Page 60 of Landon & Shay: Part One

“Yeah, all right.” Not a fucking chance.

“Just read the book. I swear, it will help.” She gave me a stern look. “But that’s not me getting involved. Again I’m smelly, Swiss cheese over here. You and Shay are none of my business.”

“Message received, Raine. I won’t ask you for anything else about her. I swear.”

“Good. Good night.”

“Night.”

I walked down her driveway, and she shouted my way. “Landon! Landon! One more thing!”

“What?”

She bit her bottom lip and groaned, slapping her palm to her face. “Shay loves peonies!”

“Penises?” I echoed. Okay, those were the kind of details I could work with.

She groaned even louder. “No, you sick jerk. I said peonies. They are her favorite flower, but you didn’t hear that from me!”

How the hell were peonies and a book about love languages going to help me make Shay fall in love with me? Hell if I knew, but my dumb ass started reading the book the minute I made it home.

17

Shay

I wishedI could’ve enjoyed the triumph of torturing Landon for a longer period of time, but when I made it home, my house was a warzone once again. The fighting lasted straight into the next school week, and I was exhausted.

I was struggling through my rehearsal that afternoon after suffering from a morning of arguments in my house. The yelling had come back, and no matter what, it seemed my father couldn’t do anything right in my grandmother’s eyes. With good reason.

It seemed I hadn’t imagined the stench of whiskey lingering on his breath.

I was exhausted from all the anger swimming throughout my home, and it was affecting my sleep patterns. I couldn’t think of the last time I’d had a decent night’s sleep, truly. Most of the time, whenever I laid my head down, I wondered if Dad was okay or not.

My lack of sleep led to me stumbling over my lines during rehearsals and lagging behind. I felt how clouded my brain was, and I was having the hardest time clearing the fog. By the end of rehearsal, I was kicking myself for messing up so many times. I’d have to rehearse on my own at home to make up for the crappy rehearsal.

“You kicked ass today,” Landon said as I packed up my bags to head out for the night. He said the words, but he was completely wrong. I’d missed my marks. I’d hiccupped over words. I’d forgotten my lines, and yet still, there he was, telling me how well I’d done. I couldn’t help but think he was being his nasty self when the words left his mouth. I wasn’t really in the mood to play our back-and-forth game at the moment, though.

I was mostly in the mood to tear up and cry.

“You don’t have to mock me, Landon. I know I messed up all night.”

He cocked an eyebrow and tilted his head, but he didn’t say anything. He simply paused his steps and stared at me, looking completely baffled.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing.” He shook his head. “Just wondering if you’ve always been your harshest critic or if this is a new development.”

“It’s not easy for me.”

“What’s not easy for you?”

“This.” I gestured toward the theater space. “This doesn’t come easy to me, not like it does for you. Most people can’t just pick up a book and memorize the lines like it’s the easiest action known to mankind.” Landon had been off book faster than anyone else. Sure, I wasn’t convinced he knew exactly what he was saying, but the words danced off his tongue in the most magical fashion that made you believe he was, indeed, Romeo.

“You make it look easy, though,” he commented, his voice low. “You get on that stage and own every inch of it. You demand people’s attention. You ooze confidence. Watching you onstage is like watching live art being made. It’s addictive, all-consuming, and you do it in a way that looks so effortless.” He combed his hand through his hair then stuffed it into the pocket of his jeans. The biceps in his arms were showcased nicely as he rocked back and forth. “It doesn’t matter if it comes easy or not. It matters how it looks, and it looks perfect.”

I wanted to think of something snarky to say. I wanted to shoot something sassy his way, but I was too emotionally exhausted to do so. Plus, his words made my heart skip, and I couldn’t be snarky with skipping heartbeats.

“What’s up your ass today?” he asked me.

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