The Hourglass Door (5 page)

The main doors to the auditorium creaked open.

Dave whipped around, anger in his eyes. Everyone in the cast and crew knew how particular Dave was about his space. No one—and he meant
no one
—came to rehearsals without his permission. He claimed the invasion brought in a negative energy that interfered with the creative process.

A tall boy stood with one hand still on the door. He wore a heavy wool pea coat, a leather backpack slung casually over his shoulder. Snowflakes melted in his dark hair.

“This is a closed rehearsal,” Dave shouted, striding up the aisle and flapping his hands as though brushing away flies. “You’ll have to leave. Now.”

The boy let the door swing shut with a clang. “I’m sorry?” he said, a trace of an accent underscoring his words. It sounded familiar but I couldn’t quite place it.

“Closed rehearsal!” Dave said.

“I have a letter,” the boy said, holding out a scrap of paper like a peace offering. “I am sorry I am late.” His voice was low, sultry, and just the sound of it sparked a flash of heat at the base of my skull.

“What’s that now?” Dave accepted the slim paper and unfolded it with three sharp gestures. “Let’s see. Let’s see. Mmm-hmm. I see.”

I stole a glance at Valerie. She raised her eyebrows and edged closer to me.

“Well, well, well,” Dave said, all traces of annoyance gone from his voice. “This is unusual. But . . . come with me.”

“Who is it?” Valerie asked.

I shrugged, trying to get a better look without seeming like I was trying to get a better look.

Dave led the boy down the aisle and to the stage, talking nonstop. “We’re rehearsing
Much Ado about Nothing.
I assume you’re familiar with the play? But we’ve already cast all the speaking parts, so you’ll have to be one of the members of the court. Hmmm, we’ll have to make sure Amanda starts on your masquerade costume.” Dave snapped his fingers. “Though if you’d rather be on the crew, I suppose we could find a place for you there. Are you any good with your hands? Woodworking? Carpentry, perhaps? Or painting?”

The boy tugged at the sleeves of his coat, hiding his fingers from view. “I’m very good with my hands,” he said, the smallest of smiles curving his mouth. “But I will be happy to help in any way I can.” He avoided looking at all of us standing on stage and kept his attention focused on Dave. If he was uncomfortable with a crowd of strangers staring down at him, he didn’t show it.

“Excellent! Perhaps I can find a place for you yet.” Dave stopped, a frown furrowing his brow. “What did you say your name was?”

All the females in the cast seemed to lean forward to hear his response. I heard Lily catch her breath behind me. The quiet in the auditorium stretched for several long seconds.

“Dan, did you say? Dan Alexander?”

“It’s Dante, sir,” the boy said. “Like the poet.” That small smile made another appearance.

Dave swept his arm in a welcoming gesture over the cast. “Everyone, please meet Dante Alexander, foreign-exchange student from Italy.” Dave consulted the letter in his hands. “How long will you be staying with us?”

Dante hesitated, brushing his long hair away from his face. “I . . . I’m not sure,” he finally said.

“Well, let’s not waste any more time, then.” Dave clapped Dante on the back. “Drop your stuff and take your place. Abby, will you show our newest cast member his mark for Act One?”

Dante looked uncertain, but he obediently placed his backpack on a seat in the front row. He shrugged out of his heavy coat with one smooth, supple movement. I heard Lily murmur appreciatively to Sarah.

“Abby?” Dave asked again, Isaac and Cassie standing right behind him. “Can you handle Act One?”

Startled, I jumped, heat flooding my cheeks. I glanced at Jason, who frowned, and I felt another wave of embarrassment wash through me.

“Sorry.” I consulted my notes, flipping through my few handwritten pages until I found the beginning of the script. Why was I so flustered? “Um, Dante”—his name felt strange in my mouth—“would you follow me, please?”

I climbed the stairs to the stage and directed him to stand behind Leonato with the other random members of the court. “We’ll get you a costume later,” I told him. “For now, just stand there and pretend you’re hearing the news for the first time.”

