Otherworldly Bad Boys: Three Complete Novels (46 page)

Someone besides Professor Alexander was talking. Another student. “Wait, there are going to be rehearsals instead of class? When will they be held?”

“Some will take place during the time that this class met since I know all of you are free. But there will have to be additional rehearsals, probably in the evenings, so as not to disrupt other classes.”

“Evenings?” said someone else. “What if we have jobs?”

“Then you’ll have to make a choice,” said Professor Alexander. “How important is acting to you?”

When I ran from him, maybe he thought that I was angry with him for kissing me. Maybe he felt guilty. I should talk to him. Tell him that I didn’t blame him. That I’d only been temporarily insane.

“If you don’t have time to be in the plays, you’ll probably have to drop the class,” he was saying. “Maybe even the major. Theater is not like a degree in biology. It’s not in books, and it’s not in lectures. To act, you must, well, act. And I don’t just want your presence, I want your hearts and your souls. So if that’s too much for you, then find something less demanding.”

“That’s not fair,” said one of the students. “No one mentioned that I had to have my evenings clear when I signed up for this class.”

The girl next to me rolled her eyes. She whispered to me, “He’s probably just doing this because he can combine his classes. This way, his senior class and his freshman class are the same class. He’s lazy.”

“I don’t know,” I said back. “He’s going to be involved in four different plays? That’s got to be a lot of work.”

Professor Alexander didn’t look the least bit ruffled. “This business is rarely fair, Miss McNamara. If there are obstacles in your way, and you let them stop you, you probably aren’t meant to be an actress anyway.”

Miss McNamara glared at him. “Oh, whatever.” She gathered up her stuff and stormed out.

Professor Alexander waited until the door slammed. “Well, at least Miss McNamara has nailed the objective ‘to walk out in righteous anger.’” He smiled. “Seriously, we’ll work with your schedules as best we can, but if you don’t have the time, you need to find out how to make it. I’ll see you all tomorrow night at six, right here for auditions.”

There was a lot of grumbling and discussion as everyone got up and left the theater. I got my stuff together slowly, waiting for everyone else to leave. I should talk to him. I really should. I wasn’t sure what had happened between us, but ignoring it wasn’t going to get us anywhere.

He busied himself on stage, moving around a few large wooden blocks that had been painted gray. Most of them were about three feet by three feet. Some were even bigger, maybe four and a half feet cubed. I was familiar with them from my acting classes in high school. They were good for minimalistic set pieces. Using one’s imagination, a gray block could be a desk or a table or a throne.

I slung my backpack over my shoulder and walked down onto the stage.

The last of the other students left the theater. The door shut behind them.

He looked up. The sight of me startled him. “Miss Moss.” His gaze ran over me for a moment, then flicked away. He cleared his throat. “Good work today. I’ll see you tomorrow evening.”

He was dismissing me? For a minute, I considered leaving. I was embarrassed, and I wasn’t sure what to say. He was obviously willing to overlook what had passed between us. But I couldn’t leave everything up in the air. “Don’t you think we should talk, Professor?”

He shifted on his feet, clearly uncomfortable. “All right. I suppose that... yes, we should discuss...” He stared down at the floor.

“You, um, you don’t need to apologize. It was my fault, and I never should have been running around outside at night like that. I mean, I was barely dressed.”

He coughed. “I remember.”

“I was... I don’t even know what came over me.”

He still wouldn’t look at me. “It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t do anything except stand there. I was the one who... made advances. And I’m older than you—”

“Not that much,” I said. “You can’t be more than three or four years—”

“Five,” he said. “I’m five years older than you.”

“You know how old I am?” Why did he know that? He’d checked into our age difference?

He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “The point is, Miss Moss, what happened was highly inappropriate and unprofessional on my part. Also, the college has a strict policy which forbids any... interrelation between faculty and students. I promise you that nothing like that will happen ever again, and I think the best course of action would be for us to proceed as if it hadn’t.”

I nodded. “You’re right. I completely agree. I just thought we should, you know, talk about it, so we
could
agree.”

He nodded.

“And we do,” I said. “So, I guess I’ll... go.”

“Excellent.” He smiled at me, shoving his hands in his pockets.

I turned away.

“Um, Miss Moss?”

I looked back at him. “Yes?”

“I should also apologize for the first class that we had together. I shouldn’t have made the comments that I made about your appearance. I was very insensitive. I didn’t even think about how it might make you feel.”

Right. The thing with my boobs. He really had been a jerk about that. “You
shouldn’t
have said that stuff.”

“No, I shouldn’t have. I really am sorry.” He met my gaze for a second. Then he looked away again. “You’re a beautiful woman, and you shouldn’t be made to feel ashamed or embarrassed because of your body, which is very—” He winced. “And I should probably stop talking.”

I took a step closer to him. “You think I’m beautiful?”

He cringed. “Oh, damn it all to hell.”

“Professor Alexander, I...” I took another step closer. Why was I doing that? It was like the night with the storm again. I kept doing things without understanding why I was doing them, like my body was being controlled by something besides myself.

“Anyone who looked at you would think you were beautiful. It’s kind of obvious, and—you should probably leave.” He moved closer to me too. He looked into my eyes.

“Yeah,” I said. He was right. “This situation is probably very inappropriate.”

“Oh, definitely.” He closed the last of the distance between us.

Now we were inches apart. I tilted my head back to look up at him. He was close enough to smell again. That cologne. I reached out. I put my hand on his chest. “I’m going to go.”

His arm went around me, to the small of my back. “Have a good afternoon.”

“I will.” My voice had gotten breathy.

He pressed his body against mine. “Goodbye, Miss Moss.” His voice was strained. Ragged.

