Page 18 of Someone to Have (Skylark #3)

The monologue—oh yeah, I’m not finished yet.

Taking a deep breath, I turn back to the audience and glance toward the back of the theater.

If Eric is still there, he’s lost in the shadows, but I imagine I feel him silently cheering me on.

He’s one hell of a hype man. I begin my rehearsal piece, and with my nerves more settled, it goes on better than I expected.

“Thank you, Taylor,” Bryan says when I finish.

I wait for a word or two of encouragement, but when it’s clear I’ve been dismissed, I nod and murmur my thanks. It will have to be enough.

“Let’s take a five-minute break,” he announces as I walk off. “Then we’ll finish up.”

“That was awesome,” Ellie Seidel, who’s starred in a number of our local productions, tells me as I pause backstage.

My knees have gone weak again, but I return her smile as I place a hand on the wall for support. “Thanks. Your audition piece was amazing, as always,” I tell her. “You’re a shoo-in for one of the leads.”

She shakes her head. “I’m actually hoping for a more supporting role. I want to be involved, but…you know Bryan directed the fall play, and…” She frowns. “Do you know him well?”

“We’re coworkers. This is the first time I’ve tried out for anything. I haven’t been on stage since?—”

She makes a face. “Yeah, I was in sixth grade that year,” she says.

“The sixth graders were in the front row.” I cringe, remembering that horrible moment like it was yesterday.

She laughs softly. “I’ve got two kids now, so I’m kind of old-hat at being puked on.” She reaches out and squeezes my arm. “I’m sure you’ll be part of this production. Just remember, you have talent and you rocked your audition. Don’t let anyone take that from you.”

“Thanks,” I repeat, confused by her serious tone but appreciating the words of encouragement.

She walks away, and I head down the hall toward the prop room.

I want to text my book club friends and let them know I did it.

I’d like to text Eric, but a message feels inadequate to express how much I owe him.

Maybe I’d have managed through it if he hadn’t shown up to support me, but I don’t know. I’m glad and grateful, no matter what.

As I walk in, I flip on the lights in the prop room, the old fluorescent bulb casting a slightly dingy glow over a maze of costumes, battered furniture, and plastic bins stacked along the walls.

“You killed it,” a familiar voice says behind me.

I yelp and jump about three feet in the air. My phone skitters across the scuffed wood floor, the clatter echoing in the otherwise silent space.

Eric picks it up and moves into the room, handing it to me. A faded black hoodie molds itself to his massive shoulders, and his dark jeans look way too good on him for my peace of mind.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.” He flashes an almost hesitant smile. “I wasn’t sure if non-theater people are allowed backstage, but I wanted to congratulate you. You did it.”

“I did it,” I agree, still breathless. My heart hammers against my ribs in a wild rhythm that has nothing to do with the performance.

I tuck a loose strand of hair behind one ear, my fingers brushing my overheated cheek.

“Actually, we did it. I’m not sure why you came, but you kept my head in the game. ”

His thick brows draw together. For a moment, he looks almost wounded, which makes my chest ache in a way I don’t know how to name.

“I’m here because I’m your coach,” he says, like that explains everything.

“Oh, and Rhett had a pop quiz in English today. He’s thrilled with his eighty-five,” he adds, a crooked grin tugging at his mouth.

It’s the kind of smile that could make a girl forget every other guy she’s ever known. “I thought you might want to know.”

His grin is contagious, and I feel myself relax as I smile back at him.

“He texted me earlier about the grade and to say good luck. It’s fantastic, Eric.

He’s going to keep improving.” I wrinkle my nose.

“Just like me. I know the audition wasn’t perfect.

I’m sure everyone could hear my voice shaking, but--”

“You were amazing.” He reaches up and touches one finger to my bottom lip, sending a jolt of heat straight through me, as if my nerves have been rewired to react only to him. “But you’ve got to stop chewing your lip to bits. The abuse this thing takes is a crime.”

I don’t think anyone has ever touched me so gently. Like I’m something worth handling with care. His skin is warm and my body reacts like I have zero control over it. Every inch of me feels suddenly, achingly aware of him—his nearness, his touch, the quiet intensity in his eyes.

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” I tell him, placing my hand over his, holding on like I’m afraid I might float away if I don’t.

“The talent is yours, Tinkerbell.”

I shake my head. “What does it matter if I’m too much of a chicken to let anyone see it?”

“I saw it.”

The words fall between us, rough and low. His gaze drops to my mouth, lingering there for a heartbeat that stretches on for days. My heart stumbles, equally terrified and hopeful that I’m misreading what I see in his eyes.