“Grazie,”
he said softly.
“Far˜ mio meglio.”

I didn’t speak Italian, but I recognized
Thanks,
so I smiled and said, “You’re welcome. If you need anything, I’ll be right over there.” I pointed to the backstage curtains, stage left, where Isaac and Cassie were rehearsing their last scene with Dave.

“Grazie.”

“And . . . everyone ready?” I adjusted my headset. The cast snapped to attention. I scampered offstage. “Action!”

I’d seen Act One, Scene One, several times already today so I spent my time watching the new arrival instead: Dante Alexander from Italy. He wore his dark hair long, even in the front, and every few minutes or so, he had to reach up to sweep it away from his face with his long fingers. He had left his coat with his backpack but, oddly enough, he had kept his gloves on. They looked a little like motorcycle gloves, fingerless, but with longer cuffs. The sleek leather completely encased his wrists like bracers, the guards that archers sometimes wore.

He wore a fitted, plain white, long-sleeved shirt that not only complemented his olive skin but also showcased the lean muscles in his forearms and chest. He kept the sleeves of his shirt rolled down over his wrists despite the stuffiness of the auditorium.

But it was his eyes that I noticed the most. They were changeling gray—one moment they shimmered with the moon-white of reflected sunlight, the next they held the almost-blue edge of melting ice crystals, then they hardened to the shadowed gray of wet river stones. I wondered if they would stay gray in the sunshine, or if they would change color yet again.

But beyond his good looks and his amazing eyes, Dante had a stillness about him that I found intriguing.

He didn’t just
watch
the play; he
paid attention.
He listened to the lines with a focused, fierce attentiveness, his whole body taut and alert. At first I thought it was because Shakespeare could be hard enough to understand if English was your
first
language, let alone your second, but as I watched him watch the play, I realized that it was more than that. It was as though he drank in the words, gained sustenance and strength from them. The look on his face as he walked along the stage behind Leonato made me think he was coming home.

I kept telling myself I should look away, I shouldn’t be so obvious in my scrutiny, but then Dante turned and met my eyes as though he knew I had been watching him. Time seemed to slow down around me. I could taste the air on my tongue, stale and thick, as I inhaled. I could feel the touch of those gray eyes on my skin, like waves lapping at the shore, like dandelion seeds blown away at dusk. I felt like he looked right through me, right into me. Part of me wanted him to never look away.

That small smile curved his lips, slowly, so slowly, before he looked away again. Time seemed to snap back into place, rocking my senses. My heart tripped and stuttered for a few beats, stumbling as though I had run up a long flight of stairs.

Disoriented, I needed a moment to gain my bearings. A chill shivered just under my skin as I distinctly heard Dave say, “C’mon, people, it’s just a stage kiss. What is the problem?”

I looked up in time to see Dave making a beeline stage left, heading straight for me. I tried to step back, but my heel hit the wall and I almost dropped my clipboard.

Dave reached out, grabbed my shoulders, and yanked me forward. He pressed his lips to mine, held them for a second, then pulled away. He looked over his shoulder at Isaac and Cassie, who were staring at us in shock. “See?” Dave demanded. “It’s just a stage kiss. It doesn’t mean anything.” Dave released me and walked away without a second glance. “Now it’s your turn.” He waved his actors to step closer to each other.

The air in the auditorium pressed down on me. I couldn’t breathe. The clipboard shook in my hands. My lips tingled, warm and dry.

What had just happened?

Had I just had my first kiss? With . . . with
Dave?
No, it wasn’t supposed to be like this. First kisses were supposed to be special. They were supposed to mean something. They weren’t supposed to be . . .
instructional.

I looked around wildly: Valerie, doubled over as far as her corset would allow, laughing and gasping for air; Jason, frowning, his hazel eyes dark and unhappy; Dante, with that same small smile on his exotic face; everyone in the cast staring, pointing. The whispering hissed around me like insect wings.

