Chapter 8
Landon
My favorite thing about Shay was how easy it was to make her blush.
She was a good girl, and you saw it all over her face.
Getting her to fall for me was going to be effortless.
I’d seen girls like her. I’d hooked up with girls like her.
Girls like her fell in love heart-first, leaving their brains behind.
For her, loving was as natural as breathing.
Her high cheeks always turned the slightest shade of pink whenever I made some kind of inappropriate gesture her way, and I knew it was driving her crazy. That was why I kept doing it. It amazed me how annoying her was enough to keep me from thinking about other things.
Never in my life would I have thought it would be Shay who kept my mind clear, but she was the only thing that didn’t make my thoughts feel heavy.
I felt as if I had nothing to look forward to in life, and whenever that happened, I felt stuck, and when I felt stuck, I thought of Lance, and when I thought of Lance . . .
I didn’t want to think about Lance.
So to avoid such things happening, I ended up on Shay’s front porch with a big smirk to annoy her with. Shay looked stunned to see me standing there as she walked out wearing an oversized white sweatshirt with gray shorts. Very short shorts.
I leaned against her railing and cocked a smile. “Evening, my arch nemesis.”
“What are you doing here? How do you know where I live?” Shay asked, her brows knitting together in confusion.
“Raine told me your address.”
“Raine talks too much.”
“It’s her favorite pastime.”
“Now back to my original question.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “What are you doing here?”
I shook out my piece of paper and cleared my throat. “We need rules of engagement for the bet.”
“Rules of engagement?”
“Our bet doesn’t work if we aren’t actively spending time together.”
“That’s why I love the bet.”
“That’s not the point of the bet, though.” I took a step toward her.
“I don’t care to win. I just want you to lose. And I can’t fall in love with you if I’m never around you.”
“Then I’ll find a way to be around you.”
“Not going to happen. Even with school, I’ll avoid you. Especially when I get a part in the fall Shakespeare show. All my nights will be occupied.”
“I can wait ’til school’s in session.”
“Did you hear me say I’ll avoid you?”
“You won’t be able to. I’ll audition for the same show, get a part, and we’ll be forced to hang out with one another, not a problem.”
She huffed with strong disbelief. “You wouldn’t get a part.”
“I would definitely get a part.”
“Have you ever acted a day in your life before?”
If only you knew, Chick. My whole persona is an act.
I shrugged. “Can’t be that hard.”
She snickered, shaking her head. “You really think it’s that easy?”
“I know it’s that easy.” Did I really? No. But I knew a little about Shakespeare. Lance was a massive fan, and after he died, I got his Shakespeare collection. Whenever I missed him, I’d read one of the plays.
I’d read them all ten times over.
I spent the next few weeks leading up to the auditions for Romeo and Juliet practicing my acting skills and collecting as much dirt on Shay as I could from Maria and Raine. Anything they mentioned about Shay, I plugged into my brain.
I tried getting her odd cousin, Eleanor Gable, to give Greyson information at a party a few weeks back, but she was too busy reading a book.
Yes, you read that right: Eleanor took a novel to a house party.
And she wore a dragonfly cardigan. Needless to say, she wasn’t much help.
Greyson gave me a hard time for calling the girl weird.
He seemed to have a soft spot for her. I didn’t hate that for him.
He had a lot of bad days. He deserved something—or someone—that gave him a few good ones, too.
On Friday, August 30th, I headed to the high school to audition for the show. As I walked into the auditorium, Shay spotted me right away.
“Are you kidding me right now?” she gasped. We hadn’t interacted in weeks since I decided to audition for the show. I was almost certain she figured I’d moved on from the bet and it was over and void.
Wrong.
I was simply becoming a fantastic fucking actor so I could land a part beside her. A few weeks ago, I told the guys about my plan, and Hank had a solid question: “What if Shay doesn’t get a part in the show but you do?”
That was an easy answer for me—she’d get the part. Mainly because Little Miss Perfect put her all into any and everything she did. If she was walking into an audition, it was with the utmost perfect performance, which meant she would get a part. If she didn’t, it was because she was screwed over.
I had a good time reading and researching more about Shakespeare. When I’d stumbled across his most public insults on my internet search, that was when the fun began. For example: “Thou sodden-witted lord! Thou hast no more brain than I have in mine elbows.”
I’d have to use that one on Reggie when I got a chance.
Then again, he’d probably reply, “What, dawg? Man, I miss KFC.”
