Kissing the Shy Guy - Stephanie Street Page 0,7

I’d just thrown a tantrum in front of Adam Smith! And then blubbered all over the front of his shirt. There were still wet spots. I didn’t even know him!

He’d shocked the heck out of me, bursting into the choir room looking like a cross between James Dean a la Rebel Without a Cause and Prince Charming come to slay all my dragons. He wore black jeans, a black t-shirt, black boots, and a black leather jacket. He shouldn’t look so hot, but he did.

He’d surprised me even more by pulling me into his surprisingly hard chest and holding me as I cried tears, feeling frustrated and angry. He’d comforted me, and it had taken longer than it should have to pull away.

Adam pushed back his bangs—the only part of his hair he wore long—revealing a previously obscured blue eye and gestured to the step leading to the first tier of chairs. “Come on. Tell me all about it.”

“Why not?” I sucked in a deep breath and sat down on the floor.

Adam settled in beside me, casually wrapping his arms around his bent knees, waiting for me to begin.

But where to start? I didn’t know. Adam lifted one dark brow.

“Okay. So, I signed up for this prestigious scholarship, through the Emerson Performing Arts Center—” He raised both brows at this. Did he know about it? “Have you heard of it?”

He nodded. “Yeah, my sister applied for that scholarship. The Northeast something something or whatever.”

His sister? “Yeah. That’s right. Northeast Regional Scholarship for the Dramatic Arts.”

“Right.” He snapped his fingers and nodded again. I waited for him to tell me his sister’s name, but he didn’t.

I couldn’t get past it. “Wait. Who’s your sister? Did she win?”

“She’s my step-sister. Diana Sheridan. And she did win,” he added almost as an afterthought.

My jaw dropped, and my eyes popped. “Diana Sheridan is your sister?” Anyone who was anyone around here knew Diana Sheridan. She was the closest thing to a celebrity our tiny town could claim. Lakeview’s drama department was everything it was because of Diana. She’d graduated before I’d made it into high school, but she’d left her legacy behind.

“Wow.”

“You’ve heard of her?” Adam asked, his tone implying he wasn’t surprised.

“Heard of her? She’s my idol. I want to be just like her.”

“God, I hope not,” he muttered under his breath, but I heard him.

“What did you say?”

He waved his fingers, brushing off the question. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it. What does the scholarship have to do with you screaming?”

“I was getting to that. See, I wanted to do a duet, something that would incorporate acting, singing, and dancing—”

“A triple threat,” he interrupted.

“Yes. Exactly,” I said, relieved he understood. “I already knew which piece I wanted to do; I just needed a partner. I asked my boyfriend, Josh Miller. Do you know him?” Our school wasn’t cliquey per se, but people still kind of stuck to their own groups. I couldn’t remember Josh ever mentioning knowing Adam, though.

Adam snorted. “I know who he is.”

Biting my lip, I tried not to laugh. If Adam was James Dean, Josh was Ryan Evans from High School Musical. It was no great surprise the two of them weren’t friends.

“Right. Well, Josh agreed. And we’ve been working for months on our piece for the competition, and he just quit on me.” Why was I telling him this? I wasn’t sure, but he had one of those faces, like I could tell him anything, and he’d keep my secrets safe. Maybe that was why I kept talking, telling him about Josh breaking up with me.

Adam blinked. “What? Just now?”

“Yes. Like ten minutes ago. Right before you walked in.”

“Why?”

I bit my lip. Maybe there were things I didn’t want to tell him, like the fact that Josh had been cheating on me with some other girl and that he’d dumped me for her.

I settled for, “We argued, and he said he didn’t want to work with me anymore… or be my boyfriend.”

“Hmmm.” He hummed deep in his chest, brushing the side of his nose with one knuckle.

I wasn’t fooling him. And for some crazy reason, I didn’t want him to think badly of me. But why should I care what Adam Smith thought of anything, let alone me?

“That sucks. I’m sorry, Jenna. Is there anything I can do to help?”

That’s what people said when they were being nice. There wasn’t anything Adam could do to help me. Like I’d told him before, I was screwed. “I appreciate the thought,