Page 5 of Don't Love the Boy Next Door
He takes my hand and sweeps me up to my feet, staring into my eyes, a look of uncertainty on his face. Blood rushes to my head, making it hard to think coherently. Because it’s time for the epic kiss between Belle and Beast.
Eric closes the small distance between us as he brings his face close to mine, his long dark hair falling in his face. Since he’s so tall, I have to stretch my neck. It’s so quiet in the auditorium, I wonder if everyone is even still here.
Eric lowers his face and presses his lips to mine.
An electric shock passes through me, spreading to every single part of my body. His lips are warm and soft, and my heart pounds so hard I swear it’ll catapult right out of my chest.
My eyes shoot open. I stumble back, nearly tripping over my feet. Confusion passes over Eric’s face as he watches me edge further and further away from him.
Whipping around, I hurry toward the stairs, my heart beating so fast this time Iknowit’ll fly right out of my chest. I keep my eyes on the floor as I run, feeling my face and neck—no, my whole skin— light on fire.
I reach the stairs, taking them two at a time, feeling every single pair of eyes on me. But I don’t dare look back. I need to get the heck out of here.
My knee caves in and I tumble down the stairs, until I go splat on the floor. I’m sprawled at the foot of the steps, my right leg bent over the last step at an awkward angle. My ears ring and my head throbs, my vision a little spotty.
“Katie!” Miss Diaz gasps, her heels click-clacking in my direction. “Are you okay?”
I blink a few times and catch Eric sprinting toward me. He leaps down the stairs and reaches to help me up. Just as hishands are about to make contact with me, I scamper away. But I’m so disoriented I fall to my knees.
“Katie!” Now Miss Diaz is at my side, and she, too, reaches for my hand. But I duck away and yank myself off the floor, dashing to grab my bag from the front row and then running toward the door.
“Katie!” Miss Diaz calls after me.
But I don’t stop running until I’m out the school doors.
“Ugh!” I roll back on my stomach and squeeze my face into my pillow, shoving the memory away. Iwon’tlet it make a home in my mind with all the other memories. No, this one isnotwelcome here.
I don’t even understand what happened. I’ve done quite a few kiss scenes in various plays and musicals. But for some reason, I totally freaked when Eric’s lips touched mine. Why? What’s wrong with me?
And then I made a complete fool of myself when I tumbled down the stairs and fell flat on my back. To make things worse, I fell again, even hurt my knee. Ijustgot the role of Belle, and then I acted like a complete idiot. I’m sure I can kiss it goodbye.
“Why?” I moan as I smash my face in my pillow. “Why am I such a weirdo?”
***
Saturday morning isn’t any better. I managed to fall asleep for only three hours. But the memory hasn’t stopped attacking my mind. How many times do I have to tell it to keep out? Idon’twant it.
I pour myself some cereal and milk, but I spend an hour sitting there and staring at the bowl. My eyes keep creeping to my phone, worried someone from theater or Miss Diaz might text me. Maybe ask me if I had a mental breakdown or something? I was so unprofessional yesterday. I wouldn’t besurprised if Miss Diaz found a replacement for me already. Or maybe she convinced—begged?—Harper to give up cheerleading for theater because the new Belle is a complete disaster.
Breathe, Katie, I tell myself.
But I think the only way I could breathe normally is if I would get transported to another dimension and start my life over. Hey, where’s that time machine? I’d pay every single cent in my bank account to take me back twenty-four hours.
I know, I’m obsessing. But the stupid memory refuses to leave me alone. What am I supposed to do?
I nearly shoot to the ceiling when my phone dings. “Please don’t be Eric,” I whisper, grabbing my phone and squeezing my eyes shut. Then I pop one eye open and scan the screen. My whole body deflates like a balloon when I see it’s a text from Phoenix.
GM, sleepyhead. How ya doin’?
Well, if you really want to know, I’m a nervous wreck. But I just respond with,Doing okay. You?
She sent me a few texts last night, but I didn’t answer them. I locked myself in my room and buried myself under the covers, wishing I could disappear from the world. Her text seems neutral, but I’m sure she’s worried about me. But ugh, I’m so embarrassed by The Incident I don’t think I can even talk to my best friend about it.
Phoenix: What are your plans for today?
Me: Nothing, really. You?
Phoenix: I think—
