Bashful Page 13

  Or maybe, just maybe, I’d gotten over him enough that the thought of his lips on mine didn’t freak me out anymore.

  Bash faced me, speaking the first line, aware that this scene set the feel for how the rest of opening night would go. That sparkle hadn’t left his eyes, his confidence oozing as he crossed to stage right. I squinted at him, thankful that Quinn was supposed to be angry.

  He had to have been waiting until right before the lights went up to mention the kiss. Bastard. He wanted the last and only word on the subject. Throw me off my game.

  He hopes it doesn’t suck.

  I really shouldn’t play into this shit, but if he wanted to play games again, that was fine. I could, too. We’d finally get to kiss tonight, and I’d make sure my lips shut his up on the subject once and for all.

  The only thing that would suck was having to pretend not to like it.

  J

  “My burns hurt. Your scars won’t fade. But we made it through the flames together, Quinn. We clawed and scratched our way out of the past. Forget about our families, our jobs, our lives before. Let’s stop playing with fire and let the heat consume us both.”

  Bash reached over to me, his grip fisting the hair at the nape of my neck as he roughly joined my body with his.

  “Let it burn,” he whispered, his voice slightly cheating out to the audience. He cupped my face, my body on fire as his eyes closed.

  My left arm snaked around his neck, my right splayed over his heart. I felt the rapid succession of beats as I prepared to make the move I’d been planning since intermission. He wanted a first kiss, wanted to joke about it like it was nothing.

  I recited the final line, a small smirk gracing my lips. “Let it burn.”

  It was time for the stage kiss that was expected from the cast and crew, Bash included. A stage kiss convinced the audience that the actors were actually kissing, but in reality, it was just plastic movements and strategic head turns.

  Ignoring the rules, I squeezed the back of his neck and went for it—the real deal.

  I varied the pressure of my kiss, sucking gently on his lower lip. Frozen in place—probably in shock—Bash let me kiss him, giving just enough back that the audience got what they came for. Desire pooled in my stomach as I cheated us away from the crowd, teasing and coaxing the seam of his lips to let me in. The lights went out, applause deafening around us as the curtains lowered.

  It was supposed to be payback for his comment before the show.

  It wasn’t.

  Desperation coursed through me, hoping and praying that my kiss would have magical turn-him-straight superpowers. I knew this moment was fleeting—probably the only chance I’d ever have to kiss Bash this way.

  I lifted the arches of my feet, getting closer, taking my one and only chance. I needed him to wake up.

  Kiss me back.

  My lids fluttered open, and even in the minimal light, his emerald irises made me want to melt into a puddle. He pulled back from me, his chest heaving as he unthreaded his fingers from my hair. My heart dropped, worried I’d crossed the line.

  Again.

  I didn’t have time to worry about it.

  Bash charged at me, his large hands cupping the sides of my face as he crashed his mouth against mine. He matched my kisses with the force of a thousand more, claiming my mouth like I belonged to him. My hands lowered, squeezing the hard muscles in his back through his dress shirt. He let out a soft groan, the hum of his voice sending shockwaves to my core.

  “We did it!” “That was amazing!” The voices grew closer, the vibration of footsteps rumbling on the floor below us.

  Bash traced my jaw with his thumb, his shoulders moving up and down as rapidly as his breaths. I felt an instant loss as he stepped backward, putting space between us as the backstage lights turned on. The cast and crew swallowed us in a frenzy, preparing for the curtain call. I couldn’t catch my breath.

  Bash was staring at me like he wanted to kill me.

  He was pissed at me. I took it too far. Fuck. I needed to lighten the situation, remedy it with comedy. If that didn’t work, I’d settle for groveling at his feet.

  “You’re lucky I didn’t eat garlic first, Sebastian,” I shouted, praying that my makeup covered the immense blush that had taken over my face and chest.

  A few chuckles came from the crew that divided us, pulling props and set pieces out of the way. Bash shook his head, no smirk, no nothing before turning to line up in the eaves.

  Guess I’d better brush up on my groveling.

  Twenty-Nine

  CHATTER FILLED THE LOBBY OF the auditorium as friends and family congregated. They milled about drinking Styrofoam cups of complimentary coffee while they waited with flowers in their arms for their actors to emerge from the dressing rooms.

