Page 145 of His Drama Queen

I take my seat, still vibrating with the performance. Ben is two chairs away, not looking at me. His jaw is tight.

Three more students perform. Then it's his turn.

He stands, moves to center stage with that easy confidence I've always admired. Finds his light.

And delivers the "I wish I was an octopus" speech from Angels in America.

The monologue about wanting more arms to hold someone, about love being inadequate, about human limitation in the face of impossible desire. About watching someone you care about suffer and being powerless to help.

His voice cracks on the last line. Slightly. But enough.

When he finishes, I've been holding my breath.

"Thank you, Mr. Rosen," De Scarzis says. "Everyone may go. Callbacks will be posted tomorrow morning."

We file out in silence. The holding room has thinned—most people are done, heading back to their dorms or the library. I grab my bag, intent on escape.

"Vespera."

Ben's voice stops me at the door.

I turn slowly. He's standing five feet away, hands shoved in his pockets, looking anywhere but at me.

"Can we talk?"

No. Absolutely not. I want to run.

"Yeah," I hear myself say. "Okay."

Weendupinone of the small practice rooms on the fourth floor. Neutral territory. The door closes behind us, and suddenly the space feels too small.

"Nice audition," he says, because apparently we're starting with pleasantries.

"Yours too. The Angels speech was perfect for Løvborg."

"Thanks."

Silence. Painful, loaded silence.

"We should talk about what happened," he says finally.

"Do we have to?"

"Yeah. I think we do." He runs a hand through his hair, that nervous gesture I've come to recognize. "Because we're scene partners. And friends. And this awkwardness is killing me."

"It's killing me too," I admit.

"So let's say it. Address the elephant in the room." He takes a breath. "Three nights ago, we tried to have sex. Your body wouldn't let you. Because of the bonds."

Hearing it said out loud makes it worse somehow. "Yeah."

"And I'm not... I don't blame you. Or your body. Or the situation." His eyes finally meet mine. "But I need to know—was it the bonds? Or was it also that you didn't actually want to?"

The question lands like a punch.

"I wanted to," I say quietly. "I wanted to want you so badly. You're... you're everything they're not. You're kind and funny and you see me as Vespera, not an Omega or a pack member or a problem to solve. I wanted it to work."

"But?"