Free Read My Lips (A College Obsession Romance) by Daryl Banner Page B

me. Two heads in front of me move apart, and through the sea of whispers and groans and hair, I finally see the names. I rub my eyes and stare, reading the name at the top a dozen times. I don’t believe what I’m reading.
    “Congrats,” murmurs Eric, who I didn’t notice at my side.
    I shake my head. “But I didn’t think—”
    “You obviously earned it,” he says, offering me a smile. “And hey, look. I’ll be playing the town drunk, Simon! But we don’t have any scenes together …”
    “That’s great,” I tell him distractedly, still reading and rereading my name on that list.
    “You know what the secret to acting drunk is? It’s to try not acting drunk.” Eric laughs hollowly. “I’ll see you later, D-lady.”
    I still can’t believe it. It has to be a mistake, right? “Bye,” I say belatedly, then realize that Eric’s already gone.
    And it’s not only that I was cast; it’s the role I was cast in. I shake my head, unable to comprehend it. Maybe this is an error, surely. Maybe there’s another Desdemona Lebeau in the Theatre department.
    To make matters worse, not twenty seconds after Eric’s ghostly departure, Victoria replaces him at my side. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” she sings excitedly, her eyes eagerly scanning the cast list.
    I get the pleasure of having a front row seat to observe my friend’s face as it slowly, gently collapses in disappointment.
    “Wow,” she mutters after some time, the pain evident on her face. Then, she squints, something occurring to her. “Lebeau …” she reads.
    Oh, fuck.
    She turns to me, a look in her eye. “Lebeau?” She’s piecing it together. “Any relation to—?”
    “No,” I blurt a little too quickly. Of course she’d know my family; she knows everything. “There’s lots of Lebeaus in New York. Like, tons.”
    “Hmm.” Though the dubious glint remains in her eye, she gives a shrug and says, “Congrats, Dessie. Honestly, I didn’t know you were going for the role of Emily.” She tries her best to sound composed. “Of course, you totally fit the role. I mean, you’re pretty and all.”
    Now I can’t tell if she’s sincerely complimenting me or just being a bitch. “Thanks,” I say anyway.
    “I gotta get to class,” she blurts, although I know her next class isn’t for another two hours. “I’ll see you back at the dorms later.” Then with a tiny smile that looks like a grimace, she’s off.
    So much for our lunch plans. I’m about to shout after her, explaining that I wasn’t even going for the part, that I didn’t indicate “Emily” as a preference on my audition form, but saying that would probably just make things worse, admitting I got a part I didn’t even want. The part she wanted. The lead role.
    The … lead role.
    Suddenly, that fact hits me as if it weren’t already made plain. The lead role. Oh my god. I just got the lead in the first main stage production of the year. That’s how good they thought I was. This has to be an error, my mind keeps telling me, but a sudden whirlwind of confidence seems to take over instead. Maybe I’m still riding the high from my show on that tiny circular stage last Friday night.
    Quite suddenly, whatever wrinkle of guilt I was feeling is long gone.
    “I got the part!” I say elatedly into the phone when I’m by myself in the corner of the lobby, just outside the auditorium doors.
    “Of course you did, doll,” sings my mother’s fluid voice. I hear wine glasses and silverware tinkling in the background, wherever she is. “Now, it’s important that you put in an actor’s worth of work. No, I’ll take another chardonnay. Please, with some brie.”
    I smile as I stare out the tall glass windows of the lobby, letting my mom talk to whoever else it is who’s got her attention. I’m watching some sweaty guys throwing a Frisbee back and forth in the courtyard outside, too happy with the news to be bothered by my mom’s distracted attention to it.
    As a