Rebel at Spruce High (Spruce Texas Romance #5) - Daryl Banner Page 0,40

being slammed. Customers are unusually fussy. There’s a birthday going on in the back occupying three long tables and two booths. We have a waiting list of impatient and hungry people crowding the front door. The noise level is so damned high, I can’t even hear my own thoughts.

Especially thoughts of being cast in the play. “Yes,” I manage to answer a wide-eyed Mrs. Tucker as I feverishly wash dishes. Oh, did I mention we’re shorthanded, too? “Well, not technically,” I quickly amend. “It was a straight play. Now it’s a gay play.”

“Now it’s a gay play.” She lets out one cackle of a laugh, then shakes her head, hugging a pair of menus to her chest. She’s a thin and energetic woman who exudes warmth everywhere, from her eyes to her rosy cheeks to her encouraging words. Despite what a stick-up-the-butt her son Billy can be, Mrs. Tucker is a downright bowl of chicken noodle soup at any time of the day. “Well, this is simply the best news I’ve heard all week. And you’re the lead in it! What a way to start out your senior year with a bang!”

“Yeah,” I agree, far less enthusiastically. “A big ol’ bang.”

“What? You’re not excited about it?”

I focus on the soapy dishes, determined not to replay the sight of Vann looking at that cast list. The way he stared at it for so long, it was like he forgot how to read. Then two and two clicked together. He turned his eyes on me with this dark, piercing look in them, and at once, I was afraid. Is he angry? Is he going to drop out of the play before the first rehearsal? In that single, scathing look, it was like he blamed me for the casting, like he thought I had some kind of hand in it, like I planned it.

Like the thought of kissing me in a play in front of the school was the deepest offense he could ever have imagined.

Instantly, any pie-slice of pride I had in being cast in my first show was thrown back in my face. I’m pretty sure my chin is still dripping with the figurative cream of humiliation. If Vann didn’t hate me before, he sure as hell hates me now.

And I’ve got a whole weekend to dwell on it.

And worry.

And wash greasy dishes.

My hands stop moving. “I should quit the play. I should give up my role to one of the girls. I mean—”

“Oh, Toby. No, no, no. C’mon, now, none of that.”

“There’s enough of a problem with fewer strong, leading roles for women than men, and so many female actors. Why do I have to go and steal one, like that? Why did I do that? Besides, you can’t just pop a guy in place of a girl in a script and call it gay. There is so much more … nuance and complexity involved when you change the relationship like that! Ugh, I’m such an awful—”

“Hey, you said it yourself, all the leading ladies graduated last year, right? Look, these are just nerves. You will do just fine come October. It’s way, way too early for stage fright.”

If only stage fright was my worst concern … “Looks like Tim and his wife are leaving,” I tiredly note, spotting them through the skinny window that separates the kitchen from the restaurant. I don’t really feel like talking about the play anymore. “Is Mick back from break yet? Never mind, I’ll bus the table myself.” I set my dishes aside, peel off my gloves, then make a move for the door.

Mrs. Tucker’s hand grabbing my wrist stops me. “Now you remember what I told you, alright? Our little thing?”

I’ve worked here since the day I turned sixteen. She’s like a second mother to me—whether I like it or not. “Yes,” I groan.

“C’mon, don’t give me sass. Remember the words: You have the permission to do anything your heart desires in life, whether it’s chasing a dream, or a job, or—”

“—or a cute guy, yeah, I remember your words.” I eye her. “I hope you realize it’s slim pickin’s in this town for a gay eighteen-year-old introverted gamer with an art-and-drama-nerd streak.”

“Tell that to my moody and neurotic pastry-chef son,” she retorts teasingly, then swats my butt with a menu. “You have permission to follow your heart and take over the big stage and teach that high school what it’s been missin’. The mayor is so shortsighted sometimes,” she adds suddenly, her