Otherworldly Bad Boys: Three Complete Novels (50 page)

“You want to run this one?” he asked.

“The scene?”

“Yeah. I’ll read Joe’s lines.”

“Okay,” I said.

“You seem a little distracted, Teagan. You been up late with Scales and Fangs?” He grinned at me.

“I’m not in Scales and Fangs,” I said.

“Liar.”

I glared at him.

“Better be careful. You wouldn’t want your secret society activities to get in the way of your other responsibilities.”

Could that happen? “Is that common? With people who are in Scales and Fangs? I mean, do people have to drop out of it?”

“Calm down, Teagan, I was joking,” he said. “No, no one drops out of Scales and Fangs. No one wants to. You get in, it’s really good for your career.” He set down his script. “Man, I wish I would’ve got tapped.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

He shrugged. “Look, on the off chance that Scales and Fangs interfered with the play, I’d want you to drop out of the play, not leave the society. You should never leave the society.”

I shrugged. “I’m not even in it.”

“Sure you’re not,” he said.

* * *

Carter

I’d considered never going to sit in on Harper’s play. He was the director. He could handle it without me. I could stay clear of all the rehearsals. I’d never have to see Teagan Moss again. Problem solved.

But I couldn’t do it.

For one thing, I was obligated to be there to teach Harper. He was a novice director, and he needed my input. He was paying for my services. I needed to be there.

The other thing was that I couldn’t stop thinking about her. I’d been drunk on Wednesday. Overly forward. I’d pushed the situation into places it never should have gone. I was embarrassed and ashamed and appalled at my behavior.

And yet, I couldn’t stop thinking about her.

I wanted to see her.

So, I was pacing in front of the door in one of the black box theaters where Harper’s play was rehearsing. She was on stage, holding her script, and she and the other actor were going through the scene.

I struggled not to think about the way she looked and to focus on her acting.

She’d pulled her hair up into a messy ponytail on top of her head, and it left her neck bare. She was wearing a t-shirt that hung off of one shoulder. I couldn’t take my eyes off that bare shoulder. The way her white skin curved upwards to her long, graceful neck. I remembered how it had felt to touch her there. I remembered how soft her skin was.

I gritted my teeth. This was torture.

Focus, Carter
, I thought to myself.
She’s just a pretty girl.

The thing was, I’d never been this affected by a pretty girl. I’d never acted so irresponsibly, jeopardizing everything I thought was important to get at her. I felt like something was wrong with me, like I was losing control of myself. I was frightened.

“Okay,” called Harper from his director’s table, high up in the risers. “Let’s take five.”

He jumped down off the risers, and he saw me. “Oh, hi there, Professor. Didn’t know you were here.”

“Hello, Mr. Cannon.”

“I bet you got notes for me,” he said. “I’ll be back after my cigarette, and you can rip me a new one.”

Right. He was expecting my characteristic caustic assessment of the show, but I hadn’t been paying a bit of attention to anything except Miss Moss and her bare shoulder. What the hell was I supposed to say?

The theater had emptied quickly. Nearly everyone in the theater department smoked. I’d tried to pick up the habit in early college, but it had never really stuck. Looking around, I realized that there was only one other person in the theater besides myself. Teagan. She didn’t smoke either.

She was sitting down on the first row of seats in the audience, looking through her script.

Ignoring me?

Probably.

I swallowed. Should I say something?

What would I say? Sorry for trying to have sex with you the last time I saw you? Oh, by the way, you have the most divine tits I’ve ever touched?

That would probably go over really well.

My gaze strayed to her chest. The shirt she wore was baggy, so it fell in folds over her breasts, making them look even larger than they were. I couldn’t help but think of the soft, springy weight of them in my hands.

Don’t
, I told myself. I was supposed to be thinking about what I was going to say to Harper when he came back. And I had no idea what that might be.

But I guessed it didn’t matter. As long as I insulted him and everything he was doing, he wouldn’t notice anything was wrong.

Teagan looked up from her script. She saw me. She opened her mouth, like she was going to say something.

But she didn’t.

I stuffed my hands into my pockets and looked at the floor.

When I looked up again, her face was buried in the script again.

The door opened, and Harper came back in, smelling of tobacco. “So, how am I fucking up?”

“Your blocking is completely uninspired, Mr. Cannon,” I said. Teagan hadn’t moved much. That must mean the blocking was boring, right? I wished I’d paid more attention.

He shook his head. “I knew you were going to say that.”

“So, why did you block that way?”

“I thought that what they were saying was so important that I wanted the audience to hear it, not be distracted—”

“Well, that’s where you’re wrong. The audience will get bored if people are just standing around talking,” I said. “They’ll tune out.”

“What would you suggest?”

“Uh...” Why did he have to do that to me? I could easily tear him apart without knowing what he’d actually done. But give advice?

“Would you show me how you’d block it, or would that be cheating?” he asked.

“Not cheating at all.” I was relieved. “I’d be happy to.”

I thought I’d dodged a bullet there. But once the actors were back and Harper had told them what was going on, I found myself staring at Teagan while she spoke, fixating on the shape of her lips, the way they moved. For all intents and purposes, I wasn’t paying attention to the scene again.

It made me angry. Why was this girl doing this to me? She was destroying me.

“Stop!” I thundered.

Teagan and the other actor looked at me, both cringing like puppies waiting to be hit. I wished their expressions made me feel sympathy. Instead, they made me angrier.

