Don't Look Behind You (Don't Look Series Book 1) by Emily Kazmierski (summer reads .txt) 📗
- Author: Emily Kazmierski
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So as concerned as I am that Marisa has flaked, which is unlike her, I can’t pass up an opportunity this good.
The other actors and I flow as if we’ve been rehearsing together for weeks instead of minutes. We hit line after line, cue after cue, seamlessly. In a beat of quiet, I chance a look around the theater. All of our clubmates are watching us, mesmerized by the performance. Knock ‘em down, roll ‘em around. Come on actors, work! I want to shout, but stifle the impulse.
This is only temporary. Marisa will be back and I’ll have to retreat from the limelight and fade back into the shadows.
“That was really good,” Esau says once we’ve finished the run-through of our scene. “Take a second, everyone. I need a word with our understudy.”
I flush when the intensity of his gaze lands on me. Putting a hand on my elbow, he draws me down the hall toward our advisor’s abandoned office.
“What are you…?” I ask when Esau nudges me into the empty room and closes the door behind us. He turns toward me, his expression unreadable.
“Did I do something wrong? Wait, are you about to critique my performance? Because I thought it went well, and I’m only the understudy anyway. Marisa will be back and—”
“That was perfection,” he says, walking purposefully toward me.
“Then why are you looking at me like I’m in trouble?” I say, relief fluttering in my stomach. Gliding backward until the backs of my thighs touch our advisor’s unoccupied desk, I lean back on my palms. A pile of papers slides across the floor at my feet.
Esau boxes me in between his arms. “Take over Marisa’s part. She’s good, but you’re breathtaking. With you in the lead, this play will be… Have you considered being an actress? Together we could be a fantastic team.”
I go still. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Marisa. She’s worked her butt off for this part, and I can’t do that to her.” As much as I’d love to reclaim the title of actress. But with everything that’s going on, I can’t expose myself like that. I shiver.
“You cold?” Esau’s fingers skate up my arms and land on either side of my neck.
I shake my head. “We should get back.”
“Just one more thing first.” Exhaling, he moves to kiss me.
Miss Crabtree pushes the door open, halting in the doorway when she spots us.
“Am I interrupting something?” she asks, coming closer. Her long, velvety dress knocks over another pile of papers. “You haven’t been poking around on my e-reader, have you?” She scoops up the item and tucks it into her side.
“No, ma’am,” Esau says. “Just giving our understudy some acting tips.”
“Good then. Carry on, but maybe not in my office next time, hmm?” She sits in her desk chair and picks up one of the papers to read. I can tell through the page that it’s upside down. Her phone rings and she waits for us to leave before answering it.
When we’re alone in the hall, Esau snorts. “That was close.”
“No kidding.” I move toward the theater, but he takes my hand.
“Wait.” He presses his lips to mine. I’m surprised by the heat behind it as I kiss him back. This isn’t a quick, consuming kiss like the one the other night on my front porch. No, this one is more assured, as if it’s a dance we’ve done together before. I’m falling into it, his warm scent teasing my nose, when I snap back. I can’t do this. Use him like this. He’s a real person, not a memory-erasing spell.
That was perfection.
If he only knew how far from it I truly am.
Pulling back, I take a few steps away.
“Hey,” Esau protests, leaning forward on the balls of his feet. “What was that for?”
“Why did you bring me back here?”
Something flashes in his eyes. “You were captivating out there. I had to do something about it. Didn’t think you’d mind.”
“I didn’t, but it can’t happen again.”
One of his hands gestures over me. “Clearly you hated it. You’re all pink.”
“I’m serious. You might want to fix your hair.” I point to where his bun is hanging lopsided to one side.
“Right.” Esau’s biceps flex as he reaches up and re-does his dark locks, wrapping them expertly into a messy bun at his crown.
The murmur of voices coming from the theater gets louder. “What’s going on out there?” I wonder out loud to distract myself from the boy in front of me.
Gesturing with a hand, Esau lets me lead him out. I’m careful not to touch him as I pass. He turns his face away, toward the middle of the larger room.
Everyone is standing in a clump, huddling around Marisa.
“What’s goin’ on?” Esau asks, cutting through the crowd to where the girl is standing at the center, cheeks flushed and panting as if she’s just sprinted across campus.
“Sorry,” she breathes. “Have to catch my breath.”
“Spit it out, girl,” Fiona says, putting a hand on the girl’s shoulder.
“I went to the coffee shop in the grocery store after school. Needed some caffeine. And there was something going on in the manager’s office. There were serious-looking guys there wearing suits and asking Javier all these questions. I was curious, you know, so I inched closer by pretending to look at the racks of DVDs along the front wall. Turns out, the suits were asking about some security footage.”
“What for?” Viv asks, eyes alight. Her measuring tape dangles from one hand.
Marisa looks around at all of us. “Someone called in a tip. They think they saw the Mayday Killer in there this morning. In our grocery store. Here in town.”
I stagger back as my knees give out. He really is here in Hacienda. Less than a mile from Aunt Karen’s house and the school. My heart ratchets as if it’s going to hack its way out of my chest. I clutch at
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