Free What You Always Wanted by Kristin Rae Page B

shaking my head rapidly.
    Brian leans against the back of the couch. “Aw, come on, Maddie. These characters are newlyweds. If we end up doing this play together, we’re gonna have to kiss like crazy, you know. I’m just suggesting we get that out of the way first. Like Leo and Kate when they filmed
Titanic
.”
    â€œWhat are you talking about?”
    His cheeks redden. “They, uh, filmed the nude scene first. To break the ice.”
    Great. Now he’s probably picturing the two of us in that scene. And now I am. Gag.
    â€œWell, I’m not stripping down and lying on this couch for you to draw my likeness, and I’m not kissing you. I don’t kiss—”
Oh, no, what was I about to confess?
    â€œYou don’t kiss? Now what are
you
talking about?” Brian crosses his arms and cocks his head to the side.
    Blast.
    â€œI didn’t say that,” I hedge.
    â€œYes, you did. You said, ‘I don’t kiss.’ That can’t mean anything else.” He lets out an amused sound, more from his nose than his throat. That, combined with the sudden spark of mischief in his eyes, and I think I might actually be getting nervous.
    â€œSure it could.”
    Smooth. Real smooth, Madison. I could have finished with “
I don’t kiss boys in months ending in R
,” anything! But it’s way too late to recover now.
    â€œBut . . . I thought—before you said . . .” He’s tiptoeing around something, but I’m not sure what. “You’ve had a boyfriend before, right?”
    â€œOf course.” Which isn’t
exactly
true.
    I’ve gone on plenty of dates, but they’ve just never inspired me to give up that first kiss. Stage kisses don’t count, obviously. Those aren’t real. Sure, the emotions you develop for performance night might make it seem real, but it’s called
acting
. I’m just one of those girls who’s good at keeping my personal and professional lives separate.
    â€œIf you’ve kissed before, kissing me right here, right now, shouldn’t be that big a deal.” He moves closer. I want to choke him.
    I exhale, weighing my options. I want to be in this play.
Need
to be. I’m not going to kiss him for the sake of practicing, but I need him on my side. To commit one hundred percent.
    â€œBrian, you help me land this part, and I’ll show you kissing that will change the color of your sneakers.”
    By the time I get to English class the next day, my name has been whispered to me in the hallway followed by puckering sounds, and I’ve found notes in my locker from two guys on the theatre tech team asking me to homecoming—one was a check “yes” or “no” type, the other gave a link to a website for me to select my answer.
    Preoccupied by the puzzle of my sudden popularity with the male masses, I drop into my seat without immediately noticing a book slide across my desk.
    â€œHelloooo?” Jesse says, waving a hand in front of my face.
    Blinking, I realize he gave me my literature book. “Oh, no! Why didn’t you tell me you had this last night? I was supposed to read an entire chapter for today!”
    â€œI only saw it in my truck this morning,” he says with hands raised in surrender. “If it was so important, why didn’t you ask for it back? I don’t remember getting any texts from you.”
    My heart skitters at the thought of sending Jesse a text. He may be my neighbor and carpool driver, but I’ve been at this school long enough now to see the way everyone acts around him. Like he’s a god. And the way the girls look at me when I’m near him, like I’m a stray dog that needs a bath. I couldn’t possibly be the instigator of our text conversation, no way. That has to come from him.
    â€œWell, I think it’s your responsibility to give me the condensed version of what the reading was about.