My stomach drops. I don't even remember signing up.
Maybe Lena put my name there.
Yeah, that seems like her kind of mischief.
The room quiets a little as I walk up. I can feel eyes on me. Curious, surprised.
Even Samuel looks mildly entertained, like he's waiting for me to trip over the first line.
I picked up the script. The paper's soft and worn, and my hands are steadier than I expected.
I started reading.
"But, soft! What light through yonder window breaks?
It is the east, and Juliet is the sun."
The words taste different in my mouth, familiar, but raw.
When I glance up, Lena's watching me.
For a second, everything else fades. The crowd, the judges, even Samuel.
It's just her.
She's smiling, but not the polite, social kind.
The real one. The one I used to know.
So I keep going. I don't even need the script anymore.
"O, speak again, bright angel! For thou art
As glorious to this night, being o'er my head,
As is a winged messenger of heaven…"
My voice shakes, not from nerves, but from something deeper.
Because I mean it.
Because every word feels like something I never said when I had the chance.
The room is silent. Even the air feels still, like it's holding its breath.
Then I reach the last line, the one that hits too close to home.
"Thus with a kiss… I die."
I let the words hang there. I don't fake a dramatic fall or gesture.
I just stop. Let it hurt the way it's supposed to.
When I finally look up, no one's laughing.
One of the judges whispers, "That was… real."
Another just nods, quietly.
I step off the stage. My pulse is a drum in my ears.
Samuel glares, the kind of look that promises payback.
I ignore it.
Then Lena's there, walking toward me, her expression soft.
"Ash," she says, voice barely above a whisper. "That was incredible."
I shrug, trying not to let my chest cave in. "Guess I just got lucky."
She shakes her head, smiling. "No. You felt it. I told you you'd be perfect."
For a second, I almost told her the truth that it wasn't luck, that every word I said was about her.
But I don't.
I just nod.
And in this beautiful moment I let myself imagine it…
being her Romeo, even if it's only for a few borrowed lines.
They post the cast list on the notice board the next afternoon.
The hallway's packed — shoulders bumping, laughter echoing, paper rustling as people crane their necks to see who got what. I stand a few steps back, pretending I don't care. Pretending I'm just passing by.
But my heart's hammering like it didn't get the memo.
Lena's already there, eyes scanning the list.
Then she gasps. Sharp, bright, and whirls around so fast her hair nearly hits me in the face.
"Ash!" she practically squeals. "You got it!"
For a second, I think I misheard her. "What?"
"You're Romeo!" she shouts, holding the paper up like proof of some cosmic miracle. "See? Romeo: Ash Bennett! I told you!"
And then, before I can react, she throws her arms around me.
It's not one of those polite hugs you give out of obligation. It's real. Tight, warm, full of that kind of energy that makes the world tilt just enough to feel right again.
For a heartbeat, it's just her and me.
The hallway noise fades. My brain forgets to keep count of all the reasons this shouldn't be happening.
It's just… her. Laughing into my shoulder, her hair brushing my neck, the scent of vanilla and something soft and nostalgic.
"I told you you'd be perfect," she says again, voice muffled against me.
I want to say, you make it too easy to believe that.
But my mouth refuses to cooperate.
The applause starts somewhere behind us. A few claps at first, then more. Some people cheer, others groan about not getting the part. I barely register any of it.
Then I see him.
Samuel.
He's standing by the door, one hand in his pocket, the other clapping slowly.
His smile is all teeth. Too bright, too controlled.
Like he's rehearsed it.
"Congrats, man," he says as he walks closer. "Guess the best man won, huh?"
His tone drips with sugar, and something else beneath it. Something that burns.
I force a polite smile. "Thanks."
He claps me on the shoulder, hard enough to sting. "You really surprised everyone up there. Didn't think you had that in you."
"Yeah," I say quietly. "Neither did I."
He laughs, loud and easy. But his eyes… they don't match the sound.
They're cold. Measuring.
For a split second, I swear I see something raw flicker behind them. Jealousy, maybe. Or something darker.
But then it's gone, replaced by that easy, charming grin he wears like armor.
"Well," he says, turning to Lena, "looks like you got your Romeo."
She smiles, oblivious to the static in the air. "Told you he'd be great."
"Yeah." Samuel nods slowly. "You did."
He excuses himself a moment later, shaking a few hands, laughing like the good guy everyone thinks he is.
But the second he turns away, his smile slips; just a fraction, just enough to remind me who he really is.
I don't need more hints. I've seen the truth already.
The way he tore me apart at his birthday party, the way his mask cracked and showed the rot beneath… that was enough.
I know better now.
And I know one thing for sure, he's not finished with me.
Which means I need to watch every step he takes.
Lena turns back, still beaming.
"You'll come to rehearsal tomorrow, right? We're reading the balcony scene!"
"Yeah," I say. "Wouldn't miss it."
She squeezes my arm before running off to join her friends.
And I just stand there, surrounded by noise, applause, and the faint ringing of something that feels suspiciously like hope.
For once, it doesn't hurt to feel it.
Not yet.