Curtain Call (3 page)

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I doodled through most of my other classes. Luckily, being the second week of class meant that we weren't covering anything complicated yet. Mostly we were still hearing introductory lectures. My thoughts cycled through grief over my breakup with Josh and my curiosity about Max and his offer. What if I developed feelings for him? What if he developed feelings for me? Was there a reason he wanted us to work together?

By the time four o'clock rolled around, the rain had completely changed to snow, which was starting to stick to the grass and trees. I debated running home to grab something warmer, but decided I didn't have time. My phone buzzed in my pocket as I trudged the block and a half from campus to Crossroads. I missed the call, but as I fumbled with mittened fingers to open the phone, I was glad I had. Josh. I wasn't ready to talk to him yet.

Crossroads was quiet when I entered. The welcome warmth and delicious smells of fries and cheesecake enveloped me as I scanned the restaurant for Max. I found him in a booth near the back bank of windows, looking cozy on the faux car seat. As I hurried past elderly couples enjoying the early bird special, I was surprised to see my grandma.

“Hannah,” she said, surprise coloring her voice. “I'd like you to meet my friends, Millie and Ethel. We're thinking of starting a…Bingo club.”

Despite everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours, my emotions weren't so out of whack that I believed for a second that my grandmother would be caught dead playing Bingo. I arched an eyebrow, adjusted my backpack, and said, “Bingo?”

Grandma's face colored. “Archery?”

I shook my head, and Grandma frowned. “Just don't tell Grandpa Duke that you saw me here,” she said.

I tried not to roll my eyes at the mention of her thirty years too young husband, Duke. With a quick kiss to her cheek, I hurried back to Max's table. When he caught sight of me, Max favored me with his gorgeous white smile. He pushed back a lock of floppy blond hair that had fallen across his forehead. No doubt about it, Max was a good-looking guy. Downright handsome. Hot as heck. But not Josh.

Josh had grown from handsome high schooler to a beyond amazing man. He kept his brown hair short now, but right before it needed to be cut, it curled around his ears. Softly. Really good for running fingers through. His broad shoulders and well-muscled arms were perfect for snuggling into, and the years of basketball playing had toned him to perfection. The thing I loved most about Josh, though, was his eyes, clear blue and always so kind. And the way the corners crinkled when he smiled always made me weak.

Relief surged through me. I had acknowledged that Max was a hottie, and yet I still wanted Josh. Confusion rushed in right on the heels of my relief. I told myself this was to be expected. Josh and I had just broken up, and I had no clue what I wanted from my future. If that included Josh or not didn't matter right now. Still, I didn't want to think or do anything that would compromise myself further than I felt I already had.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hey,” Max replied.

Such scintillating conversation. The snarky part of my brain wondered if maybe Max was just a pretty boy: big on looks, low on brains. I shoved the thought aside and dropped into the booth across from him.

“I'm really glad you decide to meet me,” Max said.

“Why?” The question left my mouth before I could filter it. I flushed. Max smiled wider. “You're cute,” he said. Warning signals blared in my brain. “I think you have a lot of talent. I've seen your work.”

“I've seen yours too,” I acknowledged. I pulled off my soaked mittens and laid them on the booth next to me. My coat must be why I was feeling so warm, I reasoned, so I hurried to shed it. “But why would you want to work with me?”

Max shook his head. “Like I said, I've seen your work. You know your way around on and off stage. What I have in mind for this project will require another person, and I think you will be perfect.” He paused. “If you're worried about your grade, I guarantee we'll get A's.”

When he said it like that, the worry seemed so juvenile. I wanted to say as much, but the waitress appeared to take our order. My nerves were already jumping so I stuck to a diet pop. Max ordered a burger with fries. Then added a milkshake on top of it.

“So what did you have in mind?” I asked.

Max dug into his backpack and pulled out a thick binder. He laid it on the table in front of him, bumping into his water, and sloshing liquid onto the table. We both made a grab for the napkins and our hands grazed. I pulled back completely freaked out. There had been no jolt of awareness like I remembered with Josh, but the fact that I was remembering the first time Josh touched my hand made me feel slightly woozy. My phone buzzed again.

“I'm sorry,” I muttered. Yanking the phone out of my pocket, the display told me it was Josh again. “I need to take this call. I'll be right back.”

With another killer smile, Max went back to mopping up the mess. I scooted out of the booth, flipped open my phone, and snapped, “What?”

Silence. Then Josh said, “I left some of my books at your apartment. When can I come get them?”

“Oh,” I said, startled. “I…I'm at a meeting right now. Maybe after dinner?”

Josh grunted. “Sure,” he said. “That's fine.”

When he hung up without another word, I felt stung at first, but I quickly told myself to snap out of it. Right now I needed to focus on me, my life. I needed to figure out what I wanted to do with my life. The end of college loomed large ahead of me, and I had no idea what I wanted to do or where I wanted to go. The fear of the unknown was staggering.

I blamed my complete lack of direction on Josh. Just another symptom of becoming a simpering pathetic girl that I despised. I had spent the past…well, forever, so wrapped up in our relationship that I hadn't even given a thought to what my life would look like after college. I wanted to hit myself with a sharp stick.

Working with Max would at least help me get a grasp on the rest of my theater program. If I decided to continue with theater, this project would open up numerous opportunities if I did it right. And if I didn't then I would at least end my program with a great grade.

Still, my fingers trembled as I put the phone back in my pocket. Would this break from Josh get any easier? He'd been in my life for so long now, and until just a few months ago I had pictured my future with him. I looked out at the dimming light of the day. Snow still fell. The sky looked heavy. I could almost feel it pressing down on me.

