Chapter 2
TWO
Playing: Always Hate Me by James Blunt
I fear too early, for my mind misgives…
Some consequence, yet hanging in the stars,
Shall bitterly begin.
I go over my lines again and again, trying to convince myself that I do know this monologue by heart.
Despite the amount of studying and memorizing, my mind betrays me with all sorts of insecurities.
What if I forget a word? What if I emphasize the wrong part of the sentence?
What if I don’t portray the character correctly?
What if I’m not worthy of an iconic role such as Romeo?
And, of course, all of these worries only occur right before the important audition.
My steps slow as I come upon the small room where our class is being held. It’s void of all light except for a bright beam pointed at the small stage at the front, black curtains hanging on the walls for an extra dramatic effect. We are a class of thespians after all.
I smell her before I see her. The delicious bitterness of cranberries carries over to me in the doorway, causing my nostrils to flare and my knees to weaken.
When I walked in a few weeks ago and immediately picked out that unique scent, I was on cloud nine. I was so glad we were going to be in another class together for a whole semester.
My scent match .
Of course, she doesn’t know that. I’ve been on scent blockers since I presented in high school, and I never found the right moment to break the news to her. And now, I have no idea how to do it at all.
Sorry, I didn’t mean to keep it from you but my scent is the same as my dad’s who I hate so I thought going off the blockers was worse than connecting with you.
Yeah… no.
I walk down the aisle between the rows of seats and spot a head full of blue hair. She’s reading over her lines and fidgeting with her earring when I sit down beside her, the old wooden seat creaking beneath me.
Rory looks over at me and rolls her eyes. “Ah, Jett. All of these empty seats and you still chose to sit next to me. How riveting.”
Oh, yeah, I forgot to mention… she hates me.
Freshman year, we had our very first drama class together.
I hadn’t been an alpha for very long, so my hormones were all over the place.
I remember when I first scented her, it was like nothing I had ever encountered before.
My alpha was screaming in my chest, and that possessiveness scared me to my core.
Then my dick had sprouted wings almost instantly—to the point of pain—which freaked me the fuck out.
When she finally came over to me and introduced herself, I had butchered the first impression.
I don’t remember exactly what I said, but it was definitely something that shouldn’t have left my mouth.
The words were meant to overcompensate for the uneasiness that I was feeling, but they completely backfired.
All I recall was trying to act cool and nonchalant for my scent match, but instead I offended her.
I may not remember the words, but the image of her face reacting to it is glued to my brain. The way she glared, the little omega hiss she gave me before she walked away. I remember thinking that she looked hot, but I also felt a great deal of shame from the whole ordeal.
That’s another reason why I haven’t come clean to her about being her scent match.
I may be inherently terrified of a rejected mate scenario between the two of us.
She obviously deplores me. So, instead, I play the role of who she needs me to be.
I’m the arrogant son of a bitch that she can’t stand, who just happens to be in the same major as her.
I’d rather be that than nothing. At least this way, she thinks about me. She’s not indifferent to our interactions, even if that means they annoy her. I would take any kind of anger or annoyance from her, anything to keep her gaze on me.
Rory can hate me as much as she wants, as long as she feels something for me.
I give her a sideways smirk. “What’s up, twilight?”
Rory huffs out a frustrated breath. She hates when I call her that.
She probably thinks I’m making fun of her love of paranormal fiction or something, but I’m actually referring to her blue hair.
It’s dark again, the same shade of night that it was when we met.
I didn’t mind the cyan, but the deep indigo suits her.
Before she can retort back, Professor Chapman waltzes into the room and goes right to his podium. He’s a bit of a grump for someone so passionate about Shakespeare. There hasn’t been a single moment where he isn’t scowling.
“Alright, everyone. Every minute counts today so let’s go right into the auditions.
Don’t forget, callbacks will be posted on Monday and will happen during class next week.
” He writes something down and then looks around at all of us, his eyes settling on me.
“Mr. Fitzgerald, how about you start us off?”
I sigh with relief. Going first is best for the nerves. I lean over to Rory and speak low enough so only she can hear me. “Good luck.”
The seat creaks again as I stand up and go give it my finest shot. I just hope I don’t stumble over myself in front of my scent match.