by Leisa Rayven
I look at my feet and sigh. “No, I’m not dating him.”
Holt’s frown lessens. “Good. Just stay away from him. I don’t like the way he looks at you.”
Flashes of my father saying the exact same thing about every boy who bothered to look sideways at me jolt through my brain, and suddenly, my newfound freedom doesn’t seem so free anymore.
“Maybe I like the way he looks at me,” I say, and jut my chin. “And if I ever decide to date him, I sure as hell won’t need your permission. You’re not my big brother, you’re not my father, and you’ve already made it very clear you’re not my friend, so excuse me if I don’t run my dating choices past you. Connor is a nice guy. I could do worse than date him.”
Anger flashes in his expression, but he composes his face quickly. “Fine. Date the whole school for all I care.”
“Maybe I will.”
Before he can say anything else, Erika yells for us to move to the next person, and he’s gone.
I’m left standing there wanting to rant at him some more, but Phoebe’s in front of me, and the only thing she wants to talk about is Holt. How handsome he is. How tall he is. How intense he is. How much she wants to “date” him.
I hate her immediately.
After class, everyone stands around chatting, and even though Holt is across the room, I can feel him watching me.
I don’t think I ever truly knew the meaning of the word “antagonize” before I met him, but I sure as heck know it now. I’ve never had someone rub me the wrong way so intensely before. If I’m being completely honest, I kind of like the spark.
I glance over at him to make sure he’s looking before grabbing Connor’s arm and doing my best flirty-Zoe impersonation as I ask him to walk me to the next class.
Holt doesn’t speak to me for the rest of the week.
FOUR
MAKING THE FIRST MOVE
Present Day
New York City
The Diary of Cassandra Taylor
Dear Diary,
The more time I spend with him, the more he invades my dreams. I don’t want to remember, but he pushes through.
He’s here, under my hands. His lips on my skin. It’s perfect and warm, and I tell myself he won’t run away this time.
I hold him to me, willing away the fear, willing him to lose himself in me. To stay. And even though he’s already written a tragedy, I want to change his mind.
Then he’s inside me, and it’s perfection.
I give him the part of myself I can’t imagine giving to anyone else. He tells me it’s precious. That he doesn’t deserve it.
Afterward, he holds me like he never wants to let go.
I believe he’ll stay this way. That it won’t change things.
Of course, it does.
He covers himself again, so disguised by layers that I don’t even see him anymore, just the hurt he leaves behind.
I blame him, but it’s my fault. Stupid, romantic, gullible me.
I saw what I wanted to see. Felt what I wanted to feel. He just played his part.
Sometimes he’s behind my eyes, weeping and exposed, and he’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
But it was an act.
He’s an actor.
And he’s very, very good.
Six Years Earlier Westchester, New York
The Grove
Second Week of Classes
I walk out of my History of Theater class, my brain churning with information on Roman amphitheaters, when I run smack-bang into the chest of someone tall and still.
Of course, my notes go flying.
“Frack!”
The tall someone chuckles, and my hackles rise.
I look up into Holt’s smirking face. My expression must scream of impending violence, because his smile drops faster than Zoe Stevens’ panties on a Saturday night.
When I bend to pick up my notes, he’s beside me. I want to slap his hands away, because since the getting-to-know-you exercise on our first day, he hasn’t spoken a word to me. I’m not cool with that.
“Just leave them,” I say as he gathers up my notes.
He holds out the notes, and I snatch them without looking up.
I bite back the instinct to say “thank you,” because after the way he’s treated me, he doesn’t deserve it.
“Thank you,” I mumble involuntarily.
Damn you, automated politeness!
“You’re welcome,” he says in his stupid smooth voice.
I push past him and stride down the stairs toward the Hub. Within a few seconds, he’s walking beside me like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“Big week, huh?” he says. “I thought Erika was going to kick Lucas out when he showed up stoned, but I think she realized he’s a better actor when he’s half-baked.”
I stop and turn to face him. “Holt, you do not get to ignore me for a week then start gabbing away like nothing happened.”
“I haven’t been ignoring you.”
“Oh, yes you have.”
“No, ignoring you would be to disregard your presence. I’ve noticed you. I’ve just chosen to not speak to you.”
“Is that better or worse than ignoring me completely?”
“Slightly better.”
I throw up my hands. “Well, thank God. I won’t take offense then.”
“Good for you.”
“I was being sarcastic, butt-munch.”
“Taylor, are you always this grumpy, or are you PMSing?”
“What?! I’m … What?! PMSing?! You are so … God! Shut up!”
I walk away, but he keeps pace, and my PMS is making me crazy-angry and weepy at the same time.
“Why are you following me?!”
“I’m not following you. I’m walking beside you.”
Holy Jesus, give me strength!
“What do you want?” I ask, feeling like a tiny yappy dog next to him.
He sighs and looks down at his ridiculous, giant feet. “Nothing. Are you going to Jack’s party tonight?”
“Why do you want to know?”
He rubs his eyes. “I have no fucking idea.”
“Are you going?”
“Probably not.”
“Then sure, I’ll be there.”
