Audible Love: A Young Adult Romance

by Maggie Dallen

  But Trent gives it the old college try. Turning to look back at the group around him, he says, “Give her a chance to talk.” He looks back to me and he’s basically pleading with me without words. Be cool, he seems to say.

  Little does he know that I can’t. I am not cool and I never will be. Dammit, Gabe, where are you when I need you?

  But apparently, Trent’s words did something because the murmuring stops and it seems like the group as one has made the decision that they will, in fact, give me a chance. Because Trent told them to.

  Lemmings, I think with a burst of spite. Cool, cool.

  “Why’d you come to Trudale?” one guy asks. He’s not mean about it, so I tell him the truth.

  “I wanted a normal high school experience.” I sound like I’m giving an interview. I sound too formal, and they exchange laughing looks until one girl says, “So you chose Trudale?”

  A couple kids laugh and this prompts a conversation about how normal they are not, and I belatedly realize that I’ve offended this crowd, all of whom are so very eager to be special and unique.

  Crap, I’ve already blown it.

  Trent, at least, looks past the faux pas. “So you’ve never gone to school before?”

  I shake my head. “Not since grade school.” And even then I’d been pulled out of class more often than I was in.

  One girl wrinkles her nose. “So, you were homeschooled?” She says it like I’d caught some nasty virus. Seth’s hand kind of twitches in mine and I know without looking that he’s impatient with this conversation. But he doesn’t leave. He’s just kind of hanging out a little behind me, holding my hand as I get grilled by the cool kids of Trudale High.

  I nod and once again Trent steps in as if he’s my own personal translator. “She had to,” he says in a lecturing tone. “She’s been working on sets most of her life.” Trent Wagner, translator to the stars. I start to smile at my own joke, but his next words stop it in its tracks.

  He turns to me, his voice eager, his smile sweet. “When did you know you wanted to be an actress?”

  I feel like the villain from a Disney movie when my own smile freezes into a sneer. I hate this question. I hate it so much. I don’t even realize that I’m clenching Seth’s hand until he gives my fingers a little squeeze.

  I release my death grip and force myself to relax. The funny thing is, that dreaded question helps in a weird sort of way. It clicks something on in my brain—the interview switch. It goes on automatically when I’m on a talk show or when I’m being grilled by reporters during the media circuit, and it goes on now as if activated by that stupid question. A question I’ve heard countless times while a microphone is thrust into my face.

  The smile that had frozen into a sneer now grows into a wide, beaming grin—the kind that hurts my cheeks. It’s fake as all hell, but it earns me a happy smile from Trent in return. I shrug like I always do. “I guess I’ve always known.”

  Trent’s head is bobbing with an eager nod. “Cool, cool.”

  That makes me laugh and it’s genuine. Granted, I’m laughing at him, but he doesn’t know that. Seth squeezes my hand, and I know he knows why I’m laughing.

  Inside though, I’m kind of falling apart. The disappointment is so severe it’s hard to ignore. I’m not going to be able to pretend for much longer. I turn toward Seth. “Can you show me where the drinks are?”

  I flash Trent another smile, and he’s giving me that dopey grin back in return. It’s…sweet. I guess. “Be right back,” I say. I don’t look at the others in the crowd. I just can’t. I need to escape and Seth is already tugging me toward the kitchen. But before we can reach it, he’s steering me down a hall that leads to the right.

  “Where are we going?” I ask.

  He doesn’t answer, just drags me along behind him until we reach a door on the right that’s partially open. When Seth flicks on the light, I realize it’s an office. “Are we supposed to be in here?”

  “Does it matter?” he asks, dropping into the chair behind the desk.

  I shrug. “I guess not.” We’re not supposed to be here, in this house, at all. From what I gathered tonight, Dorman’s parents travel. A lot. And they have a firm “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy with their son.

  “You looked like you needed a breather,” he says.

