He doesn’t respond.
With a coy shrug, I waltz back to the stage, return the microphone to its stand, then give the room a little drunken curtsy before giggling and rushing back to my table, the room revived with the musician’s music and loud, chaotic chatter.
“Oh my god,” moans Victoria when I’ve returned to my seat. “What were you thinking??”
“You can say I was inspired.” I giggle, eye-fucking Clayton through the smoke and banter. He looks so pissed off and sexy. “And now he knows who I am. Oh, how was the song?” I ask my friends.
“You were amazing, obviously,” Victoria says.
“Thanks!” I laugh, but when I return my gaze to Clayton, he’s abandoned his beer and is walking away.
The joy’s lost in an instant. I bend to the side, curious, but only catch a glimpse of his backside as he pushes through the door, gone.
Wow. Did I do that to him?
“No, no,” shouts Victoria through the noise, her face turning serious. “No, Dessie. You can’t go after him. You shouldn’t. He’s bad news.”
Why’d Clayton leave so suddenly? Did I make him uncomfortable? Well, he deserved it … after all the turmoil he put me through by just existing.
“Dessie. Are you listening?”
I frown, annoyed. “Why does it matter?”
But then even Chloe chimes in. “Everyone wants a piece of the Watts boy. Girls go crazy for him.”
“And guys,” adds Eric with a sneer.
“Every new student that comes through here tries to hook up with that hot piece of ass,” Chloe adds with a rueful shake of her head. “I’ve watched it since my own freshman year. It’s tragic.”
“Hell, even I couldn’t help but stare at him when he was in my dramaturgy class,” Victoria shouts over the table. “Listen, if it’s a boy toy you want, I’ll get you a list of ten eligible bachelors, my friend. Clayton is not one of them.”
I lean forward, meeting her halfway over the table. “He’s the one from the theater, Vicki!”
“Don’t call me that! Wait, what??”
“The one who heard me! The one from the other day!” I shout back. “He’s the one! That’s the guy! Clayton!” I stare after the door, still wondering why he left so abruptly. I’m trying not to let it sour the moment we just shared. I feel like I did something wrong. “Now, he’s heard my song,” I add. “Twice.”
“Oh, Des, no, no,” retorts Victoria. “He didn’t hear your song, sweetheart. Not one note.”
I frown at her. “What the hell does that mean?”
“Honey, he’s deaf.”
I am so fucked.
Six drinks and six blocks later, I still see her face burned into the backs of my eyelids. Or maybe it was the shitty stage lighting.
I barely survived the last time I let a girl get too close to me. I’ve been so good at keeping focus. I just brought my grades back up from last semester’s poli-sci catastrophe. I can’t let another actress destroy me again. Haven’t I learned my damn lesson?
Things are looking up, too. I’m feeling weird shit I haven’t felt in years—like hope. Everything I’ve worked so hard for since freshman year—while struggling to pay tuition out of my own pocket with the scrappy earnings from my three or four summer jobs—is about to pay off. After my experimental lighting design of Oliver’s senior-directed black box show last year, Doctor Thwaite, the Director of the School of Theatre, is finally looking at me. I caught him giving me an approving nod when I passed by him on the first day back. His lips moved to form a hello with my name attached. My name. They’re starting to see me.
That’s why I can’t let her fuck it all up. I know how I get, obsessing over a girl like her. My weakness. It’s the same weakness I had even in the first half of my life when I could hear a girl say my name.
My opportunity to be the lighting designer for a main stage production is so close, I can taste it.
What I can also taste is her lips. As she sang, I was hypnotized by them as they moved, imagining what they’d taste like if I brought my mouth to them. Then she came down from the stage and got in my face. Just inches away, I could’ve fucking tasted her.
I had a similar reaction when I caught her singing to the empty seats of the auditorium the other day. When she caught me standing there, I loved how that made her freak out and bolt. I was so mesmerized by the sight of her, I didn’t even pay attention to what she was saying to me. I spent that night pushing away thoughts of her long brown hair, her curvy body, her creamy skin … and those huge, vibrant eyes …