He looks at me for a few more seconds before frowning like he’s trying to calculate how many watermelons will fit in a Winnebago. Then, without saying another word, he turns and walks away.
“Oh, okay, so we’re done here?” I say to his back. “Well, thanks for making the effort. Your conversation skills are truly stimulating!”
Thank God it’s the weekend. I won’t have to see him for two whole days.
By the time I’ve stomped back to my apartment, any desire to go to the party has disintegrated. All I want to do is soak in the tub for a few hours, eat my own weight in Ben & Jerry’s, and go to bed.
Ruby has other ideas.
“Get up.”
“I don’t wanna,” I say, sounding like a two-year-old.
“You’re going.”
“Ruby …”
“Don’t start with me, Cassie. It’s our first college party, and you’re going if I have to drag you there by your hair. Judging by your face when you walked in the door, you seriously need to get laid.”
I roll my eyes. I wish I was the sort of girl who could solve her problems with white-hot animal sex. But considering my V-card is well and truly valid and flirting isn’t exactly my forte, the best I can hope for is to not have a completely sucky time.
“I think the only person getting laid tonight will be you, Ruby.”
She throws up her hands. “Cassie, you’re gorgeous. You could have any guy you wanted if you just showed a bit of confidence.”
“Yeah, right.”
“Promise me you’ll make a move tonight.”
I laugh. “I don’t think you understand. I have no moves. I’m moveless. I exist in a vacuum of moves.”
She sets her mouth in suc
h a way that I know I won’t be winning an argument with her any time soon. “Do I need to remind you that you’re an actor? Act like you know what the fuck you’re doing. Now, get your ass into something sexy and let’s go.”
I don’t really own anything sexy, so I settle for my tightest jeans and a low-cut sweater that makes my boobs look great. I even put on some makeup and do my hair. Ruby shrugs her approval.
Half an hour later we’re pulling up to a huge house on a wide street.
“Whoa, who lives here?” Ruby asks as she slams the cab door.
“Jack Avery shares it with two other boys from my class. Lucas and Connor.”
“Connor?” she says, raising an eyebrow. “That’s the guy I met on the first day?”
“Yeah.”
“He was cute. Any chemistry there?”
I smile when I think about how attentive Connor has been. “He hugs me a lot.”
“Well, there you go,” she says, as if all my problems are solved. “Make a move on him.”
I shrug, because even though I like Connor, I don’t know if I like Connor.
“Listen,” she says, “I’m not asking you to walk down the aisle with him and squeeze out loud, chubby babies. Just have some fun. Make out. It’s not going to kill you.”
“Isn’t the boy supposed to make the first move?”
“Dammit, Cass, stop being such a pussy. Look, I’ll even sweeten the deal. If you get up the balls to make out with a boy tonight, I’ll do your laundry for a month.”
She has my attention. Our building has one ancient washing machine that takes more than an hour to go through its cycle, so laundry day can be a major time suck.
“Fine. I can’t promise I’m not going to be awkward and embarrassing, but I’ll try, okay?”
She smiles and pulls me toward the noisy house. “Good enough.”
There are people talking and laughing on the front lawn. It looks like most of the freshman class has shown up.
I prepare to conjure a personality.
“Come on,” Ruby says as she tugs me into the mess of people. “You need a drink.”
“I don’t drink.”
“You do now.” She grabs two bright green test tubes from a girl with a tray. “Two or three of these, and you’ll be tackling boys and ripping off their shirts.”
Despite doubting her prediction, forty-five minutes and three test tubes later, I’m leaning against a wall feeling frisky. I bounce my head to the beat as Ruby dances with a group of boys all desperate to impress her. She’s flirting with a few of them, but one—a tall, well-built guy who’s also in her tech course—is getting special attention. He leans down to whisper something to her. She glances at me and raises her eyebrows before taking his hand and going outside to the terrace.
She makes it look so easy.
Okay, fine. I can do this. Find cute boy. Chat with cute boy. Be charming. Suck on his face.
Panic shivers through me.
Goddammit.
I go down the hallway in search of the bathroom, the one party safe haven where it’s acceptable to be alone.
Before I can find it, I spy Holt standing in the doorway to the kitchen.
What the hell is he doing here?
He leans down and talks to the short, pretty girl by his side.
He has a girlfriend?
Of course he does. Someone as attractive as he is probably has dozens of women throwing themselves at his stupid, large, clown feet.
I feel myself blush, fast and hot, and I don’t like it.
The alcohol has made me slow, and before I can pretend I don’t see him, he’s walking toward me with his hand on the girl’s back. She’s smiling like she knows me.
“Hey, Cassie,” she says. She does look familiar, but my brain is murky. “I’m Elissa. I’m in theater tech with Ruby.”
“Oh, right. Hey, Elissa.” She’d been talking to Ruby the other day in our semiotics class. Pretty face. Doe eyes.
I glance at Holt, and my face burns when I see that he’s staring at my boobs. He quickly makes it back up to my face and clears his throat.
“Taylor,” he says and nods.
