Broken Juliet(37)

We start the scene. I’m agitated, but Childie calms me. Strokes my face. For once, she makes the first move. She kisses me gently then pulls back, hesitant as to how I’ll react. I’m shocked by how forward she is, and although my first instinct is to punish her, she’s looking at me with such hope, I can’t bring myself to do it.

I kiss her back, passionately. She’s so beautiful. As innocent as I am corrupt.

We fall to our knees and continue to kiss. Then, in an act of unparalleled boldness, she pushes me onto my back, straddles me, and grinds against me as she buries her fingers in my hair. I pull open her shirt and palm her breasts before flipping her onto her back and becoming the aggressor again. She wraps her legs around me as I kiss her neck.

We say the last few lines as we pant into each other’s skin.

The scene ends, and Miranda and I stand and await Erika’s notes.

“Well, ladies, that was—”

“Fucking amazing!” Jack leaps to his feet and applauds wildly. “Best play ever!”

“Mr. Avery!”

“No, seriously, Erika. Can these girls do that scene for the rest of the year? Because … yeah. It’s seriously … stimulating. Stirring stuff.”

“Dude,” Lucas whispers, “You might wanna sit down. It’s kind of obvious how much you enjoyed it.”

Avery immediately covers his crotch and sits. Everyone laughs.

“Shut up, bitches. There are hot chicks making out in front of me. What do you expect? Every straight guy in this room is currently sporting wood. Hey, Holt. Let’s see the size of your tent.”

Ethan rolls his eyes and flips him the bird, but I notice his legs are crossed in such a way that his crotch is hidden from view.

He looks at me for a moment before dropping his gaze and shifting in his seat.

The passion I’ve just dredged up for the scene is now snaking out toward him.

I shove the emotion down. It’s like trying to shove a pillow into a shoe box.

Stupid passion.

This is why we’re not friends anymore.




A huge roar of “Asshole!” comes from the next room, and Connor and I exchange a look. Our friends are playing some asinine card game, and as usual on these Wednesday night get-togethers at Jack’s house, Connor and I are in charge of snacks. I may not be able to cook, but I can open a bag of chips with the best of them, and Connor is the King of Frozen Pizza.

We make a good team.

I watch as he unwraps a couple of frozen pies with the finesse of a magician.

I find myself staring at his hands. He has lovely hands. Actually, most of him is lovely. Sandy brown hair. Brown eyes. Handsome face. Nice body.

Best of all, he’s one of the sweetest, most caring men I’ve ever known.

It’s a pity that doesn’t seem to be enough for me.

“Do I have a booger?”

“Huh?”

Connor smiles, and suddenly the whole room seems brighter. “You were staring. I thought I might be sporting nose poop.”

I shake my head. “Nope. Just admiring the pretty.”

He shrugs. “Okay. I can live with that. But if you think those bags of chips are going to open themselves, you’re sorely mistaken. Get to work, lady.”

He passes me a bowl, and as I dump in the Doritos, he raises an eyebrow. “You making your famous salsa to go with that?”

I nod. “You know me well enough to not doubt my awesomeness by now.” I pull out a jar of salsa and open it. “Voilà! Cost me a hot buck and a half to get it just perfect.”

He smiles as he sprinkles extra cheese on the pizzas. “You’re so talented.”

“I know, right? You, too.”

He holds up the bag of cheese. “Yep, if I don’t make it as an actor, Pizza Hut managers all over the country will be lining up to hire me.”

“You make it sound like that’s your fallback plan. May I remind you that even if you do make it, you might still have to take a job as a pizza artist? Theater paychecks can be crappy.”

He laughs. “Yeah, but becoming stars in any capacity means we have to first pass this term’s acting class, and it seems like Erika’s making that as hard as possible with these passion scenes.”

He puts the pizzas in the oven and sets the timer while I grab two beers from the fridge and pass one over. “Well, I’d better start looking for my second job now, because I can barely get through my scene without giggling like I’m high.”

“Oh, please.” He uncaps his beer and takes a drink. “You have nothing to worry about. Your scene with Miranda was amazing yesterday.”

“Are you saying that because you’re a guy who gets off on two women kissing? Or are you basing it on our actual performance?”

He rolls his eyes. “Cassie, give me a break. I’m not Jack. I am capable of watching two women make out like demons without objectifying them.”

I raise an eyebrow.

He turns away as he mumbles, “No matter how f*cking hot it was.”

At the mention of his name, Jack walks into the kitchen.

“Are we talking about Miranda and Cassie again? Cool, because I’ve been meaning to ask you a question, Cassie. Is Miranda a better kisser than Holt? Softer lips? Smoother skin? I’m sure the answer is yes, but I’d like to hear it in your own words. Be specific.” He goes to the fridge, grabs a beer, and opens it before looking at me expectantly.