  Seth’s watching me, and in the shadowy light of the desk lamp, he looks older and far more menacing than any hipster should. I sink into a low leather settee that is absurdly soft and ridiculously comfortable. I let out a sigh that sounds loud in this quiet, muffled room.

  “You doing okay?”

  I shrug again. I can’t complain. I mean, I could but I won’t. I am a privileged white chick with zero real problems in life. I am the epitome of a spoiled rich princess. I know this. So, I will not complain about how my insides feel like crumbling concrete. I will not tell him that I’ve been dreaming about a date with Trent Wagner for the better part of a year now and how the reality of it is a mind-numbing disaster. Nope, I just won’t go there.

  Besides, it’s not all about Trent. Everything about tonight was a letdown. I don’t know what I’d expected—okay, yes I do. I guess I’d hoped that in an atmosphere as normal as a high school house party I might blend in. Maybe people wouldn’t look at me like some alien invading their planet.

  If anything, though, the feeling of isolation had been worse than sitting in class because of the small space and the free-flowing alcohol.

  Seth shifts, linking his hands together over his stomach as he leans back in the chair, moving further into the shadows. I let out a little snort of amusement. “You look creepy over there.”

  I can make out his smirk in the shadows. “Oh yeah?”

  “You look like the godfather or something.”

  He slouches further in his chair and dons a thick Marlon Brando accent. “I’m gonna make him an offer he can’t refuse.”

  His impression is so spot-on, I gasp even as I laugh. “Holy crap, you’re good at that.”

  I watch his smile grow, those crinkly creases forming in his cheeks and around his eyes.

  Sexy.

  No, not sexy. This is Seth. My friend. And I’m here on a date with Trent.

  Sort of. Except that there was nothing date-like about this night and the most fun I’ve had all evening has been here, in this room, where my date is not.

  “So, Avery,” Seth says slowly, his voice low and enticing in the dark room. That familiar feeling creeps over me, making me relax even as I try to pinpoint why exactly I feel so comfortable around him. Why his voice makes me feel like it’s normal to sit around and share secrets in the dark. “Enjoying your first high school party?”

  I let out a relieved laugh. “Seriously, I’m not talking to you when you’re sitting there in the shadows like that. You’re creeping me out.”

  He doesn’t say anything, but I see his grin as he gets to his feet. Then he’s walking toward me, and I temporarily forget that this is my friend and that I’m on a date with his roommate.

  I also temporarily forget how to breathe. Being in this darkened room, with the muffled music so far away drowning out the voices, the atmosphere feels charged. Before, we’d been surrounded by music and voices and now here we are in this quiet, shadowy chamber… Of course, that’s it. The pounding of my heart just feels more intense and sounds louder in my ears because of the sudden quiet.

  Yet, when he sits next to me on the couch, my heart leaps with excitement.

  Oh man, what is wrong with me? Am I really that fickle? Little more than an hour ago I’d been harboring fantasies about my dream date with my voice crush. My auditory crush? What do you call a person you lust after because of the way his voice makes you tingle?

  I stop trying to figure it out and focus instead on the way Seth smells.

  That sounds creepy, right? It’s not like I’m sniffing him, but the guy smells good. Comforting and warm, like dryer sheets and soap and something manly that I can’t quite put my finge
r on.

  Seth leans back on the couch beside me and our arms brush. He wears a T-shirt—he always wears a T-shirt, it seems. “How was your first date?”

  I meet his gaze steadily. “I don’t think tonight counts.”

  “Cool, cool,” he says with a hint of a British accent that is so spot-on Trent it’s unnerving.

  “Cut it out,” I say. “You sound just like him.”

  “I thought you liked him.” He’s watching me closely and I shift uncomfortably. I had said that, hadn’t I? I may have even used the L-word…about his voice, at least. And I still do love his voice–and his talent.

  I sigh. Is this how fans feel when they meet me in person? Probably. They most likely walk away from me with this same feeling of disappointment that the person they’d been dreaming about doesn’t really exist. Not the way they’d imagined, at least.

