Page 90 of Reaching Avery
Chapter Twenty-Three
Maverick
Looking at the small ledge surrounded by darkness and smoke, I prepared for my death. My theatrical one, anyway. Channeling my inner Luke Evans, I deeply inhaled before releasing the breath and looked at Mr. Lee.
“Okay, guys, we’ll do the Gaston and Beast fight leading into Gaston’s death before moving into the final scene,” Mr. Lee said, getting out his script. It was crinkled from all the times he’d rolled it up.
Peter walked onto the stage—well, more like sauntered—and gave me the up-down. His auburn hair was covered by the Beast headpiece, but some strands stuck out near his brow.
“Such a great scene, don’t you think?” he asked in a snarky tone. “I get to beat you all over again.”
Not sure why the guy hated me so much, but he was always finding reasons to put me down and brag about him getting the role.
Like, dude, I’m over it. Get over yourself.
Refusing to lower to his level, I ignored the comment and waited for the cue to start the scene. I threw myself into the character and put everything else from my mind. Words were exchanged, and we did the choreographed foot work.
Soon, I forgot about the cattiness and just enjoyed myself.
Acting was fun, and there wasn’t a day when I regretted my decision to be in drama again for senior year. Baseball would be in the spring, which I was also looking forward to. I loved my life, and it was sort of perfect that it all hit me in that moment—as I stumbled back and fell off the deadly, three foot ledge.
With my death came a new appreciation for life. And not even Peter could bring me down. I was untouchable.
Nearly untouchable. After I hit the padding hidden behind the ledge, I felt hands slip under my shoulders, and I looked up to see Avery smiling down at me.
“That was one hell of a fall, big guy.”
“Yeah, but I knew you’d be waiting for me,” I said, knowing how cheesy it was. Like dialogue in a mushy romance novel. It worked, though, because he smiled.
“Do you want some wine with that cheese?” he asked.
“I think the saying is the other way around,” I pointed out. “But nice try.”
I sat up, which brought me closer to his face. The silliness from seconds before vanished and my breath hitched in my throat.
He’d put on more eyeliner that day, not just outlining his lids but making it expand out a bit at the ends like wings. His black hair had been trimmed a bit, but was still long enough to brush across the top of his shoulders.
“What?” he asked self-consciously and lowered his gaze.
“You’re just beautiful,” I answered, tilting his face back up. He flinched at my touch, and I dropped my hand from him. “Sorry. I should know not to do that by now.”
“No, I…” He shook his head as an almost pained expression flickered across his face. I watched him, seeing him go from confused to all of a sudden being taken over by a new determination, and he met my eyes again. “I want you to keep trying. Please.”
His eyes said something else:Don’t give up on me.
An ache twisted in my chest. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Hey, lovebirds!” Sarah plopped down on the padding beside me, draping her arm over my shoulders. She was in her Belle costume. Wig and all. “Did Noah invite y’all to his party next weekend? I really wanna go, but I don’t want to go by myself.”
Avery and I had talked about it that day at lunch, and he’d agreed to go with me. Social things made him nervous, and when he’d given me an answer, I’d seen the anxiety behind his smile. I wouldn’t let anything bad happen to him, though.
Fighting wasn’t my thing, but I’d kick anyone’s ass that tried to mess with him.
“We’re going,” Avery answered before I could. “Not sure what I’m gonna wear. Is it going to be a costume party?”
Sarah and I exchanged a look before laughing. It was Noah. The dude made dressing up a requirement.
Seeing Avery’s confusion, I said, “That’s a yes. I asked Noah last year if I had to dress up, and he said I’d be shunned if I didn’t.”