  I rounded the corner, lifting to my tiptoes so I could scan over the crowd for Evie and Garrett.

  “CALLIE!” Evie screamed, pushing her way through a group of students.

  “Bloody hell, you were absolutely brilliant!” She beamed, squeezing me into her lithe frame. She kissed both of my cheeks before shouting, “Everyone! My best friend is going to be famous!”

  I rolled my eyes over to Garrett, begging him to rescue me from her humiliation. He cleared his gruff throat and I pulled myself from her arms to accept the bouquet of gerbera daisies he’d been holding.

  “That was some play, Callie. Really, you were amazing. These are for you,” he said, running a hand over his beard.

  “From both of us,” my best friend squealed. “Garrett, love, will you please go grab our jackets from coat check? I want to have a quick chat with this one before we head out.”

  He nodded, kissing her cheek and congratulating me once more before walking to the opposite end of the lobby. I was more than aware that Evie was going to drill me about that kiss, but I had hoped she’d let it sink in before she pushed for details. She linked her arm in mine, guiding us to a less populated area of the room. When she settled on a spot, she removed her arm from mine and pinched me.

  “Ow, what the hell, E!”

  Her ecstatic expression from seconds ago was gone, replaced with her Brit-Brat one. I rubbed at the sore spot on my arm, a frown on my face.

  “No. What the hell, you, Callie. What did I just witness? Did you seriously just make out with Bash in front of three hundred people?” Her eyes were wild as she half-whispered, half-shrieked. “Why didn’t you tell me that you moved past Mission: Eye-Fuck and worked your way up to Operation: Mouth-Assault? How long have you two been snogging?”

  I massaged my temples, the adrenaline from the show and the kiss seeping out of my body. “It was just a joke, Evie. He told me right before the curtain went up that since it was our first kiss, that it was going to suck. I was teaching him a lesson, that’s it.”

  Evie narrowed her gaze, her left eyebrow arching high. She knew I was full of crap. I swear, she had the nose of a bloodhound—she could smell bullshit through the wind twenty miles away. For an actress, I really sucked at lying to those closest to me.

  I fidgeted in my spot, debating whether or not I could make a mad dash away from her. Best-case scenario, I’d escape and she’d get distracted by Garrett and I could go home and dissect what happened alone. Worst—and also more likely—case? My stupid feet would find some invisible object to trip on, and I’d fall flat on my face, giving a second performance to the horde of people around us. Guess I’d go with option three: staying here and making the word things come out of the mouth hole.

  “Fine,” I huffed, breaking down. “It was supposed to be a joke, and then out of nowhere it wasn’t freaking funny at all,” I said. “Then the lights went off and he kissed me back. And oh my God, Evie, it was everything.”

  Her face softened as she listened. “Did he say anything afterward? Did you? Is it going to happen again?”

  “No,” I whispered, shaking my head. I’d burned that bridge before I even had the chance to cross it.

  “When
the lights came on, he looked like he wanted to stuff me in a box and mail me to a remote island. I think I really pissed him off.”

  “It didn’t look like he was pissed from my angle, love. The body language between you two was making me squirm in my seat,” she said, smiling over my shoulder at Garrett as he headed back in our direction with their coats draped over his arm. “Look, if you really think you upset him, then you know what you need to do. Go find him and explain. Apologize. Bribe him with alcohol. Offer him a lap dance. You know, the stuff that usually works when you need to say sorry to me.”

  She turned and twerked against me, and I laughed before thanking them both for coming as Garrett helped her into her coat. Giving Evie a quick peck on the cheek, we said our goodbyes and I made my way through the crowd in search of Bash.

  Thirty

  MAYBE BASH HAD ALREADY LEFT. I circled the room twice, weaving through small groups and thanking those who complimented me on my performance. I tried to keep the small talk to a minimum, because all I cared about right now was finding him and making things right. Just as I was about to give up, I felt him in the room. Even when he hated me, the connection between us remained. I swiveled around and found him almost immediately, laughing and conversing at a café table with two men. My heart fell when his eyes found mine, his smile falling. The men turned around in their seats to see what he was staring at, grinning wider when they saw me. I awkwardly lifted my hand and waved, moving my feet quickly as they both motioned for me to come over.

