Chapter 37
Dafne
Ollie picks me up on his way to dress rehearsal. Once we get to the theatre, I quickly make my way to the backstage area where our costumes have been pressed and hung by Aya, each of them in its plastic bag to protect it from dust and labeled with our characters’ names. I take my first costume to the dressing room I share with Margaret and Isabel, who are helping each other with their hair. “Dafne,” Isabel offers a small smile. “You ready for today?” “Why wouldn’t I be?” I say, perhaps a bit too defensively.
“Your new boyfriend almost sucker-punched our Friar Lawrence,” Margaret chimes in, and Isabel snatches from her hand the hairspray can she was shaking like a cocktail with a glare in her direction.
“Jack only has himself to blame,” I reply drily as I quickly undress to get the costume on.
“No, I agree, he’s a proper idiot,” Margaret yawns .
“It was just a lot, you know?”
I make a noncommittal sound and tie the back strings of my costume up.
Focus, Dafne.
Twenty minutes later, we’re all on stage and Theodore quietly slides between Isabel and me so that we’re standing next to each other. “Don’t forget I’ve been meaning to–”
He’s interrupted by Ms. Patterson, who looks as excited as ever–I’m afraid she’ll have a stroke tomorrow on opening night. “Alright everyone, dress rehearsal time! That means no interruptions, our lovely sound technician is in place,” she says, pointing to the soundproof cabin above the highest row of seats where a small figure waves awkwardly down at us from his position, “as is the lights department. Now, does anyone have doubts, things you’d like to ask?”
I shake my head lightly, but I feel, rather than see, a few of my castmates staring at Theo. I raise my eyebrows at them in question, only for them to take their eyes off him and suddenly find the floor all too interesting. I glance at Theodore, who looks jumpy, and I wonder if it has to do with nerves–which I doubt–or what he was about to tell me. He probably just wants to apologise more, and while I appreciate the sentiment, it’s unnecessary.
“We can talk when we’re done here, okay? You’re first up,” I whisper to him, squeezing his hand as I go prepare backstage.
Two odd hours later, we get to the final bow, and a small crowd of students from other departments scattered among the seats–including Phoebe–claps enthusiastically.
Mr. Hackle hops on stage with us, joining the applause with a subtle smile.
We all look at him expectantly, a little breathless, definitely sweaty, but those are all good signs.
He starts flipping through his notebook as the noise dies down, but before he speaks, he turns towards the audience. “You lot, off to your classes now,” he orders, and everyone immediately obeys. His reputation truly does precede him.
“David, I want slightly bigger movements, we’ve talked about this,” he lists, “Devon, pay attention to the footwork in the duel, Isabel make sure the plank where your mark is in the bedroom scenes doesn’t catch on your dress, but if it does, keep going,” he continues. He gives last minute notes to everyone, then finishes with a, “Dafne, I want all of that tomorrow night, just a notch brighter. You know what I mean,” he cuts me a look, and I nod. “Theo … great work. Bigger smiles to your lady, though. Now go rest up everyone–and no gym lads, I will kick your arses if I find out you worked out before the play. I don’t want any sore knees on my stage. Off you go,” he finishes, gesturing for us to get out of here.
I shoot Theo a look, and notice he looks absolutely exhausted. We all give each other a round of applause and head back to the dressing rooms, Aya waiting back-stage to make sure our costumes are put back where they belong.
I hastily run my fingers through my hair before leaving the dressing room, and when I get out Theo is there, in his regular clothes, the corners of his mouth pulling downwards.
“I get we’re drama students, but I didn’t think everyone in this cast was a gossip,” I laugh weakly, trying to make the tension leave his face.
“Not here,” he replies, guiding me down the back and out the stage door. When he’s made sure we’re alone, he looks at me again, his breathing heavier. Now I’m worried.
“I have to tell you something. I’ve been trying to tell you for the past few days, and it just can’t wait anymore.”
“Is this the part where you tell me you’re the kind of person that leaves video reviews on the internet?” I joke. “Because if that’s the case–”
“Just listen to me, okay?”
I blink.
“There was a bet.”
My smile falters slightly, his words not making sense. “Excuse me?”
His jaw works, and he lets his backpack slip off his shoulder so he can rest his hands freely on my arms.
“Devon and I made a bet. Not for money or anything like that, but … he bet that I’d kiss you before opening night.”
I let out a breathy, unconvinced laugh. “I guess you lost.”
He looks at me like he’s about to burst into tears.
“That’s not all,” he says, swallowing. “We also bet he’d find someone who would ask you out. That’d I’d get jealous and–
“That’s how Ethan already had my number,” I realise. “For how long did it go on, Theodore?”
“I told Devon about us just before the trip,” he replies quietly.
A few days ago. It went on until a few days ago. And we were already together. That means not only he let me believe Ethan’s interest was genuine from the start, but that–
It’s complicated , he’d said.
“I know it sounds bad, but–”
“It doesn’t sound bad, Theodore,” I flinch away from him. “It’s…” I close my eyes, and a supercut of everything we’ve shared in the past months flashes behind them. I told him how important trust is to me. I told him.
“Was Ethan in it too? Did you kiss me just to prove to him that you could or–Am I a joke to you?” I feel ill.
“No, he didn’t know, and of course not. Never ,” he pleads. “I wanted to call it off so many times, but I kept pushing it back and then things got out–”
“All you had to do was tell me the truth after our first kiss. Maybe I would have been angry, but this–you had me wrapped around your finger for weeks before you decided you were going to try. And for what? Because you couldn’t lose a bet?”
I place a hand on my neck, trying to still myself. Theodore is shaking his head, but as an ugly thought forms in my mind, I can’t stop from letting it out.
“Was it actually some sort of elaborate ruse to distract me from the play? Is that it or did you think you could just have fun with me? What’s the plan? Staying with me until you get bored–
“Dafne, I wouldn’t do that, please–”
“Why should I trust a word you say?” I shout, effectively losing my calm.
I can feel my heart pounding in my ears.
His expression is part sadness, part something I really don’t want to think about, and I sure as hell don’t want to hear his next words, so when he says my name again, I cut him off. “No.”
I won’t let him make me feel ashamed. For playing with my heart. For believing him. For thinking he wanted me for me , and that was it.
I was so naive for thinking I was heading somewhere safe.
I shake my head once, twice, then start backing away.
My throat is constricting, and I know I’m going to cry if I don’t leave right now. He raises his hands in a placating gesture, which does nothing if not make my anger spike.
“I don’t want to hear it. You know what, perhaps I should congratulate you on the performance of a lifetime,” I laugh bitterly, keeping my chin high despite feeling like I could punch him into oblivion. “You really are a brilliant actor.”
“If you’d just let me–” he steps towards me again, but I stop him by raising one hand.
“I don’t want you to touch me. In fact, I don’t want to see you at all.” I get back to the stage door, and this time, he doesn’t follow. I pull on the handle and take a deep breath before I say, “We’ll get through the play tomorrow, and then we never have to speak again.
“I hope it was worth it,” I add quietly, and slam the door behind me.