Free What You Always Wanted by Kristin Rae Page A

Jesse.”
    I glance up at Jesse, curious. “Are you just being funny, or do you really not know Brian? He’s in your mom’s theatre class with me.”
    He doesn’t laugh. “Just because everyone at school knows who I am doesn’t mean I know all of
them
.”
    If I knew him better, I’d jam my elbow in his side for that.
    â€œBut you sure know all the girls, don’t you?” Brian sneers. “And you’ve run through your options, so you’ve moved on to the new girl.”
    Now I want to elbow Brian. “What are you talking about? Nothing’s—”
    â€œNice shoes,” Jesse scoffs, raising an eyebrow at Brian’s obnoxiously bright sneakers.
    Behind Brian, a thick bolt of lightning pulses down from the sky, followed by an ear-splitting boom that makes me jump.
    â€œThat hit something,” Jesse says, nudging my shoulder and leading me toward the house. “We shouldn’t be standing out here.”
    Brian’s paper-sack umbrella droops and he runs ahead of us through the front yard, water sloshing up around his feet. By the time he makes it up the steps to the porch, the bottoms of his jeans are soaked.
    I unlock the front door and turn to Jesse, who’s still standing close to me with the umbrella over his head, even though we’re safe on the porch. I have to push back my movie-scene daydream. He’s not going to burst into song and start splashing through puddles, no matter how much of a fantasy come true that would be.
    Brian pushes open the door and steps inside, treads squeaking on the faux wood in the entryway.
    â€œLet me go get a towel so you don’t make tracks on my mom’s new flooring. I’d never hear the end of it.” I follow him in and hold the door open for Jesse. But he’s already halfway across the yard.
    â€œThanks for the ride,” I call out over the rain.
    Without looking back at me, he waves his free hand with a slow, careless flick of his wrist.
    You just think you’re
so
cool.
    I lock the door, though I briefly consider leaving it open like they would have in the olden days, back when it was improper to be in a room with a boy without a chaperone. And here I amriding home with one boy and locking myself in an empty house with another. I was born so far out of time.
    â€œSo why’s the Baseball King bringing you home?” Brian asks, one hand clutching the dampened script, the other shoved in his pocket.
    â€œHe lives across the street.” I shrug indifferently as I walk through the house toward the laundry room to grab an old rag. “I don’t have a car yet.”
    â€œI don’t live that far from here. I could bring you home after theatre from now on.” He takes the fraying towel from me and stares at it. “If you want.”
    Suddenly I’m forced to look at him not just as an audition partner, but as a potential beau. That’s all it took: three sentences and shifty eyes, and everything’s different. There might be interest tied up in this audition hoorah. I’m not sure how I feel about that.
    â€œThat’s okay. Thanks, though.” I leave him to dry off and make room for my backpack on the coffee table. “What part do you want to work on? Did you discuss a particular scene with Mrs. Morales for the audition?”
    Brian slips out of his awful alien-green sneakers and joins me on the couch. Too close. “Maybe we should make sure we have chemistry first, like you said.”
    â€œChemistry . . . right,” I carefully agree, scooting away from him while reaching for his script. “I know just the scene to test that. The one where—”
    â€œThat’s not what I mean.” Brian laughs, keeping a firm grip on the book and using it to pull my upper body closer. “We have to test out the kissing.”
    I catch a whiff of spearmint.
You’ve got to be joking
.
    I pull my lips in and bite,