Shay’s jaw sat on the floor, and she shook her head in disbelief. “What are you doing here?”
I walked down the aisle of the theater and then sat in the row behind her, two seats over. “I had some free time on my hands and thought I might audition for the show.”
“Yeah, right. You don’t act.”
“My whole life is an act, sweet pea.”
“Don’t call me sweet pea.”
“I’m testing out new nicknames for you.”
“Well, I don’t like sweet pea. Keep trying.”
“Dollface.”
She cringed. “Absolutely not.”
“Sexy-ass woman.”
“Landon,” she groaned.
I smiled, and she hated it. I loved when she got flustered around me. I also loved that she was so thrown off by me showing up in her theater world. That was quite a plot twist for her.
“Really, Landon—what are you doing here?”
“Really, Shay—I’m auditioning.”
She grimaced and fidgeted with the piece of paper in her hand. “This is part of your game. You’re trying to get close to me.”
“Not everything’s about you, buttercup. It turns out I’m a huge Shakespeare fan. He knew his shit.”
She huffed and rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. You couldn’t name five Shakespeare plays if your life depended on it.”
“Othello, Hamlet, Romeo and Juliet, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Macbeth.”
You could learn a lot about Shakespeare when you didn’t sleep at night.
“What, did you SparkNotes it or something?”
No, princess. I read my dead uncle’s collection of Shakespeare’s work.
Princess.
I’d have to try that nickname. I was sure she’d hate it.
I leaned forward and placed my hands on her shoulders. “No offense, Shay, but you’re acting like a very big shrew that needs to be tamed right now.”
She swatted my hands away. “I don’t know how you know all this stuff, but it’s annoying, and you’re annoying.”
“Wait ’til you see what I know tomorrow. I read up on this Romeo and Juliet thing, and I think I’ve got what it takes to take on the Romeo role.”
“In your dreams.”
“That’s the thing about my dreams, buttercup—they always come true.” I winked her way, and she made gagging sounds. God, I missed annoying her. It’d been a long summer. This audition thing better pay off.
“Buttercup is a no-go. I’m not a Powerpuff Girl.”
“Fair enough.”
“Whatever. I know you’re just trying to get under my skin by showing up here, but it doesn’t matter. You’d actually have to get a part in the show to be around me, and I doubt that’s going to happen. You couldn’t act your way out of a plastic bag if you had to.”
“Why would I ever have to act my way out of a plastic bag?”
She clenched her audition piece in her hand. “Can you just go away? I’m trying to get in my zone before my audition, and you’re really making me slip out of character.”
“Right, right—method actor. You’re in character. Good, me too. Don’t mind me. I’ll be sitting right here, a row behind you, practicing my lines.”
I could see the tension in her shoulders as I sat behind her. I affected her. I didn’t know if it was in a good way or a bad way, but she physically responded to me being nearby. I could almost feel the heat radiating from her body.
Mr. Thymes, the head of the theater department, was calling people up to the stage one by one. To be honest, I didn’t think I’d ever set foot in the theater, and everyone was looking at me as if I was some strange alien.
I didn’t blame them.
Landon Harrison in the theater? Hell must’ve frozen over.
“Shay, you’re up,” Mr. Thymes called out, and she hopped up from her seat. Before walking to the stage, she closed her eyes and muttered something, holding on to the cross necklace around her neck. Maria had the same kind around hers. I wondered if believing in God came easy to Shay.
I wished it was easy for me. I wanted to believe in God, but he’d given me so many reasons not to.
When Shay made it to the stage, the whole room went quiet.
The second she began her audition, it was as if she became something completely new.
She immersed herself in the character, in being Juliet, from head to toe.
She moved across the stage with such grace.
She talked with such powerful softness in her words.
I didn’t have a damn clue what she was saying exactly, but I believed it.
She was beautiful, and anyone else who was auditioning for Juliet should’ve packed their bags and left, because she was easily the right one for the role, and I was determined to be her star-crossed lover.
Everyone clapped for her, and she deserved the applause. I probably clapped the loudest, and when she walked over to sit back down, I leaned forward and whispered against her ear with my hot breath, “You’re meant to be Juliet.”
She shivered from my heat and took a deep breath. “But you’re not my Romeo. You’ll never be my Romeo.”
“Landon,” Mr. Thymes called out. “You’re up.”
I stood and looked toward Shay. “Aren’t you going to tell me to break a leg?” I asked.
“Go ahead.” She nodded. “Break two.”
Cold, Chick.
I liked it.