I stalked over to both of them.

“What do you want?”

“What?” said Teagan.

“Your character. Ella. What do you want?”

“I...” She looked at her co-star for help.

I whirled to face Harper. “Haven’t you talked about motivation?”

“I figured it was obvious,” he said.

I turned back to Teagan. “Oh, it is. Obvious. Perhaps Miss Moss here is just a little bit dim. What do you
want
?”

“My character?” she said.

“Yes, your character.”

“Well, she wants—”

“I, say
I
. She is you, you are her.”

“I want Kurt,” she said, gesturing to her co-star.

“So why don’t I see that?” I said. “Why can’t I see that you want him?”

“I’m afraid to want him,” she said. “He’s... not good for me. I’m hiding it.”

“Too complicated,” I said.

“What?”

“You can’t act that,” I said. “You need an objective. Remember the exercise in class. You want to do something to Kurt.”

She made a confused face. “I don’t...”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Miss Moss. I know this is very hard for you. I know that you’ve never had to do any kind of real theater.”

She clenched her jaw.

“Since you can’t figure it out on your own, I’ll tell you. And I’ll use small words, so that you’ll be sure to understand.”

“Fuck you,” she whispered.

I raised my eyebrows. “What was that?”

She looked away.

“See me after rehearsal, Miss Moss.”

She folded her arms over her chest.

“This is your objective. You want him, but you don’t want to want him. So you want to get rid of him. I want you to start the entire scene over, and I want you to
get rid
of him.”

I turned on my heel and stomped back to the directing table.

“That was good,” said Harper. “Getting rid of him? That opens the whole scene up. Thanks.”

“Sure,” I said.

“Why do you hate Teagan so much, though?” he said.

I massaged the bridge of my nose. “Run your scene, Mr. Cannon.”

CHAPTER SIX

Teagan

I hated Professor Carter Alexander. Hated him. I was tempted not to talk to him after rehearsal. So I’d sworn at him. He’d deserved it. He was such an asshole. He kept saying all those horrible things about me in public. I was a bad actress. I was stilted. Now I was the village idiot?

I wanted to punch him.

I wanted to walk out on him without giving him the satisfaction.

But I stayed. I stayed because, no matter what, I wanted an excuse to talk to him alone. And now we had one. Handily.

The theater emptied of people. Harper asked me if I wanted him to wait for me, until I was done talking to the professor, but I said I didn’t. He told me not to take anything that Professor Alexander said personally. I promised I would try.

Finally, it was only me and him.

He was sitting next to the director’s table, which was about three rows up in the bank of risers. He was watching me. He’d been watching me the whole time.

I mounted the steps and climbed up to him. I intended to start screaming at him, to let him know just how angry I was. Instead, I flung myself into his lap, pressing my lips against his.

His arms came around me. He sighed into my mouth.

I pulled back. “You have to stop insulting me in public.”

“I insult everyone in public.”

“Not like you insult me, you don’t.”

“I’m sorry.” He turned my head roughly and pressed his lips against the sensitive skin just under my ear. “My God, Miss Moss, do you have any idea how distracting your neck is?”

Shivers went through me. I threw my head back, my breath catching in my throat.

His lips trailed down my neck and over my shoulder, his voice a throaty whisper in between kisses. “When I’m near you, Miss Moss, all I can do is look at you. And I am
ruined
by your beauty.”

I gasped. His mouth was driving me crazy.

He pushed my shirt farther down my shoulder, baring the top of the strapless bra I was wearing. “I’m certain everyone else can see how badly I want you. So maybe I overcompensate a little bit. I could never make them believe I was indifferent to you. But if they thought I hated you...”

“You call me names as a cover, so that we can keep making out?”

His fingers traveled over the top of my breast, dipping into my cleavage. “Well, I guess that’s one way to put it.”

I snatched his chin, forcing him to look me in the eye. “So, you don’t mean it? You don’t think I’m stupid?”

“Of course not.” He kissed me.

I wrenched away from him. “Maybe I am, though. I keep making out with you.”

“There is that.” He slid his hands under my shirt.

I sucked in breath at his touch on my bare belly.

His hands moved up over my ribs. “To be fair, I don’t try very hard to stop it, which doesn’t make me seem extraordinarily intelligent either.”

I stopped his hand. “What?”

“Not because of you—you’re exquisite—but because you’re my student.”

“Oh,” I said. “That isn’t very smart of you, is it?”

He shook his head. He was so tempting. His eyes were so blue. I wanted him. I fingered the edge of his shirt.

“Miss Moss,” he breathed.

I grasped it, tugged it over his head, and bared his chest. I ran my hands over him. His skin was soft and smooth, but there was a solid warmth radiating below the surface. Professor Alexander wasn’t muscle bound or athletic, but he was lean and nicely shaped. His shoulders were broad, and his waist was tapered, and he was every ounce as magnificent as he had been in my dream.

He shut his eyes. His breathing was labored. “We need to be careful. Kissing is one thing, but we were too close to... other things happening last time.”

I was kissing his chest, running my fingers over his pecks. “You’re right. I don’t want it to go that far.”

“That would be bad.” He pushed me back.

For a second I thought he was really going to stop me, but instead, he yanked my shirt over my head. “Oh, God, Miss Moss. You make me insane.” He cupped my breasts through my bra.