The only thing I hate are these new feelings that keep blooming. I’d much rather they wither.
I risk a glance at him. On his face is an expression with so much hope, it makes my chest squeeze. “You don’t hate me?”
I sigh. “No. I forgive you.”
His grin widens. “For real?”
“You heard me.”
“So, this means we’re friends again?”
I laugh. “Look, don’t push it. Just because you’re forgiven doesn’t mean things can just go back to how they were before.”
“Believe me,” he murmurs, leveling his gaze with mine. Some of the humor fades from his expression, leaving his eyes slightly hooded. “I don’t want that either.”
My mouth runs dry.What does that mean?I’m tempted to flat-out ask, when Miss Fern pops into the doorway. “Good job today, you two. See you next rehearsal.”
Part of me wonders when she’ll deem me good enough to operate the soundboard without Ezra’s help. In reality, I haven’t needed his help since the first rehearsal, but I know neither of us is going to be the one to tell her. When she leaves, Ezra and I stay seated. He reaches over and squeezes my hand before getting out of his chair and heading for the door. “See you tomorrow.”
The soft smile on his lips makes me blush. I feel dizzy. “Okay.”
I get up and leave a few minutes after him, because it takes me longer than I’d like to admit to collect myself. And the worst part? It’s not until I’m down a new corridor and halfway down one of the many staircases that I pat my skirt pocket and realize I don’t have my phone.
No. No way did I leave it back there.
My stomach drops as I realize what this could mean. Yeah, I have a password on my phone, but it could be guessed eventually. And if someone got access to what I’ve been up to, they’d learn I’m the new Little Birdie.
No, Rue. The odds of that happening are low. You’re just thinking irrationally because you’re panicking.
Still, I sprint back the way I came, heart crashing through my chest.
I should have changed my ways when I saw Ezra’s homework on the verses stating why God doesn’t like gossip. Isthis my punishment? I was just trying to find my voice for once, and this platform is helping me do it.
My breathing is insanely loud as I burst through the sound booth door. Under my seat, the light from my phone screen shines like a beacon of hope. I snatch it up and clutch it to my chest.
Crisis averted.
But as I make my way out of the theater, I hear the sound of Carlton’s voice. What in the world?
Hiding behind one of the curves in the wall, I try to make out what he’s muttering.
“I don’t know, Mabel,” Carlton says, his voice low but tense. “It’s just hard, okay? I don’t know how to talk about it with anyone else.”
I frown.Mabel?
She answers softly, “You don’t have to, like, hide it from me. You can tell me things. I’m always here for you, C.”
I press my back against the wall outside the booth, my brain spinning. Carlton’s voice comes out hesitant, almost pleading. “Thanks. I just don’t want to overwhelm Meredith. But you get it. You always have.”
What is he talking about? And why can’t he talk to Meredith about whatever it is?
Then my brain scrambles for a way to understand. Does Carlton secretly have a thing for Mabel now? Is this some kind of twisted plan to get close to her? By pretending she’s the only one he can talk to? Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned about Carlton, it’s that he has no problem going from one girl to the next.
And Mabel—sweet, well-meaning Mabel—she’d never see it coming until it’s too late.
My phone feels like a hot coal in my hand, practically burning my skin with the weight of this new secret.
I want to pretend everything is totally fine. I want to ignore the icky feeling in my gut, but if I did, I’d be lying to myself.
