Page 52 of Begrudgingly Yours
We do the scene over and over again. No matter how I change up the lines or the movement, he isn’t satisfied with me. Every person in this room is frustrated. Whether it’s at me or him, I’m not sure but it doesn’t feel good regardless.
We’re a whole forty minutes past the end of rehearsal when Rocco speaks up. “Professor. Some of us have jobs we need to get to or homework to do for class tomorrow,” he says, not unkindly. I know he’s got to be just as fed up as everyone else, more so even because of the repetition. We actors value our voices, and don’t like to strain them if we don’t have to.
“Fine,” Mr. Chapman responds and then he throws his script down at his feet. “But Rory, you need to work on this. Get it perfect. This scene is supposed to be powerful and right now you aremucking it up.”
I flinch but nod anyway. The singed smell of amber reaches my nose and then Jett is at my side. I can hear the steady growl coming from his throat.
“Good,” our professor continues. “You’re dismissed.”
People immediately run to get their stuff, but not faster than me. I grab my bag in record time and haul it out of there, leaving Jett behind because I can’t stand to see the pity on his face.
Or the mocking triumph on Nicole’s.
The cool October air hits me as I slam the door to the building open. I speed walk as fast as I can, but my scent match is faster.
“Rory! Please wait.”
Despite my original intention, I stop and turn to him. He almost runs into me but uses his reflexes to stop at the right time. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
He nods, already knowing how I feel about it. “We have to figure something out. He can’t keep treating you like that. You haven’t done anything wrong.”
“That’s what we keep saying to justify it, but what if it’s true? What if I’m not doing everything I can to connect to this character?” I barely listen to my own omega, how am I supposed to listen to someone else’s?
“Stop,” he says sternly. “Don’t do that to yourself. You are an amazing actress. I’ve known it for years. Professor Chapman has his own shit to work through and he’s projecting it onto you.”
I shake my head and then let out a disgruntled yell. “I justdon’t understand how to get him off myback. I should have never gone for this stupid role.”
“Rory,” he warns. His hands flex beside him like he wants to grab my shoulders and knock some sense into me. I try not to fixate on the veins flowing down his arms. “You can’t dim yourself to make other people comfortable. Let that light shine, and forget about the people that are running around in the dark. They’reafraidof people like you. Seriously,fuckthem.”
The sentiment causes a slight upturn to the corner of my lip, but the nasty second-hand feelings from rehearsal still clings to me like rust.
“I’ll try to not let it get to me anymore,” I whisper.
He shakes his head again. “You can feel any way you want. Butbite back, protect your energy. You deserve to be the magnificent person you are.”
I open my mouth to respond but notice that there’s a slight… purring, just barely noticeable along with the sound of the wind.
My gaze falls to Jett’s chest, where the sound is thrumming strong and heavy. My eyes widen before darting back to his.
He’s purring for me.
“Sorry.” Jett’s hand comes up to his chest and rubs at it, feeling the unfamiliar rumbles for himself. “I’ve never done that before.”
“It’s ok,” I respond, and I don’t think I’m lying. Something about the sound, the slight sweetness of his scent, causes my skin to erupt in goosebumps. “I… I think I like it.”
He takes the inch I give him and opens up his arms, inviting me in. Every logical part of me says I shouldn’t, but I float over to him on autopilot. The second his arms wrap around me, my entire body relaxes and I put my cheek to his chest without any hesitation.
With both the pheromones and the purring, I feelcompletely invisible to the world. We’re in our own little blissful bubble for a few minutes, and it’s the most comforting moment of my life. Instead of freaking out when our classmates start to pile out of the building, we pull apart with indecision, knowing the uncertainty of ever being in this position again.
“Thank you.” The quiet words fall from my lips and even though I know I shouldn’t, I meet his gaze. The expression he gives me in response is one of adoration, and it hits me right in the gut.
“Text me if you need anything.” He looks as though he wants to do anything but walk away. At the same time, he knows the moment is over, that I could freak out at any moment. He knows that I need more time.
Even though I know it’s true too, I wish it wasn’t. As I watch him walk away, I picture what it would be like to let him stay… and it doesn’t sound like the nightmare it was yesterday.
TWENTY-SIX
Being a goalie is awesome most of the time. We control the scoreboards, we stay in the goal at all times besides line changes and intermissions, we have different gear to protect us; the only thing that partially sucks are the extended practices.
