Page 104 of Begrudgingly Yours
“Honestly? No. I didn’t expect to see her and it really fucked with my nervous system, I think.” I still feel a bit jumpy, like she’ll pop back out from behind their parked car.
“Just tell us what you need and we will make it happen,” Everett tells me. “Do you want to skip rehearsal? I will march in there right now and tell Chapman that you won’t be attending, no questions asked.”
His leading qualities are peeking out from behind where he keeps them hidden and it makes me smile. I let my hand cradle his cheek, thrumming my finger across his skin softly. “I know you would do that for me, and more, but I don’t want to skip rehearsal. I actually think it would help. There’s somethingthat’s been on my mind, some lines that I’ve been tripping over—” I look at Jett because he knows exactly which lines those are. “I think I finally know how I’m going to deliver them.”
I peerout into the tiny room where rehearsals are being held, imagining the seats filled with bodies. I turn back to Nicole—Lady Capulet—as she tells her daughter of her betrothal to Paris. She speaks as a mother who has accepted their roles in society, of their lower standing on the hierarchy. One who despises Lord Capulet, but still obeys him. Juliet will not do the same.
“Madam, in happy time, what day is that?”
I say it with vitriol, both complying and letting my bitterness show. Nicole sees the change I make, knowing that we have had an unnatural dialogue with this scene before, and takes it exactly in the direction that I intended. We are no longer at odds, so our characters aren’t either. Juliet’s mother plays the part, speaks in riddles, and lets Juliet know that she sees right through her, but she does not disapprove. She tells her the time of the wedding, something that she will long regret doing by the end of this tragedy.
The new tone of the scene feels right, and when Chapman ends rehearsal, I am practically floating. Our pack meets us outside, standing nearby in case I need them after the event in the parking lot earlier, but there’s no more anxiety. There is only giddiness and triumph. There is only my alpha’s hand in mine as he jokes with his new brothers. There is only love, in its purest form.
And just like the scene, it feelsright.
FORTY-EIGHT
“Thy lips are warm.”
Lights beam down on me. The heat of them should cause sweat and stickiness, but I am more comfortable than ever as I kneel on this stage floor.
Jett lies dead beneath me, his poet shirt billowy and still. The image takes precedent, real tears coming to my eyes. You could hear a pen drop in this auditorium, not a single person’s gaze not upon us.
“Lead, boy: which way?”My cue comes at last.
“Yea, noise? then I’ll be brief. O happy dagger!”
The pretend dagger is heavy in my hand as I exaggerate a slight shaking before steadying it with steel. My face parallels it, the decision already made.
“This is thy sheath;”I recite, before plunging the knife into my stomach with a mannered gasp. The stage make-up is fantastic as fake blood starts to pour from the wound. I grasp at it, losing feeling.
“there rust, and let me die.”The second my final words are said, there’s a huge rush of relief. I fall upon Jett, landing theway we’ve rehearsed, and let out a sigh.
The rest of the ending scene happens quickly, especially as I’m folded over my scent match who’s smell is like catnip. I only have to restrain myself from rubbing my face against him as the rest of the cast finishes up the play. And when they do, the audience erupts in applause that’s like music to my ears.
The first night of opening weekend is always the most difficult, I hear. After this, it becomes a routine. A short one, of course, but one nonetheless. Jett and I stand up, and he gives me a beam and a nudge in the bond that says “Good job.”It makes me blush as we go to the front of the stage for our bow, our hands never leaving each other. The applause is music to my ears, but I know that the pride I feel in my gut has more to do with him than the audience. Sharing this moment together is something I will cherish for the rest of our lives.
This play is a part of our journey, something we will recount for others when they ask how we fell in love. I imagine Jett with wrinkles, telling them about our first kiss and how it happened on stage while his blockers wore off. The thought makes me snort under my breath.
I get a glimpse of our friends out in the audience, hollering up a storm. My heart pinches, feeling grateful for them more than anything. And seeing Dax and Everett being the loudest, their most obnoxious selves, makes me ironically blush.
I stay back to talk to a few stage techs, complimenting them on how beautiful the set was done. One of them apologizes for missing a lighting queue and I wave it off, telling them I didn’t even notice. Because, I didn’t. Jett may have distracted me in that flowy shirt more than he should have. We should probably make it a rule to not be involved in the same projects going forward if we want to actually do our jobs.
Rocco comes up to me and gives me kudos for that ending scene. He praises the entire thing, but says the ending was sobeautifully done, he was worried about messing up his part. He also keeps a foot of distance between us, extremely respectful of the fact that I’m newly bonded.
When I’m finally changed and head out to meet my friends, Jett is in the hallway but not alone. Professor Chapman is chatting to him, smiling more brightly than I’ve ever seen him. When I walk up, his smile gets even bigger, an admiration sparkling in them that I’ve never seen before.
“Miss Cromwell, you did a magnificent job,” he says with a serious tone. “That final scene… I nearly cried. It all came together so beautifully. I think I should apologize one more time for?—”
“It’s water under the bridge,” I tell him sincerely. He’s jumped leaps and bounds from how he acted weeks ago, and I’m happy to put it behind us. Plus, I won’t have any more classes with him, so there’s no reason to hold a grudge.
“Now, I know you’re not looking for stage work, but a friend of mine was in the audience tonight. To see Rocco, of course—you know he has his sights set on Broadway—but he was impressed by you.” The casual way he says it takes me back. A wonderful shimmering eases under my skin at the implication. “Here’s his card. If you’re interested.”
He hands it to me, the matte-finished card feeling like money in my hands. It looks really expensive for a business card, almost like a black amex. I give him a genuine smile. “Thank you, Professor. For everything.”
He nods, his dramatic flair more present than ever. “Congratulations, you two. On the play, yes, but also on your new bonds. I wish you two a very happy life together, and I wish you more unintelligent know-it-alls that your pack can bust the balls of in the future.”
He laughs as he walks off, leaving behind only amusement.
