Chapter 16
SIXTEEN
Playing: Like Real People Do by Hozier
“Okay, so what is the median of the remaining observations?”
I stare at my paper, but I’m not thinking about math. All I can think about is a certain blue-eyed omega. I wonder if I can conduct a statistical hypothesis on how angry she’ll be with me once she finds out the truth.
My alpha huffs inside of me and I sigh. I wouldn’t need to conduct a study, the probability of her getting mad is highly likely.
“Jett?” Everett’s voice brings me back, his rain scent just as calm today as ever. I’ve been back to tutoring a few times. We’ve even exchanged numbers, but class and rehearsing takes up so much of my time we haven’t spoken much outside of the library.
“Sorry,” I murmur as I pick at a piece of lint on my denim jacket.
“Are you doing okay?” he asks, and I appreciate the sincerity in his voice. There’s nothing I hate more than someone asking if you’re okay just out of politeness and not because they actually care.
“I’m fine, it’s just…” I trail off, but fuck it.
I need someone to talk to about this. I almost mentioned it to Harland and Shiloh the other day, but I knew they would just tell me that I needed to confess and tell her the truth.
They wouldn’t realize how much this girl—someone who was supposed to be mine —hates me.
“It’s a girl,” I finally say.
The deep sigh I let out following my statement causes him to chuckle. When I look up at him with a playful glare, he’s nodding his head with a smile on his face. “It’s always a girl, isn’t it? Do you want to talk about it?”
There isn’t any hesitation when I say, “She’s my scent match but she doesn’t know.”
I hesitate to look at him. What if he sees me differently? What if he thinks I’m an awful person?
I’m not sure why I even care what this guy thinks, because he’s just my tutor; a frat guy that’s obligated to help me. But my alpha sends this anxiousness through me, like what this guy thinks about us is monumental.
My gaze meets his again, but I don’t see any of the disgust that I was expecting. He looks to be in deep thought, and when he finally speaks his tone is more curious than anything.
“I’m guessing she’s never scented you because of the blockers?” he asks.
I tilt my head at him. “How did you know I was on blockers?”
Everett snorts at me. “Really?”
“Yeah, really! I could have been a beta,” I declare.
He shakes his head, trying to cough down a laugh. “But you’re not. I always knew you were an alpha. Just because you’re in theater doesn’t automatically make you a beta to me.”
I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. I guess I did assume he’d see me as a beta because of my major. Not only that, but I’ve never been very dominant, so to be recognized by another alpha causes my own to preen in my chest.
“So, she’s never scented you but your alpha recognized her. How long have you been keeping it a secret from her?”
My lips flatten into a line. This is when he’ll judge me. “Two years,” I say with a wince.
His eyes widen the slightest amount, but surprisingly the judgment still doesn’t come. He looks like he’s thinking again before he says, “Is there any particular reason?”
I shrug. “I didn’t make the best first impression. I’m pretty sure she hates me.”
Everett lets out a breath. “That’s some strong willpower, dude.”
I nod. “It’s been fucking torture, to be honest. And we have a film class together this semester and we were both cast in the play so we’ve been working together constantly .
” I inhale. “The other day I accidentally mentioned her favorite drink. She’s never told me about her favorite drink.
It was such a stupid move. I don’t want her to act weird around me, especially now that we’ve been given this opportunity to spend some time together. ”
“So, she’s aware that you pay attention to her.” He angles his head in thought. “That may be a good thing, though. Women normally like that kind of thing.”
“I guess, but I normally play this part around her. Gosh, this sounds really fucking weird to say out loud, so bear with me. I kind of play the part of someone who annoys her. That’s what’s familiar to her, not the lovesick side of me that’s obsessed with her. ”
He looks at me with understanding. “That’s true, but this slip-up might have been a blessing in disguise. Maybe she’ll be thinking about it, realizing that you’re not the guy she thinks you are.” I shrug again just before he pats my shoulder. “What’s the end goal? You do want her, right?”
My eyes snap to his. “More than anything. But it’s been so long, there’s no way she’s going to take this lightly. She’s a firecracker on a normal day.”
He cracks another smile and I realize he’s getting a lot of amusement out of my situation, which is a step up from disappointment. “Maybe she’ll surprise you. That’s something to think about while you mull it over.”
“I don’t have much longer to figure this out,” I try to say casually, but Everett is smart. He picks up on my implication immediately.
“You went off the blockers,” he says it as a statement, but I still nod a confirmation anyway. “Dax told me that blockers are unpredictable, there’s no way to tell when someone’s natural scent will come back.”
I nod again. “It’s true. It’s been like two weeks and I’m shitting bricks.”
My scent could come back at any moment, and I’m not only afraid of the repercussions of my lie to Rory, but also to smell the rusty amber scent again that isn’t completely mine.
It triggers horrible memories, ones that I’ve locked away for years ever since my doctor could legally prescribe the blockers to me without a parental signature.
The inevitable curse of it seeping back into my skin, following me around. It makes me feel sick.
We sit in silence for a few moments. Everett clears his throat, and when I look at him, he’s looking at me with an expression I can’t decipher.
“I hope things work out with your scent match. I’m sorry it’s gotten so out of hand,” he says sincerely. “Maybe we can hang out sometime this week, take your mind off it for a little bit. We could party, or sit around and play video games.”
