Lola: What’s your classic monologue?
Me: Rosalind’s monologue from As You Like It.
Silence. I tapped my foot as I waited, but when I got a response, it wasn’t from Lola.
Jenna: No. No way.
My eyes widened in shock and the diva brat from hell started typing again.
Jenna: If you’re doing a comedy for your classical, you need to choose a tragedy for your modern piece. Show them you’ve got range.
I didn’t know which was more alarming—the fact that Jenna had somehow hijacked our chat group or that…she was right.
Crap.
Lola: You know how much I hate to say this, but…I think Jenna might be right.
Jenna posted a GIF of a girl carrying a giant trophy over her head in triumph.
Ever humble, this one.
Jenna: I’m always right.
Me: Wait a second…what is Jenna even doing here?
A second later, my guilty conscience made me add: No offense, Jenna.
Jenna: Oh please. Like I even wanted to hang out with you losers online.
Lola: Then why haven’t you left?
Silence.
Huh. Jenna didn’t have a comeback for once.
Then Lola was typing again.
Lola: I invited her to join because a) you can’t really have a Diva Squad without the queen diva, right? and b) my father taught me to keep your enemies close.
She added a beaming angel emoji at the end that made me laugh.
Jenna: Back to business. Find a tragedy.
I frowned down at the stack.
Me: Streetcar Named Desire?
Lola: PERFECT.
Jenna: Yes. That’s the one. You rock a southern accent.
I blinked a few times in surprise. I mean, it was true. I made an amazing Southern belle when Jenna, Lola, and I had done a totally misguided, horrifically challenged regional production of Gone with the Wind.
We all agreed it would be best if no one got their hands on the footage of that one. Since Layne was the only person there who’d made any attempt to film it, I knew Lola had already ensured it would never see the light of day.
Me: I don’t know. Isn’t Blanche Du Bois way old? Isn’t that weird?
I didn’t even realize Lillian was hanging out online and reading our texts until she suddenly chimed in.
Lillian: You’re talking about the scene where she’s describing her tragic first love, right? She’s reminiscing about being a teen so you could play it like she’s gone back in time as she’s remembering. It’s kind of perfect.
Jenna: Of course it’s perfect. I suggested it.
I stared at the screen. Lillian had a point. It could be a unique take on an overdone monologue…
Me: Thanks, ladies. I think I have a plan.
I shut the laptop and opened the script, ready to start memorizing.
Except that I couldn’t because every time I got past the first sentence my mind would drift backwards to earlier in the day. My ability to focus was tortured mercilessly by the look on Jax’s face when I’d called him out on that challenge.
Good. He’d deserved it.
I turned back to the monologue and seconds later it was his voice that interrupted.
I like you.
I slammed the script shut in frustration. No, you don’t. That’s what I should have said.
You don’t even know me. I should have said that, too. I’d wanted to…but I couldn’t. Because for a little while there the other night, I’d gotten this feeling like maybe he did know me. Or maybe he could know me if I let him in.
But I didn’t, and I wouldn’t, and I couldn’t.
There was no room in my life for a guy like him. There wasn’t room for a guy, period. But there definitely wasn’t room for someone like him. Because he was dangerous. That’s why I’d ended it the first time around.
He’d be a distraction, for sure.
Worse, he might be a derailment altogether.
He was a guy who could get under my skin and into my heart and that…
That was not part of the plan.
I picked up the script and opened it. There was no way I’d get this close to my dreams—so close to Broadway and New York City I could taste it—and ruin it all because of a guy.
All I had to do was win.
I peered at the words on the page until they came into focus and willed myself to stop thinking about the one guy who could ruin everything.
The one guy who could make me fall.
16
Jax
I groaned and stuck my head under my pillow as Simone stormed into my room. “What did you do to her?”
“Who?” I mumbled.
Yeah, I played dumb. That was the best option. It was the only option, because there was no way I was about to tell Simone just how badly I’d screwed up.
Or that she’d been right and I’d been wrong.
There was only so much humiliation a guy could take in one day, and realizing that Rose had been playing me from the start?
That was all the embarrassment I could handle.
“Oh no you don’t,” Simone said. Her voice was right next to my head, and that was the only warning I got before the pillow was ripped away from me and a glare from the setting sun made me squint.
“Go away,” I moaned, reaching for the pillow but she held it out of reach.
“I told you to leave her alone,” Simone said.
I sighed as I flopped over onto my back, resigned to the fact that this was happening. I was going to get a lecture whether I participated in the conversation or not. “I know.”
“I told you that it was stupid.”
I threw an arm over my eyes. “I know.” My voice was muffled but I was pretty sure she’d heard me.
“I told you someone would get hurt!” She was shouting now, and I was glad my parents were in one of their good phases and out at a restaurant for date night. I so didn’t need their grilling me on why Simone and I were fighting.
They’d never understand.
Or maybe they would understand…but I was just too embarrassed to tell them the whole story. I mean, I’d bet that I could make a girl fall for me. That I could
