The Weight of Us

Chapter Two – Partners in Trouble

The rehearsal studio always smelled faintly of sawdust and paint, a reminder of the endless sets built and torn down on its stage. It was Maddison’s favorite place in the entire academy—usually. Today, however, she was reconsidering that opinion.

Chad O’Neil was slouched in the chair opposite her, arms crossed over his broad chest, his script lying untouched on the floor. He had the kind of posture that screamed *I don’t care*, though Maddison could tell from the way his jaw flexed that he cared a little too much.

“Are you seriously going to sit there pouting all afternoon?” Maddison asked, tapping her pen against her notebook. “Because if you are, this presentation is doomed.”

Chad shot her a flat look. “I’m not pouting.”

“You’re absolutely pouting,” she said. “Like a five-year-old who dropped his ice cream.”

That earned her a smirk, though he tried to hide it by running a hand over his face. “You’re bossy.”

“And you’re stubborn,” Maddison countered. “Not exactly a dream team.”

“Guess we’re doomed then,” he said, leaning back in his chair.

Maddison resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She wanted to shake him. He was too talented, too striking to give up so easily. His presence on stage had a natural magnetism—when he wasn’t tripping over his lines. If he could just get past the words, he’d be unstoppable.

“Look,” Maddison said, softening her tone. “I get it. Reading is hard for you. But acting isn’t just reading—it’s feeling. It’s presence. And you’ve got that. You just need a way to get the words into your head without the letters tripping you up.”

Chad lifted an eyebrow. “And you’re the genius who’s going to figure that out?”

She smiled, a little smug. “Maybe I am.”

He chuckled under his breath, the sound rich and warm. Maddison hated that it made her chest flutter. She scribbled something in her notebook before she could second-guess herself.

“Okay,” she said. “New method. We ditch the script for today. I’ll read the lines out loud, you repeat them after me. We’ll go section by section until it sticks.”

Chad frowned. “Like… kindergarten?”

“Exactly,” Maddison said brightly. “Welcome to Acting Kindergarten. Don’t worry, I’ll make you snacks if you do well.”

His laugh slipped out before he could stop it, and Maddison felt ridiculously proud.

“All right, bossy,” he said. “Let’s try it your way.”

For the next hour, Maddison read lines, and Chad repeated them. At first, he stumbled, mixing up words, his frustration mounting. But she coaxed him gently, keeping her voice steady, sometimes breaking the tension with a joke. Slowly, the lines began to flow smoother.

By the end of the session, Chad could get through a full exchange without stuttering. When he nailed the scene’s final monologue, he leaned back in his chair, a grin spreading across his face.

“Did you see that?” he said, excitement lighting up his eyes. “I actually did it.”

Maddison grinned back despite herself. “Told you. You just needed the right approach.”

For a moment, they simply looked at each other—her, proud and glowing; him, basking in the rare relief of confidence. The air felt charged.

Then the studio door banged open.

“Maddie!” Rosa’s voice rang out as she burst inside, juggling a smoothie in one hand and her phone in the other. “Oh thank *God*. I’ve been looking everywhere—” She stopped mid-sentence, eyes darting between Maddison and Chad. Her grin widened like a cat catching sight of a mouse.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?”

Maddison groaned. “Rosa, please.”

“Oh no, don’t mind me,” Rosa said, plopping down on a stool. “I’ll just sit here quietly, sipping my smoothie, while the two of you stare into each other’s souls.”

Chad chuckled. Maddison glared at him. “Don’t encourage her.”

“I’m not saying anything,” he said, raising his hands in mock surrender.

Rosa leaned forward, whispering loudly enough for them both to hear. “So, Maddie, when exactly were you planning to tell me you’re tutoring Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Handsome here? Or was this going to be one of those forbidden romance situations?”

Maddison’s face heated. “It’s not like that.”

“Uh-huh,” Rosa said, unconvinced. “Tell that to the way you’re looking at him.”

Maddison buried her face in her hands, mortified. Chad looked entertained, his gray-blue eyes dancing with amusement.

“Rosa,” Maddison begged, “don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

“Absolutely not,” Rosa said. “This is the best entertainment I’ve had all week.”

Chad leaned closer to Maddison, his voice low enough that Rosa wouldn’t hear. “Your friend’s kind of hilarious.”

Maddison peeked at him through her fingers. “Don’t. You’ll only encourage her.”

But Chad’s grin didn’t fade, and Maddison felt that strange flutter in her chest again.

After Rosa finally left—only after extracting a promise for “all the juicy details later”—Maddison and Chad returned to their practice. The studio was quieter now, filled only with their voices and the soft echo of footsteps on the wooden floor.

They moved on to blocking the scene, Maddison directing Chad where to stand, how to move, when to gesture. She was surprised by how willing he was to follow her lead, despite his earlier stubbornness.

“You’re actually good at this,” he said at one point, genuine admiration in his tone.

Maddison blinked. “Good at what?”

“Directing. Teaching. I don’t know. Making me feel like I don’t totally suck at this.”

His honesty caught her off guard. She looked at him, really looked. Beneath the confidence and charm everyone else saw, there was a boy who doubted himself deeply. And somehow, he trusted her enough to admit it.

“You don’t suck,” she said softly. “Not at all.”

The silence that followed was different this time—heavier, charged. Maddison’s heart thudded in her chest. She quickly looked back at her script, pretending to focus.

“Okay,” she said briskly. “Let’s run the scene again.”

But as they rehearsed, the boundary between acting and reality blurred. Their characters were supposed to argue, voices raised, bodies close. Maddison found herself lost in Chad’s intensity, his gaze locking with hers, the air between them hot and electric.

For a terrifying second, she forgot it was just rehearsal.

And when the scene ended, both of them stood frozen, breathing hard, inches apart.

Chad’s eyes flicked to her lips.

Maddison’s pulse roared in her ears.

Then she stepped back quickly, breaking the spell. “Good,” she said, her voice too high. “That was… good.”

Chad nodded slowly after swallowing " Umm.... Yeah, I guess.

For a time, neither of t

hem moved.

With a heavy heart, Maddison realized that Rosa wasn't mistaken. Something was starting to go wrong.