Fame, Fate, and the First Kiss(20)

“Walking through an old abandoned building is going to make you somehow feel something?” He turned toward me, but his face was in the shadows, unreadable.

What Amanda had said came back to me again, that the best way to feel chemistry was to draw on some real chemistry I’d experienced. I didn’t want her to be right. I could channel it here somehow. I didn’t need to know what falling for someone felt like.

I clicked on my phone’s flashlight, lighting up his face and revealing his dark eyes on mine. He squinted, and I quickly turned the light away and searched for the door that would lead us farther into the building. “Let’s go.”

Dust and spiderwebs coated nearly every surface.

“This seems like the perfect zombie hideout,” he said.

Right. My makeup. I was still wearing it. Apparently I should add that line in my bio about how long I could endure stage makeup. “Yes, it does.”

The first room we came to let in enough light from the streetlights outside that I tucked my phone in my pocket. It had the frame of a bed, still intact but pushed on its end against the wall, its headboard on the floor creating a stable base. I stepped onto the headboard and tugged on the footboard up near the ceiling to see if it would support my weight, then swung on it a couple times.

“Okay, time for some improv,” I said.

“Improv?”

“Yes, it’s an acting term. We need to make up some stories.”

Donavan nodded, then wandered once around the perimeter of the room. He stopped at a small closet and bent down to pick up something. It was a paper of sorts. He wiped it on his jeans, then studied it close.

“What is it?” I asked.

“It’s a picture.”

“Of what?” I dropped from the bed and inched closer.

He was still for a long, quiet moment before he said, “My grandfather. I thought he died suddenly, from a heart attack. At least that’s what my parents said. But they sent him here?”

“What?” I slid next to Donavan, my mouth right at his shoulder level, and looked at the picture. Only it wasn’t a picture at all, it was a faded old receipt. “That’s not . . .”

“I thought you said we were making up stories. Don’t the rules say that you’re supposed to go along with mine?”

“Yes . . . actually. I was supposed to. You caught me off guard.”

“You literally just said we were doing improv.”

“I know. I just didn’t expect . . .”

“You thought you were the only one who would be able to do it?”

That’s exactly what I had thought. “Sorry. That was really good. Have you acted before?”

“No, but it’s not rocket science.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure you said exactly what you meant.” So much for starting on a new foot. Of course that’s what he thought. He was Dad Number Two, after all. Why was I letting this hurt my feelings? I didn’t care what Choir Boy thought. The only thing that would impress him, I was sure, was if I were genius-level smart. Literally, a rocket scientist. “I’m going to check out the rest of the building.”





Nine


Donavan and I had separated (I obviously hadn’t talked myself out of being irritated with him), and I was on the third floor, wandering through the dark halls, my phone light shining the way. I ran right into a spiderweb strung across the hall. I blew air through my lips and wiped it off my face. Grime coated my hands so I was sure all I had managed to do was make my face even scarier.

At the end of the corridor, an open door cast a strip of light on the dark ground. I clicked off my phone and tried to get in the mind-set of my character. If I were Scarlett, wandering through this abandoned building, sick with a disease that made me hunt humans, how would I walk, think, feel? I slowed my step, like I was creeping. My body was being ravaged by a disease, I must’ve been in some sort of pain. I began to limp a little and hold one arm against my chest. I easily fell into character, which didn’t surprise me. Channeling Scarlett wasn’t hard for me. It was channeling her feelings for Benjamin that was the problem.

I let myself think of Grant’s eyes. That’s what would keep me going. His eyes for sure.

“You have to come see this room,” Donavan said from behind me.

I stopped but didn’t turn. I continued my hissing breath. Then I turned slowly, jerkily, until I faced him, looking up from under my lashes with a hungry stare.

He raised his eyebrows. “That’s creepy. You obviously have that down well. Come on.”

Right, I had this part down. I needed to change something. But how could I show I was still a zombie while also showing I was still in love?

I followed him—still in character—slowly, and dragging one foot. He led me down one flight of stairs, then disappeared behind an open door. When I got inside the room, I didn’t look around, I just focused on Donavan. His back was to me. I limped all the way to him. I ran a slow finger up his spine. Then I grabbed him by the head and pretended to snap his neck.

“I honestly don’t think you’d be strong enough to snap my neck. You should’ve found something to knock me out with.”

I tried to hide my smile, because he was facing me now. Instead of speaking, I lunged for his neck with an open mouth.