at him with a blank expression, hoping beyond hope that he couldn’t see how much that stung.

  I guess I hadn’t really given much thought to what the guys I’d dated thought of me once things ended. When I was done with a guy, I was done. I’d sort of assumed that we all moved on.

  Maybe that was too naïve.

  The thought didn’t sit well.

  I was not naïve.

  There was a reason I had my rules. I’d thought this through. I followed a plan.

  “The whole point of ending it early is so no one gets hurt.” I sort of meant to say that to myself. Instead, it came out of my mouth.

  Too late I realized I’d once again given too much away.

  Stupid headache. It was messing with my mojo.

  He looked over once. Then he looked over again. If I thought maybe he’d let it go, I was wrong. “So, that’s your thing? You have a cutoff date for guys you date?”

  I shrugged. Too late to deny it now. And besides, he already knew I didn’t do long-term relationships. Wasn’t that what his whole stupid bet was about?

  “It’s easier that way,” I said.

  “Easier for who?”

  “Everyone.”

  He turned to look at me. “No, it’s easier for you.”

  I blinked a few times at the anger in his voice. His earlier words came back to me, the things he’d said to Simone. She’d have to have feelings. She’d have to have a heart…

  Did he really believe all that?

  Crap, now I was blinking back tears.

  Gah! This night had to end already. I pulled out my phone. Still no response from Hannah. She was probably making out with River and who knew when she’d get around to checking her phone.

  “Why?” Jax asked.

  I lifted my head. “Excuse me?”

  That’s right. Play dumb, Rose. When in doubt, play dumb.

  “Why do your relationships have an automatic expiration date?”

  I had this flash of my mom. Of her relationships. Of my dad. Where to begin? But I wasn’t them, and this wasn’t about my Mommy issues. “I have a plan,” I said.

  “A plan.”

  “A goal.”

  He stared at me and I shrugged. “Fine. A dream.”

  His brows hitched up. “You mean acting?”

  The way he said it made me sneer in disgust. “Of course, you wouldn’t understand.”

  No one did. Well, no one except for the girls I was sort of friends with who had their own dreams of fame and fortune and a life living their passion.

  But sadly for me, the Diva Squad ladies didn’t live close by. I had Hannah and she kind of got it—she felt that way about soccer, at least.

  “I understand.” He sounded belligerent but…earnest. “You think I don’t understand? I understand. I have a band, don’t I? I have dreams of making it big.”

  I stared at the side of his face because…that was the most non-ironic statement I’d ever heard him utter. I’d never heard him care about anything.

  “Fine, then you should understand,” I said.

  “Relationships are a distraction,” he said.

  I nodded. Okay, fine. So maybe he did get it. Sort of.

  “Then why even date in the first place?” he asked.

  I shifted uncomfortably. “Because I’m human.” I shrugged. “I like boys. I’m…”

  “Horny?” He shot me a smirk that made heat flood my cheeks.

  “You’re gross.”

  “I’m human,” he said, that smirk widening to a grin as he mimicked my tone.

  Embarrassment and amusement had me shaking my head with a reluctant laugh. “You’re such a boy.”

  “And you’re such a player.” He sounded in awe as he shook his head slowly. “All this time I thought you were just…”

  It was kind of funny to watch him struggle to find a word that wouldn’t insult me. It would have been funnier if I hadn’t heard him say such nasty things about me less than twenty minutes ago.

  But I had, and so my voice held a tinge of bitterness as I filled in the blanks for him. “You thought I was a flake?” I suggested. “Or maybe you just thought I was super shallow.”

  I watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. I’d hit the nail on the head, all right. I wondered if he felt guilty.

  I wondered if he still thought that to be true.

  I wished I didn’t care one way or the other.

  I sighed as I turned away from him. The silence that followed was filled with a song from his band. It was good. Catchy. And the lyrics were surprisingly sweet. “You guys should play this one at the fundraiser.”

  “Yeah?” He glanced over. “You like it?”