  “I admire Trent’s acting skills,” I say, my tone defensive. “He’s incredibly talented.”

  When I look back, Seth is wearing a grin that’s hard to read. “But?”

  I sigh. “But…” That disappointment is back and it’s overwhelming. It makes me want to do something ridiculous, like cry. I never cry over guys. I’m not going to say I never cry period, because some days it seems like ninety percent of my job is crying on demand. But it takes a lot to make me weep over something in my personal life. Boys, or the lack thereof, had never been enough to really bum me out. I always figured it would happen when the time was right.

  But now…well, now the time is right. I’m at a real school, taking classes, meeting people, making friends. And most of all, I’m at the very same school as the guy I’ve been crushing over.

  All the stars had aligned, but the outcome was far from a dazzling light show. It was more like a giant cosmic letdown. “But,” I finally say on a sigh, “Meeting him in person isn’t all I’d thought it would be.”

  Seth’s quiet for a while and I’m not sure what I expect him to say.

  “Trent’s not such a bad guy,” he says.

  Not that. I don’t know what I was expecting him to say, but it definitely wasn’t that. I half turn so I can see his face and I catch him watching me. His gaze is fixed on me and that nervous flutter starts up in my belly.

  He shrugs at my look of disbelief. “He’s not exactly original, and thinking of others first isn’t exactly his strong suit, but—”

  My short burst of laughter interrupts him and I shake my head. “You basically just called him a shallow, selfish ass.”

  His lips hitch up on one side and I can’t look away. “Yeah, but in the nicest way possible.”

  I roll my eyes. “Okay, so where were you going with this little lovefest for your roommate?” But I think I already know. “Are you honestly saying I should give him another shot?” I shift on the couch so I’m partially facing him. “Do you think we’d make a good couple?”

  He holds his hands up in innocence as he clearly realizes that I’m a little offended. Because quite honestly, Trent was that bad. I’d tried to give him the benefit of the doubt, but I’ve never been good at lying to myself, and it was so clear that not only wasn’t there a connection between us, but I have no wish for one.

  “Trent is like most actors I’ve met in LA,” I say. “They’re only interested in one thing.”

  He arches his brows and his smirk turns ludicrously sexy. “Avery, I hate to break this to you, but I think all heterosexual guys are interested in that one thing where you’re concerned.”

  My breath catches in my throat at the sexy quality in his voice. Are you?

  I blink a few times as heat burns my neck and cheeks. “That’s not the one thing I was referring to.” My voice sounds like a schoolmarm’s, but I can’t help it. I’m still reeling from the thought that had sounded off in my brain loud and clear. Are you interested in me like that? Had he meant every heterosexual guy…except him? Unless he’s gay…

  I give him a sidelong glance. Unless my gaydar is totally off, this guy is straight.

  He’s straight and I’m straight and…oh Lord, why am I thinking about this now? Now, when we’ve both had some drinks and when we’re on a couch together, in a dark room.

  Not the time. So not the time.

  And apparently, I’m the only one traveling down that non-friend path because his next question is anything but sexy. Though it is intimate.

  “So, what did you mean then?” He reaches out and brushes aside some hair that’s partially hiding my face. It feels like he’s swiping aside the last of my defenses and seeing straight into my soul.

  I know, right? Sometimes I’m convinced that the melodrama on my TV show is contagious. I caught a case of it like the plague.

  He’s not seeing into my soul, obviously. But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s waiting for an answer, and I feel exposed. Why? Because I want to tell him the truth. He’s my friend, and I’d like for him to be the kind of friend I can talk to and be honest with. But that’s easier said than done for me. Gabe was the last person I’d befriended, and there was a safety there between us from the start because we lived in the same world. He wasn’t trying to get anything from me and there was no benefit to him sharing my secrets.

  Besides, Gabe had opened up to me first and that had made me trust him instantly. But with Seth…He’s asking me to trust him, whether he knows it or not. He’s asking me to have faith that he won’t betray me.