I can’t stop the unexpected smile from taking over my face. “Shit, really?”
“Of course, man. It’d be fun.”
“We don’t have to hang out at the frat house, do we?” I grimace.
Everett laughs. “What? You don’t want to meet my fraternity brothers?”
I let out a joking smile. “I honestly didn’t even think I was going to like you , so, maybe we can start slow. Like meeting your best friend.”
That makes Everett laugh harder. “Oh, definitely not. He’s the definition of a frat boy.”
I push his shoulder, amused. “Fine. Maybe he’ll surprise me as well. He sounds like a good dude from everything you’ve told me.”
Everett scrunches his face jokingly. “He’s alright.”
I’m in a much better mood after talking about the situation, so we go back to studying. As the time flies, I realize that I don’t have to be alone anymore. I can find a soft place to land when it all feels like too much.
Especially since my scent match is going to hate me sometime soon.
“Alright, everyone, settle down. Today we’re going to start with Act 1 Scene 5. We’ll go through the blocking and see if we can get through it at least once without stopping.”
I internally groan. When I don’t make any sudden movements from my unusual seat in the back, Chapman asks me if I’m ready to get started with a no-nonsense tone.
I grumble my agreement but still drag my feet to the stage, trying to prepare myself for what Rory and I have been avoiding in our private practices: the first kissing scene.
Rory catches my eye and gives me an encouraging smile. I think she’s trying to show how casual she is about this, but I can see the hesitation in her gaze. It’s small, but I’m her scent match, and I bet that slight tang in the air is her scent tattling on her from afar.
We should have gone over this scene when it was just us in her living room, but I was stubborn.
My alpha feels unsettled about our first kiss being behind the masks of our characters.
I agreed with him, I want it to be real in every way, but now we’ve run out of options.
It was always going to come to this, but it could have happened in a more intimate setting.
Not in front of our peers, and especially not in front of Nicole or our professor.
Luckily there’s a bunch of other people in this scene.
We go through the blocking first with the servants, myself, and the entrance of the Capulet family.
I stay in the background, observing as Capulet speaks high with grander, projecting his voice with just enough grit that he sounds older than he is.
I’m actually in awe of it, how Gabriel commands the stage with arrogance instead of reverence.
It’s such a subtle play. I give my peer silent praise as Professor Chapman continues to direct us and call attention to tiny details that—I will admit—make a difference with stage work.
He reminds me to keep my eye on Juliet, but he doesn’t have to.
My gaze can’t leave Rory even if I wanted it to.
Her dark blue hair shimmers under the spotlight and the subtle approach she takes with her character pulls me all the way in.
She plays the timid daughter well, but there’s the tiniest bit of confidence in the way she stands with her shoulders back and her chin up.
She’s commanding respect, showing the audience that even though her father is speaking the loudest, she is the star.
I don’t have to fake the captivation showing in my features. I am so entirely awestruck by her.
I wipe my brow on my sleeve, suddenly feeling very warm underneath these blinding lights as I wait for the scene to change.
I blend into the crowd even though the light is right on me, pretending to be unaware of their conversation as they discuss the enemy, Romeo, being in their midst. I swallow hard, and before we know it, we are transitioning into the moment where Juliet and Romeo meet for the first time.
Chapman goes over his vision for this scene, living his best director fantasy as he describes the way scent matches react when they meet for the first time.
The magnetic pull they feel, how all logic leaves the room.
I nod along like this is new information, completely ignoring the fact that my scent match is right in front of me listening to every word.
When he finally stops talking and tells us to go back to our places so we can run through the transition again, Rory catches my eye.
She gives me a certain look, one that says ‘we’ve got this,’ and it brings a smile to my face.
Because it’s true. We do have this. Our first kiss may be completely fake and between actors, but it’s happening.
So I flip my mask back on, put a hand through my hair, and (very easily) fall back into the role of a lovesick Romeo.
The other main characters have fled the stage.
Now we are only surrounded by extra party-goers, who pay no mind to the life-changing moment happening between Romeo and Juliet in front of them.
They have no idea the star-crossed lovers are about to embark on a tragic journey.
They just drink their cocktails, listen to the piano playing, as I, Romeo, dare to interact with the cousin of my family’s nemesis.
She catches my gaze, cautious and curious as she slows her walk and passes me, but she still feels my eyes on her.
She stills, her back toward me as I close in on her frame.
“If I profane with my unworthiest hand
This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this:
My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand
To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.”
Rory delivers her next line, both incredulous and sensual. Her Juliet knows this will do neither of them any good, but can’t help entertain the alpha who smells like her fate.
“Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?” I state.
“Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer,” she says back, her character’s strong reserve faltering.
We gradually move closer, as if pulled together by an invisible force. Her scent calls to me, leaving me a broken man on this stage.
“O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do;
They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.”
More sweat falls down my back, but I ignore the heat inside me in order to stay in the scene.
“Saints do not move—” Rory falters, which is the first sign that something is wrong. Her nostrils flare. “—though grant for prayers’ sake.”
That’s when I smell it. My scent pours out for the first time in years. The sweet but spicy amber scent floods around us, and Rory’s eyes widen and her pupils dilate. Her expression of both lust and confusion.
She can smell me.