Chapter 7
seven
. . .
Jordana
Sunday morning dawned clear and fresh. I squinted in the sun, shining bright as a buttercup as I strolled through town to tech rehearsal. My cheetah coat hung open to the breeze. Leaves crackled under my feet.
It wasn’t until I passed the Mug and Trencher, with its empty tables, that the truth hit me. For the first time in two years, I hadn’t woken up thinking about Corey Young.
I hadn’t opened my eyes to the constant awareness of him that covered me like a net. I hadn’t sensed his presence, like a bruise I poked to see if it still hurt. I hadn’t been yanked by the tether that connected us — that collared me the day we met.
It was a blistering hot August afternoon, the first day of classes freshman year.
All the new theater majors were clustered around the studio door for our Acting 1 class, excited and early, chatting and singing random lyrics from musicals.
Rachel taught that class, and when she arrived, we were eager to please.
Halfway through class, Corey made an entrance.
Every head turned, because that was what Corey did: he commanded attention.
I stared at this muscular, stocky guy with his rosy cheeks, strolling into the room in no particular hurry.
The rest of us had put together outfits for the first day of class with the utmost care, going for maximum color and style.
But Corey wore a plain white T-shirt, baggy jeans, and nondescript sneakers.
“You’re late,” Rachel said crisply.
Corey frowned. “I just registered.”
Turning, he surveyed the room.
Later, he would learn manners. He would learn how to flatter and impress. He changed his style, buying clothes — when he could — to imitate the preppy New England look that was popular at Hawthorne. He could play any role.
Right now, he telegraphed brute energy, and I couldn’t take my eyes off him.
Rachel assigned partner work — a simple mirror exercise. “Pair up, please.”
The room was quiet, watching and waiting to see who’d pick whom. Most eyes were on Corey.
Finally, he walked straight to me. A flush of gratitude washed over me: I was chosen.
Like magnets. Like forces of nature. Of course we were drawn to each other.
There was so much energy inside him, beaming out of those pretty blue eyes. It felt like a powder keg sat opposite me. I wanted to take him inside me and make him explode.
And when we began our exercise, he was good. He was so good. Until then, we’d watched politely, laughing at the inspired bits, cheering each other on. But when Corey and I took the stage, all eyes were riveted. No one moved, even when someone’s phone rang.
Corey didn’t hog the limelight. He played off me, as good actors do.
But I knew I was eclipsed.
Afterward, he grabbed my wrist and demanded my number. It excited me.
He made me wait until the next day, when he summoned me to his dorm room. I expected sex, but what followed turned me inside out.
My face was pushed into Corey’s bed, his cock inside me before I’d even said hello.
His sheets smelled like him. I gulped lungfuls of his breezy scent as he pumped inside me, trying to inhale the essence of this boy whose confidence and talent left me breathless.
He was rough. He came the closest out of anyone to making me feel like nothing.
His energy burned so hot, I thought he might incinerate me. I hoped he would.
He finished without speaking to me, without making any attempt to get me off. But before I left, he pinned me against the wall and kissed me — a hard, bruising kiss. As I left, rubbing my swollen mouth, I wondered why he’d done that after sex instead of before. It felt like a seal, a binding.
He made that binding clear the next time he sent for me.
You’re mine, you understand? Do what you want the rest of the time, but when I call, you come.
No boy had ever told me I was his. It intoxicated me.
I’m yours, I promised.
I hung onto that promise as Corey dated other girls and kept calling me on the sly. His hands around my throat, his whispers degrading me.
We never spoke about his background, but I put the pieces together over time: a small-town boy from Kansas upstaged by two older brothers who were star athletes. Corey played sports, but he was just average. He didn’t want to be average. He wanted to be great.
He tried out for a high school play, and he took the place by storm.
No one had seen anything like him. Shows sold out fast. Standing room only. No matter what play or role, he electrified his audience. He kindled a spark in them.
My freshman year, he kindled something in me too. And I’d been trying to both nurse it and kill it ever since.
When I walked into the theater, I did a quick scan for Gavin, but didn’t see him. Rachel was talking with Brian and Gretchen by the stage.
“Jorie!” she exclaimed, looking up. “Exactly who I wanted to see. Get on stage, okay? I need you to bounce on the prop bed with Corey. Brian reinforced it, but we have to make sure it can bear your weight.”
As I came onstage, Corey strolled in from the opposite wings. We met by the bed, and my throat tightened.
