Home>>read Beneath The Skin free online

Beneath The Skin(121)

By:Daryl Banner


His tight shirt hugs the two hills of his shoulders that lead up to his thick, muscular neck. His big pecs stare at me just as he does, and for a moment it’s like he’s some statue of a god. I bet his muscles feel like one too, firm and unbudgeable. I imagine the meaty sound his body would make as I tackle him, and the metallic racket of the lighting instruments as they bang together, disrupted by our crashing into them.

Wait. What the hell am I thinking?

“I’m s-sorry,” I repeat, ashamed, humiliated. All he does is stare at me. He doesn’t say a damn thing. “It … It wasn’t that bad, was it?”

His eyes bore into me, smoldering me, those deep, powerful eyes. He looks so dangerous … so tortured …

So sexy. My heart races. I can’t catch my breath.

“Oh,” I blurt, my voice shaking. “It was that bad. I’m not supposed to be here, am I? I’ll just … I’ll go.”

And that’s precisely what I do, tripping over my legs as I race down the steps. The noise of my feet slapping the tile of the lobby assaults my ears as I flee the theater.





DESSIE



“And this guy … caught you singing?”

I sigh and lean into the table, mortified, then nod sheepishly.

“There are some hot guys in our school,” admits Victoria, “but I don’t know which one caught you. If you’d tell me more, I might know his name. There’s Jerry, short for Jeremy. There’s Aaron. Ooh, or Ian …”

Truth is, I don’t want you to know who. “It’s okay. I just hope it doesn’t get me into trouble. I want to make a good first impression.”

“Yeah, save that for auditions Friday.” She winks and gives me a nudge. “Lighten up. It’ll be fine. Hey, I didn’t know you could sing.”

“I doubt I sang well. He just stared at me like I was an idiot and …” I can’t even finish, not wanting to relive it yet again. “I need to work on my audition pieces. I didn’t realize—”

“That auditions would be the very first week? Yep. We don’t mess around down here in Texas. I’m sure you’re used to that in New York City too, of course. Hey, we can help each other with our monologues! I could totally pick a brain like yours.” She nearly giggles with excitement. “I have a whole bookcase of marked-up scripts in my room. Hey, I bet you could even sing for one of your pieces. I think they’re allowing that, on account of the spring musical.”

I can’t stop picturing his face, the way he stared at me so intently after I’d finished. “We’d better get to class,” I say, noting the time on my phone.

“First day of crew! Did you see which one you got? They’re posted on the door of the rehearsal room.”

Twenty minutes later, we’ve moved from the food court to the School of Theatre, where I stumble as I scurry down the winding halls to the rehearsal room door. I search the list for my name.

My heart skips a beat.

I’d nearly forgotten which one I signed up for.

“Lighting crew?” Victoria questions, staring at me. “You picked … lighting crew? Mmm, honey, I hope you aren’t scared of heights.”

I bite the inside of my cheek and suck my tongue, staring at my name and reading it over and over and over again. My body trembles. My nerves tighten and my knees turn weak. I know exactly why I picked it.

“I … wanted to t-try something new,” I struggle to say through a dry mouth. I have trouble swallowing suddenly. Maybe my organs are all shutting down. I might die before I reach my class.

Victoria gasps in protest when she sees her own name. “Costume crew?! Are you kidding me?! No! That wasn’t either of my preferences! Damn it! That can’t be right …”

I can’t even participate in a moment of sympathy for her, too wrapped up in my own predicament, if I dare call it that. Will I see him today? How many people has he told about what happened yesterday in the theater? Maybe he’s not in the lighting crew at all. Maybe he was just … fiddling with them a lot. Maybe he’s part of the set crew. Just like any other student, he gets assigned to different crews each semester too, right?

I’m overthinking this. Calm down, Dessie.

“Oh well. Come by my room later,” she says to me, and I’m pretty sure I just zoned out on her whole tirade about costume crew. “We’ll pore over scripts! I want to show you what I’ve got prepared. You can critique me with all your New York City knowhow.”

I give her a halfhearted nod and grimace, then we part ways. I proceed in silence to where the lighting crew is supposed to meet: the main stage.