Backstage Romance: An Austen-Inspired Romantic Comedy Box Set by Gigi Blume (ebook reader with highlighter txt) 📕

But Will did something I’d never thought I’d see. He smiled at me. It was the beginning of a laugh that didn’t reach his vocal chords. There was mirth in his eyes as they flickered to meet mine, and he openly surveyed my form on the floor like he was studying me with curious amusement. He offered me his hand to lift me to my feet, which I surprised myself by accepting without protest, and in a swift motion, lifted me easily with the strength of one arm like I was made of neoprene or some other form of light plastic. He didn’t let go of my hand at first, perhaps to make sure I was steady on my feet, but I found myself pressed against his chest without the faculties of strength. My brain told my feet to move, but the traitors didn’t listen. I still wasn’t accustomed to the contact of his skin. It cemented me there in the small orbit we inhabited, and he leveled his gaze on me, saying, “As you wish.”

Did he seriously make a Princess Bride reference to me? It shook me from the gravity that held me rooted to him, and I jumped back.

“That’s enough talking for now,” I said, gathering my wits. “Maybe in a few minutes, we can talk about the weather.”

I assumed the starting position and poised myself for the lift, but he placed his hands on his hips and squinted his eyes at me.

“Do you make it a habit to make small talk while dancing?”

“It would be weird if we didn’t speak at all,” I replied. “Some people might find that the more they talk the less they have to say.”

“And is that more for your benefit or mine?”

“Both, I guess. Neither one of us has a lot to say unless it’s from a script.”

That did make him laugh. “You? Not have a lot to say? I wouldn’t describe you that way at all.”

“Are you saying I’m chatty?”

“Are you saying I’m aloof?”

Yes.

“I don’t know. I haven’t decided yet.”

He had no other response, unwittingly proving my point, and we got back to work on the acrobatics. He was silent for quite some time, concentrating on the lifts but not seeming to find much difficulty in them. He was rather strong but not bulky—more like an athletic dancer in which he again reminded me of Gene Kelly. He obviously had some form of training. After a few sets while we were catching our breath, he opened the subject I hoped to cover.

“Do you always like to roam around the secret places in the theatre?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, the other night in the costume basement, and then last week in the scene shop. This theatre has lots of interesting corners to get lost in.”

“Oh, that.”

I couldn’t have asked for a better opening. Charlotte did tell me to make the most of every opportunity, after all. I decided I would make the most out of this one and so, with a devilish smile, I said, “Yes. And I made an interesting new friend.”

I charged at him from my opening position. His reflexes responded by extending his arm as was his choreography, but instead of a flip, I toppled over him and fell hard on my butt with a painful slam.

“Leisl…” I cursed.

Will didn’t offer to help me up this time. Really, this choreo was less like a dance and more like stage combat. A dark shade of arrogance claimed his features, and his eyes were lit with flame. Talk about triggered. I hadn’t even mentioned Jorge’s name and already Will was poised to rain fury down upon me.

“Jorge Wickham,” he said through clenched teeth, “has the kind of charisma that opens lots of doors for him, and he’s fortunate to make friends everywhere he goes. Whether or not he’s capable of keeping those friends is another matter altogether.”

He didn’t wait for me to prep for the run-up. Once I was on my feet, he wrapped his hands around my waist and threw me over his shoulder. I couldn’t get the height needed for the next move and finding it exceedingly difficult to continue the conversation in this manner, I remained slung over his shoulder. His hands were dangerously close to my backside, and I found my face dangerously close to his as I held on to the hard muscles at his sides.

“He couldn’t keep your abs,” I squeaked from my upside-down position. The blood rushed to my head.

“I mean friendship.” I had to stop thinking about Will’s abs.

“He couldn’t keep your… friendship,” I continued. “Now he’s blackballed all over Hollywood.”

I could feel Will’s shoulders and back tense beneath by body and with iron tension, he bent down and lowered me to my feet.

“I think we should get some water,” he said quietly. I noticed as he reached for his bottle, his entire face was washed in crimson. I hit a nerve there. How could talking about Jorge upset him that much? He was the guilty party and, by Jorge’s account, Will didn’t even care about the pain he inflicted on him. It was nothing to him—a fly on his windshield. It couldn’t have affected him the way he appeared. Perhaps calling him out on it was an injury to his pride. Heart throb Will Darcy: a handsome exterior but rotten underneath. The facts surrounding his behavior toward Jorge were unforgivable, and the anxiety Jorge expressed to me on Sunday night still rang in my ears. I was convinced there was nothing Will could say in his defense that could justify his actions.

The silence between us was thick and palpable as we drank from our water bottles. When it seemed Will had sufficiently calmed, I saw a flitter of movement around the corner. Bing and Jane were sneaking off somewhere—again. Seriously, didn’t those kids have to rehearse something? I honestly didn’t care if they got lost in the bowels of the theatre