by Nya Jade
SEVENTEEN
“This one says, ‘happy to see you’,” Hayley said holding up the loose gray sweater Phoebe had chosen. “And these ones”—she thrust two V-necks at Phoebe—“say ‘aren’t you happy to see me’. You gotta advertise your assets!”
Phoebe snorted, and then saw that Hayley was serious. “It’s just study hour,” she said nervously.
“And you want him to study you. All hour.”
Phoebe rolled her eyes.
It had been difficult for Phoebe to tell Hayley that her time in the faculty lounge had yielded no new information. Hoping to absolve herself of the sin of omission, Phoebe had told Hayley about her co-study date with Colten. Now Phoebe focused on the two sweaters Hayley had selected for the occasion, and pointed.
An hour later, Phoebe made her way to Clay House feeling comfortably pretty in a blue cashmere sweater over a pair of khaki cargo pants, all of the tangles brushed out of her hair. It was only now, as she stood staring at Colten’s door, that Phoebe sensed the presence of the male Blackcoat behind her. Her face burned at the thought of having no privacy. She turned to face him. The Blackcoat looked upon Phoebe with knowing eyes and then faded into the shadows of an alcove.
Once he was out of view, Phoebe exhaled. Her mind was overloaded and she had no trouble admitting to herself that this time with Colten was something she needed. She hesitated at the door, and then knocked. It swung open immediately, catching Phoebe off guard.
Colten, dressed casual in a soft gray t-shirt and black sweatpants, still looked utterly handsome. Laughter shone in the vibrant green eyes that held Phoebe’s gaze as she took a startled breath and said softly, “Hi.”
“Hi. Come on in.” Colten took hold of Phoebe’s hands and pulled her into his room. He closed the door behind them and instantly Phoebe felt the unwelcome swell of insecurity. She tried to push it away, but it was hard when she could feel Colten watching her attentively.
“Wow. Must be nice to get sweet perks,” Phoebe said, noticing the small, beige-tiled kitchen tucked in a corner.
“This is usually a faculty studio,” Colten said behind her. “The guy who used to live here got married and needed more space.”
Phoebe could feel Colten’s eyes on her. She walked around surveying the rest of the place so that he wouldn’t see her nervousness. The room was spacious, yet painfully minimalist with no thought given to any form of personal decoration. A red duvet-covered bed was set against the windowed wall, and a rectangular coffee table, doubling as a receptacle for books and his baseball cap, stood in the middle of the room as the only real decorative piece of furniture.
“I guess you weren’t planning to stay long when you moved in,” Phoebe said, joking.
He smiled, continuing to track her movement in the room. “I keep most of my things at my suite.”
Phoebe raised an eyebrow. “Suite? This is a suite.”
Colten laughed. “The studio got me a place in a hotel downtown for the Boston shoot. It’s mine for the year so I make use of it.”
“Why even stay here then?” Phoebe said.
“It’s closer to the action,” he said, grinning.
Phoebe suddenly noticed that there was nowhere to sit other than the bed. Following her gaze, Colten’s grin widened.
“I haven’t entertained anyone up here yet,” he said, chuckling. He walked over to his coffee table, picked up his baseball cap, and put it on. “I can clear these books if you don’t mind sitting here.”
“Is this how you get girls into your bed, by having no other seating alternative?” Phoebe asked with wide unassuming eyes, secretly not believing her own daring.
Colten laughed, but Phoebe could see that he was also a bit taken aback. “I never thought of it that way, but it is a good plan. I’ll have to remember that for when the next girl comes over,” he said, sounding cocky but with a feigned innocent look that made it charming.
Phoebe narrowed her eyes, making a sour face at him, and tried her best to fight the smile tugging at her closed lips. She was feeling much more at ease now.
“I can turn the bed into a futon if you’d like,” he said with a sincere smile.
“It’s okay. I’m fine with sitting on your bed,” she said casually.
His eyes roamed her face trying to interpret her expression. She tried to keep it unreadable.
