My Life After Now - By Jessica Verdi Page 0,4

with the—” But I was cut off by the sight of two swords lying side-by-side, individually sheathed in velvet, and resting in their own clear plastic case. I carefully took one from its wrappings. As soon as my palm closed around the silver handle I knew I’d found it.

Evan picked up the other one, and I thought I heard a tiny gasp escape his throat.

These swords were the real thing, with sharp edges, not the blunt kind usually used in theatrics. The weight of it felt good in my hands, made me feel strong. I thrust my sword out at Evan and he immediately responded in kind. The instant the glistening metal collided, an almost indiscernible spark ignited and a pitch-perfect clang reverberated in our ears. Evan and I met each other with matching grins. We were sold.

We both thought it was weird that the school even had the swords at all, but they were amazing and we both loved them. So we agreed that we wouldn’t tell Andre.

From that day on, for a half hour at the beginning of every rehearsal, Evan and I worked on choreographing the fight. I couldn’t have asked for a better sparring partner—the guy was a fencing genius.

“I think he’s sexy,” Max said one day as he, Courtney, and I watched him from across the auditorium.

“Sorry, Max-a-million,” I said. “I’m pretty sure he’s straight.”

He sighed. “Of course. All the good ones are either straight or taken. Or both.” He jerked a thumb at Ty, who was up on the stage learning how to climb up Juliet’s balcony. His dancer’s body moved lithely, and a little shot of love radiated inside me as I watched him work.

Courtney smacked Max teasingly on the side of the head. “You’re crazy. A lack of gay guys is one thing this drama club does not have. It’s not their fault you’re just not interested in any of them.” She sighed. “I, on the other hand, really do have a tragic shortage of romantic prospects. At this rate, I’m going to be a forty-year-old virgin.”

I laughed. “What about Evan?” I asked, already plotting. “He’s kind of my friend now. Want me to ask him if he’s into you?” Short, shy, brace-face Courtney was entirely inexperienced when it came to guys. For as long as I’d known her, the only thing she’d ever wanted was to find her Prince Charming.

But she shook her head. “Drama club relationships are way too incestuous. And knowing me, it won’t work out, and then we’ll be all awkward at rehearsal every day. No thanks.”

“Hey, not all drama club relationships are a bad idea,” I said.

But I soon understood all too well what she’d meant. Cue problem number two.

It was a Sunday afternoon and I was sitting on my bedroom floor, attempting to pick out a Taylor Swift song on my guitar, when I got a text from Courtney:

Look at Elyse’s Facebook profile ASAP.

I signed on to the site for the first time in weeks, pulled up Elyse’s page, and tried to make sense of the words before me.

♥ Elyse St. James is in a relationship with Ty Parker.

I called Courtney.

“Did you see it?”

“I’m looking at it right now,” I said. “You know, I actually feel kinda bad for her. She must have a major inferiority complex if she feels the need to lie about having a boyfriend.”

“Lucy,” Courtney said slowly, “Facebook doesn’t just let you say that you’re in a relationship with whoever you want—the other person has to confirm it before the update goes public.”

Wait. That was true. But it didn’t make sense—why the hell would Ty give her permission to post that? Slowly, a new picture formed in my mind. A more ominous one.

“Lucy? You there?” Courtney asked.

“I gotta go,” I whispered. I hung up and immediately called Ty.

He answered on the first ring. “Hey, babe!”

“Do you have anything you want to tell me?” I said.

“What do you mean?”

“According to Elyse’s Facebook page, you two are in a relationship?”

There was a long pause.

“Ty?” I said softly.

“I didn’t think you would see that,” he said. “You’re never on Facebook.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He let out a long sigh. “I swear I didn’t mean for it to happen,” he said. “I didn’t even like her in that way.”

“You didn’t mean for what to happen?”

Another pause. Ty didn’t want to continue this conversation—that was painfully clear—but finally he spoke. “Last Saturday we were at her house, working on the…more romantic scenes. And I