CHAPTER forty-three #3
Lucy snorts. "And Callahan's gonna call it 'method acting.'"
I'm too focused to laugh. My arms ache, my breath's uneven, but this time—finally—my swing lands clean.
"Yes!" Professor Callahan claps once, loud enough to make everyone flinch. "That's it! Hold that pose, Clara! Chin up! Don't look like you're regretting your life choices mid-fight."
"I'm trying," I pant, sword still raised. "But the regret's method acting at this point."
The room bursts into laughter. Even Callahan cracks a smile before jotting something on her clipboard. "Good. Keep that energy. From the top!"
Groans echo across the stage, but we still shuffle back to our starting marks.
Four weeks in, we're sore, tired, and one muscle pull away from collapse—but we're also finally getting it right.
Half an hour later, Professor Callahan finally shows mercy and calls a ten-minute break.
The second she says it, everyone drops like dominoes—scripts flying, swords clattering, and a few of the mouse soldiers staying sprawled out like they've actually died in battle.
I plop down on the edge of the stage, rubbing my sore calves and shoulders. My muscles feel like overcooked noodles. Two hours down, one more to go before we're free—then Acting Theory, then dance rehearsal with Betsy and Keith.
Just thinking about it makes me want to flop onto the floor and dissolve into stage dust.
Still, at least Adam and I are actually nailing the choreography lately. Betsy and Keith are seriously miracle workers—they somehow make even the impossible steps feel doable.
Katie plops down beside me, swinging her legs over the stage edge. "Okay, but speaking of rehearsing, can we switch topics to something way more fun?"
Lucy and Tammie perk up instantly.
Katie grins wickedly. "So, Care... have you and Zach done it yet?"
My head snaps toward her. "Done what it?"
"Oh, come on, Care. Don't pretend like you don't know what I'm talking about." Katie giggles, tossing me a look that's pure mischief.
Lucy leans in, and Tammie slides closer too, eyes glimmering with curiosity.
"Yeah, Care," Tammie says, barely containing her laugh. "You two have been acting all lovey-dovey lately. Have you gone to poundtown yet?"
"Shhh!" I hiss, pressing a finger to my lips and glancing around the hall. "Keep it down, you psychos!"
Adam, sitting a few feet away, raises a brow suspiciously. "What are you guys whispering about?"
"Nothing!" all four of us say in unison.
He narrows his eyes, then shrugs and goes back to scrolling his phone.
The moment he's out of earshot, Lucy bursts into silent laughter. "Your face right now—oh my God, priceless."
Katie wiggles her eyebrows. "So? Have you or haven't you?"
I roll my eyes. "No! We haven't. And for the record, not every relationship is about—"
"—poundtown?" Tammie finishes for me, and the three of them lose it, clutching their stomachs.
"Ugh, you're all disgusting," I mutter, though I can't help laughing too.
Katie nudges my arm. "Yeah, yeah, but be honest, you've thought about it."
I grab my water bottle just to have something to focus on. "Maybe," I mumble.
Lucy gasps. "Aha! The blushing says it all!"
Tammie takes a long sip from her water bottle, then smirks. "Still can't believe Zach's moving slow. Never pegged him for a gentleman."
Katie snorts. "Please, that's expected from someone with zero experience. The guy's probably still trying to figure out the timing—like, 'do I take her shirt off now, or wait for divine intervention?'"
Lucy laughs, shaking her head. "Honestly?
I don't think it's just that. It's not only Zach being inexperienced—it's the whole them thing.
They've been best friends since they were very young—it's probably weird trying to shift gears.
Like, one second you're building pillow forts and the next you're wondering if it's okay to, you know, touch the fort builder. "
Tammie grins. "Yeah, that's a tough transition. From Lego sets to leg-locks."
"Tammie!" I hiss, clutching my face as they all burst out laughing.
"I think Lucy's totally right." Katie says. "They're probably still in that awkward is this too much? is this allowed? phase. First-time nerves and all that."
I groan. "Why are we even talking about this?"
"Because it's fun," Tammie says with a shrug. "And because you're the only one here with an actual love life."
I half laugh, half want to crawl into a hole. "Oh my God. Is this what having girlfriends is like? Just... unsolicited commentary on your nonexistent sex life?"
Lucy grins. "Pretty much."
Katie raises her imaginary glass. "Welcome to womanhood, babe."
I laugh so hard my stomach hurts. "You people are insane."
"Correction," Katie says, pointing at me with mock seriousness. "We're supportive insane. There's a difference."