“Okay, then,” he said, equally casual. “Take a seat.”
Colten’s duvet was so thick that it practically swallowed Phoebe’s body whole when she hoisted herself onto his bed. She let herself fall back with her feet dangling just at the edge of the wooden frame. Phoebe stared at the ceiling half expecting—or maybe hoping—to feel the bed sag under Colten’s weight. When it didn’t after a moment, she sat up flushed. Seated on the coffee table across from her, Colten watched her with a mix of amusement and fascination. He smiled, “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me too,” she said, almost in a whisper. Phoebe retracted her outstretched legs one at a time and scrambled her body backward until she felt her back meet the wall. She sat with the duvet pooled around her and studied Colten. His body seemed at ease but his eyes had an intense gleam to them. Nervous, Phoebe absentmindedly wrung her fingers in the softness of the duvet.
“So . . . will this new movie conflict with the one you’re shooting now in Boston?”
“No,” Colton said. “The director agreed to work around my Taylor Hawk schedule.”
“What’s the name of this new movie?”
“Courting Caroline,” Colten said, standing. He walked over to his backpack and pulled two thick binders out. He handed one to her and returned to his seat.
Phoebe smiled mockingly. “That doesn’t sound very Taylor Hawk-guns-blazing to me.”
“It isn’t,” he said with a smirk.
“Why the departure?”
“Something about the story drew me to it, and”—he paused and smiled mischievously at her—“I thought I’d take a stab at a movie that you would actually go see.”
Phoebe felt the flush crawling up her neck quickly spread to her face. She’d almost forgotten that she’d confessed to never having seen a Taylor Hawk movie. She lowered her eyes, her fingers playing with the edges of the script. “What’s it about?” she quickly asked, avoiding his eyes.
“It’s a period piece set in London about two people falling in love under false pretenses,” he said. Phoebe looked up in time to catch Colten’s ardent gaze. “The girl is born into wealth and expected to marry the same, but all the suitors in her parents’ circle are pretentious and boring. She decides to dress down like a common girl and slip into town to find Mr. Right.
“Meanwhile the groundskeeper’s son, who has loved her from afar for years, decides to spend what little money he has to buy the best suit he can get to pass himself off as a suitor. She crashes into him in town on a night she has snuck out. There are sparks between them as they exchange apologies and—”
“But doesn’t she know who he is, being the groundskeeper’s son?” Phoebe interrupted.
Colten shook his head, smiling. “She doesn’t recognize him because she’s never paid attention to him. So she’s surprised to meet a wealthy man who is down to earth and even more surprised that he would be taken by a girl with no social standing.”
Phoebe was intrigued. “What happens?”
“You’ll have to help me with the script to find out.” Phoebe made a face and Colten chuckled. “Be happy you’re getting a sneak preview!” Then, his face suddenly became serious. “What do you think about all that anyway?”
“About what?”
“Do you think it’s possible for two people to fall in love even if there are lies between them?” He looked past her unseeingly and Phoebe found herself grateful for that; her body had stiffened and she hoped he hadn’t noticed. Half her existence was a secret.
She said finally, “I guess it depends on the situation.”
Colten’s eyes snapped back to Phoebe’s. “Like how?�
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“Well, if one person doesn’t want the other person to know that they snore, that’s minor.”
Colten laughed darkly. “And what do you consider major?”
“I guess if someone’s hiding that they’re an axe murderer, that’s major.” Phoebe tried to laugh, watching Colten closely. And when he said nothing, she said stupidly, “You’re not an axe murderer, are you?”
“Why?” Colten raised an eyebrow, looking at her curiously. “You’re not falling for me, are you?” Phoebe made an involuntary choking sound and stared down at the script she’d been squeezing. Her mind was screaming, Yes, I could be falling for you. Quite easily and quite foolishly, seeing that I barely know you. But Phoebe knew that to even consider admitting that to someone who could have his pick of any girl would be a careless move with her hearts.
