His head snaps to mine, a cocky smirk painted on his lips. “YourMadeline, huh?”
I puff out a breath. “You know what I mean. Why the hell are you talking to Madeline?”
“Technically, it’s a group chat,” he explains, munching on the crackers. “But your girl was just telling me about her audition.”
My brows furrow. “She had an audition?” I ask, completely ignoring the ‘your girl’ comment. I didn’t have time to thinkabout why the hell my heart felt like it was going to beat out of my chest at the words.
“She didn’t tell you?” he asks, his brows knitting together.
No, she fucking didn’t.
I wonder if she’s avoiding me because of what went down at the party. I didn’t kiss her. I did what I promised her I would do, and I didn’t fucking kiss her, no matter how much I wanted to, because we both knew that if I did, it wouldn’t have been fake. There was no one around. It would have just been for us.
My fingers hover over her name. I shouldn’t text her. I know that, but it doesn’t stop me from doing just that.
Me:
You had an audition?
Madeline:
Yep.
I frown at her clipped tone, wanting to kick myself for making her uncomfortable. I can’t believe I did that. I was so fucking stupid, blinded by jealousy, when I saw how her crush wants her. Yeah, well, so do I. But she won’t even look twice at me when she’s all I think about.
My attention is shaken when James laughs again, staring down at his phone. She’s fucking talking to him, joking with him, but all I get is a one-word answer? Lifting myself off the couch, I head toward the exit, my thumb hovering over the green call button.
“Why are you calling me?” she says into the phone.
I let out a laugh, my pulse settling at the sound of her voice. “Is that how you always answer the phone?”
“When it’s you calling, yes.”
I shake my head, a smile on my lips even though she’s trying to insult me. Blowing out a breath, my lips fall into a frown. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You’re going to have to be more specific,” she says. “I don’t read minds.”
“About the audition,” I clarify.
She’s quiet for a while before I hear a sigh. “I didn’t think you’d care.”
My frown deepens. Does she really think I’m that kind of guy? “Of course I care,” I say. “How did it go?”
“I got the rejection email twenty minutes ago,” she says. I can hear the sadness in her voice, and it makes my chest ache.
“I’m sorry.” Leaning back on the wall, I keep the phone pressed against my ear when I hear the subtle laugh coming from her.
“It’s not your fault,” she says.
Isn’t it?It’s probably been the first audition she’s been to since this started, and she didn’t get it. I blow out a breath, wanting her to forget about the rejection. “Question number fourteen,” I start, smiling when I hear her grunt. “What does your dream house look like?”
She chuckles. “Why? Are you going to build it for me?”
I smirk, rubbing a thumb over my lip.Hopefully. “Just answer the question.”
“I guess I don’t want something too big,” she says, surprising me. Usually, when you ask someone what their dream house is, they always say a huge, elaborate house, not Madeline, though. “I want my house to be clean and homey. I don’t like the idea of having a huge empty void, especially when it’ll probably just be me.”
My frown returns. “Why do you say that?” I ask her.
