Chapter 9
NINE
Class on Friday is nerve-wracking. I was excited to see my name under the callback list, but I was just as excited that Rory had made the cut.
I knew she would. Her monologue was breathtaking and such a refreshing take on Juliet’s usual meekness.
I’m excited to see how she continues to play it today.
Professor Chapman emailed everyone on the callback list about the different scenes we’re expected to perform today.
I’m not used to memorizing this many lines in a short amount of time, but it’s good practice.
There’s no telling how much time I’ll be given in the industry and it doesn’t matter if it’s New York or Los Angeles, I know it’s going to be a competitive atmosphere. I need any leg up that I can get.
I fell into theater on a whim. In high school, I had a hard time making friends.
Being the kid who never had any clean clothes, always reeked of alcohol, and was constantly covered in bruises made it difficult to have a social life.
My peers would whisper about me, make up rumors.
To be honest, those rumors always ended up being better than the truth.
I definitely preferred people thinking I was involved in an underground fighting ring over knowing that my dad didn’t know how to take care of himself.
He didn’t know how to fight his demons, so he fought me instead.
The drama department was where I first felt accepted. I took theater as an elective during my sophomore year and met some lifelong friends. Shiloh and Harland pulled me out of my shell and showed me how wonderful it was to pretend to be someone else.
They’re both already in New York, attending NYU. I’m happy for them, but I needed to stay in-state for college. They’re my brothers through and through, but I know we’re not pack. The instinct to protect them doesn’t cross that family threshold.
Still, I need to give them a call later, see how they’re doing.
The aisle seems a mile long as I walk to my usual seat. Just as I’m about to head down the row, Nicole Monaghan cuts me off and gives me a sly smile. “Hey, Jett.”
I discreetly take a breath before returning her friendly hello. “Nicole.” I give a polite nod. “Feeling ready for today?”
She laughs and playfully pushes my shoulder. “Am I ready? Of course I am. I’m pretty confident. You should be, too. I don’t think anyone else here is more suitable for Romeo.”
The grin that takes over my face is sincere. Thespians complimenting each other should never be taken lightly, although I do think our classmate Rocco would be a good choice for the role as well. “Oh, really? Thanks. I appreciate that.”
Nicole tilts her head suggestively before putting her hand back on my shoulder. “I hope we both get the leads. Just imagine, we could finally act across one another.”
Give this girl an inch and she takes a whole mile and a half.
I move my shoulder so her hand drops and my mouth goes into a tight line.
I don’t know exactly when this change between us happened.
We’ve always been affable, but over the past year or so, she’s laid it on strong.
I’ve given her all the hints I can that I’m not interested, but she seems to deliberately look over them.
Maybe I’m being too friendly, but I’m not sure how to get my point across without being rude.
Before I can respond to Nicole’s brazenness, the sweet smell of cranberries unfurls toward me. Rory walks past us in the aisleway before taking her seat in the front row. My eyes travel after her, admiring the way her hair is down, shining like ink in the darkened room.
“There’s the future D-lister,” Nicole sneers under her breath.
My alpha nearly snaps my neck to look at the person who dared to insult our scent match. If I had my natural scent, it would be full of fury right now.
“What did you just say?” I nearly growl at her.
Nicole rears back. “I just said the truth. She’s a wannabe. She doesn’t even love historical drama, so there’s no reason she should be here. I’m astonished that she got a callback.”
My teeth grind together in annoyance. Fuck being nice to this girl. She obviously doesn’t have the word nice in her vocabulary.
“She got a callback because her audition was alluring and distinctive.”
A scoff escapes her. “She doesn’t have what it takes to play a demure, soft-hearted Juliet. She’s an omega with no omega instincts. How can she play a character who embodies an entire designation when she herself doesn’t?”
I shake my head, stunned by Nicole’s bullshit.
“I think that you should focus on your own audition. How are you supposed to succeed if you’re always focusing on someone else?
She’s a talented actress because she hones her craft.
She doesn’t put her nose where it doesn’t belong, which is exactly what you’re doing right now.
” The beta takes a step back from me and sticks her nose up, but I keep talking.
“And, you have no idea what kind of relationship she has with her omega. That’s incredibly offensive.
Keep your mouth shut when it comes to her and her omega, especially to me. Do you understand?”