  He’s still waiting.

  This is a moment, and whether he understands why or not, he seems to know it because he’s patient and uncharacteristically serious as he waits for me to continue.

  I take the step off the proverbial ledge. I like this guy as a friend—okay, that butterflies in the belly sensation is saying maybe I like him a little more than that. Maybe. But I definitely want him to be my friend. He’s the first real connection I’ve made at Trudale, and I don’t want to let that go just because I’m scared.

  So I draw in a deep breath and speak on the exhale. “He wants something from me.”

  He opens his mouth but I cut him off.

  “And not just sex.”

  He slams his mouth shut and the expression in his eyes is unfathomable. Dark and heady and…confusing. Is it just because I mentioned the s-word or is he annoyed that I think badly of his roommate?

  “Of course he does,” Seth says, his tone is surprisingly bitter. “Isn’t that how your world works?”

  “My world?” I repeat. I don’t get the sense that he’s angry at me, but he’s definitely bitter, and I can’t get a read on why.

  He shrugs. “Fine. Not just your world. The world. Isn’t that how it works? People use each other—their connections, their fame, their power.”

  I blink in shock because it feels like cold water was just thrown in my face. “And…what?” I say. “You think that’s okay?”

  “I’m not saying it’s okay, I’m just saying it’s how things are done. Isn’t it?”

  It’s a challenge, and suddenly it feels like we’ve gone from being on the same team to being separated by a great divide. “Where is this coming from?”

  He shakes his head but he still looks annoyed as he scrubs a hand over his face. “Sorry, sometimes it just sucks being a stranger in a strange land.”

  I gasp. I can’t help myself. All irritation at his tone is gone as the coincidence hits me. So I hit him, smacking his arm harder than intended. “That’s exactly what I was thinking.”

  “What?” He eyes me warily as he rubs at his arm.

  “Stranger in a strange land,” I say. “That’s how I felt tonight in that group of idiots.”

  I’m harsher than I mean to be, but it makes him grin, so I don’t really care. He arches a brow knowingly. “It’s a great book.”

  “A classic,” I agree. “Heinlein is a genius. And the description is so perfectly apt sometimes.”

  He nods and once again we are on the same team. Team Outsiders Who Read Dorky Sci-Fi Books. I’ll have to come up with a better te
am name for us, obviously. That one doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue.

  “How do you know Trent wants something from you?” he asks, his tone once more back to normal. Before I can reply, he says, “Not that I disagree, but what gave him away?”

  I make a scoffing noise that makes me wonder who is the more cynical between the two of us. “What gave him away? How about the fact that he clearly has no interest in getting to know me? How about the fact that his idea of getting to know me is asking interview-style questions in front of a crowd of onlookers?”

  Seth gives me a little wince. “It was kind of like an interview, huh?”

  I don’t just wince, I outright grimace at the memory of that question.

  Seth’s expression turns thoughtful, but his voice is mocking as he does another spot-on Trent impersonation that makes me feel a new wave of revulsion over my former crush. “When did you know you wanted to be an actress?”

  I shudder, and it’s only partly for show. “I hate that question.”

  “Why?”

  “Because no one ever thinks to ask me if I ever wanted to be an actress. It’s always when.” I’ve said too much. That exposed feeling is back, and when I glance up, I see him staring at me with an intensity that’s unsettling.

  “You didn’t always want to be an actress?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe I did at some point. Maybe when I was little, I told my mom I wanted to be an actress, but I’d have been too young to remember. It just kind of feels like it’s what I was always supposed to do.”

  “Your parents wanted it?” he guesses.

  I shrug. “Just my mom. My dad left us when I was eight.”

  I don’t know why I tell him that. I’m horrified that it just slipped out like that. I never talk about my father with anyone, let alone guys I’ve just met.

  But right now, Seth doesn’t feel like just some guy. He definitely doesn’t feel like a stranger.