by Shayla Black
5
Reid
I left class, tugging my cell phone from my pocket, and dialed Noah. He answered on the third ring and even though it was eleven thirty in the morning, he sounded groggy as shit. That’s the beauty of network television, I guess. Long breaks between shooting seasons, unlike the constant eight to nine shows a week of Broadway.
“Mm, ’ello?” he mumbled.
“Did you know she was going to be one of my students?”
“Huh? Who’s this?”
“It’s Reid. Who the fuck else do you know right now who has students?”
“Jesus,” Noah groaned and I heard some rustling around on the other end. “You’re in a mood.”
“Yeah. I am in a mood. Do you know why? Hazel Moon… or should I say Hazel Stone, your little friend from high school, was just a student in my new class.”
Noah snickered on the other end. And then that snicker grew into a full-on belly laugh. “You think this is fucking funny?” I growled.
“Well, yeah…sort of,” he answered.
I didn’t respond. I couldn’t respond. I was too furious. Not only was Noah’s little practical joke putting my reputation on the line but he was also setting Hazel up to get kicked out of the program.
“You still going to think it’s funny when Hazel loses her spot in the program? And her job here at the university for that matter?”
His laughter abruptly halted. “What? What do you mean?”
“If anyone finds out about her night job, she runs the risk of getting fired and losing her scholarship. Forget my stupid job here…think of what could happen to her because of your immature—”
“Whoa,” Noah said. “Hold on. I didn’t know she was going to be one of your students. Yeah, I knew she was a student there, but I figured it was a big program and the likelihood of her being in your class was small.”
“This is a private university, Noah. The departments are small…smaller than state schools.” I scrubbed my hand down my face, and even though I had shaved a few hours ago, the tiniest bit of stubble scraped against my hand.
“Like you said last night…I never went to college. I have no idea how it works. I thought you two would never run into each other. But honestly? I’m not that sorry.”
I froze from the heavy steps I was pacing back and forth in my classroom. “What?” I hissed. How could he not be sorry? Noah had been one of my best friends in the city, despite our age difference, for a few years, ever since he moved here. I’d always thought he was mature for his age…but holy hell, maybe I’d been wrong. Maybe I’d misjudged him just like I’d misjudged Faith and Tony. I was beginning to really second-guess my ability to read people.
Noah sighed. “Look, if Hazel gets fired or loses her place in the program, I’ll feel terrible…of course. But I’m not sorry I took you to see her dance. You saw it too, right? She’s incredibly talented. Too talented for that stage.”
I swallowed, my throat burning. I was clenching my jaw so tightly that it actually ached. “She is very talented,” I conceded.
Noah breathed what sounded like a sigh of relief. “Exactly. I’ve been trying to help her for years. I try to get her to come for auditions at the show. I’ve offered to introduce her to my friends and directors and she refuses to take the help. Last night? It was the only organic way I could think of to get her in front of you.”
She refused to take Noah’s help in getting her auditions? I wasn’t sure if she was noble or stubborn. Probably both. Yes, it was nepotism, but so much of this industry was about who you knew and luck. “Why did you wait so long? You could have brought me to see her dance any time in the last couple years. Why now, when both our jobs are on the line?”
“Are you kidding?” Noah snorted. “Do you remember yourself after Faith left you? We could barely get you up and out of your apartment in time to go to work, let alone out for a fun night. I thought we were making strides a year ago, but then Faith and Tony got married and we were back to square one. You only just joined the land of the living again a few months ago.”
Damn, he was right. I barely went out with friends for a slice of pizza, let alone a drink and to be social. “Fine,” I grumbled.
There was a long pause on the other line before Noah said, “She’s really in your class? Not just the program?”
I groaned. “Yep.”
“Damn. I thought you two would hit it off on a personal level too. Guess we’ll never find that out, huh?”
I gulped and stared out the narrow window on my door into the hallway as Hazel walked, books in hand and clutching the strap of her bag tightly at her shoulder. Her dark hair was still somewhat curly from last night’s show and fell in spirals past her shoulders. But unlike last night, she wore no makeup…except for those red lips. Red lips on a bare face.
I squeezed my eyes shut and forced my dick to calm down. I wanted to smear that lipstick. I wanted it as a ring around my cock.
“Reid? You still there?”
I cleared my throat. “Yeah, still here.”
Water ran in the background of the phone on Noah’s end and I heard some splashing, like he was washing his face. “Well, I should go,” Noah said. “It’s almost noon and I’m not even out of bed. Remember, hands off. At least until the semester’s over.”
I hung up and watched Hazel walk down the hall, feeling like a total creepy perv. With each step she took, her heart-shaped ass twitched against those tight, ripped jeans she wore. Finally, she turned the corner and I couldn’t see her anymore.
My head was spinning and I turned around, falling back against the door. My head hit the molding, and though it didn’t hurt, I groaned. Hands off…not just until the semester was over, as Noah said. For good. I did not need to be getting involved with another actress. Especially one who was only just trying to break into the New York theater scene.
Hazel Stone was off-limits. For good.