She only gets a nod out before I’m walking away. Instead of my usual seat, I sit in the row across from Rory’s, where her scent can travel to me and calm my alpha. I want this role, so I can’t let anger taint my audition.
A few minutes after noon, our professor finally walks in with his usual clipboard and satchel.
“I suspect those of you who have callbacks are ready for a grueling day. I’m not only looking for the best for each individual role, but I’m looking for chemistry.
We’ll start with Act 3, Scene 5, up until the Nurse’s entrance.
” He looks out at all of us. “Rory, I’d like you to read for Juliet first.”
She stands up, looking incredibly nervous.
My instincts scream for me to go comfort her, to praise her until her anxiousness is replaced by the usual confidence that I see in her.
As she walks up on the stage, everything is quiet.
Then I hear a throat clear and look up to see Professor Chapman looking right at me.
“Jett, are you okay with reading for Romeo?” he repeats. My eyes widen at him. Would I like to read for Romeo? With my scent match?
Of course I fucking do.
I stand up quickly to combat my embarrassment and pull my hair up as I head to the tiny stage. Rory is standing there, locking into the moment so we can deliver this scene together. She may dislike me, but she’s an amazing actress. She knows when it’s important to put her emotions aside.
I meet her eyes and give her a small smile, something completely different from the usual teasing smirk I give her. Her eyebrows raise in surprise at the sincerity on my face. I don’t blame her one bit, but I want her to feel comfortable with me, even if it’s just for these few moments.
I want her to give it her all. She deserves this role. I don’t want to do anything that’ll take away from that.
“Do you want to play this serious or playful, twilight?” I whisper to her. She looks perplexed by the communication, but then whispers back to me.
“I think a balance would be best,” she suggests, and I can already hear her voice taking on a tone that’ll better perform the lines. It’s lighter than her usual grit, but still natural.
I give a firm nod. “I’ll follow your lead.”
She seems to like my response because she gives me a real smile. Her scent also seems to relax, taking on its usual tartness. She’s comfortable . The realization of that pokes me right in my chest, causing my heart to beat in an irregular pattern.
Everything is quiet just before I see her switch into the scene. We’d normally be on a fake balcony for this one, but we make due with the empty set before us.
She delivers her first lines with a philosophical undertone. Her Juliet is happy, but knows something is coming. She speaks to me, supplies subtle touches, looks at me like she is in love.
And I look at her the same, aware that I don’t have to pretend.
She clasps my hands, and utters her next words with a hint of subdued seduction:
“Therefore stay yet; thou need’st not to be gone.”
I never thought a line written by some dead guy from the Renaissance would get me hard, but here we are.
I cover her hands with one of my own, reciting my next lines and returning her softness. She reacts to my touch, to the tenderness I let fall into my words. Her scent spikes ever-so slightly, only enough that I can tell given our proximity .
My heart rate speeds up as we look into each other’s eyes and the atmosphere around us seems to grow a few degrees hotter. When the contact becomes too much for her, she laughs it off, going into her final stanza.
“Hunting thee hence with hunt’s-up to the day,
O’ now be gone; more light and light it grows.”
She finishes soft, vulnerable. I don’t know why I do it, but I lift my hand and push a strand of her hair behind her ear before I kiss her on the forehead. When I pull back, her eyelashes flutter open.
“More light and light; more dark and dark our woes.”
We stand there, still embraced as our reading ends. The silence feels heavy, but we look over to see our fellow peers all watching intently, not a single person on their phones.
Professor Chapman gives us a firm nod. “Thank you, you two. It’s the first of many today, but that definitely gave us a strong start. Have a seat. Monaghan and Gomez, you’re next.”
I swallow heavily as I watch Rory retreat from the bubble we had created on this tiny stage. After I sit back down, I can finally take a deep breath. I’m relieved that we performed well together, but something else is now weighing on me.
Our time together was pretend, but everything felt so heightened.
I don’t think I can avoid our fate much longer.
There’s something I have to do, something I’m terrified of, but that something is still better than imagining a life without her.
Moving on after graduation, constantly having that what-if…
I can’t accept that anymore. It’s not fair to her, and now I know, it’s not fair to me either.
I have to go off my blockers. As soon as possible.