Standing for Weirdo

Chapter 30

Friday after classes saw us in the auditorium, putting up the final details for the decor: all those porcelain figures and frail glasses and picture frames we’d been afraid to unpack when the furniture arrived. I didn’t have to be there, toiling away, because I was the leading female role and I was allowed to be backstage, dressing up in my pretty gown and doing up my hair. Under normal circumstances, I’d have relished the chance to escape the fuss, but I didn’t want to be left alone that night. The worst case of jitters ever was looming over my shoulder, waiting for me to stop hurrying around so that it could settle in my stomach. Granted, I wasn’t doing any of the legwork and my presence on stage could be construed more as an obstacle than as help, but it made me feel better.

I might be a bit of an egotistic. I’ve never denied it.

Amidst the swarm of freshmen, I saw Trevor wandering around, with no apparent purpose, and I called him over.

My face must have betrayed my nerves, or perhaps he’d gotten to know me way too well for comfort, because he laughed softly when he saw me, standing between a side table and the settee.

He made his way over, casually glancing to check on the mics and wires as he approached.

“Hey,” I said, shyly. We hadn’t shared classes that morning, and I had been too busy at lunchtime with the preparations to drop by the cafeteria, so it was the first time I saw him after… well, after telling him.

“Hey, yourself.” With a smile, he brushed the hair out of my eyes and let his hand linger for a moment against my face. “Looking good.”

The moment he said it, I figured my expression must be that of a terrorized hare about to bolt and a wave of heat rose over my features.

“I still need to do the makeup and hair and everything.”

“I hoped you’d not play Lady Windermere in jeans,” he said with a smirk. “I like this version of you better, though.”

The idea that he’d meant a compliment registered on me, and I couldn’t hold back a smile even as I tried to argue the point. “You still haven’t seen the characterization.”

“No, you’re beautiful like this. A breath of fresh air into the past, a timeless figure unaffected by the comings and goings around her.”

The heat came back tenfold, and it spread to other places beyond my cheeks. “You do affect me, though.”

“Have I told you today how grateful I am for that?”

I grinned and boldly hugged him, in spite of the eyes that were surreptitiously hanging on our every word and of the movement all around us. I didn’t care. They already knew. I’d not let fear of something as absurd as rumors or reputation stand in the way when it came to this boy that could be so tender and brass and perfect.

His arms closed around my waist, not minding the attention, and the nervousness and jitters that had been stalking me for the whole day receded with the solid thumping of his heart against my own chest.

But then, that heart skipped a beat, and Trevor's arms tensed around my waist in a visceral cringe. I heard his sharp intake of breath in my ear, and quickly took a step back, out of his protective embrace, worry gnawing at me again.

“What happened?” I whispered. Had it been Ashley? Following his gaze, I saw that no one was bothering us—no one was minding us much, actually. The corner that held his attention was empty, except for a freshman girl arranging a dozen roses into a vase on the side table beside us so that the flowers wouldn’t hang in front of an antique portrait.

Trevor blinked and his eyes remained closed for a second longer than necessary. Then, he turned back to me with a strained smile.

“Nothing. I just thought the vase might fall.”

I guessed the girl didn’t look particularly careful with her decorating and that the vase was indeed frail and expensive, but I was hard pressed to believe that Trevor had paled over such a thing. However, he held my gaze with that slightly artificial expression until I was the one who had to budge.

“You should probably go and get ready,” he said, dropping a soft kiss against my temple.

“I… suppose so.” I nodded and reluctantly stepped away toward the backstage area. “You sure you’re fine?”

“Of course. I just have to put up the guitar rack and I’ll be good to go,” he said.

I waved good-bye and headed over to the gown that awaited me, ready to don Lady Windermere’s personality and to transform into her. I only turned once at the exit, the skin at the back of my neck prickling uncertainly, but it was enough.

Trevor hadn’t moved, and he stared at the roses like a drowning man who’s just seen the silhouette of a great white shark.

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