First

Offer myself as a target. Give her time to aim. Direct hit. Explosion. Crash and burn. Again. It’s becoming a habit with her.

‘You look like someone ran over your puppy,’ Nelson complains. ‘Seriously, what gives?’

‘Nothing,’ I answer.

We’re both in shitty moods. Nelson had been at the beach with his surfboard when he got the page. He’s complained about it since he got here. I’m pretty positive we got put on venting detail because no one else wanted to risk being around us until the clouds start to part.

Nelson finishes strapping on his helmet and I snag our pike poles. We ascend the ladder while the crews below continue to work on controlling the flames.

We’re nearing to the edge of the roof when he asks from behind me, ‘Hey, whatever happened with that Maya chick? The one who came to dinner that night.’

I shrug. ‘Didn’t work out.’ Not for lack of trying.

‘How’d you screw it up?’

If I could kick Nelson in the face without getting written up, I’d do it in a heartbeat. ‘Who said I’m the one who screwed it up?’

He chuckles. ‘I work with you, man. The stick up your ass could be used as a bridge support. Besides, she looked like one of those free-spirited girls. Definitely not your type.’

Grunting is the safest response. I’m not sure if he’s insulting me or Maya, but getting into it up here on the roof is a dumb idea. Falling is not on my list of things to do.

Trails of smoke plume from the edges of the roof and the exhaust pipes, but it’s almost peaceful up here. We work our way across the slope, sounding each step before taking it, marking out places to vent.

‘So, you two aren’t together anymore?’

Anger digs its claws into me a little tighter. I try to breathe, but the knowing grin on Nelson’s face makes me want to punch him. Maya didn’t want me, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want her. I can’t say any of that though. Instead, I glare at Nelson and flip him off. He can’t see it with our thick gloves, but he recognises the sentiment.

It doesn’t deter him. ‘Does that mean it’s okay for me to ask her out?’

Bastard always has to push it. I glance his direction while taking another step forward. My foot hits at the same time as the pike pole. The hollow sound warns me a second too late.

The roof buckles under my weight. I don’t have time to scream. To breathe. To throw up a prayer.

Crashing. Arms and legs churning for purchase that doesn’t exist. Falling. Flames. Pain. Darkness.

Chapter 9

‘How do you think the audition went?’

I use my straw to stir up my iced coffee and smile at Jennifer. ‘Great.’

That’s a big, fat lie. I have no idea how my audition went. It was mostly a blur since I was still trying to remember all the things Doctor Blathe made me practice so I could talk to Jake tonight. But I’m not about to let Jennifer know any of that.

I don’t dislike her. We happen to compete a lot for the same parts. She’s a great actress and I’ve enjoyed working with her the past few years at school. Now that we’re gearing up for graduation and starting to audition for lead parts outside of the college productions, I’m trying to be more cautious around her.

The fact that she’s a drama queen may also be a bit of a deterrent.

‘I was worried about my monologue. He didn’t look up once from his notes,’ she complains, taking another delicate sip of her iced tea.

Nodding is polite. He looked up during my monologue. It’s not worth it to try to figure out if that’s good or bad; every director is different and until the cast list is posted, there’s no reason to obsess. Besides, I have bigger fish to fry. Fish named Jake Jacobs.

As Jennifer drones on about her nerves, her emotional technique of reaching the character, and her hopes for who may be cast as the male lead, my mind wanders. The audition will be a piece of cake compared to talking to Jake. Simply getting him to listen to me will be difficult.

It’s fortunate she’s too focused on the sound of her own voice to notice when I slip my phone from my purse and hold it in my lap. My last text message to Jake—the disastrous one—is still there. I type a new message, trying to keep it simple.

Can I see you tonight?

I press send before I can second-guess myself. I don’t care if he thinks I’m desperate. The truth is I am.