“Goodbye.” I slid my hand up his chest, curving it around his neck.

I don’t know if I moved first or if he did. Maybe we moved at the same time. Whatever the case, we were kissing. Fast, furious, deep kisses.

I suddenly became aware of all the places we were touching. His hand splayed out on my back, his fingertips brushing the swell of my hips. His other hand at the back of my neck, tangled in my hair. He held me in place, held me close against him. And we were pressed into each other. His thighs were against my thighs. His pelvis against mine. My breasts flattened into his chest.

And his lips. His tongue.

The kiss was thorough, complete, probing, and claiming.

It felt intense and bursting. Professor Carter Alexander was a pretty damned good kisser.

Abruptly, he thrust me away from him. He stumbled backwards, nearly tripping over one of the gray blocks. “Motherfucking...” He sank both hands into his hair.

I put my fingertips against my bruised lips. “I...”

“
Go
,” he growled at me.

Right. I fled from the room. What the hell?

* * *

“Thank you, um, Teagan?” said Harper Cannon, the senior director of
Moon and Moon
. I hadn’t been able to find a copy of the play to read it before I’d auditioned, so I’d had to base every choice I’d made on the information in the sides, the excerpts from the play that the director would have us read from in auditions.

I stood on the stage, which was brightly lit. Harper was up in the audience where there was no light. He was nothing more than shadow.

It sounded like Harper was done with me. I couldn’t tell whether he’d liked my audition or not. But directors tried hard to be polite during auditions. I kind of thought it was cruel, as if they liked to drag out hope forever. Honestly, if they’d make it clear they didn’t want me at auditions, it would save a lot of heartbreak later when looking at posted cast lists. Maybe they did it because they didn’t want to witness people crushed by not getting the part they wanted.

I started for the door.

“Yes, thank you, Miss Moss,” said a voice. Professor Alexander melted out of the shadows.

Oh, great. I guess I’d known he was going to be here. After all, he’d told us about the auditions. But I’d read for all of the other directors already, and I hadn’t seen him. I’d hoped we wouldn’t have to speak.

I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about that kiss.

About both the kisses.

My attempt to smooth things over, to erase the awkwardness between us, had backfired.

At the sound of his voice, my heart banged against my ribcage, picking up speed.

“Wait,” said Harper. “I don’t want you to leave. Would you try the other side, please?”

“The other one?”

“Yes, there’s a scene between Ella and Kurt?” he said. “Did you pick one up on your way in?”

“I, uh, only brought in the one I prepared.”

Professor Alexander stalked over to me, holding out a few pieces of paper that had been stapled together.

When I took them from him, our fingers brushed. He recoiled, like I’d burned him.

I looked down at the scene. “I haven’t had a chance to even read this.”

“That’s okay,” said Harper. “Um, I’ll read Kurt. Ella has the first line?”

I took a deep breath, trying not to look nervous. Unfortunately, touching Professor Alexander had upset me a little bit. I felt off balance. I read from the script. “I want you out of my house, now.”

“But it’s cold outside. Please, can’t I stay here, just for the night?”

“No, I don’t think so. I need you to leave.”

Professor Alexander stepped forward, sneering. “Oh, please, Miss Moss. That was absolutely horrible.” He looked up at Harper. “I think that’s enough of her?”

Horrible? Really? I’d never even seen the side before. I had no idea how this woman actually felt about Kurt or who Kurt even was. The other scene had been with the woman’s fiancé. They’d been arguing. It had been easier.

“No, I want to see more,” said Harper. “Uh, Teagan, let’s start over, but just some background about this scene?”

“Thanks,” I said.

“So, you’re going to marry Joe, but you keep running into Kurt at night. And you’re attracted to him, but you’re afraid of that attraction.”

“Honestly, Mr. Cannon,” said Professor Alexander, “doing too much directing during an audition is probably a waste of time.”

“Sorry, Professor,” said Harper. “I only wanted her to have the background for the scene.”

“Isn’t preparation
her
job?”

Why was he being like that? I glared at the professor.

Harper shrugged. “Sorry. Show me what you’ve got, Teagan.”

“Okay,” I said to Harper. “Let me try it again.” I centered myself. Professor Alexander said that genuine emotions were more convincing than pretend ones, huh? I fixed my gaze on him. “I want you out of my house, right now.”

But when I said it, what I really meant was that I wanted Professor Alexander out of my head and that I wanted not to be distracted by our intimacy, which I didn’t understand and didn’t seem to be able to control. I
was
afraid of it.

“But it’s cold outside. Please, can’t I stay here, just for the night?”

I kept looking at Professor Alexander. I wrapped my arms around my waist. “No, I don’t think so.” I closed my eyes, my voice dropped to a whisper. “I need you to leave.”

“I don’t think that’s true. I think you need me to stay. I think you won’t admit it to yourself.”

“When my fiancé finds you here, he’ll...”

“Are you going to tell him I’m here? I don’t think you’ll do that.”

I swallowed, and my tone went icy. “You don’t know me very well, do you?”

“Stop,” said Professor Alexander.

“What?” said Harper. “I thought that was—”

“Utterly forced,” said Professor Alexander. “Not even the slightest bit believable. Miss Moss, your performance was stilted and fake, and I saw right through you.”

What? I’d been feeling that. Really feeling that. I’d been using him for inspiration, like he’d taught me. There was no way that I was stilted or fake. I clenched my jaw.

“Frankly,” he said, walking over to me and snatching the scene from my hand, “I’m not sure whatever possessed you to think that you had any business trying to be an actress. You might have been the star of your little backwoods community theater, Miss Moss, but you are at Thornfield College now, and we expect excellence. What you just showed us here... that was pathetic.”