he’s the actor.” Hayden moves to my side, his arm slung over my shoulder, and a sudden tightness grips my chest at his suggestion. Tory seems equally surprised by the suggestion, popping his head up fast and flitting his attention between me and his brother.
“Me?” He points to himself. “I mean, nah, I’m not the best to practice with.”
“He’s being modest. Yo, check it.” Hayden drops his arm from around me and pulls his phone from his pocket, scrolling through his videos and pictures while I awkwardly smile at Tory and he awkwardly smiles back. “Yeah, here it is. Look.”
Hayden holds his phone out for me to watch his screen, and a tall, skinny near-exact version of his younger self is standing at the center of a stage under a spotlight.
“If music be the food of love, play on.” Tory is probably in seventh or eighth grade in this video, and the fact it’s on his brother’s phone still baffles me almost as much as that I’m watching him recite a monologue from Shakespeare’s Twelfth Knight.
“Okay, okay, that’s enough,” Tory says, swiping the phone from his brother’s hand and closing the video.
“Dude, you were good. He was good,” Hayden says, glancing around at all of us. I wonder if the dent between my brows is as deep as the ones on Lucas and June’s foreheads.
“You did theater?” I ask.
“Yeah, I mean nah. Not really.” Tory leans against the bar top near our seating area and exhales heavily. “I auditioned for a bunch of things one summer. I thought maybe I’d try acting, but ya know . . .”
He holds out two open palms.
I tilt my head to the side.
“He always got in trouble for being a smart ass,” Hayden blurts out, slapping his brother’s chest. He takes his phone back and points at his brother. “Doesn’t mean you weren’t good, though.”
Tory shrugs.
“So, will you?” I ask. I already regret it, but the panic of not being ready with my lines down by the time filming starts overrides the epic bad idea this is.
Tory’s face wrinkles in hesitation as he takes a long breath.
“I don’t know. I mean . . .” He glances to his brother first, then to June, almost as if he’s taking a vote or eliciting permission. He doesn’t bother to look to Lucas, making his own mind up instead.
“Fine, yeah. We can run lines. But don’t make fun of me when I’m not that good.” He stands straight and dives his hands into his pockets while he rigidly scrunches his shoulders.
“Don’t worry. I’m sure there are plenty of other things I can make fun of you for,” I say, falling into my more familiar role with this D’Angelo. A sharp laugh leaves his chest.
“No doubt,” he says. He smiles at me with tightly closed lips, then pivots, pausing when June stands up in front of him. “No doubt,” he repeats, for some reason speaking directly to her.
What a fucking weird day. I bowled a forty-one. I have a boyfriend. Tory D’Angelo has acting chops. And I just made plans to spend every free weekend in the books with him. Lord help me if I get a call to star in the reboot of the Twilight Zone.
3
Tory
It’s amazing how many different ways June found to tell me that agreeing to read lines with Abby is a bad idea.
“It’s sort of your fault I’m in this predicament, you know,” I say, tossing her the ball at the end of my driveway. Hayden left to take Abby home and Lucas fell asleep on our couch while playing video games.
“How is this my fault?” She bounces the ball at her feet then lifts it overhead, jumping and pushing it toward the hoop on our garage. It falls several feet short, and I catch it, bouncing it to her to try again.
“You could have agreed to do the kissing scenes with her,” I say, letting my imagination toy with the idea of those two making out in front of me. Can’t lie; I’ve visualized it a few times since June made the joke.
She holds the ball against her hip and sneers at me.
“There probably aren’t even any kissing scenes,” she says, holding her glare on me for a beat before palming the ball with both hands and throwing it hard at the ground. It bounces toward me in a high arc, but I step back and catch it with one hand. I dribble out toward her, then spin and take a short