Broken Juliet(28)

For long seconds, I think he’s going to kiss me, but instead he flops onto his back and pulls me close against his chest. People dance and sing around us, like we’re the centerpiece in some bizarre pagan ritual, and even though it feels wrong to be in such an intimate position, I stay there, testing out my reaction. He’s warm and smells nice, and I like the way he gently strokes my arm.

But I don’t want him.

When Ethan dumped me, I filled all the holes he left with concrete. It protects me against feeling too much. Then again, that’s all there is. No room for anything or anyone else.

I close my eyes. All I get are images of Ethan.

I feel claustrophobic.

“Hey, you okay?” Connor’s worried. So am I.

His voice is wrong. His face is wrong. I want to be in other arms. Have a different heartbeat pounding under my hand.

I stand and stagger toward the water fountain.

I drink forever, and then just let the water flow over my lips and tongue. I feel desiccated.

“Cassie?” Connor’s there, so caring and nice. So different from Ethan. “You okay?”

I nod and try to smile. “Yeah, fine. Just a bit dizzy, I guess.”

No, that description’s too simple. I have full-blown emotional vertigo. I’m completely turned around. Upside down and inside out.

I hate how freaking wrong I feel without him.

I let Connor put his arm around me and escort me to class. I let Ethan see as he hugs me when we arrive. I allow myself to smile when Ethan’s face transforms into a storm cloud of the darkest dimensions.

Good. Let him be pulled inside out, too.

At least now my wrongness has company.




“Miss Taylor?”

Erika is watching me with concern on her face. I’ve been standing near her desk, staring for minutes at the group assignments listed on the board, unable to process what she’s done.

She knows about Ethan and me. How could she not when everyone is still buzzing about it like flies on a rotting carcass? It’s been more than two months, and yet there’s no way she could be completely oblivious to the thrill of expectation that still ripples through the air every time we step into a room together. It’s as if everyone’s praying that we’ll fight. Or f*ck. Or both.

Is my facade so flawless that she believes there’s any chance in hell I can perform with him again?

I glance at Holt. He’s staring at the whiteboard with a similar shell-shocked expression.

“Miss Taylor?” Erika says, louder. “Is there a problem?”

Most people have packed up and left, but the few who remain go silent, as if frightened that if they move, they’ll scare off the drama that’s about to happen.

“Erika … I just—” How can I say this without everyone … him … realizing how weak I am? “The groups for scene work. I’m not sure I can be in that group.”

Jack and Aiyah are lingering near the door. Lucas is pretending to fiddle with his shoelace. Phoebe and Zoe are keeping one eye on their phones as they slyly watch us. Erika politely tells them all to get out.

Then she turns to Ethan.

“Mr. Holt? Perhaps you should join us. I have a feeling this might have something to do with you.”

Ethan tenses his jaw and unfurls himself from his chair. As he slings his backpack onto his shoulder and walks over, goose bumps prickle my skin.

“Now,” Erika says when he’s standing as far from me as he can without making me look like a plague carrier, “why exactly can’t you work in the group to which you’ve been assigned, Miss Taylor?”

She knows, yet she wants me to say it. In front of him. Sometimes, I think she enjoys watching us squirm.

“I just don’t think me and…” I can’t say his name. If I say it, both he and Erika will see how not over him I am. “I don’t think having both of us in a group would be very fair to other members. There would be … tension.”

Erika looks between us. I don’t look at Holt, but I sense his frown.

“Mr. Holt? Do you agree?”

“Yes. There would definitely be tension.”

“So, you both expect me to give you preferential treatment because working together would be uncomfortable?”

Neither of us answers. That’s exactly what we expect, but saying so would make us seem like selfish *s.

Erika sighs. “I want to make it clear that during your careers, you’ll have to work with many people you don’t like. People you’d rather avoid. But you can’t run away every time things become difficult. Plus, you’re asking me to give you special treatment simply because you’re no longer dating. If I do this for you, I’ll be setting a precedent that will quickly become a major pain in my ass.”

I know what she’s saying is true, but I still want her to do it.

Ethan and I say nothing. Our silent pleading speaks volumes.

Erika sighs again. “Because of the mix of characters I’ve assigned within each group, the only person I could swap Mr. Holt with would be Mr. Bain.” Ethan tenses. “Would that be acceptable to both of you?”

Ethan asks, “What kind of scenes are we doing?”

Erika’s onto him. “Does it matter? Either you want to stay in Miss Taylor’s group or swap with Connor. What will it be?”