He made eye contact. He smiled at me. He…gave me a hug.
Corey had never hugged me. Too shocked to step away, I awkwardly patted his back. His breezy cologne filled my nose. Instead of wanting to bottle the scent, I almost choked.
“Good morning, Jorie,” he said heartily. “Love the dress. You look beautiful.”
I gave a short nod, smoothing the lacy white slip dress I’d put on in hopes of running into Gavin. In all the time I’d known Corey, he’d never given me a compliment.
“So we’re trying out the bed? Let’s get to it, my lady.” He offered me his arm.
What the fuck was going on? The theater was filling up as the clock ticked closer to nine. With an audience, I didn’t know what to do except grin and bear it. Stiffly, I took his arm.
A shadow crossed my peripheral vision. I glanced at the catwalk and spotted a dark shape among the lights.
Gritting my teeth, I did a stage fall onto the bed, pre-empting Corey’s movements as Stanley. Normally, he’d push me there. Corey’s brow furrowed, but he followed me, blocking my attempts to escape. Finally, he knelt over me on his hands and knees.
“And the bed is good!” Brian called out. A cheer went up from the assembled cast and crew.
Corey took my hand and pulled me to my feet.
“We need to make up for yesterday,” he whispered, a smile in his summer-blue eyes. “No interruptions. Just you and me.”
Twenty-four hours ago, I would have paid my weight in gold for this moment. I would have volunteered my own spleen, if he wanted it. Now, Corey’s offer was an empty sack with a whole lot of nothing inside.
Say no, Jorie. Just say no.
But the words stuck in my throat.
A stark column of white light suddenly illuminated us. Like yesterday, except Corey and I were both caught in its beam.
“You good up there, buddy?” he asked, shielding his eyes with his arm. “Need some help?”
Everyone turned toward the catwalk.
“I’m testing something,” came Gavin’s deep response. “It’s fixed now.”
“Gotta watch out for our vision,” Corey joked. “We’ve got another full day to slog through tech.”
“It won’t happen again.” There was something ominous about Gavin’s disembodied voice.
“No worries!” I chirped. “Thanks for fixing it.”
I hurried into the wings, but a hand closed around my wrist.
“Lunch break.” Corey’s breath was hot on my neck. “Meet me on the other side of the student union. I’ll bring my car.”
He walked away before I could respond.
Anger foamed inside me, hot and roiling. He’d insulted me, dragged me through the mud, and still expected me to come running.
Fleeing to the dressing room, I shed my white dress to change into my first costume.
As I buttoned the back of Blanche’s traveling dress, my phone buzzed in my purse.
My father, sending yet another link for a summer legal internship.
Along with my theater major, he’d insisted I take courses that fit a pre-law concentration.
This morning, I'd found three messages in my inbox, all about career options and connections he wanted to make.
Fortunately, Eden chose that moment to breeze in like a breath of fresh air. She hugged me and sat in front of the mirror, running her fingers critically through her hair.
“My roots are so dark,” she said. “Should I touch them up before the show?”
“Don’t.” I fluffed up her blonde-streaked hair. “You look pretty. It’s good for Stella to have some roots showing. She’s not fancy like Blanche. But if you do want to touch them up, I can hold your hand like I did the first time you went blonde.”
Eden laughed. “You’re brave, Jorie. I don’t think I tell you that enough. I’ve always wanted to jump into things like you do.”
I coughed. “Brave? More like stupid.”
“Never.”
Suddenly, I wanted to confess everything. My past with Corey, his lies, the secrets I’d kept from her. Even if I’d done it to protect her.
And the truth about Gavin: that we were embarking on a project together, though I couldn’t share the details yet.
But just like saying “no,” the words caught in my throat.
“Don’t forget your watch.” Eden pointed at my wrist. “Put it someplace special, okay? Someplace you won’t forget.”
Rehearsal for the first few scenes went smoothly. I was glad I had a role to play, especially around the actors who’d insulted me. Max, Ty, and Jackson refused to meet my eyes backstage.
Max played Mitch, a friend of Stanley’s who started a sweet, doomed romance with Blanche. Before Mitch could propose, Stanley told him about Blanche’s shameful reputation, ruining her chances of marriage.
I did my best to be Blanche, hopeful about Mitch’s clumsy courtship. But I kept hearing Max’s voice: Gotta wear five condoms if you want to fuck her. I stiffened every time he touched me. I could only drown that out by thinking of Gavin.
The story? It’ll be your story. Do you want to tell it together?