He shrugs. “What does it look like to you?”
“It’s nothing,” I chime in, hoping Zayne will go along with me. “A lie.”
But Zayne gives me a blatant look and I can practically hear him thinking,Really? Drop the act.
“Don’t look at her,” Carlton says. “I’m the one talking to you. Back off of Dot. You hear me?”
Zayne turns his sarcastic gaze onto Carlton. “Might be hard, considering we’re playing opposite each other onstage.”
“Just stay away from her.”
Zayne laughs. “Why? Afraid your little secret will spill?”
“Secret?” I ask. “What’s he talking about?”
“No idea.” Carlton’s voice is low.
Zayne crosses his arms. “Whatever. Look, I know you’re trying to be all macho-tough-guy in front of Dot, but you can relax. I’m not trying to, like, steal her away from you or anything. We were just running lines. You know, for the play we’re both in? And last time I checked, Dot is fully capable of making her own choices. That includes choosing who she wants to hang out with.” Zayne slams his locker closed and walks away.
Carlton and I are left watching him leave. Slowly, he turns to face me, and realizes we’re still being watched. “Get lost!” he yells at everyone around us. I jump at his tone. It’s so unexpected, but it works. No one is staring at us anymore, instead scurrying toward wherever they were going before, or at least pretending not to be eavesdropping. Carlton’s face is tight.It feels like it’s been so long since I’ve seen him look relaxed. He’s so different from the guy I was first drawn to. I bet he’s given himself premature wrinkles already. “I don’t like this,” he says.
“You don’t like what?”
“You andhim.Zayne. It’s too much. That should have been me. We should have been the ones rehearsing together.”
“We will be.” I reach out and touch his hand. “We have plenty of scenes together.”
“It just doesn’t make sense,” he continues as if I hadn’t spoken. “Why would Mr. Saltzman choose him to play Heathcliff? I’m obviously better than him.”
“It’s not your fault. Zayne ruined your script, remember?” But as the words leave my lips, I can’t help but think back to Zayne’s performance at rehearsal. How impressed I was. How, if I’d been Mr. Saltzman, I probably would have done the same. Because I’ve seen Carlton’s acting, and it’s good. But—as ashamed as I am to admit, even if only to myself—Zayne might possibly be just a teeny bitbetter.
A flash of memory comes to my mind—the time Carlton demonstrated his skills to me at his house during the summer. I was impressed at his rendition of a scene from a role he played last year, but I couldn’t help but notice the way his cheeks would flush, how his voice would waver, as if his self-awareness was a hurdle too high for him to overcome to truly become the role. Zayne has never made mistakes like that in front of me.
But there’s no way I can tell Carlton that.
“Mr. Saltzman will realize how wrong he was. Your performance as Linton will blow everyone away, including Nigel Weathers.” I grin. “You got this.”
He rolls his eyes. “Easy for you to say. You’re playing Catherine and you hardly deserve it.”
“Oh.” I flinch, stung by his tone. His words. “You—you don’t think I deserve it?”
“Come on, Dot. Be real. Meredith should be playing the lead and everyone knows it. My audition with her was…amazing, and she’s been practicing all summer. You literally just started.”
My chest feels suddenly tight. I need to be alone. Away from him and his hostility. “I need to get to class.”
He grabs my arm. His grip is firm, but not painful. “Wait. I didn’t mean that. I’m just stressed about everything. I’m sorry.” He pins me in place with a softer gaze. Pulls me into a hug. “I’m so sorry.”
I shut my eyes, enjoying the warmth of his skin on mine. Breathing in his minty scent until my bones thaw. “It’s okay,” I whisper.
“Will you come over for lunch tomorrow?” he murmurs into my braids. “My parents are dying for an excuse to break out the charcuterie board and I’d really love to see you outside of all this garbage.”
My body practically trembles with excitement. Lunch with his parents? This seems…big. Special. But then I remember my previous engagement. “I’m taking Beau to breakfast tomorrow, so let’s make it Sunday.”
“Ok, sure.”
“Great. It’sofficial,” I hint.
He smiles, and I smile back, but as I walk away, I can’t help but think that it felt a little forced.