I had to get away. Now.

I whirled around and ran for the doors, crashing through them blindly.

“Abby!” I heard Jason call my name, but the closing door cut his voice in two.

I stumbled to a halt in the hallway, leaning against the cool metal lockers. I cradled the clipboard to my chest.

Jason had followed me out. He caught up to me and touched my arm. Worry lines crossed his forehead. “Are you okay? You look a little—”

“Can you wait here with me a minute, please? I don’t think I . . .”

“Of course,” he said, gathering me in his arms. “As long as you need.”

I listened to his steady heartbeat until I felt the heat subside from my cheeks. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“What for?”

I shrugged. I didn’t have to say anything more; Jason knew what I meant better than I did sometimes.

“It’s okay, Abby. Dave may have been your first kiss,” he said with a rumbling laugh, “but you’ll be mine.”

Annoyance flared as hot as my embarrassment. Sometimes Jason’s unfailing honesty was more than I could take.

But then I tilted my head back to look at him. His face was as familiar to me as anything in my life. He hadn’t meant to be arrogant or annoying. He had meant to tell me how special he wanted our first kiss to be. It was sweet, really, in a clumsy way. I felt my negative emotions drain away as the moment stretched out between us.

Ten-second rule,
I thought distractedly, hope bubbling up in my chest.
If he kisses me now, it’ll be close enough. It can count as my first kiss.
I closed my eyes and held my breath.

“Tomorrow,” Jason whispered and pressed a kiss to my forehead.

The moment was over. Again.

I let my head fall forward onto his chest and swallowed a sigh. Hadn’t we already been here today once before? Would this day never end?

Jason hugged me around the shoulders. “You okay?”

I nodded and stepped out of his embrace. “Thanks, Jas. Listen, I probably ought to get back. Rehearsal’s almost over and Dave will want my notes.”

“Do you need a ride home?”

“No, Valerie seems to think I won’t be able to survive another day without a pedicure. We’re supposed to go right after rehearsal.” I wiggled my toes inside my boots. Stupid, unlucky nail polish.

“Okay,” Jason said, tapping my nose with his finger. “In case I don’t see you later—see you later.”

I slipped back on stage, praying no one would notice me. Everyone did.

My face hot, I scurried to Dave’s side. I shoved my clipboard at him, muttering something about the notes I’d written down, and was turning to leave when he caught my arm.

“Abby, would you do me a favor?” Dave said. “I told Dante you’d get him all set up with a script, costume, schedule—the works. I’ll need him up to speed on the play by next week. We don’t have any time to waste. I know he’s just an extra, but even extras have to carry their weight in the show. I’m not having this production go down in flames because of a last-minute addition to the cast.”

“Oh, okay,” I stuttered, looking across the stage to where Dante stood surrounded by a flock of giggling girls. Valerie said something to him and he laughed. Dante caught my eyes with his and I felt that same strange sensation of time slowing down between us. He seemed relaxed, but in that one drawn-out moment I could see how tense he was in the way he held his body, how carefully he kept his hands from touching anyone. I could see the strain of maintaining his control reflected in the frost-white rims of his eyes.

“You’re the best,” Dave said, breaking the moment. “I knew I could count on you.”

But long after Valerie and I had left rehearsal for the spa and our pedicures, I found myself thinking of the look in Dante’s eyes, wondering what it was that had made him so tense, so careful, so afraid.

Chapter

4

The bowling alley was packed Friday night. Of course, since Willie’s Bowling Bonanza had only eight lanes, our group with four lanes (reservations made, but ultimately not necessary) essentially had the run of the place. Besides my family of four, Jason had his entire family of ten (though that included several aunts, uncles, and at least one first cousin). Add in Valerie and Natalie, her brother, Robert, the rest of the stage crew, and one of Hannah’s friends, and the party officially accounted for more than half of the people there.