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Melody lifted an eyebrow in that keen, knowing way she had. “Did I just overhear that your dream job is available?”
He silenced her with a hiss and a look she knew well.
“The worst they can say is no,” she said in a whisper.
“Yeah, well sometimes no is the very worst thing you’ll ever hear.”
She blinked, as if she knew he wasn’t talking about his job situation. Then her mask slipped back in place, the cocky, confident one. “And I thought I had problems.”
“Melody,” he warned.
“TeeeJaaaay.” She stretched out his name in a deep voice, clearly mocking him, and he was tempted to laugh. She was an exceptional actress.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Fine.” She huffed indignantly, crossing her arms. “I’m here with play news.”
He was wondering why she’d shone up.
“June has the flu.”
He drew in a sharp breath, drinking in that ocean smell that followed Melody everywhere. She’d used the same shampoo since freshman year. “The play’s in one week.”
“Yes.” She eased her rump onto the edge of his side desk, crossing her legs at the ankles. She wore slim-fitting jeans that made her legs look long and lovely. Heeled brown boots made her taller than him today. “I’m taking her part.”
She spoke with practiced calm that he knew by now was all an act. She was freaking out inside. Blaming herself. Calling herself a failure. As if she could control the flu.
“You know the part better than anyone else. You created the songs yourself. And your voice is far superior to June’s. It will be fine, Mel.”
Her chin quivered, and he wished to fold her into his arms and let her cry on his shoulder. Why did she insist on bearing her burdens alone? He was more than willing to take them all.
“What’s wrong?”
Her eyes flew open. “Besides the fact that this play has been nothing but disaster after disaster? Besides the fact that I’m a total screw-up no matter what I do?” Her voice was rising, and she clapped both hands over her mouth, her eyes glossy. Shoving caution aside, TJ stood and wrapped her in a loose embrace.
“Did you give June the flu?” he asked when he stepped back quickly, noting how stiff she’d gone.
“No, but—”
“Then stop blaming yourself. We got this. You and me.” He wagged his finger between them as it hit him. They were the lead actors. The solo singers. Together. “We’re going to hit this thing out of the park.”
“TJ.” Her voice dropped, husky and low. “You have to kiss me.”
His eyes widened. “Right now?”
A small smile cracked her lips apart. “No, you dufus. In the play.”
“Oh. Right.” He hadn’t thought of that. Thrills of both anticipation and anxiety shot through him. A longing stronger than anything he’d felt before fought with deeply-rooted terror. “We’re mature adults.” He spoke rationally, ignoring the inner war. She didn’t need to know how much the thought of kissing her tore him to pieces. “We can handle it.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want things to get…weird.”
“Did it the last time we kissed?”
He could swear she stopped breathing.
“What, did you forget?”
“How could I forget?” She stared at the level of his chest for a long moment before her eyes darted upward to make contact with his. Myriad emotions stirred within her dark brown orbs, none he could define in so swift a glance before she looked away.
