Page 38 of You Float My Boat

But I’d yet to deter him.

The tell-tale buzz of a new message only proved my point, and I scrolled back down to the bottom.

Charlie:

I’m not taking no for an answer, plus Shakespeare’s one subject I don’t know much about. You can teach me

That. That winky face. Who puts a winky face? What did it even mean? I was intelligent enough to get into Oxford, but understanding that winky face was beyond my skills of interpretation.

‘Stel …’ I leaned into her and whispered as quietly as I could. ‘Stel …’

‘What?’ she replied, not bothering to look at me.

In fact, she barely moved from the eager, upright position she’d been sitting in since we’d arrived.

She was doing what I should be doing – namelypaying attention to Cecily and Linus on the stage in front of us, discussing the forthcoming production ofTwelfth Nightbefore they announced who’d been awarded the coveted main roles. I’d paid attention for as long as I could, but they lost me when a debate started over official poster design, and whose name should go above the credits.

I didn’t need to look around to know I wasn’t the only one not giving them their full attention. Half the heads of people on the six rows in front of me were dipped down, clearly scrolling through their phones for something much more interesting. I wasn’t even sure why Cecily and Linus were going into such minute details, considering half of everyone in here didn’t know what job they were about to be given. Not to mention half of that half would then up and leave once they didn’t get the job they’d wanted.

I hadn’t expected it to be quite so popular, but there had to be enough people in here to fill the role of every single Shakespeare character in every play he’d written and still have some left over to read the Sonnets. Even Stella was finding it way more interesting than I expected her to. I glanced up to see if I’d missed something, but now they were going on about lighting, so for the life of me I couldn’t figure it out.

It was only when the doors at the back of the theatre flung open, hitting the wall behind with a loud clatter, that I realized why they’d been stalling.

‘Damn,’ she grumbled, sinking back into the crushed velvet of the theatre chair. ‘For a second I genuinelythought he wasn’t coming, and they were going to announce someone else.’

I glanced at the time on my phone. ‘Wow, fifteen minutes late is pushing it, even for him.’

Leo Tavener’s arms spread wide in the air as he marched purposefully towards the stage, his strategically placed dark blond hair flopping over one eye.

‘Sorry. So sorry everyone. I apologize profusely for my tardiness, my agent loves to talk and sometimes it’s nearly impossible to get off the phone.’ His laugh boomed over the wave of giggles and not very well disguised sighs.

Plus, the loud scoff directly to my right. ‘Gimme a break.’

Of course, Leo Tavener was why more people had auditioned for this play in the history of all plays held at the Oxford Playhouse, and why there was a waiting list to volunteer.

‘Bloody hell, look at Cece. She practically has cartoon hearts floating around her.’

My eyes flicked over to where Cecily Caruthers was indeed looking a little flushed as she beamed down at Leo, who was now making a great production of removing his thick scarf and winter coat, while simultaneously bowing.

‘I can’t watch this.’ Stella shrunk down in her seat by another degree. ‘Anyway, what were you saying before?’

‘When?’

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