Page 46 of Broken Romeo

I stepped closer, towering over her. “I really do. And I’m sure the guys on the team would love to hear all about tonight.”

Tears welled in her eyes, but to her credit, she didn’t let them fall. “My only love sprung from my only hate. Too early seen unknown and known too late. Prodigious birth of love it is to me, that I must love a loathed enemy.”

I’d read some Shakespeare in high school, but his words had never sounded so beautiful as they did coming from Kate. Still, I couldn’t let her know that.

So I forced an eye roll and asked, “What the hell does that one mean?”

She snorted and yanked my bedroom door open. “If you can’t figure that passage out, then there’s no hope for you, Holden.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

I arrive at rehearsal the next day still reeling from the journal entry I read last night.

Of course I remember Holden’s party in college… well, remember might be too strong a word. Half of that night is hazy.

But I remember waking up in his bed. I remember the humiliation of realizing he’d read that I was not only a virgin but had never been kissed. And I definitely remember challenging him to kiss me.

It’d been so unlike me. Prior to meeting Holden, I’d never met a guy I cared enough about to want to have my first kiss.

I shake the thoughts of Holden’s journal away and yank the door to the theater open. Maggie waves to me from the front of the stage. “Kate, come meet the writer and composer of the show! She’s also your music director.”

I make my way down the center aisle, searching for Holden, but he’s nowhere to be found.

That’s weird. He’s almost always here before anyone.

The creator of the show smiles warmly at me and waves. “I’m Amy Nguyen. It’s nice to meet you.”

I smile back and offer her my hand. “Hi, I’m Kate.”

She cups my hand with both of hers in a firm, but sweet gesture. “I know. I loved your audition.”

My eyes widen. “You did?”

“Oh, my God, yes. You have such a powerful voice and you’ve found that gorgeous balance between soprano and belt. I’m so excited to hear what you do with Skyler.”

Pride swells in my chest, but I swallow it down. There’s no room within these walls for ego, Professor McCay had told us. Ego impedes the craft.

“Thank you so much,” I say, and flip through my sheet music. “I was actually having trouble with this section here while I was practicing at home.”

Amy peers over my shoulder and nods. “Oh, yeah. Those eighth notes in the middle are a bitch. We have a few minutes before rehearsal. Want to run through it quickly?”

“Yes!” I cry out, way too eagerly. “I mean, if it’s not too much trouble?”

She’s tossing me a life preserver in an otherwise tumultuous ocean. Maybe if I fix my issues with this song before Holden arrives, I’ll get through one rehearsal without him nitpicking every aspect of my performance, while Nolan can just do whatever the hell he wants as long as he remembers my name.

She waves a hand at me. “Not at all. Come on.”

Before I know it, I’m standing over her shoulder at the piano, running through my big song in the show, trying to hit each and every note, each rest, each breath mark.

And I’m failing.

Again.

Amy pauses playing and turns to face me.

“You’re thinking too much,” she says. Unlike Holden’s notes and criticisms, she’s kind. Her face softens with empathy, and she even smiles at me even though I feel like crawling into a hole to die.

“Who cares about those eighth notes? If they’re not working, they’re not working! The best part about being in a new show that’s never been done before is we get to play with the music. It’s a collaboration at this stage. Ever notice that the sheet music of a new show doesn’t always match up to the soundtrack? It’s because sometimes the composer shifts it to play to the actors’ strengths.”

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