Kissing the Player - Maggie Dallen Page 0,22

who only cares about being the center of attention everywhere she goes.” I met Simone’s glare evenly because I’d been thinking of little else ever since that awkward encounter earlier today, and I was convinced. “She’s heartless and shallow, and she’s the one who hurts people, not me.” I held my hands up, palms out. “I might be a player, but I’ve never claimed to be anything else. I’ve never made someone think that I cared about them or that they were something special. I’ve never made anyone fall in love with me.”

The silence that fell when I was done seemed louder than my parents’ fighting.

My heart was hammering too hard, and I hated the churning sensation in my gut.

“I still don’t like it,” she said. “Even if she’s as shallow and heartless as you think, I don’t like it.” She shook her head. “I’m not going along with it.”

I rolled my eyes. “I don’t need your help.”

As soon as I said it I realized that was…not entirely the truth. Simone, with her theater connection, was my best in to get close to Rose. “When’s your next theater meeting?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Why?”

I waited her out.

“Thursday after school,” she said with a sigh. “Why?”

I grinned. “You need a ride, don’t you?”

She sighed. I had her there and she knew it. Simone hadn’t gotten her license yet, and she needed me as much as I needed her.

If not more.

Granted, I’d typically give her a ride just because she was my friend, but right now…

I didn’t typically date girls. I didn’t typically have to go to extreme measures to talk to them. I typically didn’t have five hundred dollars and a new amp at stake…

So really, nothing about my current situation was typical.

6

Rose

I’d never been more eager for the first theater meeting of the year.

Typically I sort of hated them. It was usually a mix of boring lectures by Mrs. Klein and a whole lot of bickering over which shows we’d perform and how much our budget allotted for each. Mrs. Klein tried to make everyone happy, which was a mistake.

There was no pleasing everyone, especially not this crowd.

“Martin is just saying that because he hates musicals,” Bianca shouted.

Yes, shouted.

The debate was full-on already and we’d barely begun. Everyone turned out for the first meeting, mainly because it was the best and last chance to have a say in what happened. The art kids were here to find out their schedule to work on the sets, the band geeks were huddled in the back waiting on word for when they’d be needed to support the musical.

Or if they’d be needed, if Martin had anything to say about it. The senior actor with a sad attempt at a mustache was currently holding court at the front of the auditorium.

Mrs. Klein had lost all control twenty minutes ago and showed no signs of reclaiming it any time soon.

“I don’t hate musicals,” Martin said.

This was a lie and we all knew it.

I exchanged a look with Avery, one of the girls who was sweet as could be but never landed anything bigger than the chorus or the odd one-liner in straight dramas. She didn’t seem to care, which made her all the more likeable. Unlike the rest of us, she was just here for fun and didn’t have big dreams of shining in the spotlight.

She arched her brows as Martin kept talking about how a musical done right wasn’t bad, but…blah blah blah. Martin was a playwright snob. He might be trying to appease the musical folks right now, but anyone who’d worked with him had heard his speeches about the artistic merit of an Andrew Lloyd Weber show.

“What we need is to focus on the absurdists this year,” Martin said. “Which is why I am telling you that Waiting for Godot is exactly what we need.”

I heard a groan from behind me and turned to see Simone rolling her eyes. I grinned and she looked down quickly, like she was embarrassed she’d been caught.

The girl was quiet and seemingly sweet—which meant I had no idea what she was doing hanging around with Jax.

I hadn’t really understood their relationship when he and I had dated and it made even less sense now. I studied her as she stared straight ahead. I hoped beyond hope that she wasn’t in love with him.

The guy was an alphahole of the highest order. Don’t get me wrong. I’d had fun hanging out with him for a little while, but I