Then his mouth is on mine, warm like the sun on a summer afternoon and impossible to resist.

Desire floods me, crowding out the disbelief that this moment is happening.

Eric Anderson is kissing me like I matter.

Like I’m not invisible or second best or the shy girl who always watches from the wings.

I can hardly breathe, barely think. But I don’t want to think right now. All I want is to feel.

“Taylor, are you…”

Bryan’s voice trails off as I pull away from Eric so fast my elbow smacks a stack of old hat boxes. They clatter to the floor, the crash jarring me back to reality. My body screams in protest. Not a fan of reality at the moment.

“Am I interrupting something?”

“Of course not,” I answer, earning a scowl from the man whose lips were just plastered against mine. The spell between us shatters, and I force a smile that feels painfully stiff. “Did you need me?”

“I wanted to say congratulations.” Bryan glances between Eric and me, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. “You’ve been hiding that voice.”

“I like to sing,” I answer, which sounds stupid.

Bryan nods. “We have a few more auditions, but this production is gearing up to be fantastic.” His smile tilts, almost like he’s humoring me. “I think you and I will be spending a lot more time together in the coming weeks. ”

“Oh.” My gaze flicks to Eric, who’s studying a spot on the wall over my shoulder, his back to Bryan. “I can’t wait.”

“You kissed me,” I whisper when Eric and I are alone again. My voice catches on the words.

He crosses his arms over his chest and gives me an almost condescending smirk. The casual way he leans back, all broad shoulders and irritating cockiness, makes my cheeks burn.

“You’re welcome.”

“Excuse me?”

“Part of the coaching package,” he says, his gaze hard. “I knew when he called for that break in auditions, Limpdick would come and find you.”

My mind is reeling. The words make sense individually, but strung together they’re all wrong. Like a lie I feel in my gut, but can’t call him out on.

“You did?”

He breathes out a hard laugh, like he’s laughing at me—not with me. I’m used to it, but that doesn’t make the humiliation that skitters up my spine any easier to take.

“It’s a basic lesson in catching a guy’s attention, Tinkerbell. Nothing gets the old competitive juices flowing like thinking a woman is out of reach.”

I stare at him for a moment, trying to figure out if he expects me to buy this line of bullshit. The knot in my chest squeezes harder with every second he doesn’t crack a smile. At least I think it’s bull. That kiss felt real and spontaneous and…

“Don’t look so shocked. I told you I’m committed to this.” He leans in and offers a slow wink, but there’s no amusement in his dark eyes. “The guy you want is now going to see you as a woman other guys want. It sweetens the pot so to speak.”

“That’s offensive,” I mutter, even though my certainty about Eric being into the kiss is waning by the second. The sweetness of it slips through my fingers.

“Have you dated anyone since you’ve been trying to get Limpdick to notice you?”

My teeth are clenched so hard it’s a wonder Eric can’t hear them grinding. I’m wound as tight as a rubber band ready to snap.

“Do you have to mess with his name every time you say it?”

“Answer the question, Tink.”

I glare at him. “No. I haven’t dated anyone. That’s kind of the point of a crush. I want to date him .”

A muscle ticks in his jaw. The air between us is heavy–I feel the weight of the truth I’m not willing to admit to myself, let alone say out loud.

“So you’re one step closer.” He shakes his head. “Two steps because he won’t be able to ignore you now that he’s heard you sing.”

I know that’s a compliment, but it’s hard to be grateful when I’m so conflicted about what just happened. If he’s telling the truth, and I have no reason to think he’s not, then Eric did me a favor.

I don’t want to date him. How many times have I repeated those words since that first night I saw him at Tony’s? Too bad I’m not getting any closer to believing them.

And what about our kiss? I’ve never felt anything like the sensations that rolled through my body as our breath and tongues mingled.

“Fine,” I say when I trust myself to speak. “Thank you for pretend kissing me. Next time, let me in on the plan.”

“You would have been too nervous if you knew it was coming,” he says.

He’s not wrong, which annoys the heck out of me. Mostly because it means he knows me better than I want him to.

“I’m going to watch the last couple of auditions,” I tell him with a pointed look. “Unless you have any other coaching tips you’d like to offer.”

“Not at the moment.” He lifts his hand, palm facing me. “Well done, Tinkerbell.”

I give him a limp-dick high-five, and then he turns and disappears down the hallway. The sound of his retreating footsteps leaves behind an ache in my chest that I can’t explain.

I return to the auditorium, reminding myself that I’ve gotten everything I’ve wanted so far thanks to Eric Anderson.

With that kiss…everything and more.