Page 46 of Rebel Romeo

She gave a self-deprecating laugh that I didn’t return, not even to placate her and make her feel more comfortable.

“How do you mean?”

She chewed the inside of her cheek, thinking before answering. “Like, I think they’d be proud of me because I’m doing well and got a leading role. They’d be proud of me for accomplishing something. But the lingering disappointment would still be there about the fact that this is what I’ve chosen to pursue, buzzing beneath the surface of every hug and every compliment.”

For the first time since meeting Kate, I felt like we had something in common. Something big.

Like this unmistakable bond people get when they realize their upbringings, no matter how different, involved parents that weren’t quite there for them.

“I know what you mean,” I said, quietly. “They’re your parents and they love you. But unless you’re following the exact path they had in mind for you, it’s like they’ll never truly be happy for you. Because they can’t seem to get it that this is what makes you happy.”

Her eyes went wide. “Exactly. I think there’s also a piece of them that really, really wishes I was more like my sister.” She paused before adding, “They cling to that feeling of frustration and resentment because it’s easier than feeling like they’re losing me.”

I snorted a humorless laugh. “But if they only knew that by clutching you so tight, they … lost you already.”

“They already lost me,” she said at the same time as I did.

We grew quiet, standing there in her small kitchenette… if you could even call it that. How stupid was I that it hadn’t even occurred to me how similar we could be? All I’d been focusing on for a few weeks was how different we were.

I lifted a hand to her cheek, ignoring her little gasp as I trailed my fingers in a line across her razor-sharp cheekbone. She was the most gorgeous woman I’d ever seen. “They’ll come around. When they see how successful you become.”

“Yeah, right. I think you mean if I become successful.”

I shook my head. “Don’t do that. You’re so fucking talented. The only way you don’t make it as an actress is if you get in your own way.”

She tilted her head at me. “That’s an awfully naïve statement.”

“Or a refreshingly positive one.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You’re apparently good at everything. You’re a natural at football, you rolled into your first acting class like mother-clucking Marlon Brando, you got a 152 on your LSATs while you had bronchitis for goodness sake!”

I arched my brow at her. “You heard me on the phone?”

She rolled her eyes. “Dude, everyone heard you on the phone!”

“Okay,” I said. “So, what’s your point?”

“My point is that not everyone’s as naturally talented as you are.”

“You’re right. Not everyone is as naturally talented as me.”

She rolled her eyes and looked away, but I gently caught her chin, dragging her gaze back to mine, pinning her with my stare.

“Not everyone is… but you are.”

Somehow, in our heated discussion, we’d moved closer to each other.

Her breaths heaved, causing her breasts to brush against my chest, and I could feel her pebbled nipples outlined against the thin cotton of her shirt.

I could kiss her again.

Just this one time.

Well, just this one more time. In private. Without an audience. Not in some seedy alley. I could kiss her again and no one had to know. We were already kissing on stage almost every day.

And based on the inviting way she licked her lips, I didn’t think she’d object.

Just as I was about to lean down, her door swung open. We both jumped about a mile back from each other. My head slammed into the cabinets behind me, and I winced with a few choice words, rubbing at what was sure to be a goose egg by morning.

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