Page 26 of Dream On

I collapse onto the bed, the mattress gently bouncing beneath my weight. “I like it here.”

“Lex, come on. It’s weird having a boy in my room. Mom will be home soon, and she’ll have questions.”

“Good thing we have answers.” I shrug. “What scene did you want to go over?”

“I…I don’t know.” She’s so flustered. Smoothing back her hair withboth hands, she plops down beside me, creating a large gap between us until she practically becomes one with the headboard. “We can start from the top?”

“We’re going to have to kiss, you know.” I eye her curiously, resting the mug on my left knee. “Have you done that yet?”

Her face turns scarlet as she stares straight ahead. “Do I strike you as someone who’s been kissed?”

Yes.

She’s really pretty.

But another word echoes in my mind, a word ripe with cruelty.

Underwhelming.

Guilt eats at me. I don’t know why I said that shit to her, but I guess it’s because I’m a master at keeping people at arm’s length. Especially women.

Stevie seemed like the type. The type of girl I’d be dumb enough to let in, to allow access to my mangled heart—kind, nurturing, soft. My defenses kicked in, and I shut it all down. Maybe a part of me thinks that if everyone is as broken down and jaded as I am, the world would be a more palatable place. I wouldn’t have to second-guess my instincts.

But now I feel bad.

Something pokes at me to apologize, but I don’t want to give any more life to that word, so I lean back on one hand and go to change the subject.

She cuts in before I can. “I have, actually. Once…a long time ago. It was just a dare though.”

“Some guy dared you to kiss him?”

“My friends dared me. We were having a sleepover, and one of the girls snuck a few boys into her room.”

“How was it?”

“The kiss?” She can hardly look at me, so she finds supreme interest in her untied sneakers instead. “I don’t know. Unremarkable.”

Nodding, I glance away. We go over the scene we went over today at practice, but it doesn’t give off the same authenticity. Everything feels different here in her room, like we’re under new lights, and I realize it’s harder to pretend to be someone I’m not.

At some point, Stevie scoots closer to me on the bed. I finished my coffee already and set down the mug, and now my hands are shaking in my lap.

She notices.

Humiliation ignites a fiery tunnel through my chest. I try to cover the evidence by sliding my hands under my butt and sitting on them, but she’s not an idiot.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Let’s move on to the next scene.”

“Your hands were shaking.”

“It’s just the caffeine. And I’m itching for a cigarette.” I feel the box burning a hole in my front pocket.

“Oh.” She frowns, a mix of worry and confusion. “I didn’t realize you smoked. I can open my window and maybe—”

“Don’t want to pollute your girly bedsheets,” I say, my feet tapping, my knees bouncing in parallel time. “I’ll be fine.”

I’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. One day, I’ll be fine.