I was not a rule breaker.
"Maybe." I shrugged.
"I think we should break the rules and be friends. What do you think?" He smiled and waggled his eyebrows at me.
That was a rule I was willing to break.
"You know, I was never a rule breaker. At least not until I met you." The words tumble out of my mouth, my brain forgetting that Josh wasn't there for my mental trip down memory lane.
"What?" He turns to look at me, the car swerving with his movement.
"Watch it! I mean, when we first met, you said I looked like a rule breaker. I wasn't. I never had been. I'm still not. The only time I broke the rules was with you."
"Uh-huh. I highly doubt that."
"No, it's true. I follow the rules. I work hard. It's the only way to be the best. If you cheat, then even if you win, you didn't earn it."
He gives me another side glance. "How's that working out for you?"
Like shit.
"Well, I'm here. I've worked hard and paid my dues, and someone finally realized it. And I'll work hard with this, and maybe they'll see that I deserve a better role. Or an actual role. Not just the understudy."
"So you've finally made the jump from dance to theater? See—I knew you were an actor. You can definitely put on the performance when you need to."
Wait—was that an insult?
He continues, "I can't believe it's taken you ten years to come to the conclusion I made in ten seconds." His words seem playful and nostalgic. However, there's an underlying bite to his tone that doesn't sit well with me.
I get it. I hurt him. I'll just have to show him that I'm not that same girl who didn't know how to balance everything.
I mean, I'm still not sure I've figured it out. I have more time for dating, but only because I failed at being a ballerina. I'm not really sure that's the balance most life coaches talk about. Maybe I could meme it.Find your balance: fail at your dream so you have time for other stuff.
I could totally see that on a pillow. Or a mug.
Maybe I should get into the merch business to pay my bills. If this doesn't work out, I should buy one of those Cricut things.
We pull into a winding driveway that leads up a hill. I swear The Edison's compound looks like something out of a movie set. The theater itself is a large building with a sweeping circular driveway out in front. Large posters set on wooden legs advertising the upcoming shows greet us, like flags outside the United Nations. There is a courtyard, and gardens and arbors covered in greens and flowers. Quaint is the word for it. Behind the theater are more nondescript buildings that look like post-WWII dorms. They're the least attractive thing here. Off to the side is the most charming farmhouse, complete with a white, painted porch and hanging flower baskets. There are parking lots and walking trails, and what looks like a barn or woodshop. It's got a great view of the town below.
It's freakin' adorable.
"This place would make a great camp."
"We have one here. It's a day camp. I think it starts in two weeks. The kids come every day for three weeks and then do a production at the end.Newsiesthis year. Gloria runs it."
"That's great. You guys really have it all here." I step out of the car.
"Let me show you where the dorms are so you can drop your stuff."
I head to the rear of the car to get my bags when it hits me how presumptuous he's being. "I haven't committed yet. I could be back on a train tonight."
Josh looks at my stuffed backpack and oversized duffle also filled to the gills. "You brought a lot of stuff for an afternoon."
I raise my eyebrow at him, trying to look mysterious. In reality, I'm pissed that he saw right through me.
"Come on, Leslie. This is big. We're doing a pre-workshop forThe Greatest Showman. If it goes well, they're likely going to workshop it for Broadway. It'll be huge, not only for The Edison but for the cast. It's a make-or-break show for us. Don't dick us around. Don't dickmearound. Again." And then he turns and walks away, leaving me standing there at the car.
Shit.
