But the handwritten sign on the door reads Auditions Inside.
I hug my purse to my chest and I make my way into the building. It's a small space, the lobby, and it's filled with women older than I am, with better makeup and wardrobe than I have, with a hell of a lot more poise than I have.
These are open auditions. Which means it might be a while. I put my name on the list—I'm spot 20 and they're currently on five—and take a seat in one of the blue plastic chairs. There must be twenty people here, a mix of men and women, young and old.
I play with my phone, cursing its utter lack of texts from Kit. It's not like I'm waiting for a reply.
I shouldn't get caught up in wanting to hear from him.
I should focus on practicing my monologue.
Instead, I unlock my phone and shoot him a text.
Piper: I'm at the audition, waiting. I'll probably be waiting another hour. I'm really nervous.
Kit: You're cute nervous.
Piper: Yeah?
Kit: Yeah.
I should let it go.
Kit is important to me. And he's a good friend. But I want a lot more than friendship with him. I want to know that when he says you're cute nervous he means and I've been thinking about how fucking hot it will be when you're nervous over stripping for me.
Deep breath.
Piper: Cute how?
Kit: You get red. You ramble. You have a sweet, innocence about you.
Piper: Corruptible?
Kit: You could see it that way.
Piper: How do you see it?
Kit: You should get ready for your audition.
Piper: I am. I'm relaxing before my turn.
Kit: Bullshit.
Piper: It's true.
Kit: Then tell me about that show you're watching.
Piper: Which one? I'm watching a dozen.
Kit: Pick one and tell me about it.
He's changing the subject. I have no idea what that means, but I want to talk to him. I'll go with it.
I get so caught up in talking about nothing with Kit that I barely notice the director calling my name.
"Piper Strong," he repeats himself.
I bounce to my feet. "That's me. Hi."