Page 4 of Fake It Till You Break It
Gagging, I handed back her cup of coffee. “Take this before I puke in it and make you waste three bucks.”
“Four. I added an extra shot of espresso and soy milk. And come on. I know you hate the guy, but even you have to admit that he’s pretty easy on the eyes.”
Easy on the eyes?
I scratched my head, but I just couldn’t see what she was talking about. I mean, yeah, I guess his hazel eyes were nice. Especially since he finally got rid of those Coke-bottle glasses and wore contacts. Without them, he was practically blind. When we were kids, all I had to do to win at hide-and-seek with him was steal his glasses. Sixty-seven wins. Once just by sitting on the couch with a matching blanket.
And he was… tall?
“Hot and adorable aren’t exactly words I’d ever use to describe Jake. Those words are reserved for someone like… like…”
“Ben Grayson?” Even though Aly meant to whisper, hernaturally loud voice echoed across the auditorium. And just our luck, this was also when everyone onstage was taking a break so it was deadly silent.
Ben was sitting at the corner of the stage talking to Daniel, the theater director, but he jumped to his feet when he heard his name. I had to wave both hands away ’cause God knows I didn’t know what I would say to him if he did come over.
Confused, he sat back down, but not before giving me an endearing half smile that made my knees weak like they were made of floppy lime Jell-O. Good thing I was sitting on a chair or I’m pretty sure I would have face-planted right on the floor.
My cheeks exploded, but I grinned back as I stapled the second act scene’s script together for the next rehearsal. Thankfully, my hands automatically moved through the routine motions because I couldn’t really concentrate on anything else.
I knew I was acting like a complete idiot, but this was BEN GRAYSON. I didn’t know his middle name, but it was probably “Perfect.” My crush bloomed the moment my eyes met his clear chocolate eyes across the auditorium, and it had only grown in the past few months.
Ben was a senior. In fact, theonlysenior to receive an early admission to UC San Diego. He could have ditched this town to start college in August. But to everyone’s surprise, he turned them down. Instead he chose to ride out the rest ofhis senior year by being the understudy for Leon MacDonald, the main lead in the musical.
To be honest, he could have easily been the lead, but he wanted to learn all parts of the theater. Including being an understudy. But that was who Ben was. Dedicated. And funny. Handsome. Almost on the verge of a pretty boy, but a little more boyish. Mischievous. Like he was thinking of a joke but would never tell you the punch line.
Sigh. Basically the man of my dreams.
Aly snapped her fingers in front of my face to get my attention. “If you could stop drooling over Ben for a minute, your idol is about to pass. If you want to talk to Lyndon, now’s your chance.”
Straightening in my seat, I let out a slow deep breath like Mom’s yoga instructors taught us. In and out. In and out. “Hey, Lyndon?”
She stopped a few feet away and cocked her head in our direction. Her fingers twisted around the strap of her bag on her skinny shoulder. “Yeah?”
“I was wondering… if you think you could… if you’re free…” My sentences kept fading off the longer she stood there in front of us. “If you—you wanted to take a look at the script for tomorrow’s rehearsal.”
Lyndon patted her bag. “Daniel already gave it to me.”
“Oh, okay then. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“See you.”
Aly waited until she left before letting out a low whistle. “What the heck wasthat? I thought you were going to ask her for pointers and stuff?”
I banged my forehead against the top of the table. “I wanted to. But I just… couldn’t.”
“But why?”
Because the longer Lyndon stood there—the more I stared at her—the more it became apparent how different we were. And that I could never be like her. Even the attempt would be too much for me.
Two years ago, I volunteered to usher for a show on a whim to get out of yet another family dinner with the Adlers. But as soon as the curtains opened and the show started, I fell in love. To this day, I don’t even remember what the show was about. But it didn’t matter. Nothing else did except for the emotions that swept over me as I sat there. Even long after everyone else left and the ushers were sweeping the trash from the aisles. The amazement of the actors’ confidence onstage. The thrill of everyone watching, enwrapped in their every word. Every movement. Although I’d never been here before, it felt exactly like home.
Thiswas where I belonged. This wasmyplace. And my dream was to be onstage one day. Although if I were dreaming, then might as well wish to be on Broadway, but to be honest, I’d be satisfied with any stage at this point.
Sometimes a tiny part of me—the ugly, realist, annoying part that I named Cecily after my fourth-grade torturer, I mean, teacher—kept mocking me. That I needed to stop kidding myself. I wasn’t good enough to perform. Probably never would be. And doing theater grunt work was probably going to be the highlight of my sad, pathetic life. And I should be satisfied with just watching the show or putting stamps on flyers.
Thankfully, Ol’ Cece would only butt in every once in a while. But she would get louder and louder every time. And she was becoming much harder to ignore. Especially as senior year and graduation came closer and closer. To the real world where I’d have to face reality and give up this dream. And realize that some things were just out of my reach.
But I couldn’t explain all of this to Aly. All I could do was bang my head harder on the table.
