“True love doesn’t end in murder-suicide.” Her voice was tight and underlaid with something that sent warning bells ringing in my head.
Shoving away from the door, I started down the long aisle.
“You’re tired.” The director spoke, almost like he was humoring her. I didn’t much care for it. “We will regroup later. Try again.”
“Maybe we should spend some time together.” The guy playing Romeo spoke up.
My gaze whipped to his, narrowing.
“You know, maybe work on our chemistry a bit? Maybe it wouldn’t be so hard to pretend you loved me if you liked me a little.”
No.
“Wonderful idea, Foster! Your dedication to the theater is noted.” The director nodded enthusiastically. The older man turned to Madison. “You are quite talented. It’s why you were chosen for the lead role. You have to get out of your own way. Get some rest, and we’ll regroup day after tomorrow.”
The director passed by me on his way out. The second he saw me, his eyebrows shot up, and I arched one of mine.
His gaze fell onto my Elite hoodie, and recognition sparked in his eyes. “I didn’t realize Elite was into theater.”
“I’m not,” I deadpanned, keeping my voice low. “I’m into her.” I tossed my chin in the direction of the stage. “So you might want to watch how you talk to her.”
Anger sparked in the man’s eyes, and he drew himself up to his full height. I was still taller. “I beg your pardon. I said nothing of concern. This is regarding our production.”
I leaned in, pushing my face toward the man, which caused his words to sputter out.
I spoke evenly. Quietly. “Telling my girl to go off and spend time with another man is my concern.”
The man turned bug-eyed. I enjoyed it. “You’re dating Miss Hartley?”
“Mm.” I agreed. He didn’t need to know I was still working on it.
“Well, congratulations. I’ll look forward to seeing you in the audience on opening night.”
Inwardly, I grimaced, but outwardly, I stood tall, keeping my face impassive. “I’m sure you will see me around before then.”
He swallowed like I was threatening him. Dude needed to grow a pair.
“Jamie?”
Dismissing the sackless director, I looked up to the stage. Madison was standing there gaping at me.
I smiled. “Hey, Mads.”
“W-what are you doing here?”
The director took his chance to bolt, and I didn’t give him a backward glance.
Heading up to the stage, I held up the drink carrier. “Thought you might need some coffee.”
“That’s for me?”
“No one else,” I quipped, hoping lame-o Romeo took the hint and got lost.
A look of relief passed behind her eyes, and I closed the rest of the distance between us, holding out the drinks.
“Which one?” she asked, nibbling on her lower lip.
God, the way she tempted me.
“Whichever one you want, sweetheart.”
She sucked in her breath at the endearment but kept her eyes averted. She plucked the one closest to her out of the carrier, using her other hand to steady it so it didn’t fall out of my grip.
“There’s sugar in the bag,” I told her softly.
With her hands wrapped around the cup, her russet-colored stare drifted to the bag. “Just one.”
“Go on, then,” I encouraged, holding the bag out so she could reach in.
She asked, “What else is in there?”
“Your dinner.”
Surprise lifted her stare, finally giving me the full weight of it settling wholly on me. Fucking incredible. “You got me dinner?”
The guy taking up space behind us made a sound. “Shouldn’t you be in the pool?” Clearly, he didn’t get the hint before.
“Shouldn’t you be leaving?” I deadpanned.
“Jamie!” Madison admonished.
It made me feel like I was sucking on a lemon.
Lame-o Romeo turned gleeful. Asshole. Taking a small step toward Mads, his chest puffed up when she rotated toward him.
“So about what I said. How about it?”
“Uhh…” Madison hedged, obviously trying to remember the dude asked her the hell out.
I wanted to laugh, but someone asking out my girl was not funny.
“We could go get dinner. Hang out. You know, get to know each other.”
Madison took a very small, barely perceptible step toward me. It was so small it was almost like a shift of her body weight, but oh, I saw.
“Not like a date.” The guy hurried to say as if he read that subtle reaction as well. “Just, you know, to help with the play. We could talk about the characters.”
“For the play,” Mads echoed.
Oh, for shit’s sake. Did she actually believe this?
“No,” I intoned, stepping up so my front was against her back.
She jolted a little, likely about to flee, but I reached over, the pads of my fingers pressing into her hip. She settled immediately.
“I wasn’t asking you,” he said, lips pinched.
“Well, I’m answering. Madison is mine, and she doesn’t need to have dinner to talk about the play. If you want to talk to her about it, you can do it at rehearsal.”
Madison stiffened, her head rotating so fast she nearly clobbered me with the messy knot at her crown. I saw the sharp denial form on her tongue and was nearly stabbed by the daggers in her stare.
“You two are dating?”
The incredulity in his tone made me look away. “Is that so surprising?”
“You never mentioned a boyfriend,” he said, this time directing his words to Madison. There was an underlying note of hurt in his voice.
Aww, he had a crush. Too damn bad.
“I wasn’t aware she owed you the details about her life,” I said, unforgiving.
Madison stiffened again and opened her mouth. I applied a little extra pressure at her hip with my fingertips.
“It’s new,” she told her costar.
“Well, considering how you feel about this play, I’m surprised you would date someone who tells you who you can and can’t be friends with.”
She made a sound deep in her throat.
The guy grabbed up a jacket nearby as well as his script. “The offer to hang out is still open. I think it would help with the play,” he told Madison, refusing to look at me.
Guy had balls. I’d give him that.
“I have coffee every morning at the coffee shop across from campus. Maybe I’ll see you there.”
My eyes narrowed.
“Okay. See you later, Foster.”
Lame-o Romeo was a better name than Foster. The only good Romeo I knew was Romeo Anderson who was the best quarterback the NFL had ever seen. I didn’t even live in Maryland, and I was a fan of the guy.
I said nothing until he was gone and the door at the back of the auditorium latched loudly, the sound echoing up to the high ceiling.
Madison turned, her stare deepening to a shade of rich mahogany. The hand not holding the coffee fisted on her curvy little hip, and frankly, she turned me the hell on.
But then she had to go and yell at me.
“What in the hell is wrong with you?”
4