  I nodded. Being nice felt weird right now. I wasn’t sure how to be around him, to be honest. I was tired of being angry—but I was still angry. I was exhausted from acting all night long—but I didn’t know how to be around him without pretending.

  I rested my head back against the seat with another long exhale. Maybe it was time to just stop thinking. Stop trying. The guy had already made up his mind about me anyway, so what did it matter?

  “I wrote it.” His voice was weird. He sounded almost as stilted and awkward as I had. That was something of a comfort.

  He didn’t know how to be around me, either.

  We were like diplomats at a peace treaty signing. But this peace treaty wouldn’t last for long. It couldn’t. He still had an agenda and I wasn’t one to forgive and forget. But for right now…

  “It’s really good,” I said.

  He shifted. “Thanks.”

  Silence fell.

  “So…” He shifted again like he couldn’t quite find a comfortable position behind the wheel. “You’re helping to raise money for the theater department. That’s…nice.”

  I glanced over, suspicion flaring at the awkward attempt to start a conversation that didn’t revolve around him. I felt my lips twitching with amusement even as I told myself that he was doing this on purpose.

  I knew that.

  He was only trying to make nice so he’d have a shot of winning a bet. Do not fall for it, you idiot. Do not let him win.

  “It’s not really all that selfless,” I said. “I have my reasons.”

  He nodded. “So you can do the shows you want to do this year?”

  “That,” I said slowly. “And I’m also hoping to have a shot at a scholarship that rewards community service in the arts.”

  “Ah,” he said.

  I smirked. “Yeah. Ah. So, you know…just in case you thought I was doing something selfless, think again.”

  He shot me a look. “You gotta do what you gotta do to get money, right?”

  I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from saying the first thing that came to mind. Like dating a girl you despise? I swallowed and tried for tact. “I guess. I have my limits though. I mean, I wouldn’t hook up with someone just to get some cash.” I snuck a sidelong look in his direction. “That would just be…” I gave a little shudder. “Well, that’s just gross.”

  His hands opened and closed on the wheel and he said nothing.

  “But then again,” I said with a sigh. “There’s not much I wouldn’t do for a career doing what I love, so…who am I to judge?”

  “You’re that into acting, huh?”

  I shrugged. “It’s the
only thing I know how to do.”

  He scoffed. “I doubt that.”

  “No, it’s true.” With no streetlights and no other cars on the road, the interior of the car was dark. The music was soothing. The atmosphere was…intimate. Aside from that, I was with a guy who didn’t like me. Who wouldn’t like me no matter what I said, and who couldn’t possibly dislike me any more than he already did.

  There was something freeing in knowing that. Maybe that was why I suddenly felt myself relax, my tongue loosening along with the rest of me. “I’m not a good student. I don’t have a single athletic bone in my body…” I shrugged. “I can act.”

  I felt his gaze on me, but he didn’t say anything. “If you’re already good at it, do you really need to go to college for it? Why not just…I don’t know, take a bus to New York. Start living your dream.”

  I shifted because…the thought was terrifying. “I’m not as good as I could be.”

  He gave a little huff of amusement. “You’ll never be as good as you could be. Any art is a work in progress, right?”

  I stared at the side of his face, his features flickering in and out of the shadows and making me realize that…I didn’t know this guy.

  I mean, I did. But I didn’t.

  Just like he knew nothing about me.

  And whose fault is that?

  “I guess,” I said. “I just know that I need to improve if I want to succeed. I’m close…I think. But I’m not content with where I’m at. I feel like I’ve hit some barrier or something.” I clamped my mouth shut and shook my head, irritated by my own babbling. “I don’t know. I’ll figure it out. Hopefully in time to nail my audition for the acting scholarship.”

  “When is it?”

  “Not until April, but I need to find a new contemporary monologue.” And that was how it started.

  A normal conversation.

  A real conversation about art and my acting and his music and our dreams and…

  Weird.

  It was weird. But what was really weird was how weird it wasn’t.

  Did that make sense? Maybe not. But it was the truth. By the time we reached the outskirts of town we were fully engrossed in the kind of real, genuine, totally honest conversation I typically only ever had with Hannah.