  As I approached, the older men stood to greet me. I studied them both, equally good-looking but complete opposites. I choked back a laugh when the one with the thick, white hair slapped Bash on the back, causing him to jump out of his seat as well. Someone forgot his manners.

  “Son, are you going to introduce us to your lovely costar?”

  Bash did that thing where he looked past me instead of at me. “This is Callie,” he mumbled. “I’ve, uh, mentioned her a few times.”

  He had? I wonder if he was warning them of my awkwardness.

  The man with the white hair turned to me, blue-gray eyes crinkled at the edges like he’d lived a full life of mischief. He was about five foot ten, lean, and if it weren’t for the white hair, he could’ve passed for early forties. His style was clean and casual, a white dress shirt tucked nicely under a brown crewneck sweater that went perfectly with his dark jeans.

  “Callie, you were absolutely breathtaking on that stage, my dear. I’m in awe,” he said, reaching out a hand. “I’m Max, and this is my husband, Nicholas.”

  “It’s so nice to meet you both, and thank you, really, for the compliment. I couldn’t have been Quinn without Bash by my side as Aiden,” I replied, sitting in the wrought iron chair that Max held open for me.

  “He’s got the looks for the stage, that’s for sure. But you, my darling, are stunning. Isn’t she stunning, honey?” Nicholas’ deep voice was so similar to Bash’s. Now that I got a good look at him, he looked like Bash, just twenty years in the future. His dark black hair was thick with a slight wave, cut just above his shoulders. His frame was long and wide, comfortably filling out the black sports coat he wore over a dark purple shirt. The only thing that wasn’t a carbon copy between the two were Nicholas’ eyes, which were so dark brown they were almost black.

  Max leaned forward, taking a sip of coffee from the Styrofoam cup in front of him. “I would’ve tried to snatch her up back in the day, that’s for sure.”

  “You couldn’t have gotten her even if you liked women, honey.”

  Max brushed off Nicholas, and I reveled in the playfulness of their relationship. I saw where Bash got it from. “So, Sebastian tells us that you two have been friends for years. After his time in England, I’m happy he had someone besides Tucker to come home to.”

  I looked over at Bash, who was focused on the latticework of the wrought iron table. He traced the pattern over and over, his tense shoulders making it obvious that he was uncomfortable with me being here.

  “Yes, Tucker’s a handful. It’s like Bash and I are raising a little toddler,” I said and they laughed in agreement. “We met at the beginning of freshman year.” I smiled, telling them the cliffs notes version of our relationship.

  We went back and forth making small talk for a few minutes, Max asking about my family and Nicholas chiming in with some cute—embarrassing—stories from when Bash was young. He stayed silent most of the time, answering with a yes or no when his parents prompted him to respond.

  But not once did he look at me. I was screwed.

  “You guys raised a pretty awesome human. He’s been a really great friend to me. I don’t know what I’d do without him.” I enunciated that last part, my voice cheating in his direction, hoping he was picking up what I was putting down. I really didn’t want him to be mad at me. It was making my heart ache, really freaking physically ache in my chest.

  I watched as Nicholas and Max exchanged a quizzical glance and my cheeks flushed. Yeah, I had the subtlety of a wrecking ball. Sorry, guys, you just met the queen of awkward. I stood abruptly, aware if I stayed and talked any longer, I’d end up humiliating myself.

  Unfortunately, I moved too quickly and knocked my chair over in the process, the crash echoing through the room and turning the heads of those still milling about.

  Bash whipped his head around, finding me on the floor. “Did you just fall?”

  “No, I got in a fight with the floor, Captain Obvious,” I smarmed, rubbing my hip. “Help me up?”

  Once I was standing, I shuffled around and righted the poor piece of furniture before wiping my hands on my leggings. “That chair had it coming.”

  Bash sat again, but this time with a smirk on his face.

  Okay, fighting with furniture is an icebreaker. Good sign.

  “As much as I’d love to stay and chat, I need to head back downstairs and take all of this off,” I told his dads, gesturing to my makeup and hair.

