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

Besides your lips. I would very much like those against me again, please.

“Oh, where should I begin? Ah, here’s one. After you basically insulted me, you still want to go out with me, even if it goes against everything you stand for. Charming. Real charming.”

She turned her back to me as if to walk away but thought better of it and spun back around to point her forefinger into my chest.

“But that’s not even why I’m mad at you,” she snapped. “I have a thousand and one reasons to be peeved with you right now—including what you did to separate Bing from my friend.”

Ah here we go.

“A thousand and one? Really?”

“You’re not funny. You think you are, but you’re so not. You’re the opposite of funny.”

Her finger was poking me repeatedly.

“You are anti funny. Playing with Jane’s emotions, ruining her happiness on a whim, just because you can—because it’s easy to influence impressionable men like Bing. And now they’re both miserable. Congratulations. You must be so proud.”

A lump formed in the pit of my stomach. She had no idea what the truth of it was. How could I explain it in such a way to prevent her from strangling me?

She put her hands on her hips. “Are you going to deny what you did?”

I had to assume some sort of dignity and so I rolled my shoulders back and proudly responded, “I have no desire to deny anything. Yes, I convinced Bing to stay away from Jane. But he wouldn’t have acted on my suggestions if he didn’t think I was right. Guess what? I was right. And I’m happy he ended it before making the biggest mistake of his career.”

If only I could follow my own advice.

Bing was a stronger man than I. My attraction for Beth was too intense. She didn’t seem to be listening, though. She went on.

“And what about Jorge?” she said. “What do you have to say about what you did to him?”

My ears rang at the mention of that name. I noticed my hands clench into fists, and it took everything in me not to growl like one of those orcs from Lord of the Rings.

“You,” I said through clenched teeth, “concern yourself too much with Jorge Wickham.”

“That’s because I have a beating heart that’s not shrivelled up and void of feeling. That poor guy.”

“That poor guy?” I repeated with contempt. “Oh yeah. He’s poor, all right.” It was such an absurd notion, it made me laugh.

“Yes. Poor. Because of you,” she cried. “You have taken away everything he had a right to—reduced him to nothing, cut him off, turned people against him. Ruined his career. You did all this. And you think it’s funny. It’s all a joke to you.”

“Again with the funny. I don’t think I’m funny.” Admittedly I had just been laughing, but only because Beth was so worked up. And that did something new to me I couldn’t process.

“You think you’re awesome,” she sneered. “You… you with those eyes. And that hair.”

My eyebrows creeped up my forehead. “My eyes and my hair?”

She stuttered, like she was trying to pedal backward on a ten-speed bike. “Y-y-yeah. Superficial. A product of Hollywood. But ugly on the inside.”

A knife of silence sliced through the air at those bitter words. Sure, I’d been on those sexiest man alive lists, but I never gave them much credit. Frankly, I wish I had a big nose or something… get some meaty roles for my actual acting chops. But ugly on the inside? Ouch.

“Is that the way you see me?” I spat. “That’s your opinion of me?”

I paced the space like a caged lion. This wasn’t the New Year’s kiss I imagined.

“I’m the bad guy according to you. But maybe, just maybe your skewed opinion of me is clouded by your insecurity.”

“Whaaat?”

“You heard me.”

I was that caged lion. But I had a thorn in my paw, and the only thing I knew to do was roar.

“You got your feelings hurt because I didn’t flatter you. Because I was honest. Maybe if I sugarcoated things and puffed up your ego, you wouldn’t be so offended. Maybe I should have congratulated myself for falling for someone so far removed from my circle. Or if I had held back my true feelings leading you to believe a relationship between us would be easy. But I didn’t because I’m not a liar. I’m not ashamed of what I said to you. I meant it. Every. Single. Word.”

Her jaw dropped about a thousand feet without a parachute. HA! Take that.

She clenched her teeth and did that thing with her chin when trying to appear taller.

“If you think for one second that nice words would make me forget what you’ve done, you not only don’t have a soul, you don’t have a brain. From the very first moment you walked into the theatre, your surly attitude, your arrogance, your…”

She waved her hand in a circle in front of me.

“…the way you walk.”

The way I walk? She nodded, like she was answering a question I didn’t ask aloud.

“You are a misanthrope, Mr. Darcy.”

She said my name like it was a dirty word.

I winced. “A misanthrope?”

“Yes.” She smiled menacingly. “Look it up.”

“I know what a misanthrope is.”

“Good,” she exclaimed. “Because if you searched misanthrope on the internet, your photo would be on the Wikipedia page.”

Her features were a glow of red-hot fury, but then something changed in her eyes. It was a mixture of regret and extreme disappointment. When she spoke again, it was hardly audible.

“And to think…” Her fingers touched her lips, tracing the delicate skin where I branded her with my kiss. I instinctively took a step towards her.

“To think what?”

She shot her gaze into me and whatever tenderness had come over her, it was gone.

“Nothing.” Her tone was clipped, laced with poison. It was freaking hot.

“You like me,” I said, inching closer. Her eyes grew wide.

“No, I don’t.”

“Oh yes, you do.”

I wrapped my fingers over the tiny wrist of