“Holt.” I try not to let my brain acknowledge how annoyingly handsome he looks in his dark jeans and blue button-down with the sleeves rolled up.
Forearms. Nice.
“I thought you weren’t coming,” I say.
“Well, I heard all the cool kids would be here, so I couldn’t stay away.”
Elissa glances between us, and I wonder if she realizes how much her boyfriend gets on my nerves.
“So, Cassie, you and Ethan are doing the acting course together?”
“Yeah, but we haven’t done much acting yet.”
“Well, it’s only been a week,” she says, smiling. “Auditions for the term one theater project are coming up soon. I’ve heard rumors they’re doing Romeo and Juliet. You never know. You two could end up playing star-crossed lovers.”
Holt and I burst into laughter like it’s the most hilarious thing we’ve ever heard.
Elissa looks at us like we’re both insane.
“Okay,” she says as she claps her hands together. “I need to get hammered as soon as possible. See you guys later.”
She brushes past me and walks down the hallway.
“I’m leaving in two hours,” Holt calls after her. “If you want a ride home, find me before then, or else you can fucking walk.”
Wow. If only I had such a charming boyfriend.
I shake my head in disgust.
“What?” he asks.
“You.”
“What about me?”
“Do you always talk to her like that?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s rude.”
He shoots me a lopsided grin and shakes his head. “That was me being polite. I say far worse things at home.”
“At home?”
“Yeah.”
“You live with her?”
“Well, I’d prefer not to, but I can’t seem to get rid of her. I locked her out once, but she’s pretty resourceful and managed to pick the lock with a blade of grass and a paperclip.”
“God, Holt, you’re just … so … ugh! Why does she put up with you? You’re officially the world’s suckiest boyfriend.”
His eyes widen. Then he laughs. “Elissa isn’t my girlfriend. Jesus, that’s disgusting. She’s my sister.”
It’s my turn to be surprised. “Your sister?”
“Yes.”
Relief has never felt more odious.
“Don’t worry, Taylor,” he whispers. “I’m single. No need to be jealous.”
I laugh. “I’m not jealous. I’m just glad you’re not inflicting your toxic personality on some poor member of the opposite sex.”
Something dark flashes in his eyes as he looks down, and I get the impression I’ve said something really wrong. I’m about to try to find out when Connor appears and drapes his arm around my shoulders.
“Hey, Cassie, I’ve been looking for you. Glad you could make it.”
He hugs me, and I can feel Holt watching us.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” I say and hug him back.
“Hey, Ethan,” he says and claps Holt on the shoulder. “Thanks for coming, man.”
Holt smiles, but it’s tight and forced. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
“So,” Connor says. “A lot of our class is in the basement playing drinking games. Wanna join?”
I smile. “Sure.”
Holt shrugs. Connor leads the way.
When we get downstairs, about twenty people from our class are sitting in a circle with a collection of bottles, beer cans, and shot glasses littered across the floor.
“I found two more,” Connor says as he guides us into the circle. The group gives what can only be described as a drunken roar.
Zoe immediately pulls Holt down next to her and hands him a drink. Connor sits next to me. Jack se
ts us all up with a shot glass of brown liquid. Holt downs the shot and refuses a refill, muttering something about having to drive. It’s ironic that he’s one of the few people in our class who’s twenty-one and yet he’s the only one not drinking.
I drink my shot, then cough like I’ve swallowed acid.
Everyone laughs, and the games begin.
I try to concentrate, but I don’t really know the rules. I end up drinking a lot.
Too much.
After a while, everything’s funny. Everyone’s pretty. I want to hug and kiss them all because they’re just so nice and pretty and funny.
Then there’s music. Loud and pounding.
Someone pulls me to my feet. Connor.
He puts his arms around me, so I put mine around him, and I’m trying to dance, but all I can do is shuffle. Connor doesn’t care. He’s warm and grazes his nose down my throat.
“You smell so good, Cassie.”
I smile, because his nose tickles. Because he’s sweet. Because I like the way he holds me. I’m hanging off him and smiling, but my body feels heavy.
Then his lips are where his nose was, and I’m tingling. But something’s wrong.
The room is tilting. I pull back. I tell myself I’m not looking for Holt, but I am.
Everywhere people are dancing and laughing. Making out.
I see Holt across the room, sitting on a couch sipping a Coke. Zoe is talking to him and touching him in ways that say, “I’ll let you do whatever you want to me.” But he’s not listening to her. He’s looking at me, and now I’m tingling a whole lot more.
I don’t want him to make me feel things, so I turn back to Connor. He’s stroking my back. It feels nice.
His face is close, and he has that look in his eye. The one that says he wants me.
I’ve always yearned for a boy to look at me like that. Now one is, but all I can think about is the scowling face across the room.
“Cassie, I want to kiss you.”
He seems to search my face, looking for an answer. I want to be kissed, but I think it’s the alcohol.
Ruby’s voice is in my head telling me to stop being a pussy and just do it.
Connor’s gazing at my mouth as his face gets closer and closer, and I’m too hot and too drunk.
Then Connor’s kissing me, and there’s part of me that wants to kiss him back, but I can’t.