Page 114 of Bad Crush
I accept congratulations and other encouragement from people as I walk out in front of the theater. I stop and chat, smile for pictures, and accept hugs from strangers.
“Reagan,” someone calls, and I glance up to see Dakota, Ginny, and the guys. Even Adam. Especially Adam.
“What are you doing here? I told you, you guys didn’t need to come. I wasn’t even supposed to go on.”
“Good thing we didn’t listen,” Dakota says and gives me a one-armed hug.
Adam hangs at the back of our friends. After everyone else has hugged me, he steps forward. “Congratulations. You were amazing. I am in awe of you.”
“Thank you.”
They keep fawning over me, and I absorb it all. After this past week, I will never take for granted these moments or these people.
“I should mingle and get changed,” I say after a few more minutes talking with my friends.
Everyone else offers one last congrats and hug, then Adam smiles tentatively. “Can we talk real quick?”
People are coming up, standing by to talk to me. One person taps me on the shoulder. I smile at them and then glance back to Adam. “Sorry. I need to—”
“Yeah, of course.” His brow furrows. “Of course. Congrats again.”
“Thanks for coming.” I hug Dakota again because I can’t help myself. I’m so glad that she’s so stubborn. “I’ll see you guys later.”
It feels like an hour goes by, and the theater is still packed with people, cast members who haven’t been able to escape, as well as families and friends that are lingering to talk.
My hand goes to my throat, and I apologize to the nice couple I’m talking to, citing needing a drink of water. It’s true. My throat is dry and scratchy, but I am ready to retreat back to the dressing room, change back into my normal clothes, wipe off my makeup and go home.
I’m almost to the door that leads backstage when a deep voice crackles over the speaker, “Hey, everyone. Sorry to interrupt.”
33
Adam
I’ve had worse ideas,but as I start talking and every head in the theater snaps up to look at me, giving me their undivided attention, I can’t think of a single one that could have ended with this level of humiliation. I can usually talk myself out of bad ideas. I’m good at weighing the pros and cons and deciding against whatever stupid notions pop into my brain.
Not tonight. I’d do anything to prove to her that I’m not going anywhere. That I’m either going to fail spectacularly loving her or be the best friend she’s ever had. Still, I hope I don’t pass out or get booed off stage before I can force the words out.
I make the mistake of looking at Rhett and the guys grinning from the back of the theater. I appreciate their support, but I can barely look at them without wanting to hop off this stage and tell them all to fuck off.
“I’m looking for Reagan,” I say to the crowd. I was waiting for her to finish talking to her fans, but at some point, I lost track of her. It was somewhere between hearing my buddies’ suggestions for winning her back and deciding myself that she deserved nothing less than seeing me lay it all on the line for her. Now, here I am.
Everyone looks around for her. I might have just made an ass of myself for nothing. She’s on her way back to the apartment, and I’m still here standing on stage making a fool of myself.
“There she is.” A guy in front of the stage points, and I follow the line to where Reagan is slowly walking toward me with a confused look.
The spotlight comes on, blinding me. Well, that feels unnecessary. I glower in the general direction of whoever turned it on but can’t see shit.
“What are you doing?” Reagan asks quietly.
“You missed my speech last week. I think you should hear it.”
“Here?” She glances around, smiling politely and waving at the crowd.
I almost jump down and beg her to hear me out anywhere else but here, but I need her to listen—really listen. “Here.”
She nods. Then I start to get really nervous. What the hell was I thinking? I should have gone with one of Maverick’s ideas. They were bold and ridiculous, but they didn’t include public speaking.
“Umm…” I sweep the crowd and swallow down my nerves. “When I was eight, I broke my arm playing hockey on the street with some friends. My mom drove me to the hospital, bone sticking out of my arm. I didn’t even cry. I was shocked, terrified, really. All I could think was that they were going to have to amputate my arm.” I chuckle and swallow down the lump in my throat. “I was so scared I’d never play hockey again. When the doctor came into the room and told me I could keep my arm and I’d just have to wear a cast for a while, I was so happy I cried.”
