Page 123 of Rebel Romeo

Not just any woman. Professor McCay.

I didn’t want to see what happened next, but I also couldn’t look away.

I couldn’t tear my eyes away when my dad leaned forward. Or when he cupped her face.

And I couldn’t even look away when he kissed her.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Ever since Holden took over Nolan’s part, the production had been going a lot smoother.

“Is that what you call a slap, Ms. Harris?” McCay barked from the audience.

Well, mostly smoother.

I visibly tense as her footsteps with those damn high heels grow nearer and nearer to me as she climbs the steps to the stage.

“Don’t let her get to you,” Holden whispers to me. It doesn’t matter. He could literally whisper as quietly as he wants, but since we’re both wearing microphones, the entire theater can hear us breathing heavily, let alone talking.

Besides, that’s easy for him to say. McCay was always easier on him than me. She’s always liked him better. Thought him to be a better actor. It’s like she firmly believes that I’m only talented when I have him as my crutch.

And she managed to convince almost everyone else that was a fact, too, back in college… including me.

“Ms. Harris,” she states with her approach. “I know that you two are finally blissfully happy together, but here on this stage, you’re not. You’re miserable. And the more perfect he is, the more you hate not only him, but yourself, too.”

Sounds familiar. Slowly, I raise my eyes to Holden.

“And why is this lighting making her look gray?!” McCay shouts, spinning to look up at the light booth. “Can we get some warmth on her cheeks for Christs’s sake?”

“That’s intentional,” Holden snaps.

McCay snorts and folds her arms. “She looks like a zombie. Completely washed out.”

Holden stands firm, squaring his shoulders toward her. “The script literally says she’s making herself sick over what she did and I want the lights to reflect that. I don’t need her glowing and radiating.”

“It’s too gray, Holden,” McCay says. “She doesn’t look sick. She looks like a corpse. And so do you.”

Holden’s eyes narrow on her. “If that’s the case, then the video will capture it and I’ll make the proper adjustments. Because I’m the boss.”

The tense silence between them is so intense that I swear everyone in the theater is holding their breath. Every day this week has been like this. Some little detail McCay points out and then the two have a pissing match over it.

“Fine. You’re the boss.” She turns to look at me. “You can thank your boyfriend when the reviews say you look like a cancer patient.”

I suck in a sharp breath and curve my hand around Holden’s clenched fist. He looks like he might take a swing at her.

Or at one of the set pieces.

“I want to talk with Kate alone,” McCay says.

“Why?” Holden bites out through gritted teeth.

“You know why.”

I glance between them, more confused than ever. What hasn’t Holden told me? After another moment, he gives McCay a single nod, then heads off stage as he yells, “Turn off our microphones!”

It’s just me and McCay standing center stage in dull gray lighting. She turns to face me, her curly dark hair is just as wild as I remember it being, but with a few more streaks of gray, and she flips her part to the other side; the same nervous tick she’s always had.

“I’ll slap him harder,” I offer.

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