In the time it had taken Phoebe to have that thought, the silence had grown awkward. She fumbled for something to say and was rescued by a knock on the door. A shaggy-haired guy poked his head into the room and gave Colten a wide grin. Phoebe recognized him as a young math teacher, Kwady Parker, who had come to Green Lane straight out of college and was popular among the students Above.
“Just doing my rounds to make sure my co-stud visitors are where they’re supposed to be,” he said. He looked over at Phoebe and then glanced down at the clipboard in his hands. “Ms. Pope, I take it?”
“Yes,” Phoebe squeaked, feeling as if she’d been busted for some wrongdoing.
“Good.” Turning his eyes to Colten he said, “I’m sure I can count on you to make sure the lady leaves at the appropriate time?”
Colten nodded and then Mr. Parker was gone.
Phoebe tapped a finger against the script and said, “We should start since they don’t give us much time.”
“I just autographed a couple things for Parker’s girlfriend’s niece,” Colten said. He squeezed the bill of his baseball cap and grinned. “If we go a bit past the two hour limit . . . I’m sure it will be okay.”
Lucky for you, Phoebe thought, knowing very well there was a Blackcoat waiting out in the hall who wouldn’t be as flexible.
After hesitating for a moment, Colten made his way over to the bed and sat down, situating his body the farthest away from Phoebe that it could get. “You’ll be reading the part of Caroline,” he said. “And we’ll start on page seventy five.”
Phoebe quickly turned the pages, happy to not be looking at Colten. “Why there?”
“It’s the first scene we’re filming.”
Phoebe cleared her throat and began to read out loud. “Busy downtown street, London. Night—”
“You don’t have to read that part. That’s the scene heading.”
Phoebe started over, finding the place where Caroline started to speak. Clearing her throat again, she said, “‘Why don’t you ever speak of your family, Richard?”’
“‘Because there is nothing original about them. They live in a large estate in the North and content themselves with keeping up with their social calendar. I find it all quite a bore, actually.”’
Phoebe laughed. “Sorry,” she said quickly and then carried on. “‘Do you find yourself in London for business then?”’
“‘Yes, the business of finding a wife. I was sent to call on Lady Appleton. Do you know of her?”’
Phoebe laughed again.
“What?” Colten said, breaking character.
“It’s just funny because obviously he knows that she knows of Lady Appleton since she is Lady Appleton.”
“Yes. That’s the point,” Colten said, nudging her leg teasingly with his.
“I promise not to laugh again,” Phoebe said, laughing. “It’s just listening to you speak with a British accent is—um—cute.”
Colten smiled and pointed at the script.
Phoebe continued. “‘Yes, I do know of Lady Appleton. I hear she’s quite the delight.”’
“‘Surely you are being kind. Ladies in such circles tend to concern themselves with their figure, their social standing, and whether the man they marry can keep them clothed in the latest lace from Paris.”’
“‘That is a broad generalization on your part, if I may say so, sir. Don’t judge the Lady until you have spent quality time in her company!”’ Phoebe found herself getting into her role, taking on the prim and proper attitude she imagined for Caroline.
“‘But to meet her, could mean fulfilling my obligation to marry when I so much prefer your company.”’
As the first hour of their study time rolled into the second, and the story of Richard and Caroline progressed, Phoebe found herself fully absorbed in it. In the time she’d been pretending to be Caroline and navigating through Caroline’s conflicts, she had not thought once about her own current life situation.
“It’s your line,” Colten said, prompting Phoebe.
“Right. Sorry.” Phoebe lowered her eyes to the script. They were almost at the end. “‘You seem unlike yourself tonight, Richard. Are you not well?”’ Phoebe continued.
“‘There is a truth about me that I need to tell you.”’
“‘It is interesting you say that, for there are truths that I, too, need to tell you,”’ Phoebe said. “‘And I insist on speaking first, for I fear mine is a deception of the worst kind.”’
