Her eyes roll back to her audience, and I wait for the background music to begin, but there is none. Her melancholy is the only sound as she begins singing “A Tale as Old as Time” from Beauty and the Beast.
Holy shit, Sweater Girl can sing.
She looks over at me as she continues.
Why the hell is she looking at me like that? My eyebrows pinch together as our gazes hold and she keeps on with the song that she’s apparently singing to me. I always knew she was a little strange, but this is downright uncomfortable.
Finally, she turns back to the crowd. Her delicate voice is packed full of emotion and I’m pretty sure the entire class is moved by her performance. Hell, I think I even felt something tickle inside of me.
Trent joins her side and takes her by the hand as they turn to face each other, and he joins her in on the final line of the chorus.
I have no idea what this play is even about, other than a girl who falls in love with a beast. I’ve never watched the movie and don’t bother watching them practice. I’m usually backstage for the hour-long class working on sounds. Don’t even participate in the evening rehearsals because that wasn’t part of the arrangement.
Counselor Goodman said to show up three days a week and participate and I get the grade. The end. I’m not putting any extra effort into this, and I certainly don’t have the heart for drama club. Willa and Trent can have the spotlight. The little elves can have their moment flocking around on stage, pretending that fame is just around the corner. I just need to finish this shit so I can graduate.
When Willa wraps up the song and everyone claps, I join in on the cheer. Clapping my hands together so loudly that it drowns out the sound of the others. “Bravo,” I shout. My voice is laced with sarcasm. I slide the stool back and get to my feet as Willa shoots daggers in my direction.
When I walk behind the thick red curtain, I assume I’m alone, until someone grabs ahold of my bicep. I thrust my arm back in a knee-jerk reaction as my fists clench. “What the hell are you doing?” Trent’s voice is extra gruff and masculine and it makes me laugh. Trent Peters is anything but a tough guy, though it seems he’s all about putting on the mask of a beast for the girl. He’s this tall and lanky dude with a bowl cut and braces, and I’m pretty sure he doused himself in an entire bottle of Axe Cologne.
My thumb points over my shoulder. “Was sort of thinking I might come back here and take a nap.”
“No. I mean, why are you in this class? Is it just to taunt her? To make a scene?”
Instinctively, I chuckle. It starts out hushed, but escalates quickly into full-blown laughter. “Who? Willa? You fucking kidding me?”
“No. I’m not kidding. I’m onto you, Lars. Stay the hell away from her.”
I try to stop the laughter. I really do, but is this kid for real right now? Planting my palm gently on his chest, I give him a little shove. “Don’t fuck with me, dude. I’m not in the mood.” I’ve got Madison hot on my ass. Things with the guys and Marni are still a mess. And to top it off, the cops have widened the search for Josh, and we still have no idea where the hell Zed took him.
When Trent takes another step toward me with balled fists at his side, I put him in his place by shoving him harder. His ass hits the floor as he slides beneath the curtain.
The thudding of footsteps comes closer and the curtain is ripped open. “What’s going on back here?” Willa’s frail voice cracks as she extends her hand to Trent, before turning her attention to me. Her forehead crinkles in an array of lines. “Did you push him?”
There’s no use in lying. “Sure did.” She begins huffing and puffing over him as she tries to pull him up and I sweep the air with my hand and continue to the oversized recliner that has my name written all over it.
“Wait a minute.” Willa scurries to my side like a puppy. “You can’t just go around pushing people, Lars.” Her eyes blink repeatedly and it’s something that I’ve noticed she does a lot. I’m not sure if it’s a nervous reaction, or if she just needs glasses. She’s like a timid little mouse and her voice squeaks even when she tries to be angry. I say try, because I don’t think she’s capable of full-blown anger. If her sweet voice and the cross around her neck don’t scream purity enough, the perched robin on the corner of her baby blue sweater sure as hell does.
One of the buttons in the middle of her sweater is undone, so I begin to pop it back in place. “I can and I did.” I look up and her cocoa colored eyes beam into mine as she shivers under my touch.
In a delayed response, her hand swats mine away. “Don’t touch me.”
Throwing my hands up in surrender, I grimace. “Just trying to help. Wouldn’t want anyone trying to sneak another peek under that sweater of yours.” That was cruel. Probably went too far. I’m sure the memories of that night are still in the forefront of her brain. I’ve pushed them aside and almost forgot about the entire thing until I joined this class a couple weeks ago. Seems my dick still reacts to the wallflower because the minute I saw her on that stage for the first time, I remembered what it felt like as I stretched her pussy and popped her cherry. Tight, wet, and so inviting.
“If you’d like to help. Go apologize to Trent.” Her arms cross over her chest, as if she’s shielding her covered breasts from me.
“Nah, I’m good.