Tammie props her chin on her palm, giving me that mischievous glint that never means anything good. "But speaking of inexperience," she says, drawing it out like she's about to drop breaking news.
"I still can't believe that Zach—you know..." She throws the most dramatic conspiratorial look ever. "For someone who used to have a reputation, that was a serious plot twist."
Katie laughs. "Right? The guy was basically a campus legend. Everyone thought he had a different girl every weekend. Half the guys idolized him like he was some kind of hookup god. And then he goes and announces he's still a virgin? Talk about a rebrand."
Lucy grins, shaking her head. "No one saw that coming. I thought it would tank his image—like, poof, there goes his bad-boy mystique."
"Same," Katie says, leaning back. "I figured his 'cool' points would drop."
I can't help nodding in agreement.
Honestly, I thought the same thing. When Zach publicly admitted all his hookups were fake and that he'd never actually slept with anyone, I was sure it'd ruin his whole image. I expected people to stop drooling over him, or at least stop treating him like some hockey demigod.
But nope. I was wrong.
If anything, it made him more desirable. Suddenly, everyone's like, "Wow, he's loyal. He's deep. He's the kind of guy who's just been waiting for the one." And now half the girls on campus are out here writing sonnets about his purity arc.
Tammie snorts. "So basically, he's the Virgin Mary of Ridgewater."
Lucy giggles. "Correction—Saint Zachary of Celibacy."
Katie raises her imaginary glass again. "Blessed be the disciplined."
And I can't even argue with them, because the man really did pull off the impossible—he turned virginity into the hottest thing on campus.
It's insane, really. His market value didn't just survive—it skyrocketed. Like, Wall Street could never.
Our conversation is cut short when Professor Callahan's voice echoes across the hall.
"Break's over! Back on stage, everyone!"
A collective groan ripples through the room—loud, dramatic, and full of exhaustion.
I push myself up from the floor with a sigh. Showtime... again.
CHAPTER thirty-seven
CAROLINE
By the time I finally drag myself back to my dorm, I'm convinced my legs no longer belong to me—they've filed for emancipation.
I stumble inside, drop my bag somewhere near the door (I think?), and zombie-walk straight toward my bed.
My body makes contact with the mattress and I groan—long, dramatic, and borderline spiritual.
The sheets feel like heaven, the pillow hugs my face like it missed me, and for the first time all day, I remember what joy feels like.
My feet, however, are screaming bloody murder.
Ballet rehearsal absolutely murdered them today. I stretch my legs out and prop my feet on a pillow to elevate them like every dancer's survival guide says to do.
Honestly, I should probably ice them or roll them over one of those spiky massage balls, but... that would require movement, and movement is officially canceled.
My phone keeps buzzing beside me, vibrating like it's possessed. I don't even have to look to know it's probably the group chat, blowing up about something random again.
My thumb twitches over the screen, but nope. Not tonight.
Right now, I just want to be a burrito of exhaustion.
I roll to my side, eyes half-shut, and that's when my stomach growls—loud, feral, like some angry bear just woke up inside me.
"Ugh, no," I mumble into my pillow. "Not you too."
I groan again because this means I actually have to move. Get up. Find food. Rejoin society. All of which sound like Olympic-level challenges at this point. I could order delivery, but even scrolling through a menu feels exhausting.
The phone buzzes again.
I slap a hand over my face. "Ugh, just leave me alone," I mumble at it, like the phone can feel shame.
Another buzz.
I sigh, muffled through my pillow. "Fine, world, I get it. You win. I'm tired, starving, and socially harassed by technology."
I close my eyes anyway, because maybe if I ignore everything hard enough, sleep will take pity on me.
I'm not sure how long my eyes are closed when someone starts knocking on the door. "Oh, for the love of—" I groan into my pillow. "What is this, a dorm exorcism? Leave me alone! I'm tired!"
But whoever's on the other side clearly doesn't care. The knocking keeps coming, louder this time.
I drag myself upright, every muscle screaming in protest. My face probably looks like it's melting off. My feet ache, my back pops, and I'm pretty sure my soul just tried to leave my body.
"I'm coming, I'm coming—Jesus," I mutter as I hobble toward the door like a grandma in a zombie movie. The knocking hits again right as I reach for the handle. "Oh my god, patience is free, you know!"
I swing the door open—and freeze.
"Zach?"
He's standing there, looking unfairly good for someone who's supposed to be at the Amerant Bank Arena right now. His smile is soft, eyes warm, though it falters a little as he looks me over.
"Hey, sugarplum."
I blink, completely thrown. "Wait—aren't you supposed to be at the Panthers game right now?"