  Nicholas moved around the table to hug me goodbye, speaking to his son and husband over my shoulder. “I hate to see you go so soon. I must admit, though, it’d be bad parenting if I let you stay. You could sneeze and overthrow the poor table, and then where would we put our coffee?”

  Seriously. Older versions of Bash.

  Max guffawed, slapping his hand on his knee as I stuck out my lip in mock horror. “Aw, sweetie, don’t be offended. We tease because we like you,” he said, wrapping an arm around me. “Does Sebastian not give you a hard time? I thought we raised him right.”

  “Oh, he gives me a hard time, all right,” I responded. Except my brain didn’t evaluate the words coming out of my mouth before I spoke, and familiar embarrassment filled my stomach. “Oh my God, no, that’s n-not what—I didn’t mean—” I stuttered, huffing out a breath as I picked up my bouquet of daisies.

  I was going to die, right here in the lobby. That’d be fine.

  Bash got out of his seat, taking the few paces between us quickly to stand next to me. Of course he was coming to my rescue again, from myself and my word-vomit. I turned to look at him, studying the complexities of his face. How could he look annoyed and jovial at the same time?

  “Annnnnd that’s the parental portion of the evening,” he said, ushering them away with a smile.

  “Agreed. It was nice to meet you both.”

  As I listened to their heartfelt farewell, I backed away slowly, not wanting to interrupt their moment. When I caught Max’s eye, I waved once more before heading down to the dressing room.

  Thirty-One

  ABOUT THIRTY MINUTES AND FIVE thousand makeup wipes later, my face was clean and I’d managed to comb out the rat’s nest caused by the gallon of hairspray in my updo. I threaded my hair into a loose fishtail and threw it over my shoulder. Moving to my cubby, I finagled my makeup kit into the crowded space before pulling out my crossbody bag and slinging it over my chest. Fishing my keys from the bottom, I twirled them around my finger as I turned to do a final once-over to make
sure all of my costumes and accessories were back in place for tomorrow’s show. If they weren’t, Melissa would have my ass. Satisfied, I flipped the switch and closed the door since I was the last one there. My phone pinged. Pulling it out of the zippered pocket as I climbed the stairs, I saw that it was Tuck.

  Tucker: WHERE ARE U, WOMAN? WE R HAVING FUN WITHOUT U, BIOTCH!

  Callie: What do you mean, where am I? I just finished changing and stuff. I’m still at school.

  Tucker: COME TO THE CAST PARTY. RIGHT MEOW.

  Tucker: Or I’m going to drink all of the good booze and leave you with Smirnoff Ice.

  I looked at the time—I hadn’t realized it was already so late. Moving quickly through the empty lobby, I pushed through the doors and made it to my car in record time.

  Callie: Tone it down, Spunktrumpet! I’ll be there soon. Did you text Evie?

  Tucker: She’s already here. She’s also guzzling the good booze with Manly McBartender.

  Getting into the driver’s seat, I started the car and blasted the heat. One look in the tiny lighted mirror on the inside of the visor made it apparent that I needed a quick makeover. My clothes were fine—I looked down at my hint of cleavage covered mostly by an off-the-shoulder, champagne-colored sweater. I’d loosely tucked the front into the waistband of my skinny jeans, and was thankful I’d thought to put on cute wedge booties this afternoon.

  I thought I’d have enough time to go home before the party, so now I was worried about showing up half-cute. Especially since Bash would most likely be there.

  It’d be much easier to play on his sympathy with my ‘sad puppy’ face if I had extra-long lashes and cat eyes to make my eyes bigger and shinier.

  Popping the button on the glove compartment, I felt around in the dark until I found what I wanted and pulled it out. My trusty emergency makeup bag, a gift from Evie with the words “Face Shit” in dark black letters printed on the canvas.

  I hurriedly swiped on dark navy eyeliner, the winged edges causing the green and yellow flecks in my eyes to pop. Pushing the little tube in and out of the mascara, I coated my lashes thoroughly before going for my concealer, using my finger to blend it into any blemishes I could find. After a quick brush of bronzer on my cheekbones and a little lip gloss, I sat back to take in the full effect. Damn, that tiny visor-light at night was like one of those ring things that beauty bloggers used.