6
Hazel
The week being taught by Professor Bradley wasn’t as terrible as I thought. Granted, I’d only seen him twice more since our first initial class and I was sure not to be late. If making the professor pay for a party for us was the only way I could stick it to him, then by hell, I was going to do my best to make him feel it in his wallet.
I called Noah for the fourth time this week, balancing the coffee tray in my hand and pressing the phone between my ear and shoulder. It went straight to voicemail. Again. I sighed as the message beeped in my ear. “Noah Tripp, you cannot avoid me forever, you pussy. Face the music. Explain yourself. You had to know your friend was going to be teaching me. Or at the very least working at my university. Call me back.”
I hung up and slipped into Professor Dercy’s office quietly, where she was seated, staring at her computer screen. Silently, I set her Frappuccino on her desk with a glance at the clock on the wall. Eight forty. Plenty of time to get to the auditions for Professor Bradley.
“Thank you, Ms. Stone,” she said, lifting the straw to her mouth and taking a slow, long sip. “How are you enjoying Professor Bradley’s class so far?”
I shrugged. “It’s only the second week, but I like it. It’s cool to get to workshop a show that’s never been done before.” Actors dreamed of getting the chance to create a role like this. It might even be the chance of a lifetime.
“Mm,” she said. “We would be really fortunate here to keep Professor Bradley on as a permanent teacher.”
I felt my brows crease. “I thought he was only filling in for Professor Faith?”
“He was,” she said, seeming disinterested in me once more. “Thank you, Hazel. You better get to class so as not to be late again.”
Her eyes shifted back to her computer screen, but I could have sworn I saw her smirk, illuminated by the blue light of her laptop.
I turned to leave and she added, “Break a leg at today’s audition.”
“Thanks,” I murmured, closing her door behind me. I hated that Professor Cockhead was making me aud
ition. Especially since I was pretty sure there were no roles for me in this show. At least none that I wanted. It was a small cast of eight people, half of which were females. There were two prostitutes, an older madam…and a nun. I was damn sure Professor Bradley didn’t see me as the nun character, even though that was the part that most appealed to me. I was nearly certain I would be reading for one of the prostitutes. It was a show that was clearly written by a man. Four female characters, three of which were sex workers? Yep, sounded about as unique as any other stupid play in this industry.
My phone rang and I dove my hand in my bag, hoping to see Noah’s name on the screen… But it was Rosa. “Hey, Ro,” I said, answering.
“Hey! I didn’t expect you to answer. I just wanted to wish you luck today at your audition.”
I allowed myself to roll my eyes, only because she couldn’t see me. “Thanks,” I said.
“That excited about it, huh?”
I guess my voice gave me away. I was never good at feigning excitement for anything.
“If I’m not going to be considered for the nun, I’d rather just try my hands at assistant directing than be cast as another prostitute.”
Rosa laughed, but it was a sad laugh. The kind of laugh you gave when you pitied someone. And I hated to be pitied. “Seriously, how many whores have you played in your life?” she asked.
“More than I have fingers,” I answered honestly. “Anyway, have you heard from Noah?”
Rosa and Noah had become friends through me and he sometimes consulted her about his character development for roles he was playing. He always claimed he wanted to get a deep psychological profile, but I was pretty sure he just wanted to be deep into my psychologist friend.
“He called me yesterday.” She went silent, offering me nothing more.
“And?” I prodded. “Did he explain himself? Did he have an aneurism that night and forget that I was in the same program that he was celebrating his buddy getting a teaching job at?”
She cleared her throat. “No aneurism. But he said he honestly didn’t think you’d be in the same class as Reid.”
“Yeah, right.” I threw away the empty coffee tray, taking the final cup of coffee for myself and bringing it to my lips to take a sip. “Like hell he didn’t know. He had to have known that we would at least run into each other here. He put my job and scholarship at risk. Not to mention, Professor Bradley’s—”
“Professor Bradley’s what?” a deep baritone voice rumbled behind me and I squeezed my eyes shut tightly.
“Gotta go, Ro.” I ended the call, turning on my heels to face Reid—Professor Bradley. Professor Cockhead. “I’ve been trying to get Noah on the phone for the last week,” I said simply, hoping that answered his question.
“Ah.” His eyes lit up as he nodded.
I felt my mouth dip into a scowl. “Ah?” I asked. That’s all I got? Then, realization dawned on me. “That son of a bitch. He answered your calls, didn’t he?”
“Only one. I think I caught him off guard,” Reid said, looking around. We were still a good twenty minutes early to class and other students hadn’t started showing up yet.
“You haven’t known Noah as long as I have,” I said. “He’s a master avoider when he wants to be.”
“Noah’s a good guy. I think he’s being honest when he said he didn’t think we’d ever see each other here. He meant well that night.”
“Yeah, well, the road to hell is paved with good intentions. Besides, of the two of us, I’m pretty sure I have more to lose.”
Reid lifted a brow at me but didn’t argue with me on that point. Sure, he had further to fall, but he had a much larger cushion at the bottom. I was free-falling right toward concrete. He opened the door to the theater, holding it for me, his eyes flicking to the coffee cup in my hand. “That better not have dairy in it.” His gaze lifted to mine, those green irises brighter. “Bad for the voice, you know?”
