Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
“’Cause I thought I’d try to catch you after your final show instead. I figured it would seem random enough, you know? Like I just happened to bump into you. Except…not with your sister,” I said with a wry laugh. “I swear to you, this was never supposed to be a date.”
“I believe you.” He smiled before shifting his gaze to something or someone behind me.
I turned to see who my competition was, swallowing a frustrated growl when I spotted Braden talking to another actor. Dammit. He must have escaped from Sunny.
“Can we go outside or someplace quieter before your boyfriend gets back?”
“I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“So, is that a yes?”
“Yeah, why not?” Phoenix handed me his red cup. “Hold this while I grab my coat. I’ll be back in a sec.”
He returned almost immediately, wearing a long black coat. He hiked his bag over his shoulder and reached for his cup. I pulled it away at the last second and sniffed the contents suspiciously. “Doesn’t smell like fruit punch.”
“That’s because it’s vodka cranberry. Help yourself.”
I took a sip then handed the cup back. “Not bad. I’ll walk you to your party. You ready to go?”
Phoenix inclined his head and followed me to the exit, pausing to wave to Braden and the other actor. Braden gave me a curious look when I held the door open, but I didn’t sense any animosity…or recognition. Good.
The crisp evening air felt refreshing. I glanced around the almost deserted parking lot before following Phoenix to a hedge-lined pathway leading to the main road. Traffic hummed in the distance, and an occasional burst of laughter drifted in the breeze, but we were alone. And damn, it felt nice to be with him. I couldn’t blow this.
“What did you want to talk about, Max?” Phoenix asked.
“Shakespeare.”
He snickered. “Liar.”
I smiled at the sweet sound and thought about dredging up whatever Shakespeare I could remember from my English Lit classes, but I came up blank. I was leery of sounding like more of an idiot than I already did.
I tried again. “How do you like Chilton so far?”
“It’s cool. It’s a little sleepy sometimes compared to LA, but the Film and Television Academy here is very well-respected. And I’ve met some great people over the past few months.”
I squinted in the semi-darkness. “I thought you started last month.”
He nodded, then sipped his drink before replying. “Officially, yes. But I signed up for a class here last fall. That was how I landed a part in the play. I had to drop the class because the credit wouldn’t transfer until I was accepted as a full-time student. They let me keep my role as Puck, though. I think they were desperate for a quick study with experience. Their original Puck took a part in an indie film and left them high and dry after week two. I’ve split my time driving between LA and Orange since September. I can’t tell you what a relief it was to get my acceptance letter and move here for good. No more commuting. Thank God.”
I furrowed my brow. “So you’ve been here since September?”
“Part-time…yes.”
“We met in October. How come you never said anything?”
Phoenix rolled his eyes. “Max, we met in line at a West Hollywood club. We spent the whole time making out or dancing. You told me your name, your age, and that you played a sport with the word ‘ball’ in it. I probably tuned you out after that. Don’t be offended. I just don’t understand that language. Which is funny when I think about how many sports guys I’ve dated.”
“Right. Like the tall guy who’s not your boyfriend,” I replied, plucking the plastic cup from his fingers.
He shrugged nonchalantly. “He’s not. I lied when I told you I was ‘seeing someone.’ I broke things off with Braden after the holidays.”
“Oh. Why’d you lie?”
“I panicked. I didn’t expect to bump into you and—whatever. Braden and I are just friends who briefly tried to be more. It’s better this way. We want and need different things.”
“What do you need?” I asked before taking a healthy swig of his drink.
“Sex.”
I widened my eyes and choked on a mouthful of vodka cranberry. I coughed a few times before twisting sideways to face him. “Come again?”
“Exactly,” he quipped, snatching his cup back and raising it in a mock toast.
“Are you drunk?”
“I’ve had three sips of a weak vodka cranberry. I don’t think so. I’m just being honest…in the dark. How poetic.” He cleared his throat and lowered his voice theatrically before glancing up and down the pathway, “ ‘The instruments of darkness tell us truths.’ ”
“Did you make that up?”
“No. Shakespeare did. It’s from Macbeth. Do you know the play?”
“I know the name, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen it.”
“It’s got all the best elements. Ghastly deeds followed by guilt, paranoia, and madness. Darkness is madness, but it’s truth too.”