The very honest part of myself warned me that I didn't want to picture a future without Josh. The other honest part of myself warned me that I needed to start picturing just that, because I had made my choice and I had to live with it. Josh might not want me back after all was said and done. Maybe the separation between us would be permanent. Panic stole my breath. With a deep breath, I reined my fear in and held it close to my chest so no one else could see.

I walked slowly back to the table. Max looked up me with cautious curiosity. He didn't say anything as I slid back into the booth. Instead, he turned the binder toward me so I could look over his notes. As I began to peruse the meticulously kept outline, the waitress returned with Max's food. My stomach rumbled, and I decided to order a burger and fries. What harm could eating with Max do?

“So…the gist here is that you want to stage a mini-musical?” I asked.

Max put his hamburger down, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and steepled his fingers. He studied me until I began to squirm. Finally he said, “It's never been done. Very few people even write their own one acts. I figure this could put us into a whole different category.”

I nodded. He was right. Staging a mini-musical would make heads turn. We'd get noticed. I just didn't know if I wanted the attention. Slowly I pushed the binder back toward him.

“It's a fantastic idea,” I said. “But I have no musical ability whatsoever.”

Max leaned back and crossed his arms. “You are lying,” he said. “I've seen you sing. You definitely have musical ability.”

“So I can sing?” I shrugged. “What does that mean? I can't write music or play an instrument.”

With a dismissive wave of his hand, Max picked his hamburger back up. “Doesn't matter,” he said before taking a bite. “I've got someone lined up to write the songs.”

The waitress chose that moment to bring my food. The plate sitting in front of me made my mouth water. “So what do you need me for?”

Max raised his eyebrow, and his mouth quirked up at the corner. The effect was not lost on me. “You're joking right? From what I've seen of your work, you are my biggest competition.”

I laughed. I couldn't help it. No one had ever called me competition before. And honestly, it felt good to laugh. “Keep your competition close?”

The tiny quirk turned into a full-fledged grin. “Absolutely,” he said. “Seriously, though, I know that if we work together, this will be phenomenal. So what do you say?”

I tapped my fingers idly on the table. “Yes. I say, yes.”

“Awesome,” Max said. As he launched into a detailed plan of action, I ate my dinner. The more he talked, the giddier he became. I felt myself getting swept up in the excitement of it all. That has always been the way I judged a show. If the excitement felt palpable, and moved you along, then the show would be out of this world.

We didn't finish until almost six-thirty. My own notebook was filled with sketches for costumes, tentative audition schedules, and our draft of the show's proposal. “I'll get this typed up tonight, and send it to you by tomorrow morning,” I promised.

Max wrapped me in a hug, and my stomach did a weird flip-flop as we parted. It just didn't feel right.

The snow had stopped falling, but no one had shoveled yet, so the walk back to my apartment took longer than normal. I stumbled through high drifts near the curb of our parking lot, and wished that I lived somewhere warmer.

As I rushed into the semi-warmth of our hallway, I froze. Josh stood beside our door, hunched down in his winter jacket.

“How long have you been here?” I asked, my heart skipping a beat.

Josh shrugged. “Half an hour maybe.”

Our eyes met, and my heart sped up, sending heat coursing through my veins. My thoughts stumbled. I couldn't remember the last time I felt this way around Josh. This feeling like when we first met, the excitement, the newness, the first blush of love.

“Why didn't you just use your key?”

Josh gave me a look that said I should know better than to ask that kind of question. For a moment I felt oddly chastised. My tongue felt heavy, and I couldn't think of anything to say, so I pulled out my keys, trying to ignore the fact that Josh reached out to take my loaded backpack.

We entered my apartment, and stopped short just inside the entryway. “It feels like an ice cube in here,” I said.

He walked over to the adjacent wall and pushed a button. “Your thermostat says the temp should be 72 degrees. It must be broken,” he said as he pulled the cover off the register. “You can't stay here tonight. You can crash at my place if you want.”

Now it was my turn to look at him like his stupidity was leaking out his ears. “Josh…” I said, frustration and warning coloring my words. “This is exactly why we broke up.”

“What is?” Josh said, his mouth twisting into a frown. “I'm just offering to let you crash at my place. I'll take the couch.” He glanced away but not before I saw the fatigue in his eyes. “I'd never push you to do something you didn't want to, Han.”

Tears sprang to my eyes. I was a regular fountain today. “I know,” I whispered. “I just…I don't even know who I am without you.”

Josh crossed the space between us in two definitive steps and pulled me into his arms. I sank against his chest, grateful to have him to lean on even if he was the reason I was so confused. Tipping my head back, I looked up at him. Gently he brought his lips to mine, lingering for a mere breath before kissing the tears that slid down my cheeks.

“I'm sorry if I ever made you do something you didn't want to do, Hannah,” Josh said, his voice low and choked. “I thought…I thought it was something we both wanted.”

“It was,” I said. “Or at least I thought it was.” We held each other's gaze for a long time, until the bitter cold of the apartment seeped into our reality. Finally I said, “I still need this break, Josh.”

“Break? Or break up?” Josh asked.

“Is there really a difference?”

Josh nodded. “Yeah, I think there is. If you want a break, I can do that. There's still hope for us in the end. But a break up…”

It all seemed like semantics to me, but I could see what Josh was saying. Taking a moment to clear my head, I said, “A break. I need time to find myself again. I need to figure out what I want.”

Josh raised a hand and cupped my cheek. “I hope that includes me.”