Page 4 of First Impressions of You

“Yes,” I say, my voice a bit shaky. I clear my throat. “Of course I do.”

“Good.” She nods. A satisfied smile curving her lips. She writes something down on the papers in front of her. “Come back around three, and we’ll have you audition again.”

I know I should eat something before I go back to the theater, but I can’t bring myself to do it. Not even the wonderful smell of perfectly baked goods from Sprinkled Dreams is enough to make me want to eat. My stomach feels heavy with anxiety. As soon as I get there, I turn around and walk back to the theater.

Auditioning for Princess Melina was not in my plans, but now that this is a possibility, I need it more than I need my next breath. Being hired for the cast would’ve been enough for me. It would’ve been a good start. But a lead? I would have never dreamed of it.

It’s funny because this is literally what I’m here for, but now that it’s within reach, it feels unreal.

The stonewall bench outside of the theater becomes my go-to place to wait, so I take out the script and start reading my lines when someone approaches, casting a shadow over the words. At first, I think it’s just another parkgoer looking for a place to rest, even if this is a more secluded area, off the beaten path. But then the shadow stops moving, and I finally look up.

I’m not prepared for what I find. Casually standing in front of me is probably the most handsome guy I’ve ever seen. He’s looking down at his phone, a soft frown twisting his face, but he still looks like he belongs on the cover of a magazine. I take in his casual stance, the plain white T-shirt against his sand-beige skin, the faintly worn-out jeans, the faded-blue baseball cap sticking out of the back pocket. No individual part of him looks remarkably beautiful, but somehow everything put together is devastatingly gorgeous.

I watch him for a little too long, definitely longer that socially acceptable, but he’s so absorbed in the little screen in his hands that he doesn’t notice. I suspect he hasn’t even registered my presence on the bench right next to him. I wonder what he’s seeing on his phone that has his sole attention.

As if conjuring his attention just by thinking of it, his eyes turn to me, and I quickly look away. Not quickly enough for him not to notice, though.

When I turn back to him, the cap is on his head, and he’s staring at me, a little crease between his brows. For a second, I think he’s annoyed to see me there, but I was here first, so that wouldn’t make sense. Then his eyes dart to the script on my lap, and on instinct I pull it up to my chest to hide it from him. His eyes follow the movement, understanding dawning on him.

“You’re here for the audition,” he says. It’s not a question. It’s a statement. There’s something familiar about his voice, but I can’t quite place where I heard it before.

I nod. “I’m reading for Melina,” I offer, realizing a second too late that I probably shouldn’t be revealing it to a stranger who I assume is also in the play but have no evidence other than the fact that he looks too good not to be an actor.

Something immediately shifts behind his eyes. The crease between his brows ease, and his large shoulders slightly drop. The tension in his body seem to loosen up a bit, almost like knowing I’m auditioning for the role of the princess has earned me some trust points with him. But I have to rely on his body language to gather all of that because he doesn’t say anything in response.

And I’m not the kind of person who feels comfortable in silence.

“I’m Luiza,” I finally say, reaching my hand out to him. His eyes drop to my hand, then to my face, and back to my hand. He finally shakes it, just before the awkwardness of the moment was about to get even more awkward if he left me hanging.

When he doesn’t volunteer his name, I cock my head at him, arching an eyebrow. “And you are…”

That seems to catch him off guard, as if I’d asked him if he’s ever been to the moon. I know I’m not the person with the best game in the world—not even among my sisters would I be considered the best at small talk—but I never thought I could make asking someone their name so uncomfortable.

He studies me for a second, making me feel extremely self-conscious.

“Winter,” he offers in a quieter voice. I can see he didn’t expect the word to come out at all. His eyes are laser-focused on mine, and I realize they’re the same deep shade of brown as his short hair, the color of mysteries that I find myself eager to unravel.

I blink before I get so lost in his eyes, I’d need a map to escape them.

“Nice to meet you, Winter,” I say, trying to regain some self-control. “Are you auditioning too?” He opens his mouth to answer, but another question is already rolling off my tongue. “Do you also work at the park?”

His mouth shuts quickly, pressing in a firm line. His entire demeanor changes, his muscles tense up again, and I can practically see him shutting off, the depth of his chocolate eyes becoming nothing but a thin shell.

“You work at the park?” Winter asks, his eyes suddenly running all over me, his brain overheating trying to compute this new piece of information. From the way he’s looking at me, you’d think I just told him I’m from Mars.

“At the front gate.”

His expression tells me it’s the wrong answer. Whatever points I had earned by telling him I’m auditioning for Melina have been stripped away now that I told him where I work.

“And you’re auditioning for Melina?” His voice is laced with disbelief.

Was that not what I said?

“Yes,” I confirm. He starts shaking his head as if I said something wrong, but when I open my mouth to tell him how this happened, the scowl in his face shuts me right up.

“Melina, the princess?”

Is this guy as stupid as he’s gorgeous? “That’s the only one in the play.”

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