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Authors: Frankie Love
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seriously."
"You're such a dork," she says, shaking her head.
"Better than being a douche, right?"
Her eyebrows furrow. "I guess."
"And you, tell me about your week," I ask.
"Well, I'm back at Tolling High. Obviously. Student teaching in the drama department. Which is sort of surreal, to be honest. It's better now, though, in the new theater."
"Why's that?"
"Come on, I'm sure you can guess." She shrugs. "The old theater is full of memories. Good and bad. Just, I have a lot of history there. It's basically where I grew up." Her words turn softer as she finishes explaining, and I remember what it was like behind those thick, black curtains between set changes.
What it was like to sneak up to the catwalk and chase one another before a show. What it was like to unlock the costume room and play hide and seek with the cast on closing night.
Bexley and I always chose the same place. Behind the row of dusty suits and ties, where a green velvet couch was piled with discarded clothes, we would sit with the lights off, far enough from everyone that no one would ever look for us way back there.
We would dissect the performance in hushed tones, not wanting to be found, and also not really in a hurry to leave the theater and go to a lame cast party in some stage crew guy’s basement. I never went to those anyway. I'd leave and find a real party somewhere in town, beg Bexley to join me.
She rarely would.
Tonight though, she's here, with me. And I'm choosing to let that be enough.
"So you're going to be a drama teacher. I'd never have guessed that."
"No? I always love the craft more than the spotlight."
I grin, giving her a sidelong glance. "That's what you said, at least ... but I know there was a part of you that liked the standing ovation, the final bow. The bouquets of roses after opening night."
"Maybe a little," she says.
I know not to press Bexley on much. Every time I have, it ends in a fight. Instead, I take her hand, lace my fingers through hers. "I bet you're a great teacher," I tell her. "Those bastards in your class, though, I bet they have no idea how lucky they are to have you."
"Right, because Bexley Maddon has so much experience to impart."
I take a deeper look at her. "Did you perform in college, in a theater group?"
"Not really." She swallows, and I can tell I'm touching on something uncomfortable. "I mean, mostly I just did the minimum requirements for the degree. Took the acting courses, but didn't audition for anything outside of class."
My jaw drops, as cheesy as that sounds. "What the hell, girl? Just like that, you stopped?"
She looks out the window, pressing her lips together, and since we’re exiting into Hollywood, toward the theater where the premier is held, I don't want to press any harder. I've gone too far as it is.
"Listen, Bex," I tell her. "I meant what I said. Those students are lucky to have you. Fuck, I'm a little jealous is all." I roll my thumb over hers. "Tonight, let's just have some fun, okay?"
She nods, meeting my eyes. "That's what I want, Holden. I just want to have fun with you. Fun like last weekend."
"Good," I tell her, leaning my forehead toward hers, our noses touching. "Except this time I won't fuck you in my childhood bed."
"Where will you fuck me this time?" she asks, whispering as the limo comes to a stop at the red-carpeted entrance. Paparazzi are everywhere, reporters here for the inside scoop.
"This time I’ll fuck you in my king-sized bed. This time, I’ll fuck you until the sun comes up."
Chapter Fourteen
Bexley
T he premier is amazing . Overwhelming, but amazing. I smile, look at the ground so I don't fall in these heels, and hold onto Holden's hand for dear life.
The entire time, this forbidden surge of sexual energy pulses between Holden and me. I know what’s in store later tonight—what he’s promised me—and it’s impossible not to get a little turned on by the prospect.
"Did you like the movie?" he asks as we exit, headed to an
"You're such a dork," she says, shaking her head.
"Better than being a douche, right?"
Her eyebrows furrow. "I guess."
"And you, tell me about your week," I ask.
"Well, I'm back at Tolling High. Obviously. Student teaching in the drama department. Which is sort of surreal, to be honest. It's better now, though, in the new theater."
"Why's that?"
"Come on, I'm sure you can guess." She shrugs. "The old theater is full of memories. Good and bad. Just, I have a lot of history there. It's basically where I grew up." Her words turn softer as she finishes explaining, and I remember what it was like behind those thick, black curtains between set changes.
What it was like to sneak up to the catwalk and chase one another before a show. What it was like to unlock the costume room and play hide and seek with the cast on closing night.
Bexley and I always chose the same place. Behind the row of dusty suits and ties, where a green velvet couch was piled with discarded clothes, we would sit with the lights off, far enough from everyone that no one would ever look for us way back there.
We would dissect the performance in hushed tones, not wanting to be found, and also not really in a hurry to leave the theater and go to a lame cast party in some stage crew guy’s basement. I never went to those anyway. I'd leave and find a real party somewhere in town, beg Bexley to join me.
She rarely would.
Tonight though, she's here, with me. And I'm choosing to let that be enough.
"So you're going to be a drama teacher. I'd never have guessed that."
"No? I always love the craft more than the spotlight."
I grin, giving her a sidelong glance. "That's what you said, at least ... but I know there was a part of you that liked the standing ovation, the final bow. The bouquets of roses after opening night."
"Maybe a little," she says.
I know not to press Bexley on much. Every time I have, it ends in a fight. Instead, I take her hand, lace my fingers through hers. "I bet you're a great teacher," I tell her. "Those bastards in your class, though, I bet they have no idea how lucky they are to have you."
"Right, because Bexley Maddon has so much experience to impart."
I take a deeper look at her. "Did you perform in college, in a theater group?"
"Not really." She swallows, and I can tell I'm touching on something uncomfortable. "I mean, mostly I just did the minimum requirements for the degree. Took the acting courses, but didn't audition for anything outside of class."
My jaw drops, as cheesy as that sounds. "What the hell, girl? Just like that, you stopped?"
She looks out the window, pressing her lips together, and since we’re exiting into Hollywood, toward the theater where the premier is held, I don't want to press any harder. I've gone too far as it is.
"Listen, Bex," I tell her. "I meant what I said. Those students are lucky to have you. Fuck, I'm a little jealous is all." I roll my thumb over hers. "Tonight, let's just have some fun, okay?"
She nods, meeting my eyes. "That's what I want, Holden. I just want to have fun with you. Fun like last weekend."
"Good," I tell her, leaning my forehead toward hers, our noses touching. "Except this time I won't fuck you in my childhood bed."
"Where will you fuck me this time?" she asks, whispering as the limo comes to a stop at the red-carpeted entrance. Paparazzi are everywhere, reporters here for the inside scoop.
"This time I’ll fuck you in my king-sized bed. This time, I’ll fuck you until the sun comes up."
Chapter Fourteen
Bexley
T he premier is amazing . Overwhelming, but amazing. I smile, look at the ground so I don't fall in these heels, and hold onto Holden's hand for dear life.
The entire time, this forbidden surge of sexual energy pulses between Holden and me. I know what’s in store later tonight—what he’s promised me—and it’s impossible not to get a little turned on by the prospect.
"Did you like the movie?" he asks as we exit, headed to an
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