Page 28 of The Score

Dean: You really need to stop hanging up on me.

I text back,You really need to stop propositioning me. I know I’m a great lay, but get over it already.

Him: I can’t. Trust me, I’ve tried.

Me: Try harder.

Him: C’mon, baby doll. Just one more time. Think of how good it will be…

Of course it’ll be good. He’s a sex champion. Butthat doesn’t change the fact that I’m not comfortable with casual sex.

Me: Go away. I’m running lines w/ Hannah.

Him: Text me when you’re done and I’ll sneak into your dorm. Wellsy won’t even know I’m there.

I’m startled to feel a sharp ache between my legs. The idea of Dean sneaking in and fucking me while Hannah sleeps obliviously in the next room is a turn-on I didn’t expect.

I ignore the unwelcome response and type,Good night, Dean.

Then I turn to Hannah and say, “Are we done bashing telemarketers? Because this script isn’t going to read itself, babe.”

“Sorry. I can’t help it—I hear the wordtelemarketerand I turn into a ball of rage.” She sits cross-legged on the center of my bed and catches the script I toss at her.

I remain standing. The opening scene requires my character to pace, and I want to get a feel for how talking while marching back and forth will affect my breath control.

Hannah thumbs through the intro pages. “All right. Who am I? Jeannette or Caroline?”

“Caroline. Her defining traits are petty and insensitive.”

My best friend grins widely. “So I get to play the bitch? Nice.”

Honestly, I wishIwere playing the bitch. My character is a young widow who lost her husband in Afghanistan, which is the more emotionally draining role. Thanks to this breakup with Sean, myemotion well is dangerously close to depleted, and I’m scared I won’t be able to tap into it and do this role justice.

My fear isn’t off base. We’re only five pages in and I’m already drained, so I call for a quick break.

“Wow,” Hannah remarks as she skims the next few scenes. “This play is intense. Everyone in the audience is going to be bawling the entire time.”

I collapse next to her and stretch out on my back. “I’mgoing to be bawling the entire time.” Literally, because my character weeps in every other scene.

Hannah falls back on her elbows and a comfortable silence falls between us. I like it, because I don’t have this with many people. Even with Megan and Stella, who I consider close friends, one of us is always trying to fill the silence with conversation. I think it takes a certain level of trust to sit next to someone and not feel the pressing urge to babble away.

My dad once told me that the way a person responds to silence reveals a lot about them. I always figured he was talking out of his ass, because Dad has a habit of coming up with insightful-sounding adages and insisting there’s wisdom in them, when half the time I know he’s bullshitting me.

But right now, I see the truth in his words. When I think of the silences I’ve shared with my other friends, I realize they really are incredibly telling.

Meg breaks a silence with jokes, doing her damndest to fill the lull with laughter. For as long as I’ve known her, she’s resorted to humor whenever shit gets too serious for her.

Stella fills the silence by barraging you with questions about your life. For as long as I’ve knownher, she’s avoided discussing herself if she could help it. I guess that’s why it surprised me when she started dating Justin Kohl, the football player Hannah had a crush on before she fell for Garrett. Stella has openly admitted more than once that she’s afraid of intimacy.

The thought of Justin has me turning toward Hannah. “Hey, did Garrett ever own up to being wrong about Justin?”

She wrinkles her forehead. “Where did that come from?”

I grin. “Sorry. I was just thinking about Stella, and it reminded me of how Garrett was convinced that Justin had sinister motives. Didn’t he insist that Justin was a slimeball?”

“Yep.” She sits up with a laugh. “We actually talked about it a while back. I accused him of being subconsciously jealous of Justin.”

“Ha. I bet helovedthat.”

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