Page 44 of Drama Queens Don't Fall For Charming Boys

“My sister turned it into a smart house.” I slap my forehead. “Why did I tell you that? Now you’re going to command it to throw knives at me while I sleep.”

He groans. “How many times do I have to tell you that I’m not going to hurt you?”

“Your actions today proved otherwise.”

He sighs like he doesn’t want to deal with me anymore. “Can we focus on the play, Miss Drama?”

“I told you that doesn’t insult me.”

“And I told you I wasn’t trying to insult you.”

“Grr!” I get up and press my back to the wall that’s playing the role of a tree. “Get into position. And try not to choke me to death.”

He scans over his lines one more time before joining me at the wall. He hesitates for a moment or two before slowly lifting his hand and wrapping it around my neck. “Is this too tight?”

I don’t want to look into his eyes because I’m sure I’ll get lost in them. Curse those emerald eyes. And he’s so close to me, I can feel his warm breath on my cheek and his body heat. And the fact that we’re alone in my room…it causes my heart rate to pick it, but I tell it to stay put. Not that it listens to me.

“Mia?”

My eyes snap to his. Darn it! Those eyes.

“Am I squeezing your throat too tight?” he asks.

“No…it’s f-fine.” Shoot, now I’m the one stuttering.

“Okay. You want to start from ‘If you wanted to shoot me…?’”

“Yeah.” I take a few seconds to get into character and forget his gorgeous eyes. “If you wanted to shoot me, you would have done so by now.”

He glares into my eyes. “Would you like to try me?”

I raise my head as confidently as I can. “Yes, shoot me. Shoot me right now.”

His eyes move rapidly across mine, his expression growing softer and softer with each passing second. His hand loosens from around my neck as a defeated breath escapes his lips.

“I knew it. Now can you please get your hand off me?”

He’s wary for a second or two before his hand falls away from my neck and he steps back. I rub my neck. With a low voice, he murmurs, “I apologize.”

We stand there in the middle of the wilderness in complete silence, both of our gazes meeting and then breaking apart.

“What’s your name?” he asks.

I purse my lips.

“You have my word I won’t tell anyone,” he promises.

I still don’t trust him.

“I’m William.” He holds out his hand.

I just stare at it.

“Aren’t you familiar with the concept of shaking hands? When two people shake hands—”

“I know what shaking hands is.”

His lips snap shut.

---