My brow lifted. “I know. It’s black coffee.”
“Black coffee. A woman after my own heart.”
We stood there staring at each other for a fraction of a second, the molecules between us buzzing to life. As I walked past him into the theater, my shoulder brushed against his broad chest and his rich cedar scent filled my nose. The memory of his lips on mine, his fingers between my slick folds, penetrating deep to my wet core, permeated my thoughts, filling me like smoke in my lungs and nearly as suffocating. I couldn’t get that night out of my brain, out of my fantasies, and for a week, every night when I crawled into bed, I remembered his thick muscles beneath me on the couch in the Champagne Room. Did he think of me at night as well?
“You ready for this?” he asked, his voice booming in the empty theater.
I swallowed. I hadn’t had an audition in months. I had skipped the fall play this year, opting instead to be the stage manager. “I would truly rather assistant direct if you’re looking for behind-the-scenes people,” I answered honestly.
His face revealed nothing, but he stared at me an extra second longer than felt comfortable. “Do you have a passion for directing?”
I nodded, even though it wasn’t entirely true. I mean, I didn’t not have a passion for it. Based on the way his eyes narrowed, crinkling at the corners briefly, I don’t think he believed me. “What is it about directing that interests you?”
The paper cup in my hand was growing hot against my palm and I shifted it to my other hand, licking my lips nervously. “The control.”
His mouth twitched. “The control,” he repeated.
I jerked my head into a nod that I hoped looked more confident than I felt. “That’s right. I want more control in the projects I take.”
“I should have guessed based on your performance last week that you craved control.” He paused, his eyes passing down my body so briefly that I wouldn’t have noticed it if I hadn’t been focusing so much on him. Wouldn’t have noticed the slight hitch in his chest as he inhaled deeply or the way his nostrils flared as his gaze landed briefly on my breasts pushing against the simple black cotton shirt I wore.
Some women dressed up for auditions. But not me. Not when I didn’t want the damn part.
“But I also would have guessed based on your performance that you crave the spotlight too.” His smile twitched. “So maybe I’m not so good at guessing.”
The tips of my breasts tightened as I shrugged, my body betraying the nonchalance of the movement. “There was a time I wanted the spotlight.”
“But not anymore?”
“For the right part, perhaps.”
He gave a thoughtful hm and took a step into me. Only inches separated our bodies and a shiver tumbled down my arms and spine. It took everything in me not to physically jolt with the shiver, not to step back from him. To step away. I couldn’t show weakness. Standing up to Reid was like looking a tiger in the eyes. “What’s your dream role, Ms. Stone? The part that you’ve dreamt of your whole life.”
“Hedda Gabler,” I answered quickly.
His brows jumped at my admission. “Ibsen. Not what I would have expected, especially from a musical theater student.”
Again, I shrugged. “I still love musical theater and dancing, but that role is so rich and I think I could bring a lot of vulnerability to it in a fresh way.” I grew quiet for a moment before adding, “Besides, I might be getting a little burned out on musical theater…particularly dancing.”
“You looked far from burned out last week.” His voice dropped low and rough and I swallowed as my body responded to the quiet but commanding tone. His tongue darted out between two pink lips and swiped across them as that hungry gaze latched on to mine. “Or maybe you’re just a phenomenal performer,” he added. “Since I thought you were as into it as I was. Until you turned me down.” He tilted his head, and when I glanced down, his hands stretched, one by one, popping each knuckle. “Why did you turn me down that night?”
I blinked, taken aback by the candor of his question. It was both shocking and refres
hing to hear him ask exactly what he was thinking. “I didn’t turn you down because I didn’t want to go home with you,” I whispered and glanced around. Even though I knew we were alone in the theater, I was paranoid as hell. “I turned you down because it would have been a bad idea going home with a client. I’ve never done it before and I never plan to. I just got… I got carried away with you in the Champagne Room.” I put a finger up, nearly pointing in his face. “Which, despite what I know you think of me, has also never happened before.”
“Same,” he said, his hand falling to my hip and giving it a squeeze. “I got carried away that night too.” He licked his lips and the movement of his tongue left them slick and shiny. “And I’m sorry for what I said that night. It’s probably a good thing at least one of us had some self-control.”
My throat was dry—hot and burning. I was in desperate need of relief that no water could quench. Only Reid.
He paused, tilting his head. “Then again, you probably wouldn’t have been late to class the next day if you had come home with me.”
I looked down at his hand on me, the heat of his palm burning a path from my hip to my core. His eyes followed and he jerked his hand back to his side, grumbling beneath his breath. “Shit, sorry.” He took a step back just in time as the door to the theater swung open and three of my classmates came inside, chatting and smiling.
He turned away from me, facing the students who entered. “Please sit in the third row, and if you want to look at the audition sides, they are here on the table,” he announced.
His gaze fell to me briefly, as he tapped one of the sides pointedly, holding my stare, then he walked to the other side of the stage and took a seat while the rest of us nervously rushed to look at the audition scripts.
7