Page 154 of Bottle Shock
Tonight is a packed show. Fridays are always a busy night.
I stand in the wings, waiting for our cue, bouncing my knee to keep the bundle of nerves I always feel right before I step out.
The house lights dim, and we walk out to applause.
I’ve gotten in this torturous little habit of looking for Gavin in the audience, like some part of me thinks he might surprise me and make it to a show. But I know he’s busy, and can’t get away. Still, my eyes sweep over the audience.
And they stop third row center.
Same shoulders. Same hair, pulled into that stupid sexy bun.
But it’s not him.
He would’ve told me. I’m sure of it.
And I’d prefer to not ruin my own night assuming he’s in the crowd only to get disappointed when the house lights flip back on.
It’s gotten to the point that I see him everywhere. My brain is playing tricks on me.
I force myself to look away, lock in, and do my job.
The set goes well, smoother than usual. I hit my cues and get some laughs.
But every few minutes, my gaze drags back to third row center.
And the shadowy figure of whoever is sitting in the seat and watching me. Or at least that’s what it feels like.
When the show ends, I head backstage, and peel off my mic.
A few of my castmates invite me to getdrinks at the bar across the street, but I turn them down. I wouldn’t be any fun to around anyway.
“Have a safe night, miss,” the security guard says to me as I exit the back alley.
“Night, Cliff.” I toss him a wave before digging through my bag so I can call Gavin like I always do when I walk from the theater to my car.
Usually he picks up on the second ring, but now it’s ring number four and he still hasn’t picked up.
I swallow, trying to ignore that familiar drop in my stomach. Maybe he really is losing interest.
By the six ring, not only is he not picking up but someone nearby is getting a phone call and it’s completely messing with my ears.
The call connects, and it’s embarrassing how quickly my chest fills with warmth.
“Hey,” he says, but it comes out sounding weird like there’s an echo, or he’s on some busy street.
“Hold on,” I say. “You sound really strange. Let me just?—”
“Turn around.”
My steps falter.
“Turn around, starlet.”
“What?” I breathe.
I freeze completely.
My heart launches straight into my throat, pulse hammering so hard it’s all I can hear.