Colten was suddenly on his feet. “‘My love,”’ he said, grabbing Phoebe’s hand and pulling her off the bed, causing her to almost drop the script. He gazed into her eyes in a way that made her breath catch. “‘I implore you to let me speak first for it is I who is of the worst kind.”’
Phoebe collected herself, cleared her throat and continued. “‘Just know that whatever it is, you have my heart.”’
“‘Do I?”’ Colten moved closer to Phoebe, lowered his head and whispered in her ear. “‘Do I really have your hearts?”’
Phoebe felt the color drain out of her. Could she have really heard Colten say “hearts?” That’s ridiculous; there was no way . . . Perhaps in this moment, when her mind was jumbled by the lack of space between her body and his, she’d misunderstood the word he’d spoken. Phoebe bit her bottom lip, took a deep breath, and then asked faintly, “What did you say?”
Colten did not reply. Instead he pressed his body hard against Phoebe’s and backed her against the wall. All thoughts were immediately lost as, bracing his hands on either side of her head, Colten leaned his forehead against Phoebe’s and gazed into her eyes with enough heat to warm a small winter town. Phoebe, who was in danger of losing control of her knees, said the first thing that came to her mind and immediately regretted it: “Is this what the script calls for?”
There was a small beat before Colten dropped his arms and pulled away, his eyes conflicted. “I’m sorry. I forgot myself.” His expression was strangely dark and he swore under his breath as though he had committed some serious transgression. He removed his baseball cap and ran a lazy hand through his hair before putting it back on.
Phoebe was thankful for the space. It allowed her to recover her breath. And feeling like the growing silence required something to fill it with, could only come up with, “Um, no problem.” But in truth, it was a problem. She had imagined this moment several different ways in her mind, but now as she stared at Colten who was now staring at her with a distant expression from the edge of his bed, she knew she had ruined it. She felt her body getting hot again, and she knew it was from the sheer humiliation of acting like a prude in front of Colten. If painless spontaneous combustion was possible at that moment, she would have welcomed it as a quick exit strategy. She hoped against all hope that he couldn’t see the rapidly rising flush.
Phoebe felt the need to say something, so she said, “How do you do it?”
“Do what?” he said, sounding detached.
“Kiss people you don’t know?” Phoebe kept her back pressed against the wall.
“It’s just part of the job—I get paid to kiss beautiful girls,” Colten said nonchalantly. “But there’s nothing ro
mantic about it,” he added quickly.
“I couldn’t do it.” Phoebe avoided his gaze, surprised by a sudden jealousy stirring within her at the thought of Colten kissing other girls, but then pushed it aside knowing perfectly well she had just ruined her own opportunity.
Colten surveyed her with curious eyes. “Why is that?”
“I can’t kiss just anyone,” Phoebe said, squeezing the script in her hands. “If I’m going to have someone’s mouth on mine, I need to know that I like the things that come out of it: thoughts, opinions, ideas. And that takes a little time. . . .” Could she sound any more like a prude? She swore at herself internally, already dreading recounting this speech to Hayley later.
Colten absorbed the sight of Phoebe standing motionless. He opened his mouth to say something when a voice in the hallway called for the end of co-study. Phoebe decided then and there that she should leave before she felt even more out of her depth. She placed the script on the coffee table and turned for the door.
“What are you doing a week from Wednesday night?” Colten asked abruptly, standing.
“Nothing.”
“Great. You can be my date for my movie premiere then.”
Phoebe stared at him and Colten began to slowly chuckle at the stunned expression on her face. Just then a voice in the hall yelled, “Now folks, visitors out!”
“Well?” Colten asked.
Phoebe watched a grin stretch across Colten’s face and knew that it was in response to the idiot smile she now had on hers. Of course, she wanted to go with him to his premiere. What normal girl in her right mind wouldn’t? But then the unbidden thought of the Blackcoat waiting outside to escort her to her dorm brought Phoebe back to her senses; she was a prisoner of her Shaper life. The Blackcoats would never allow her to step outside the campus gates in the midst of the crisis.